"Oh? You're sure there are no openings this weekend? Well, OK. Bye now, yup, buh-bye.", says Rose, quickly covering her disappointment. She walks into the family room, where her five year old son and kind husband are sitting on the couch, listening to nursery rhymes drawling through the small hand radio. She whispers to her husband to follow her quietly, and he does. Together they walk into the bedroom, and she has him sit down. "Hon, is there a problem?", he says as soon as she will meet his eyes. "Well, Jeffy's appointment will have to wait until next weekend. There's no power down at the clinic, and no one else is available at the minute-clinic.", Rose says with a stern conviction. "Ok...", he answers "Are you blaming me?!" She stares at him, silent. "Oh. My. God. How are you not taking responsibility for this?! It is your fault that Jeffy's leg is hurt, and if you hadn't turned on that stupid machine last night, maybe the city might still have power! And maybe, if you had taken responsibility for everything, I would still love you!", she screams at him, tears streaming down her bright red face. It was like a slap to the face for Miles, her husband. He glowers at her for a couple more seconds, then storms from the room. Rose collapses on to the bed, exhausted from the amount of effort she put into being firm with her husband. Meanwhile, Miles was tiptoeing over to his son, Jake, and carefully picking him up. As Jake squirmed in his father's arms, Miles gently carried him over to the kitchen and placed him in the cool stove. It was not hot at all, as he did not want to harm his precious child. But, he had a feeling that Rose would not check the stove twice before preheating it for the cake she was baking in the morning. He snickered quietly, before running out of the house with the car keys, and taking off in the minivan.
