Stones in the Road by Nick Wilgus Read Free Book Online Page A

likes him.”
    “Could have fooled me.”
    “If you’ve ever wondered why I’m so screwed up….”
    “All the time,” I said with a smile. “But I’ve seen worse. Believe me, Jackie.”
    “Don’t call me Jackie.”
    “How do you feel about Jackie-boy ?”
    “I’m not kidding, Clarence!” he exclaimed.
    “Okay, fine,” I said.
    “I don’t know how we’re going to get through this.”
    “One day down, thirty more to go,” I said. “That’s how.”
    “Really. I don’t know how—”
    “One day at a time. Worrying doesn’t help.”
    “I know, but—”
    The door to the bedroom opened suddenly and Noah appeared, a look of worry in his eyes. He was dressed in underpants, and I got a whiff of urine.
    “I wish he’d learn to knock,” Jackson muttered as he grabbed the end of the sheet to cover his privates. He was downright Christian when it came to nudity, a fact about him that I found rather baffling. I was admittedly rather too free with my ways, having never learned to be properly ashamed of myself and my body.
    Daddy ? Noah said.
    What is it ? I asked.
    Can you come here ?
    He left as silently as he’d come.
    “Now what?” Jackson asked.
    “He must have wet the bed again,” I said.
    Jackson frowned.
    I put on boxers, went down the hall to Noah’s bedroom.
    I’m sorry , Noah signed, a fearful look in his eyes. He was standing by his bed, which had received a good soaking during the night.
    It’s okay , I said.
    He turned his eyes in the direction of the master bedroom. J’s going to be mad , he signed, finger spelling “J” for Jackson rather than using the sign for “papa.” He only did that when he was worried Jackson would be mad at him. Suddenly it wasn’t “papa” anymore, rather the more formal “J.”
    How do you feel ?
    Noah shrugged.
    Headache ? I asked.
    He shook his head.
    I felt his forehead; the fever was gone.
    Let me have those , I signed, motioning for his wet underwear.
    Don’t tell him , Noah signed as he handed over the evidence of his crime. He was nervous, agitated, pale.
    Don’t worry about it.
    I don’t want him to think I’m a baby.
    You’re not a baby.
    I didn’t mean to do it!
    It’s all right.
    I’m sorry, Daddy ! Tears formed in his eyes.
    It’s all right .
    He stood there, head lowered, filled with a strange listlessness.
    Why don’t you put on shorts ? I suggested.
    He looked around despairingly at the clothes he’d left strewn about on the floor, as if the task of deciding which pair of shorts to put on was too confusing, too overwhelming.
    I had noticed this about him before—this paralysis, this look of bewilderment about the simplest of things. Jackson said I babied him when I made such decisions for him, and perhaps he was right, so now I waited to see what Noah would do. He continued to look around, biting at his lower lip, looking distressed, almost afraid.
    What’s wrong, sweetie ?
    He offered me a helpless look, hugging his arms to his chest. I handed him a pair of shorts.
    I stripped the sheets off his bed and gathered them up. He followed me to the laundry room, one hand hooked in the waistband of my boxers as if to make sure I didn’t leave. He continued to cling to me while I loaded the washer.
    Is J going to be mad?
    He’s just concerned about you, that’s all.
    I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do it !
    He looked wretched, embarrassed.
    Are you okay ?
    He shrugged miserably.
    I felt his forehead, his chest. Although he was almost twelve, he was not developing like other boys. He still looked very much like a seven or eight year old, with thin arms and legs, a pinched belly, his head too big for his body, his teeth too big for his mouth, his rib cage so delicate looking I was afraid someone might push on it a tad bit too hard and break one of his ribs. While puberty was surely on the way, I had yet to see much evidence of it in his physical development. He had tiny blond hairs on his arms and legs, but that was all. No