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Show FAMILY OF BEARS Far back in his mind, the boy could see them: his mother fair and pale, laughing delicately over a sliver of jade from the Indies; his father, tall and proud, pleased with her joy and the gift he had brought her. But that was very far back in the boy's mind, like myths and the tales of lands which never existed; what he saw now was the space between them. He saw first his mother, frail and frightened, her lips drawn tightly closed; and then his father, thick and dark and easily angry. When he thought he might fall into the space between his parents, he hid in his room, arranging his metal soldiers in exacting ranks, or picking the fur from his childhood bears. Sometimes, though, he did see his parents together, and when they were together they fought. Their fights were all silent, a kind of marital mime, but the boy could tell from the pressure of his mother's thin hands on his shoulders, from the menacing stance of his father, that they were at war, and that he was the prize-the fertile land, the industrial valley, the commanding ridge-over which they fought. When he felt them fighting, he left. He shuffled down along the hill by the creek, by the chicken shacks that were collapsing at the edge of the neighboring field. There were still a few chickens around that the coyotes had not yet caught, and he watched them pecking at the dirt. Sometimes they |
