Ubo by Steve Rasnic Tem

Author:Steve Rasnic Tem
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
Publisher: Rebellion Publishing Ltd

12

STRIPED PAJAMAS. GORDON had had a couple of pairs. His favorites, with the red stripes. Not like the blue stripes on the uniforms the Jews wore. His stripes had been narrower. And of course they hadn’t had the two superimposed yellow triangles making the Star of David. Still, Daniel wished now he hadn’t bought them for his son. Now he couldn’t think of them as anything but uniforms for the sleep walkers, for the walking dreamers, the soon-to-be-dead.

Daniel and Elena had recognized that something was wrong, although they rarely put that worry into words. Gordon was less active than his classmates, more reticent to enter into the almost mindless, almost violent play of other boys his age. Although he clearly wanted to—Daniel could see it in his dark eyes, the vague shininess they took on when he saw the other boys playing. Daniel recognized the desire to be a “real” boy, all boy, the kind of boy everybody loved.

Before the diagnosis Daniel had taken Gordon’s reticence for shyness. He saw it as his job to draw his son out of his shell. For about six months when Gordon had been six or seven, the normally affectionate boy had become squirmy, stubborn, and reluctant to be held.

“It’s natural,” Elena had said. “My sister’s kids went through the exact same thing.”

“Maybe. I’m not so sure.” Daniel’s strategy had been to rough-house with his son, wrestling, grabbing, pretending to be a cowboy astride his horse. Daniel as the bull had been an angry force of nature.

Gordon waved the giant beach towel in Daniel’s face. Elena had sewn a picture of an enormous frog on it. Daniel aimed his head with its imaginary horns at the frog’s round belly.

“Here, Daddy‑bull! Come get me!”

Daniel crawled on all fours as fast as he could beneath the towel, shoulders and butt thrashing. “Snort! Snort!”

“Daddy‑bull’s got a cold!” Gordon leaped onto Daniel’s back, clutching his T-shirt at the shoulders, digging his small hands into Daniel’s sides, giggling. “I’m beatin up Daddy! Hey, I’m beatin him up!” Gordon liked the game more and more as he grew older, playing his part even more aggressively.

And Daniel encouraged it. He was even rougher in his play, as if to demonstrate to his small son how much the boy could actually handle, that there was no reason to be afraid.

“Wrestle, Daddy! Wrestle!” Daniel pulled Gordon off his back, laughing, put him on the floor beneath him, straddled him and began tickling. Gordon squirmed with uncontrollable laughter.

“That’s probably enough, Dan,” Elena said from the kitchen. “You’re getting him all worked up.”

It was a guy thing, he supposed. Not that girls couldn’t play as aggressively as boys, but it seemed that more frequently they knew when to stop. A father and his son, that was just two boys playing together, not knowing when to stop. And sometimes the games lasted a lifetime.

Daniel tickled more insistently, then bent over, wrapping his arms around Gordon, trying to hold him more tightly, kissing him on the cheek,

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