It was eight o’clock when Drew returned from the bank. He hit the mailbox as he swerved into the driveway and got stuck in a snow drift. Justin continued to chop wood as his father struggled to pull the truck into the driveway. Frustrated, he hopped out of the pickup, grabbed a half empty fifth of vodka from the passenger’s seat, and walked toward Justin. Seeing his Father with the bottle, Justin continued to chop wood.

“What’s the hell’s the matter with you, boy? Ain’t you got no sense?! You saw me stuck out there, little runt,” Drew yelled, slurring the words and swaying in the snow. He took a long gulp from the bottle, dropped to his knees, and then steadied himself against the beveled cedar siding of the farm house.

Justin continued chopping wood. “Yes sir,” he said. He grabbed another log and split it in two with a single swing.

“Put the damn ax down and help me push,” Drew said. He took another gulp from the bottle, grabbed Justin and pulled him toward the driveway. “You listening to me, damn it?!