Read Online This Boy's Life by Tobias Wolff - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tobias Wolff
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converted to a duplex. A family named Miller lived on one side, Dwight’s family on the other, in three bedrooms that faced the kitchen, dining room, and living room across a narrow hallway. The rooms were small and dark. Her arms crossed over her chest, my mother peered into them and gushed falsely. Dwight sensed her reserve. He waved his hands around, declaring the plans he had for renovation. My mother couldn’t help but offer a few suggestions of her own, which Dwight admired so much that he adopted them all, right then and there.
AFTER DINNER MY mother went out with Dwight to meet some of his friends. I helped Norma and Pearl do the dishes, then Skipper took out the Monopoly board and we played a couple of games. Pearl won both of them because she cared so much. She watched us suspiciously and recited rules at us while she gloated over her rising pile of deeds and money. After she won she told the rest of us everything we’d done wrong.
My mother woke me when she came in. We were sharing the sofa bed in the living room, and she kept turning and plumping the pillow. She couldn’t settle down. When I asked what was wrong she said, “Nothing. Go to sleep.” Then she raised herself up on one elbow and whispered, “What do you think?”
“They’re okay,” I said. “Norma’s nice.”
“They’re all nice,” she said. She lay back again. Still whispering, she told me she liked them all, but felt a little hurried. She didn’t want to hurry into anything.
That made sense, I said.
She said she was doing really well at work. She felt like she was finally starting to get somewhere. She didn’t want to stop, not right now. Did I know what she meant?
I said I knew exactly what she meant.
Is that selfish? she asked. Marian thought she should get married. Marian thought I needed a father in the worst way. But she didn’t want to get married, not really.
Not now, anyway. Maybe later, when she felt ready, but not now.
That was fine with me, I said. Later would be fine.
THE NEXT DAY was Thanksgiving. After breakfast Dwight packed everyone into the car and drove us around Chinook. Chinook was a company village owned by Seattle City Light. A couple of hundred people lived there in neat rows of houses and converted barracks, all white with green trim. The lanes between the houses had been hedged with rhododendron, and Dwight said the flowers bloomed all summer long. The village had the gracious, well tended look of an old military camp, and that was what everyone called it—the camp. Most of the men worked at the powerhouse or at one of three dams along the Skagit. The river ran through the village, a deep, powerful river crowded on both sides by steep mountains. These mountains faced each other across a valley half a mile wide at the point where Chinook had been built. The slopes were heavily forested, the trees taking root even in granite outcroppings and gullies of scree. Mists hung in the treetops.
Dwight took his time showing us around. After we had seen the village, he drove us upstream along a narrow road dropping sheer to the river on one side and overhung by boulders on the other. As he drove he listed the advantages of life in Chinook. The air. The water. No crime, no juvenile delinquency. For scenery all you had to do was step out your front door, which you never had to lock. Hunting. Fishing. In fact the Skagit was one of the best trout streams in the world. Ted Williams—who, not many people realized, was a world-class angler as well as a baseball great, not to mention a war hero—had been fishing here for years.
Pearl sat up front between Dwight and my mother. She had her head on my mother’s shoulder and was almost in her lap. I sat in the backseat between Skipper and Norma. They were quiet. At one point my mother turned and asked, “How about you guys? How do you like it here?”
They looked at each other. Skipper said, “Fine.”
“Fine,” Norma said. “It’s just a little
AFTER DINNER MY mother went out with Dwight to meet some of his friends. I helped Norma and Pearl do the dishes, then Skipper took out the Monopoly board and we played a couple of games. Pearl won both of them because she cared so much. She watched us suspiciously and recited rules at us while she gloated over her rising pile of deeds and money. After she won she told the rest of us everything we’d done wrong.
My mother woke me when she came in. We were sharing the sofa bed in the living room, and she kept turning and plumping the pillow. She couldn’t settle down. When I asked what was wrong she said, “Nothing. Go to sleep.” Then she raised herself up on one elbow and whispered, “What do you think?”
“They’re okay,” I said. “Norma’s nice.”
“They’re all nice,” she said. She lay back again. Still whispering, she told me she liked them all, but felt a little hurried. She didn’t want to hurry into anything.
That made sense, I said.
She said she was doing really well at work. She felt like she was finally starting to get somewhere. She didn’t want to stop, not right now. Did I know what she meant?
I said I knew exactly what she meant.
Is that selfish? she asked. Marian thought she should get married. Marian thought I needed a father in the worst way. But she didn’t want to get married, not really.
Not now, anyway. Maybe later, when she felt ready, but not now.
That was fine with me, I said. Later would be fine.
THE NEXT DAY was Thanksgiving. After breakfast Dwight packed everyone into the car and drove us around Chinook. Chinook was a company village owned by Seattle City Light. A couple of hundred people lived there in neat rows of houses and converted barracks, all white with green trim. The lanes between the houses had been hedged with rhododendron, and Dwight said the flowers bloomed all summer long. The village had the gracious, well tended look of an old military camp, and that was what everyone called it—the camp. Most of the men worked at the powerhouse or at one of three dams along the Skagit. The river ran through the village, a deep, powerful river crowded on both sides by steep mountains. These mountains faced each other across a valley half a mile wide at the point where Chinook had been built. The slopes were heavily forested, the trees taking root even in granite outcroppings and gullies of scree. Mists hung in the treetops.
Dwight took his time showing us around. After we had seen the village, he drove us upstream along a narrow road dropping sheer to the river on one side and overhung by boulders on the other. As he drove he listed the advantages of life in Chinook. The air. The water. No crime, no juvenile delinquency. For scenery all you had to do was step out your front door, which you never had to lock. Hunting. Fishing. In fact the Skagit was one of the best trout streams in the world. Ted Williams—who, not many people realized, was a world-class angler as well as a baseball great, not to mention a war hero—had been fishing here for years.
Pearl sat up front between Dwight and my mother. She had her head on my mother’s shoulder and was almost in her lap. I sat in the backseat between Skipper and Norma. They were quiet. At one point my mother turned and asked, “How about you guys? How do you like it here?”
They looked at each other. Skipper said, “Fine.”
“Fine,” Norma said. “It’s just a little
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