Daddy

The call was from their friends. They had to cancel their dinner date that night. She had a terrible sore throat, and he had to stay late at the office. Sarah turned toward Agnes with a pensive look. “I guess we'll stay home tonight and eat with the kids. The people we were having dinner with just canceled.”

Agnes nodded, watching her, and then spoke up. “Why don't you go out with Mr. Watson anyway?” Sarah looked as though she needed the distraction. And Sarah smiled at her. The two women knew each other well, and yet Agnes always kept a respectful distance. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind, to give them hell when she thought she should, particularly for the children's sake, yet even when she railed at them, which she sometimes did, they were “Mr. and Mrs. Watson.” “Mr. Watson isn't very fond of meat loaf.”

Sarah grinned at her. She was right. He wasn't. Maybe they should go out. But suddenly she didn't want to be alone with him. And as she tried to decide, she heard the front door slam and a voice call out, and a moment later, Benjamin strode into the cozy kitchen. At seventeen, he was six feet tall, with bright red hair, and his mother's dark blue eyes. His cheeks were red from the cold, and he pulled his watch cap from his head and threw it on the table.

“Disgusting boy!” Agnes waved a wooden spoon at him, looking fierce, but the love she felt for him was evident in her eyes. “Get that hat off my kitchen table!”

He laughed, and grinned warmly at her, stuffing the hat in the pocket of his peacoat. “Sorry, Aggie … Hi, Mom.” Instead of the hat, he tossed an armload of books onto the table. “Boy, it's cold out there.” His hands were red, he never wore gloves, and he had walked the last block home, a friend had dropped him off. And he strode straight to the refrigerator to give himself sustenance until dinner. He ate constantly, portions that would have frightened anyone, yet'he was thin as a rail, and had his father's spare frame and powerful shoulders.

“Stay out of there. You'll be eating dinner in less than an hour.” Agnes waved the spoon again and he grinned.

“Just a snack, Aggie … it's okay … I'm starving.” He stuffed a handful of salami into his mouth as Sarah looked at him. He was a man, and a handsome one. He had his own life, own friends, and in a few months he'd be in college. Did he really need her now? Would it make a difference to him? Suddenly she couldn't imagine that her presence there meant anything to him, as he turned to look at her, struck by the somber look in her eyes. “Something wrong, Mom?”

“No, no,” she shook her head fervently, just as she had when Agnes had asked her. “I was just trying to decide whether or not to go out to dinner with your father. What are you up to tonight? Still studying for exams?”

He nodded. He was a good student, a fine young man, a person she admired, her firstborn, and still the most like her in many ways, although he was less rebellious than she had been at his age. “Yeah, my last one's tomorrow. Chemistry. I'm going over to Bill's to study with him tonight. Can I have the car?” That was all he needed from her in truth, their refrigerator and her car keys.

She smiled slowly at him. She would miss him if she went. She would miss all of them … especially Sam … oh God … and Ollie … “Sure … just be sure you drive carefully. If it gets any colder, this stuff'll turn to ice. Can't he come here, come to think of it?” But Benjamin was quick to shake his head, always determined, just as she was.

“He came here the last three times. I told him I'd go there tonight. Mel's going to be out anyway. Did she call you?”

Their mother shook her head. “Not yet.” She never did. She always forgot to call. She did exactly as she pleased, and always had, without making a fuss about it. She led her own life. At fifteen, Melissa was the soul of independence. “What do you mean, 'she's out tonight'? It's a Tuesday.” She had only just been allowed to date since that September, and it was confined to one weekend night, with boys her parents had met, under circumstances they approved of. “And how's she getting home?”

“I told her I'd pick her up.” He picked up an apple from the basket on the kitchen counter and took a bite. “She has rehearsal tonight. She's in some play with the drama club. She's okay, Mom.” They both heard the front door slam again, and Sarah saw Agnes glance at the clock with a private smile, as she glanced hurriedly at her meat loaf.