Read Online Sweet Like Sugar by Wayne Hoffman - Free Book Online Page B

were quiet, me pulling him by the hand through the crowd.
    It was a relief, this quiet. Rachel hadn’t had anything pleasant to say for months; Mom said it was just part of being twelve and she’d grow out of it. Mostly she ignored Dad and me; she sniped at Mom constantly.
    But Mom wasn’t fighting back this week. She was sullen and atypically silent. This Florida trip had been planned around Grandpa Jack’s unveiling. When he died the previous summer of a heart attack, Mom went to Florida alone, while Dad took care of Rachel and me; the news of his death was shocking enough and they didn’t think we could handle the funeral. This year, my parents planned a week in Florida for the whole family right before school started: a few days with Grandma in her Delray Beach condo, during which time we had the ceremony unveiling Grandpa’s tombstone at the Magen David Memorial Grounds, followed by a few days in Orlando visiting the Magic Kingdom and Epcot Center. It was an odd combination—a cemetery and a theme park—but I wasn’t bothered. I was at Disney for the first time, headed for my first roller coaster, and nothing else mattered.
    â€œDo you miss Grandpa Jack?” my father asked me while we stood on line, under the sign that said “Sixty-minute Wait from This Point.”
    I did. I missed the times he took me to the playground when he visited, and the corny jokes he saved up to tell me, and the orange Tic Tacs he always had stashed in his pants pocket. He never treated me like I was Rachel’s little brother, the way my parents and teachers sometimes did; he treated me like I was my own person. But I didn’t really want to talk about that with my dad. I thought I might cry, and he didn’t like it when I cried.
    â€œYeah,” I said, looking down at my feet. “I guess.”
    â€œYou know, Grandma is still going to come visit us, and maybe we can come down here again to see her,” he said. “Go to the beach next time, or maybe Sea World.”
    â€œOkay,” I said, inching forward toward the people in front of us.
    â€œYou were lucky to know Grandpa Jack,” he said. “You never knew your other grandfather, my father. But that’s not entirely a bad thing. He was a real SOB. Not like Jack.”
    â€œUh-huh,” I said. I’d heard stories, mostly from my mother.
    â€œI never knew either of my grandfathers,” he continued. “My mom’s parents stayed behind in Russia, and my dad’s dad died before I was born.”
    â€œMm-hmm,” I mumbled. “How much longer till it’s our turn?”
    My father shook his head for a second. “I don’t know, Benjamin, it could be another hour. Do you want to come back later?”
    â€œNo, I’ll wait.”
    The rest of the time on line, my father didn’t say much. I kept checking the new watch that Grandma Gertie gave me—a digital watch with a bright orange plastic strap that said “Florida” and had a green cartoon alligator on it. The wait didn’t take a full hour.
    When it was time to board the roller coaster, I got a seat at the front, sitting close to the bullet-shaped car’s tapered nose. My father sat directly behind me.
    â€œThe front is pretty scary,” he said into my ear. “Are you sure you want to sit there?”
    I nodded.
    â€œHold on tight,” he said. “I’m right behind you.” And we shot off into the dark.
    The ride was fast but smooth, hurtling through blackness punctuated only by the occasional flashing colored light and the glowing white streaks painted on the sides of other cars, snaking up and down all around us. Screams echoed around the inside of the mountain as we climbed and plummeted, swerved and dipped. My father was right: The front seat was a scary place to be. I tried to turn around to see if he was scared, too, but he shouted, “Face the front, Benjamin, I’m