That Friday Austin came home with blood in his eye: tough week, rough flight, traffic from the airport a quagmire. Piling on, in the mail an envelope from Joe. Danny’s soccer ball lay at his feet. He kicked it down the hallway. Annoyed, he growled. “Damn it, Danny!”
His face a kid’s confusion, Danny came to the door of his room.
Pointing to the ball, Austin ordered sternly, “Keep your toys in your room. Someone could fall on this and break their neck.”
Scooping up the ball, Danny disappeared inside his room.
Continuing into their bedroom where Jenny was putting laundry into drawers, bushed, he sputtered. “Do they have to tear up all the streets at once?”
“Everyone’s complaining,” she responded. “You must be hungry.”
Hunger was the last thing on his mind. “Don’t hold dinner for me. I had a late lunch.”
A compliant look, she left the room.
Native stoicism, he thought, guilts seeping in around sharp edges. He couldn’t face the envelope from Joe, or disappointed looks from his wife and son. Pouring a shot of bourbon from the flask he carried in his briefcase, he downed it, poured another. Stripped to his underwear, he sprawled on the bed. The lights went out.
In the morning, empty stomach growling, he took a shower and dressed before he walked into the kitchen. “Hey, any leftovers?” he asked, pouring a cup of coffee from the pot. No one looked him in the eye.
“Good morning.” Jenny gave him a cautious sideways glance.
The look on Danny’s face said: Which dad turned up this morning?
Not big on apologies, Austin figured it was up to him to clear the air. A boy has no idea the crap a man deals with. “Hey Danny,” he began, shifting footing. “I yelled at you last night because someone could fall and get hurt.”
Eyes fixed on the table, Danny listened without protest.
“Can you give me your assurance you’ll put your toys away?”
Danny looked up. “Does that mean I have to promise?”
“Yeah.”
“Sometimes I forget.”
“Don’t let it happen again. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“We’ll shake on it, son.” Firmly Austin took Danny’s hand. The boy went to his room, chagrined.
Austin took down a box of cereal, poured flakes into a bowl, opened the fridge, gazed inside. “Milk?”
“On the door,” Jenny directed.
He retrieved the carton, took his breakfast to the table. “Soooo,” he began. “You think I was too hard on him.”
She shook her head. “No. You were right.” Bringing the coffee pot to the table, she continued. “Boys need to understand consequences.”
“You do think I was too hard on him.”
“If I did, I’d say so.”
He dropped the subject, finished his cereal. After that, he took the calculator and the games he’d bought into Danny’s room. Until lunch was ready, they played math games. Danny seemed intrigued and Austin had reason to believe a game had gotten into Danny’s head.
Lunch over and in need of fresh air, she took Danny to the playground. Alone in the apartment, Austin spread out the contents of the envelope from Joe: Boy Scouts, YMCA, Bureau of Indian Affairs, Iroquois Nations; paid staff and volunteers involved in planning and activities. The clans had built bunk houses and a Longhouse for meals, ceremonies and activities. The focus: Iroquois heritage, rituals, crafts and dances. The brochures, described a well-planned camping experience; he couldn’t find fault—except, for that nagging feeling the reservation wasn’t safe for either his wife or his son.
He left a note, went for a walk, blocking out the camp more difficult than expected. Why should his son be exposed to his mother’s heritage? In the back of his mind he knew she’d been imparting her ways to Danny all along. He didn’t approve, but, in the past, he’d taken the path of least resistance. Now, if he stood firm, she’d have to back off.
Danny was in bed before the subject of camp came up in conversation. He was leafing through the contents of the envelope when she came and sat beside him.
“I haven’t said anything to Daniel ... yet,” she said in low tones.
He leveled his eyes. “Are you thinking he won’t want to go?”
“I don’t know.”
“You want him to go.”
She studied him a moment. “I think this camp would be a good experience for him. And, I want to go to Welborne and the lake this summer.”
