Radley Parker.
Thirty-four.
No recent criminal history.
I had seen him once or twice around the school.
Tall.
Quiet.
Always in work clothes.
He rarely spoke to other parents.
I asked.
“Anyone else at home?”
“Sometimes Grandma.”
“Your mom?”
Brenna looked down.
“She doesn’t live with us.”
“Do you see her?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
The answer came flatly.
Like she had stopped asking.
We continued.
A few minutes later, I asked.
“Does Radley know you asked me to walk you home?”
She stared ahead.
“He believes families are supposed to live this way.”
I slowed.
“What way?”
She shook her head.
“You have to see.”
Then she added.
“Everyone he knows thinks it’s normal too.”
That sentence bothered me.
Everyone he knows.
Not just Dad.
A system.
A belief.
Maybe something cultural.
Maybe something financial.
