"I am getting so tired of this! I come home and you have your stuff spread everywhere. The house is a mess. Have you even done anything all day?"
""Well, I..." The voice was cut off by the first one.
"I wasn't finished. Don't interrupt me. You weren't home when I was home, I called your phone, but you won't answer it because I find it is turned off and here at the house instead of with you! You finally come home and it's two am. Do you have any idea how worried I was? You know what, go to your room. Now. And you can stay there until I tell you otherwise!"
"Did you just ground me?" The voice rose in disbelief.
"I'm warning you...," first voice rose slightly, irritated.
"O.k. o.k. I'll go to my room. Am I allowed to take my papers with me?" The voice chuckled slightly.
"I'll think about it, Dad. Now since your are home, I'm going to go finish working on my equation in the garage. Good night." Alan Eppes watched in amusement as Charlie whirled and disappeared toward the garage. Charlie's bouts of anger like this were rare- but unpredictable.
As Alan climbed the stairs to his room he started laughing out loud.
"Oh, Maragaret," he whispered to himself. "No one on earth is going to believe me if I tell them I have been grounded to my room by my thirty year old son." Alan laughed louder as he reached his room and went in. He shut the door, not willing to risk bringing his son down on him in anger again...although to watch his face when he was mad...Alan thought he might have to again just to see his face. When his youngest son got mad, his face looked so much like his mother's when she would get into a rare fit of anger. Alan settled himself on his chair with a book and smiling remembered those rare times when his wife would get mad.