Black Otter Bay by Vincent Wyckoff Read Free Book Online Page A

pile of food on Ben’s plate didn’t get any smaller.
    â€œNot hungry tonight, Ben?” he asked.
    â€œI guess not.”
    â€œIs everything okay?”
    Ben looked at his sister before responding. “I’m just tired.”
    â€œI’ve never seen you too tired to eat taco goulash.”
    Abby spoke up. “I think we’re just sick of school, and anxious for summer vacation.”
    Matt nodded while giving his daughter a long look. He’d noticed her reticence this evening, too, but had no idea how to get words out of her. To his way of thinking, there were events in a young woman’s life of which a man his age had no concept. He certainly had no words for them.
    His own childhood experiences had done nothing to prepare him for talking to his children in a meaningful way. On the other hand, he knew all about the confusion and fear that could dominate a young person’s life. So, despite his inability to tell his children how much he loved them, and even though he couldn’t get past the awkwardness of consoling them with hugs, he had determined from the outset to provide them a childhood free of fear and apprehension.
    To Matt’s practical way of thinking, it made sense that a parent should attempt to recreate the best aspects of his own childhood for his children. But there hadn’t been much for him to borrow from his past. The old man had worked hard at the taconite plant, and provided good food and shelter for his family, even though Matt figured his father probably kept workingjust to stay away from the house most days. But Matt followed his father’s footsteps down to the plant anyway, went to work every day, and provided a security for his children that they probably didn’t understand right now, but would hopefully appreciate someday.
    The other thing he’d borrowed from his childhood was this tradition of sitting down to dinner together. Even though his own experiences with it had been brutal, his pragmatic view was that the concept was sound. And with Ben and Abby’s eager participation, dinnertime had become a highlight of Matt’s day.
    â€œIt’s my turn to cook tomorrow, right?” he asked.
    Abby nodded.
    â€œI’m planning to dig the grill out of the shed out back. It’s time we get our summer going, don’t you think?” He looked from daughter to son, but got no response. “Any requests for the first barbeque of the season?” He felt a little foolish putting so much enthusiasm in his voice. “Come on, someone must have an idea.”
    â€œCheeseburgers,” Abby finally said.
    â€œCheeseburgers. Good call, Abby. How about you, Ben? Any requests?”
    â€œCheeseburgers are good.”
    Looking at his son, Matt remembered last fall when Ben had found himself in some trouble in art class. The teacher had positioned herself on the edge of her desk, a book in her hands, reading to the class. The assignment had been for the students to draw a portrait of her as she read. They could use any style they wanted, from classical to cartoon. As far as she was concerned, they could put devil horns on her head or give her three eyes. The only requirement was that they couldn’t show their drawings to each other while she read. They were to maintain silence and pay attention to the story.
    Ben’s drawing was really very good, Matt thought, except that he’d made his teacher’s eyes crossed and the book in herhands upside down. A classmate across the aisle saw Ben’s picture and giggled out loud. Then others began looking and snorting, until the small cluster of students attracted the teacher’s attention. She pointed out to the whole class how Ben had failed to follow instructions. Then she held his drawing up for everyone to see, and the roomful of laughter added further to his embarrassment.
    A note had been sent home, accompanied by the picture. It didn’t help matters when Matt