Tom sighed. “I’m a-gettin’ tired, Ma. How ’bout makin’ me mad?’’ “You got more sense, Tom. I don’ need to make you mad. I got to lean on you. Them others—they’re kinda strangers, all but you. You won’t give up, Tom.’’ The job fell on him. “I don’ like it,’’ he said. “I wanta go out like Al. An’ I wanta get mad like Pa, an’ I wanta get drunk like Uncle John.’’ Ma shook her head. “You can’t, Tom. I know. I knowed from the time you was a little fella. You can’t. They’s some folks that’s just theirself an’ nothin’ more.
