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Authors: Craig Lancaster
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ended up being the wrong move. I wonder still if a right move was available to him.
In the parking lot, Dad cracked a right hand across Al’s jaw, dropping him.
I shuddered as I remembered it.
“Just stay away from him,” I told Toby.
My advice to Toby, sound as it was, turned out to be unnecessary. Dad dug just two more holes after lunch and then announced that we were heading back to town. We’d done barely a half day’s work, but nobody said anything. An early shutdown by Jim Quillen amounted to a gift horse.
In town, Dad pulled off the main drag and dropped Jerry and Toby at their place.
“Jerry, I’ve got to go to Cedar City for some things tonight,” Dad said. “I’ll bring Mitch by in an hour or so. I’ll need you to look after him.”
“Why can’t he go with you?”
“I’m going to be late, for one thing, and I need to see some people about business. It’s no place for a boy.”
I bristled at their talking about me as if I weren’t there.
“I can stay at the trailer by myself.”
“No, absolutely not,” Dad said.
“It’s bullshit, dropping this on me without any warning,” Jerry said. “I have plans.”
“Life’s tough, kid. You can miss a night of rutting. I’ll see you in an hour.”
As we rode away, Jerry shot Dad the universal sign of digital defiance. Dad either didn’t see it or didn’t care.
After his bath, Dad preened at the bathroom mirror, giving himself the once-over. Standing there, his torso bare, he showed why he could be such a rough customer. Dad wasn’t imposing at first glance—he was short and had stubby, drumstick legs. But his midsection and arms looked as though they had been cut from stone, and his hands, thickly muscled from manhandling steel, hung from his wrists like small hams. Hardheaded and hard-bodied, Dad could meet any physical challenge.
He whistled as he slapped cologne on his face. The scent of Aqua Velva curled through the trailer.
“What are you doing tonight?” I asked.
“I’ve got to see a guy about some drill bits, and I’m going to get a line on some more work from a couple of friends.”
“Let me go with you. I’ll be quiet.”
“No can do.”
“Jerry doesn’t want me there. I’ll just be in the way.”
“Your brother needs to learn that the world doesn’t always work the way he wants it to. He might as well learn it tonight.”
“He’s just going to take it out on me.”
“Jesus, Mitch, just quit. You’re not going.”
At Jerry’s, Dad didn’t walk me in; he just stopped the truck and told me to get out, and then he tore out of there.
Jerry proved about as welcoming as I expected. He opened the door and summoned me inside. I sat on the couch, and Jerry walked back through the living room and into the bathroom. As Dad had done earlier, Jerry put on deodorant and cologne. I still wore my work clothes. We hadn’t been out long enough for me to get them dirty or for the dust to cling to my sweaty face.
Jerry called to me from the bathroom.
“Look, Mitch, I know this isn’t your fault, but Jesus Christ. This really screws everything up.”
“I know.”
Jerry walked out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, and then he came back into the living room pulling a velour shirt over his head.
“I don’t have a choice, so you’re coming with me tonight. Just be cool.”
“OK. Where are we going?”
“We’re going to have some burgers, then go to Beaver for a movie.”
“Just you and me?”
“No, Denise and Toby and his girlfriend will be there.”
“What movie?”
“Does it matter?”
I kicked at the carpet.
“Mitch, this will all work out if you’re cool. If you’re not, I’ll kick your ass. Do you understand?”
My brother often threatened to kick my ass without ever actually doing it. What would be the point? He was eight years older. Still, given his agitation, I figured that the best answer was the one that would please him.
“Yeah, I
In the parking lot, Dad cracked a right hand across Al’s jaw, dropping him.
I shuddered as I remembered it.
“Just stay away from him,” I told Toby.
My advice to Toby, sound as it was, turned out to be unnecessary. Dad dug just two more holes after lunch and then announced that we were heading back to town. We’d done barely a half day’s work, but nobody said anything. An early shutdown by Jim Quillen amounted to a gift horse.
In town, Dad pulled off the main drag and dropped Jerry and Toby at their place.
“Jerry, I’ve got to go to Cedar City for some things tonight,” Dad said. “I’ll bring Mitch by in an hour or so. I’ll need you to look after him.”
“Why can’t he go with you?”
“I’m going to be late, for one thing, and I need to see some people about business. It’s no place for a boy.”
I bristled at their talking about me as if I weren’t there.
“I can stay at the trailer by myself.”
“No, absolutely not,” Dad said.
“It’s bullshit, dropping this on me without any warning,” Jerry said. “I have plans.”
“Life’s tough, kid. You can miss a night of rutting. I’ll see you in an hour.”
As we rode away, Jerry shot Dad the universal sign of digital defiance. Dad either didn’t see it or didn’t care.
After his bath, Dad preened at the bathroom mirror, giving himself the once-over. Standing there, his torso bare, he showed why he could be such a rough customer. Dad wasn’t imposing at first glance—he was short and had stubby, drumstick legs. But his midsection and arms looked as though they had been cut from stone, and his hands, thickly muscled from manhandling steel, hung from his wrists like small hams. Hardheaded and hard-bodied, Dad could meet any physical challenge.
He whistled as he slapped cologne on his face. The scent of Aqua Velva curled through the trailer.
“What are you doing tonight?” I asked.
“I’ve got to see a guy about some drill bits, and I’m going to get a line on some more work from a couple of friends.”
“Let me go with you. I’ll be quiet.”
“No can do.”
“Jerry doesn’t want me there. I’ll just be in the way.”
“Your brother needs to learn that the world doesn’t always work the way he wants it to. He might as well learn it tonight.”
“He’s just going to take it out on me.”
“Jesus, Mitch, just quit. You’re not going.”
At Jerry’s, Dad didn’t walk me in; he just stopped the truck and told me to get out, and then he tore out of there.
Jerry proved about as welcoming as I expected. He opened the door and summoned me inside. I sat on the couch, and Jerry walked back through the living room and into the bathroom. As Dad had done earlier, Jerry put on deodorant and cologne. I still wore my work clothes. We hadn’t been out long enough for me to get them dirty or for the dust to cling to my sweaty face.
Jerry called to me from the bathroom.
“Look, Mitch, I know this isn’t your fault, but Jesus Christ. This really screws everything up.”
“I know.”
Jerry walked out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, and then he came back into the living room pulling a velour shirt over his head.
“I don’t have a choice, so you’re coming with me tonight. Just be cool.”
“OK. Where are we going?”
“We’re going to have some burgers, then go to Beaver for a movie.”
“Just you and me?”
“No, Denise and Toby and his girlfriend will be there.”
“What movie?”
“Does it matter?”
I kicked at the carpet.
“Mitch, this will all work out if you’re cool. If you’re not, I’ll kick your ass. Do you understand?”
My brother often threatened to kick my ass without ever actually doing it. What would be the point? He was eight years older. Still, given his agitation, I figured that the best answer was the one that would please him.
“Yeah, I
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