What he wished was that he could write better, that he could get what he wanted to say down on paper in a way that was not so crippled. And more than that, he wished he did not lie to his daddy and his mama and his brother, Edsel. He did not even have to lie. He knew that. But there was something that made him want to lie, or at least made lying necessary. It was all very confusing. He knew it wasn’t really necessary to send money home. He could just stop. Except he felt he could never stop. His daddy and mama and Edsel needed the money badly and he had got used to being able to help them out. Writing the letters and sending the money, made it easier to do what he was doing even if he hated what he was doing. But he had to keep doing what he hated so he could write the letters and send the money. He shook his head violently, as if to clear it after taking a punch. These were strange times. Maybe Pete was right, maybe he had knocked himself out too many times. He looked back at the last two words he had written and could not remember what he wished.
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