"I remember that day very well. Kenny was very manic. And he still was refusing to get a proper diagnosis. And of course, no meds. He was generally uncontrollable, now he was totally out of control. There was no shutting him up, no calming him down, As soon as he heard me come in the house, there he was standing at my side, and all ready for us to go out to dinner. So, we sat at the table, and he told me all about his flowers that day. Kenny loved his job at the florist. He loved flowers, anything to do with nature. And he was already starting a class at UBC, environmental science. But right now he was focussed on going out to eat with me.
"It was my first day waitering in what he called, that fancy café. I was quite frankly tired, and just wanted to lie down and rest, but Kenny would not hear me. He was like an eager Irish setter dog wagging his tail manically with his leash in his mouth. He even insisted that I promised we would go to the Thai restaurant, really, like a five year old boy pleading with his daddy. and he repeated over and over like a five year old, please, Christopher, you promised, you promised, please, remember you promised, you promised... I was twenty then and Kenny was thirty-five. I didn't remember making any such promise. Dad was away at a parish council meeting, so I was left with the task of minding Kenny."
"How long did he live with you guys, altogether?" Carl asks.
"Four years."
"That is a long time. He must have been like family."
"Kenny WAS family. I mean, we didn't simply take him in out of charity. Somehow, my dad and I both really bonded with him. From the beginning, we simply loved him. Yes, we also felt sorry for him, but somehow he was one of us."
"Even if he could be damn irritating?"
"And he was damn irritating. He was a headache, Kenny was, but he was our headache. We couldn't imagine life without him..."
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