Denial, Chapter Eleven

**Sorry for the long wait! I still don't know if I'm going to finish this story..So if you have any ideas, feel free to review, or email them to me at Kbrfield@hotmail.com or you can IM me at Dust 2 CREED . I'm not on much anymore, but you'll catch me on more at night on weekends. Anyways, if I get some good ideas, I may work with them!**

Ezra, in all the honesty he could muster, was not having the best time in the world. It wasn't really anything wrong. The usual-he could still feel the tension he had desperately tried to ignore as a little kid, even though he wasn't sure it was for the same reasons. It wasn't the same kind of vibe he got, if that made any sense.He wasn't sure it did.

He felt that it was different because some of the tension was simply new- parent jitters. It was the same as off a young couple had just given birth to a little baby, and it was the first few days back at the house, with them all alone. Except, this was with a five-year-old boy.

The next morning, for example, Ezra didn't wake up the peace and serene he was used to at Horizon, on school days anyway. He didn't wake up to his girlfriend's voice. No, instead he woke up to a high-pitched voice squealing about cereal, and a mass of sounds coming from the kitchen. It was familiar, in a sense, because he had grown up to it, just without the little boy jumping around. Ezra groaned and kicked off his covers. He stepped out of the bed and tried to fumble into his slippers when instead he slammed his toe against something. He yelped in pain and instinctively nurtured his toe, then looked down. 'The little brat is already leaving everything around!' Ezra thought bitterly. He kicked the Tonka toy out of the way and walked down the stairs.

Bren was in his seat, happily chowing down on Lucky Charms, while his father read the paper over a place of eggs, sausage and toast. His mother smiled at him. "Ezra!" she exclaimed happily. Ezra just nodded in return. It was to early in the morning for proper greetings.

Mrs. Friedkin placed a large plate of eggs, sausage, bacon, grits and toast in front of him. "Uh, mom, I can't eat all of this," he told her, trying not to sound ungrateful. "Oh, but Ezra, you're all bones! How about you just try-" but his father interrupted her. "Oh for Christ's sake, if he doesn't want to eat it, he doesn't have to! Ezra, eat what you want," Mr. Friedkin exclaimed.

"I was just trying to help him," Mrs. Friedkin answered quietly. "I know! He's fine, though! Quit worrying all the time. Ezra isn't a stick and Bren won't grow up to be a felon! Quit worrying!" he repeated. Mrs. Friedkin didn't respond.

"It's fine, dad, really." Ezra tried to say, but he had gone back to his paper.

"Ezra, since tomorrow is church and your last day, you won't have much one- on-one time with Bren. I was thinking maybe you can take him to the park." His mother suggested when she had sat down.

"Church? Since when did we go to church?" Ezra asked. They had always tried to appear like the perfect family, but nowhere in the picture mixed with PTA meetings, soccer competitions that Mrs. Friedkin willingly drove a van full of rowdy boys do, etc, did going to church fit in.

"You heard right. So how about it?"

"Err, sure I guess."