Bildungsromans; Fathers and sons -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
“Now you, Tom,” she called to the black-haired boy. “I told you kids to
wash the dishes after supper and to put Mary to bed. Here it is past ten
and nothing done and you two reading books again.”
The black-haired boy got up and started obediently toward her, but Sam
walked rapidly past him and clutched the woman by the arm so that she
winced and twisted in his grasp.
“You come with me,” he said.
He walked the woman across the room and up the stairs. She leaned
heavily on his arm, laughing, and looking up into his face.
At the top of the stairway he stopped.
“We go in here,” she said, pointing to a door.
He took her into the room. “You get to sleep,” he said, and going out
closed the door, leaving her sitting heavily on the edge of the bed.
Downstairs he found the two boys among the dishes in a tiny kitchen off
the dining-room. The little girl still slept uneasily in the chair by
the table, the hot lamp-light streaming down on her thin cheeks.
Sam stood in the kitchen door looking at the two boys, who looked back
at him self-consciously.
“Which of you two puts Mary to bed?” he asked, and then, without waiting
for an answer, turned to the taller of the two boys. “Let Tom do it,” he
said. “I will help you here.”
Joe and Sam stood in the kitchen at work with the dishes; the boy, going
busily about, showed the man where to put the clean dishes, and got him
dry wiping towels. Sam’s coat was off and his sleeves rolled up.
The work went on in half awkward silence and a storm went on within
Sam’s breast. When the boy Joe looked shyly up at him it was as though
the lash of a whip had cut down across flesh, suddenly grown tender. Old
memories began to stir within him and he remembered his own childhood,
his mother at work among other people’s soiled clothes, his father Windy
coming home drunk, and the chill in his mother’s heart and in his own.
There was something men and women owed to childhood, not because it
was childhood but because it was new life springing up. Aside from any
question of fatherhood or motherhood there was a debt to be paid.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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