Don’s dad liked to say whatever when the kids were around. He thought it was cool—like the word “cool” used to be cool. Sammy asked for a Coke and Don’s dad said, “Whatever,” and Sammy didn’t know if that meant yes or no. Sammy took the Coke, held it carefully, liked imagining it was forbidden, liked the idea of Don’s dad being an asshole like his own father, which he wasn’t. Don’s dad was instead a bit dense, too eager, embarrassing Don right now, again, in the kitchen, as the rain reminded them they weren’t going to shoot hoops any time soon.
