Fiction |
Men
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Paula opened the oven door, inhaled the hot fragrance of chicken, tomato, and olives, pulled the pan out and set it on the stovetop. She closed the door and started to turn the chicken pieces over. Almost done. From the living room she heard Bob’s voice, happy and excited, telling the punch line of some story to his older brother Jerry. “Ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha!”
Well, she thought, I do love their happiness with each other, after so much loss in their family and not seeing each other for years. Siblings I hardly had, though I had the loss, too, a sister and a little boy dying before I was four, no other children, Mom and Dad too scared, I guess. Then Dad so sad for so long—just too sad to be happy with his little girl ever again. Which didn’t mean he wouldn’t push me around, making me take a secretarial course when I only wanted to paint. Jerry was opinionated like Dad, and all of them were relentless arguers; Bob not as aggressive but still, so persistent! They all knew what was best and why. It drove her a bit crazy. Paula walked back to Mary and Ronnie’s bedroom to ask Mary to set the table. She was eight, eager to help. Ronnie, six, was building a tower with blocks. Little Ben, two-and-a-half, was quietly looking at a book on the floor of his room. The new baby boy was still asleep. A little shiver of anxiety traveled up Paula’s body--got to get dinner on the table and eat before he wakes up and wants his feeding. Paula stepped into the living room. “Okay, guys, dinner’s ready. Mary, tell Ronnie and Ben to come to the table, but quietly, so you don’t wake the baby.” Bob and Jerry ambled into the dining room, chuckling and swirling their drinks. Mary and Ronnie came and they all sat down. “Where’s Ben?” “I told him, Mom,” Mary said. “Be-en, come to dinner,” Paula called softly. She pushed a whiff of irritation out of her nose as she and Bob put food on the plates and she cut up Ben’s chicken. Ronnie was talking loudly about the tower he had built and how he was going to completely destroy it after dinner, and the men laughed and recalled their own campaigns of construction and destruction when they were kids. Ben still hadn’t come. “For goodness sakes, what’s wrong with him? He’s getting so stubborn.” Paula threw her napkin down on the table and stalked down the hallway to Ben’s room. Ben was still sitting on the floor with the book. He didn’t look up. Paula bent down over him. “Ben, I’m very angry!” Ben’s head shot up, his chin thrust forward, the corners of his mouth turned down. “Me angry, too!” he said. Paula’s face and neck flushed hot, her heart pounded. But she straightened up and turned toward the window. Oh my, what a quick-witted and determined little boy! She started to laugh, then covered it up with a cough. Now the images framed by the window caught her awareness. Rays of the setting sun angled down through leaves and summer haze, layered with rays of shade, shifting, undulating in a gentle breeze. Can I capture that on canvas? she wondered. She saw herself painting, working happily for hours in the studio she didn’t have now. She took a deep breath, then pulled her face into a kind-mom expression and bent down over Ben again. Placing her hand gently on his back, she said softly, “Ben, we have the chicken you really like, and we want you to enjoy it with us. Please come when you’re finished with this book. Okay?” “Okay.” Ben didn’t know that Paula told the story of “Me angry too!” at the table, but he heard laughter. He closed his book, trotted into the dining room, and stopped. All the grown-ups’ faces were kind and loving. He breathed his relief, climbed into his chair, and tucked into his chicken. |
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rufus Browning taught political science and ran the Public Research Institute at San Francisco State University. He co-authored Protest Is Not Enough: The Struggle of Blacks and Hispanics for Equality in Urban Politics (UC Press, 1984) and co-edited and contributed to Racial Politics in American Cities. He has facilitated the Caring Community Study Group at OLLI at SF State since 2008. He sings and composes and loves to hike.
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