“Aren’t you supposed to be helping Pamela with the boxes?

Did she ask you to pack?” I asked.

Dustin jingled the keys in his pocket again.

“I’m in a strict management role today.

Heavy lifting aggravates my lower back.”

He pulled a crumpled envelope out of his jeans, smoothed the edges with his thumb, and tossed it onto the bare mattress.

“I need Dad to bail me out again,” Dustin said.

“The dealership left a voicemail threatening to repossess my truck over two late payments.”