Second Dad Summer by Benjamin Klas

Author:Benjamin Klas [Klas, Benjamin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781947159280
Publisher: Red Chair Press
Published: 2020-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

When the box was half empty, Dad reeled in his line and paused. “You having a nice summer?”

I shrugged. “Yeah.”

Dad held his fishing pole still, staring out at the river. I watched as my bobber floated along in the deep water.

Finally, Dad cast his line again and cleared his throat. “What do you think of Michael? Really think of him?” His voice was measured, like he was testing.

So there it was. Michael. Again. “He’s okay.” I cast my line back out.

Dad smiled. “You think so?”

I hesitated. “He’s different. Different from you.”

Dad brought in his line and slowly replaced the worm with one that still had life in it. “He’s different?” Dad cast again, his bobber moving slowly with the current.

I tried to formulate what I wanted to say. Something about the Uni-cycle, the highlighted hair, the painting clothes, the reminders to bring water and avoid potholes.

Just then, there was a tug on Dad’s line. He pulled in a bluegill. It flopped in the air as Dad pulled it from the water. It was too small. Dad’s big hands held it still while I removed the hook.

“Independence Day,” Dad said. “Swim free, little guy.” He reached down and let the fish squirm away into the murky shallows.

We sat there for a long time then, just the two of us. I weighed whether or not I wanted to bring Michael up again. I decided it was lucky he was out of the picture for the present.

The sky cleared. I put on my sunglasses.

Eventually, Dad brought out the Mountain Dew and the subs. It wasn’t noon yet, but we had been up since before dawn. We ate on the pier next to our fishing poles. The soda was sweet and thick.

When we finished our lunch, Dad suggested we take a break. We carried our poles, cooler, and tackle box to the shade of a maple. Dad lay back and was out like a light. I couldn’t understand how he could do that so easily, especially just after downing a Mountain Dew.

I thought about his question, What do you think about Michael? His voice was so controlled when he asked, that I knew he must really care about it. I wondered what he thought about Michael. I was afraid I already knew, but I needed to know for sure.

I lay beside Dad, watching the river, listening to the breeze in the leaves above me.

The shrieks of kids on the nearby playground woke me up. Dad was sitting up. When he saw me awake, he looked down at his watch.

“Well,” he said. “I think the fish won today. I guess that means I don’t have to bother cleaning anything. We should probably head home.”

We packed up the gear. As we drove down the highway, I took a deep breath, then asked the question. “Dad, what do you think about Michael?”

“Well,” Dad scratched behind his ear, which had turned pink. “I like him.” He continued to stare straight ahead at the highway, but a smile crept onto his face and his cheeks turned a little pink.

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