Evasive, Austin concluded. Leaflets in his hand, he paced across the room and back. “I’m against the idea of this camp.” He fanned the leaflets, keeping his tone in check.
“It’s the reservation,” Jenny countered, coming to her feet, arm folded. “You’ve always been against Daniel and I going there.”
“Why would you say that?” defensive, Austin shot back.
“It’s been obvious to me.”
“Wrong.” he declared, sharply, their voices coming up a notch.
“We don’t talk about this; it’s been swept under the rug.” Her tone hushed, with an edge. “I was raised on the reservation.”
“You were raised in California,” he countered.
“That’s what you want to believe. Sara Cary raised me.”
Flustered, his hand ran down his face. Unable to form a lucid come back, he groaned. “Awwwww!”
“Daniel and I have the blood,” she cut in, stressing words. “Are you ashamed of us?”
He turned away evading her question. “You’re on the wrong track here. You and Danny ... I have to protect you.”
“How very noble of you.” Angry sarcasm, rare in her tone and manner.
Austin held his hand up. “Cool it!” His pulses throbbed. If this continued, he’d say something he’d regret.
Trembling, she dropped into a chair. “All my life I’ve run away from this … Prejudice.”
Though whispered, the word hit Austin like a thunderbolt. Incensed, he countered. “You’re calling me a ... bigot.”
She came to her feet shaking her head. “You don’t understand.”
“I’m stupid then. He threw his hands up; leaflets scattered across the carpet.
“I don’t want to fight with you over summer camp.”
“No fight, disagreement.”
She left the room; he heard water running in the tub.
Man! How did this get so out of control so fast. What works in business won’t always work at home. Too much emotion. He had to find a way to defuse this situation.
When his temper cooled, he had an idea. On a piece of Danny’s drawing paper, in large black letters he printed: MAKE LOVE, NOT WAR. Satisfied with the effort, he took the message to their bedroom, propped it up against the pillows. Calmer now, he undressed, stood off in the shadows.
She came in quietly, her eyes sweeping the room. Falling on his message, a light came to her face, an amused sound escaped her throat. She set the message aside, turned down the bed.
Austin came to his usual side. “Okay if I sleep here?”
“It’s our bed,” she whispered.
You didn’t sleep here last night.”
She laughed. “You were sprawled.” She threw her arms out. “No room for me.”
He chuckled. “I’ll make room for you, if you’ll make room for me.”
“I don’t like to lose my temper.”
Was anger gone? “Let’s put this other stuff on hold.”
She climbed into bed, held the covers open for him.
Sunday morning breakfasts, a big production. Danny was seated at the table, Jenny in a robe and slippers flipping pancakes, a mouth-watering aroma.
“Ahhhh,” Austin remarked. “Mom’s pancakes are the best.”
Danny nodded, tipping the bottle of reservation syrup Joe brought on his last visit.
She brought a serving platter to the table; they dug in.
Danny cleaned his plate and wiped his mouth before he lobbed a grenade into the room. “What’s camp?”
Austin had a mouthful. He glanced across the table. Jenny caught his eye, but didn’t take his cue. He swallowed. “Where did you hear that, Danny?”
“Papers on the floor.” A glance into the living room. Austin had left the leaflets where they landed. “And,” Danny continued, “I heard you and Mom talking last night.”
Innocence is bliss, Austin thought. The ball was in his court. “Camp,” he began, “is a place where kids go in the summer to have fun and learn new things.” Chuckling, he added. “And parents get a break.”
Danny laughed. He’d matured to the point he understood Austin’s satirical humor. “Did you go to camp, Dad?”
Austin dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “I was raised on a farm, acres to roam, chores. Farm kids don’t go to camp.”
Accepting Austin’s explanation, Danny turned to his mom. “Did you go to camp?”
“She smiled. “No Daniel. We visited family on vacations.”
Danny stretched his arms out. “I want to visit everybody. Grandma Ivy, Gramps, Aunt Caroline, Uncle Charlie. My whole family. Everybody.”
