disclaimer: still don't own them.
Ham had had more
of his Dad's attention since this accident than, like, he ever had
before. The Dean blew off a conference to stay in Rawley over the
weekend, and spent all the time he could with Ham.
He was
talking to Hamilton. It went beyond "Apply yourself to your
studies" and "Be quiet, young man, if you have nothing
useful to contribute" to real conversations, where Dad listened,
too. They talked about Ham's ambitions.
Ham broke it to
him that he wanted to be a photographer. Dad looked like he was
sucking lemons, but he actually listened.
This was so cool.
For the first time Ham started to hope he wouldn't get herded into
the New York stock exchange. If a bang on the head was the price he
had to pay to have the Dean focus on being a Dad, well, it was worth
it to him. He wasn't stupid; he got that his parents had been totally
scared. His Dad was an academic to the bone. Head injury must have
been his alltime nightmare. He still couldn't resist throwing pop
quizs Ham's way, kind of sneaked into the conversation. In between
plans to do stuff, go places. Cool.
His Mom had a few things
to say about his "skulking in his room" instead of joining
the guys now that S-Session had started. He couldn't explain his
reluctance. He felt weird about it all. He told his parents his head
still hurt. It did, too.
Ham smiled. It was amazing to have so
much of Dad's time and attention.