Thank you, Sklamb, my beta!
DON'T SHOW OFF
„Easy, Hoss, swallow first. Don't rush it!" the young father gently admonished the little boy.
Ben Cartwright sat on a chair in the back yard of a whitewashed house. He had been lucky to find a room to rent for the coming two months that was both affordable and clean. The 18-months-old sitting on a stool in front of him swallowed and opened his mouth wide again, closing his eyes in anticipation of the next spoonful of sweet semolina porridge.
I feel like a songbird feeding a cuckoo, Ben thought, smiling down at the strapping blonde boy and shovelled the next spoonful into his open mouth. Ben had hurried home after work to feed his baby son himself.
„That tastes fine, Hoss, doesn't it? We are really lucky that Widow Mayr cooks for us!"
The boy didn't waste his mouth on speech; he only nodded and opened it up again.
It was after four p.m., and Ben looked to his left at the dusty street where he expected to see his other son appear soon. He wished so much that Adam would come back from his first day at school in a flock of other schoolboys, chatting and playing with new friends.
On the street there were children carrying books—but his boy wasn't among them.
Hoss had finished his porridge, and Ben set him on the sun-heated plastered ground.
Whenever they paused in their journey for a while, thoughts crept into his mind that he couldn't stop, thoughts about what travelling for most of their lives was doing to his sons: they missed having a settled home, going to school, and sometimes even having enough food to eat.
Ben bit his lips.
Another group of children went by. Hoss, satiated and happy, moved his small wooden horse and some round pebbles over the ground, alternately whinnying, barking, or meowing. Ben stood up from his chair and looked down the street. Adam doesn't have much experience being with other children.
Ben bit his lips again.
In the morning he hadn't accompanied Adam to school because work started shortly after sun up; and he didn't dare ask for a half day off in the first week. He couldn't risk this job as a builder; enough other men were all too ready to take over. Well, Adam didn't get lost in the wild—finding his way to the school and back home in this small settlement should be easy for him. And, just to be sure, they had walked the route together already yesterday.
Mostly, Ben felt it was worth it—it was worth travelling and even worth suffering for their goal. He felt they were headed towards a kind of promised land, a promise to him made all the more important because he had hoped to share it with each of his two deceased wives. And a promise to their sons, for their future.
But Ben cut short his musing about goals, promises, and the West, when he saw his seven year old son dragging himself along the dusty street, head hung low, with his slate as well as a piece of paper in his hands.
Ben stepped out of the yard to meet the miserable child. „What happened, son?" he asked softly.
The boy looked up. „I didn't show off, Pa, honest I didn't," he whispered. „And I only pushed back. I didn't start anything!" He held the sheet out to his father.
As Ben took the paper he remembered talking to Adam in front of the schoolyard after they had practiced walking there yesterday:
„Adam, you know you must always obey the teacher, you hear? Or else he will punish you or write a note to me," he had said. „Watch your manners and don't brawl." Ben had looked sternly into his son's eyes. Actually, he didn't expect his boy to have problems with discipline—but better safe than sorry.
„Yes, Pa, I know and I will be good." The boy's eyes had nevertheless been shining with joy and anticipation. Going to a real school had been Adam's biggest wish for almost a year. He'd been so excited at finally having the chance that his body seemed as tense with energy as a wound-up watch spring.
Ben had seen Adam's eagerness, and suddenly an image had popped up in his mind: A hand going up again and again and again. The hand of a boy who always wore a fresh white shirt with a fancy bow; who had crooked teeth in a pale face. The hand of a classmate in his school in Boston long ago. Ben hadn't liked school very much; it had been a duty for him, nothing else. That other boy-his name had been Ezekiel, Ben remembered-had smugly answered every question the teacher allowed him to, and did so with special delight any time the other boys had prepared their lessons poorly. He'd been the teacher's pet, and he had not a single friend his age. All the other boys—even he himself, Ben had to admit—had teased and mocked him, whenever the teacher hadn't been looking.
