Read Online B003UYURTC EBOK by John Corey Whaley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Corey Whaley
Ads: Link
said his father, sitting down across from his son.
“What? What are you talking about? I’m on my way to pick her up now.”
“No, you aren’t. I just got off the phone with her mother, who was quite displeased to hear what I had to tell her about little Susie.” He shook his head.
“What did you have to tell her?” Benton asked.
“Well, it turns out that, and I have this on good authority, little Susie was seen kissing and hanging all over that pathetic and sinful kid of Stanley Baker’s.”
“Chip? Chip Baker? Yeah, they used to go out. Not anymore.” Benton looked down at the floor. He knew what was coming and wondered why he was even slightly surprised.
“So you thought it was okay to go gallivanting around with some little harlot? I really thought better of you, Benton. Oh well. It’s no matter now. Date’s off. You can take off that tie.”
With that, his father left the room, and Benton, anger boiling up from places he hadn’t known existed, clenched his fists tightly and, for a few moments, forgot how to breathe. He wanted to get up, walk out, and pick up Susie at her house; continue with the plans he’d been excited about for weeks. But he couldn’t. His father wouldn’t have it. He couldn’t disappoint him. He couldn’t be with some skanky girl like that. He was better than that. He knew better. And as he wiped a tear out of the corner of his eye, he stood up, pulled at the tie around his neck, and headed back to his bedroom. The next morning, at breakfast, Benton sat across from his father with the hope that the date wouldn’t be brought up; he wanted the entire thing to just fade away. Just as he went to sip his orange juice, his father, never looking up from his plate of food, said slowly, “I’m proud of you, son, for trusting that I know what’s best.” Few times in his life had Benton felt that good. He couldn’t explain it, not even to himself, but just those few words from his dad made all the anger and worry seem worth it.
But at eighteen, Benton had failed to live up to his father’sstandards once again. He had traveled halfway around the world, slept in dirt-floor huts, given food and water to the poor and dying, but still hadn’t impressed Mr. Jackson Sage. Upon his return home and after hearing of his conversation with Reverend Hughes, Benton’s father chose to stop acknowledging his son altogether. As if this wasn’t bad enough, Benton was nearly shunned by his entire family, who, save for the occasional “How are you?” or “Could you pass the salt?” seemed oblivious to his very existence. They wanted the same thing he wanted: to know they were doing something that pleased their father. Nothing else in the world seemed to matter above that. He watched his father discuss school with his sisters and cooking with his mother. He watched them all gather in the dining room for Bible study and laugh through television shows in the living room. He wasn’t angry with his mother and sisters, because he’d have done the same thing. He would have sacrificed any one of them to know that what he was doing was making his father happy. He had worked for years to earn another moment like that one at the breakfast table—that moment when his father was proud of him. But he had failed. Feeling as if he could take no more, Benton began making phone calls to each university to which he had applied the previous year, before he went to Ethiopia and before he let his father down for the last time. Surely, he thought, one of his scholarship offers was still good. He could just go away one day.
C HAPTER S EVEN
Neighbors
My aunt Julia had been in piss-poor shape since Gabriel left, only adding to the stress and worry of my mother, whom I sat watching one afternoon in the third week of our search. In an attempt to take advantage of our town’s recent foray into national fame and to distract herself from the thought that my brother was lying dead in a barn
“What? What are you talking about? I’m on my way to pick her up now.”
“No, you aren’t. I just got off the phone with her mother, who was quite displeased to hear what I had to tell her about little Susie.” He shook his head.
“What did you have to tell her?” Benton asked.
“Well, it turns out that, and I have this on good authority, little Susie was seen kissing and hanging all over that pathetic and sinful kid of Stanley Baker’s.”
“Chip? Chip Baker? Yeah, they used to go out. Not anymore.” Benton looked down at the floor. He knew what was coming and wondered why he was even slightly surprised.
“So you thought it was okay to go gallivanting around with some little harlot? I really thought better of you, Benton. Oh well. It’s no matter now. Date’s off. You can take off that tie.”
With that, his father left the room, and Benton, anger boiling up from places he hadn’t known existed, clenched his fists tightly and, for a few moments, forgot how to breathe. He wanted to get up, walk out, and pick up Susie at her house; continue with the plans he’d been excited about for weeks. But he couldn’t. His father wouldn’t have it. He couldn’t disappoint him. He couldn’t be with some skanky girl like that. He was better than that. He knew better. And as he wiped a tear out of the corner of his eye, he stood up, pulled at the tie around his neck, and headed back to his bedroom. The next morning, at breakfast, Benton sat across from his father with the hope that the date wouldn’t be brought up; he wanted the entire thing to just fade away. Just as he went to sip his orange juice, his father, never looking up from his plate of food, said slowly, “I’m proud of you, son, for trusting that I know what’s best.” Few times in his life had Benton felt that good. He couldn’t explain it, not even to himself, but just those few words from his dad made all the anger and worry seem worth it.
But at eighteen, Benton had failed to live up to his father’sstandards once again. He had traveled halfway around the world, slept in dirt-floor huts, given food and water to the poor and dying, but still hadn’t impressed Mr. Jackson Sage. Upon his return home and after hearing of his conversation with Reverend Hughes, Benton’s father chose to stop acknowledging his son altogether. As if this wasn’t bad enough, Benton was nearly shunned by his entire family, who, save for the occasional “How are you?” or “Could you pass the salt?” seemed oblivious to his very existence. They wanted the same thing he wanted: to know they were doing something that pleased their father. Nothing else in the world seemed to matter above that. He watched his father discuss school with his sisters and cooking with his mother. He watched them all gather in the dining room for Bible study and laugh through television shows in the living room. He wasn’t angry with his mother and sisters, because he’d have done the same thing. He would have sacrificed any one of them to know that what he was doing was making his father happy. He had worked for years to earn another moment like that one at the breakfast table—that moment when his father was proud of him. But he had failed. Feeling as if he could take no more, Benton began making phone calls to each university to which he had applied the previous year, before he went to Ethiopia and before he let his father down for the last time. Surely, he thought, one of his scholarship offers was still good. He could just go away one day.
C HAPTER S EVEN
Neighbors
My aunt Julia had been in piss-poor shape since Gabriel left, only adding to the stress and worry of my mother, whom I sat watching one afternoon in the third week of our search. In an attempt to take advantage of our town’s recent foray into national fame and to distract herself from the thought that my brother was lying dead in a barn
Similar Books