Brows drawn together, Austin didn’t respond.
“We are going visiting this summer,” Jenny stated as though the decision were made. “Everyone is looking forward to our visit.” She looked directly into Austin’s face.
Their eyes held. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, looking away and shifting in his chair. Moving in for the kill, wasn’t Jenny’s style. The chill they’d overcome last night was back.
Later in the morning, Austin walked into the living room to find Danny on the floor with the camp materials spread out; he read the words he could interpret. Mostly, he was attracted by drawings. “Go get your calculator,” Austin directed. “We’ll do math games.”
Danny gathered up the leaflets, took them with him to his room. A few minutes later he returned with the calculator; his son’s progress aggravatingly slow. Things were tense around the apartment. Jenny went about housekeeping and making the meals, little of the usual week-end give and take. The urge to get out strong.
It rained all morning; during lunch, the rain stopped. Austin stretched his hands above his head. “Danny and I are going for a walk. You want to go along?”
She declined: a pie to bake and a roast for dinner.
“I could pick up a bottle of wine.” Her answer would let him know what sort of evening to expect.
“Wine would be nice.” Her look warmed the chill.
Promising.
His son almost matching him stride for stride, he tried to draw out Danny. “Your mom wants to spend some time in Welborne this summer. What do you think?”
Danny shrugged. “Cool.”
Austin wondered how much he’d heard of the argument last night. “You want to go to Welborne, don’t you?”
Danny nodded.
“What do you think about ... camp?”
“Would I know anybody there?”
“Gramps will be there ... other kids. Your mom and I won’t be there.”
“Oh!” Danny step slowed as though he imagined strange surroundings, people.
With that unknown planted in his son’s mind, Austin dropped the subject.
Later in the evening, he passed by Danny’s room. The boy was on his tummy with camping pamphlets spread out. Austin questioned Danny had a real desire for a “camping experience.” He told Jenny they’d put the issue to a vote. She agreed.
Fine wine, romantic music, touching, a powerful drive pushed differences into a corner.
Monday, another work week, traveling; at the door a parting kiss, a usual be safe blessing. “Let’s try not to influence this one way or the other,” Austin suggested. They both knew the elephant in the room was: camp.
“I know your feelings, you know mine.”
“Ahhhh, but you have the advantage.” He tweaked her nose.
“I’ll be as neutral as I can.”
“Hmm.” His tone uncertain.
“Do you trust me?”
“I have to,” he responded. “Gotta go.” One last kiss. “I’ll call.”
The team of Burdette and Coleman spent several days at the offices of ALCO Chemical on the foul-smelling Jersey coast. A second visit; an ultimatum on the table. Infected by a persistent, putrid odor, meetings didn’t go well. ALCO’s reps. played hardball. Bates Welborne stood its ground. That no agreement could be hammered out a blemish on his team’s performance.
On the flight back, Austin’s eyes stung, head throbbed, belly churned; his self-confidence scrapped raw. Drained, disgruntled, Friday afternoon he drove home from the airport. Opening his front door, he heard animated chatter coming from his son’s room. “Hey,” he called out, “what’s all the excitement.”
“Hi Dad.” Danny looked up, beaming. “Mom and I are going shopping. My summer clothes are too small.”
Austin chuckled. He looked Danny over. “You’ve grown, all right; put on some bulk,” he acknowledged, clenching a fist.
Jenny picked up a stack of shirts and pants. “We’ll give these things away.” She brushed against him, a brief, affectionate touch.
He took hold of her arm. “Have I missed something?”
She gave their son a furtive glance.
“The kids at school say camp’s a blast.”
“Peer pressure,” she commented, under her breath.
“A blast, huh,” he commented, a sinking feeling, but he didn’t give up yet. “You can go to camp with them. You’ll know somebody there.”
Danny tipped his head to one side. “You don’t get it, Dad. They want to go to my camp.”
The creeping realization he’d lost this one, he inquired. “And your camp would be ...?”
“Indian Lake!”