„And don't show off!" Ben had added with emphasis.
His son's dark eyes had looked puzzled, „How do you mean that, Pa?"
„By answering too many of the teacher's questions, son."
Adam had frowned and Ben had smiled down at the confused boy. „Better not be too forward with your answers, or you won't find friends! You have to share the teacher with all the other children," he had advised. Patting Adam's shoulder he had turned to head back home.
Now it seemed that things had not gone so well.
„Tell me what happened, and please start from the beginning," Ben urged.
„I was good, Pa, really good. I swear I didn't answer a single question!"
„You didn't answer any questions? But … I said …"
„When the teacher asked me for my name, I told him. I wasn't impolite," Adam said quickly, obviously misinterpreting his father's facial expression.
Ben opened his mouth to explain the misunderstanding but the boy continued, „The teacher asked a lot of questions about math problems and I thought about the answers in my head. Uh, Pa, some boys solved really hard math problems …. I never heard about before. They called it trigo…metrie." Adam's enthusiasm for learning showed again for a moment. „Then we had to read something out loud. I didn't put my hand up, but the teacher picked me and so I did it—but very fast. After that was recess and one of the bigger boys came up to me…." Adam hesitated. „And said I was dumb as a calf because I didn't answer any questions in the math lesson. And he called me names. Why would he do such a thing, Pa? Then he pushed me. And lots of the other boys stood around watching. I pushed him back, but he was much taller! It's mean to push someone smaller, isn't it, Pa?" Adam was upset. „And all the others laughed. That was mean, too!"
Me and my good advice Ben thought in frustration. „Yes, it was unfair! But boys are like that sometimes. Perhaps you should just go ahead and answer all the questions you want to from now on …The teacher will be satisfied and the others won't think you are dumb….because you aren't … and Trigonometry isn't for first graders anyway…"
„But you did say…"
„Yes, I know, but….maybe my advice wasn't as good as I thought."
Ben walked back into the yard. Adam followed him slowly.
„Tomorrow it will be better. I'm sure there are also nice boys, Adam. Just be friendly yourself. Think how much you will learn. And you have always Hoss and me."
„Howdy, Hoss," Adam mumbled and sat down next to his baby brother.
Just then two boys carrying fishing poles passed by the fence. Ben noticed how Adam gave them a quick glance before looking down at Hoss's toys again. „C'mon Hoss, we can play. Why don't we use this stool as a barn to put the animals in...and don't you want to have some pigs and some cows, too?"
Watching his son trying to hide his unhappiness, Ben bit his lips a third time.
Ben's and Adam's head jerked simultaneously back to the fence when they heard two boyish voices approach, engaged in quiet but intense discussion. Eventually two fishing poles appeared again and two freckled faces peered over the fence.
„Hey, your name's Adam, isn't it? You're the new boy?" the bigger boy asked.
Adam only nodded.
„You don't speak much?"
„No."
„But you pushed ole Billy real fine, you know," the smaller boy chimed in. „The mean ole ox nearly fell down." Both the boys were grinning at Adam so broadly their faces seemed about to split in two. Adam got up and wandered over to the fence.
„I wonder if you maybe wanna go fishing with me and my brother?" the first boy said nonchalantly. „If you know how to fish, I mean."
„Sure I know. When we were travelling here I fished nearly every day," Adam answered without hesitation. Twisting back to face his father, he asked, „Can I go with them, Pa, please? And can I take our fishing pole?"
Ben closed his mouth before a „don't show off" could come out and only nodded his approval. But he couldn't resist ruffling his son's hair and whispering, „Have fun, my little big boy," when Adam passed him on the way to their wagon to collect their fishing pole.
When he saw Adam bouncing down the street with his new friends, the image of a boy with crooked teeth and fancy clothes vanished from Ben's mind. His boy would never be a know-it-all or a teacher's pet. And almost with satisfaction he read the note in which the teacher asked him for a meeting about his son's behaviour at recess.