Patrick and I spent most of our time chatting, and were in the last half hour of the train ride by the time the subject of our parents came up.

"I actually don't mind studying serious things, but literature has always been a private passion of mine." Patrick told me as the train rolled. "I was caged in for most of my life, and my father was quite protective of me."

"Overprotective." I corrected.

"Well, he did cross a line. . ."

"From what I know, which isn't much, he's crossed several. Ov-er-pro-tec-tive!"

"Alright, then, overprotective." he emphasized the word heavily, and I laughed as he made a face at me.

"That's better. What of your social life?"

"My being his only heir had a huge effect, he told me. I can't be within ten feet of a woman he doesn't know from birth without his suspecting that I've done something behind his back." Patrick laughed bitterly.

"My father was strict in high school with my dating, too. I didn't have many boyfriends, but my brother and sister went through dates like mad." I remarked. "Father grilled every boy my sister and I brought home, and checked up on all my brother's dates. I don't think he ever has a moment's peace even today."

"Must've been a nightmare." Patrick murmured as he pulled out his laptop.

"Oh, most definitely." I agreed, then noticed him going to Facebook again. "Add me to your friends list!"

"What?" Patrick jumped in surprise.

"Sorry." I murmured. "Can I. . . . ?" I  pointed to the keyboard.

"Oh. Sure, I suppose." he turned the laptop towards me.

I typed in my own name, scrolled through a few randoms and found my own picture, one of me and my brother Thomas, and added myself to his friends list. Once it was finished, I clicked the "home" button.


"What did you do?" Patrick asked.

"You added me. I just helped you." I explained. "Accountability doesn't come along every day."

"Oh." Patrick seemed surprised. "Very. . .spontaneous. Thank you." he sounded unsure.

"Is something wrong?"

"Nothing, just. . .I'll probably have to bat off my father on this is all. Don't worry about it." he turned the laptop back to face him, and began to do. . .whatever he did on there.

As the train slowed, I had a feeling that he always worried about it.

The End

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