“Dad? Can I talk to you?” Ben sat on one of the old aluminum-tube kitchen chairs and braced his arms on the top of the cracked-linoleum kitchen table. His father liked to joke about all his furniture being OTC – Off The Curb. Ben didn’t think it was so funny.
He didn’t really want to have this conversation with his father. He wanted it with his mother. Apparently he wasn’t going to get a chance since Dad wouldn’t let him use the phone to call her.
Ben’s father reached into the oven and pulled out a pizza as if feeding his son pizza yet again could be considered an accomplishment. “Sure, of course you can.” Dad tried to act all jovial, but sounded fake instead.
“I want to tell my side of things. At school, I mean. With Mrs. D.”
“Do you want a big slice or a small one?”
“I’m talking about school, Dad. Mrs. D. is out to get me.” Now that Mom had stood up for him, Mrs. D. would be out to get her too, but you couldn’t say that to Dad. Dad totally lost it everytime Ben said anything about his mother.
“Don’t exagerate, Ben. I’m sure she’s just doing her job. Here, take a big slice.” He served out the pizza.
“No she isn’t. If she was doing her job I wouldn’t be in any trouble.”
Ben waited for him to ask something meaningful, like what did he mean Mrs. D wasn’t doing her job. He couldn’t wait to tell someone, even his dad, what the old witch had been doing.
“‘Were’ doing, not ‘was’.” Dad took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. After a minute of chewing, he swallowed, then took another bite.
“This is serious, Dad. She isn’t doing what she’s supposed to, and it isn’t fair. She gives really hard assignments, doesn’t give us enough time to do them, then marks off every little thing. I’m not the only….”
“Ben,” He sighed gustily, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “You’re just going to have to try harder.”
It occurred to Ben that his father never really looked at him. He looked at whatever he was doing with his hands, like taking the pizza out or picking up his can of beer. At least the TV wasn’t on, like it usually was during dinner. But Ben got the feeling no one was listening, which really pissed him off.
“Dad, Mrs. D said I wasn’t turning in my homework, but I was. She keeps throwing it in the garbage. I watched her do it. I even got it back out and handed it to her, but she still says I didn’t do it. Teachers aren’t supposed to do that, are they?”
Ben’s father leaned way back to reach the remote control for the TV in the kitchen from the counter.
“Well? Aren’t they?”
“I’m sure she’s just doing her job.” He clicked the TV on, then leaned to the side so he could look at it over Ben’s shoulder.
Anger boiled up, making Ben clench his teeth so hard they squeeked like icecubes. He hated the way Dad made him feel like dirt, like less than nothing. His father never looked at him. He never listened to him. The only reason he ever wanted him around was to make his mother feel bad because she did want Ben.
Ben was sick and tired of pizza too. At least when Miranda ordered it, she got something Ben liked. He hated pepperoni, which was the only thing his dad ever got. Ben had told him over and over how he didn’t like pepperoni, but Dad never listened. He never listened to anything Ben ever had to say.
Ben flipped the slice onto his plate, then shoved the plate away. “I’m not hungry.”
“All right, then go without.” His dad glared across the table.
At least his father was finally looking at him. Too bad it didn’t make Ben feel any better.
The previous was Suzie’s House 30: The Confessional
This is Suzie’s House 31: A Sympathetic Ear
Next is Suzie’s House 32: Respect
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