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Chapter Two
A Man’s Game
“One, two, three, four …” Stephen counted each time his chin reached the bar. He wondered how long he had until his dad came back home and whether he’d go easier on him today because he had his big poker game tonight. “Twelve ... 13 ... 14 …” Stephen continued as he began to take deeper breaths. His sweat was absorbed by a gray Bell Bobcats t-shirt that he’d gotten a few weeks ago from his middle school in Golden, Colorado. He often used it for workouts since the bobcat looked “cool and manly, just like Dad” as he’d told his mother.
“Seven-teen … hmph, 18 … ugh, nineteeeeen …” he groaned as the tip of his chin just eclipsed the top of the rusty bar. Stephen’s body hung from the bar as the muscles in his forearms and back bulged. His hands sweated profusely as he built up the strength to lift himself one more time (had it not been for the oxidized texture of the bare metal, he would have slipped off already). Stephen began to pull himself up, tensing his back and using every muscle from the waist up to bring his body to the bar. Veins popped out from his biceps to his neck and even in the center of his forehead. The skin on his back tightened and his back resembled a cobra’s hood—not commonly a trait in the physique of a 12-year-old.
As Stephen got closer and closer to the bar, he perspired more. His body felt heavier with each passing moment. Sweat ran into his eyes, causing them to burn. His sweat coated his hair giving it more of a jet-black look, contrasting the normal dark brown he usually had. He ached to use his legs and kick himself up past the bar but refrained from doing so as per his father’s orders, even though he was alone in the yard and his father wasn’t home. Stephen lifted his chin toward the sky and pulled himself up just enough so that his chin wisped against the bar.
“TWENTY!” Stephen let all the air he’d held in his lungs escape as his muscles relaxed, he finally let go of the bar, and fell to the ground. Stephen wanted to lie down on the dirt floor of his family’s shed but held himself up. He’d finally finished his daily workout and could go eat the breakfast his mother had been preparing for him. He took a moment and rested with one knee on the ground and his torso on top of his thigh, panting. Sweat ran down the sides of his head and off the tip of his nose, forming a small pool under him. The salty taste on his lips gave him the extra boost to straighten up.
“Phwwwwwwhht,” Stephen whistled for his dog, Kane. A rustling sound came from the trees beside the shed, getting louder and faster until suddenly Kane jumped out, an energetic furball that looked like a mix between a border collie and something else. He was covered in dirt from playing in the wilderness that surrounded the house. It made it almost impossible to see his white fur, except for the one circle surrounding his left eye.
“Alright, alright enough,” Stephen said, laughing as Kane jumped around him and tried to lick his face.
“Let’s go inside and see what mom’s making us, huh boy?”
Kane followed his owner and enjoyed every minute of it. The two of them raced across the yard to the front door. Kane won and waited anxiously by the wooden door, the smell of breakfast scenting the air. Stephen caught up to his loyal companion and smiled. “One day I’m going to beat you.”
Kane just sat with his tail dusting the porch floor and his tongue sticking out. Then he nudged the door handle with his nose, asking Stephen to open it. Stephen granted his wish and let Kane go in first. Entering the kitchen, Stephen saw his mother standing in front of the stove, the lights from the exhaust hood highlighting her doll-like features. Features that were highlighted by her dark brown hair, cut at the shoulders with light waves that worked to frame her face perfectly. She wasn’t very tall, only about five foot six, but Stephen never once looked down at her.
“Hey, Mom! What are you making today?”
“Just some bacon and eggs. I have oatmeal here too if you’re not too full after. You know your father wants you to eat as much as possible before you start high school next month.”
“I know, I know. He’s always on top of me about how I need to build up my physique if I want to play on the football team like he did. Doesn’t he realize that all the workout he has me doing burns through everything I eat? To get to the size he was in high school I’d have to eat enough food for both me and Kane!” Sweat was now dripping on the kitchen floorboards.
“I don’t think anyone could eat as much as that dog, sweetheart.” Stephen’s mother gently patted his cheek.
“Now go and wash up before your father comes home and makes you spar with him. You’re leaking all over my floor.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Stephen sighed as he trudged to the bathroom, knowing his drudgery for the day was not done.
A few moments later, Stephen returned to the kitchen with a fresh face but still in the same clothes. Kane had already begun to eat his breakfast, cleaning up the scraps that fell to the floor while Stephen’s mother cooked.
Stephen took his usual seat at the oval table, facing the entrance, which allowed him to look out into the yard and see when his father’s truck would pull in. They didn’t have any blacktop, just a lot of loose gravel and dirt, so his father just parked anywhere, so long as it wasn’t directly in front of the house.
“Oh, before you get comfortable, would you mind running out to the garden and grabbing a few basil leaves for your father’s omelet?”
Stephen’s head dropped forward. His chance to relax delayed a few minutes more, he stood up. “How many?” Irritated, he didn’t make eye contact with his mother, hoping to hide his displeasure.
“Two medium sized-leaves should be fine. I usually have a few sprigs in a glass here above the sink on the windowsill, but I used most of it. And the oddest thing happened … a bird swooped down and picked off with the last two sprigs in the glass.” She said this with a softness in her voice that only a mother displayed when talking to her child.
“Ok, I’ll be right back,” Stephen huffed.
“Thank you! You’re the best, you know that!” His mother shouted as he headed out the door.
Stephen walked around the side of the house and to the back, where they kept a small garden filled with vegetables and herbs for everyday use during the warmer months in Colorado. They grew just about anything that would take root from April all the way until the first frost in late October. The winters in Colorado were not kind to vegetation, especially in the mountainous area surrounding Golden. Stephen and his family would grow and store as much as they could during the summer and buy as little as possible so that they could spend more money on groceries during the winter. Stephen’s father would even take him hunting from time to time since meat was not cheap. Luckily, the forest and stream near their house were filled with all sorts of game and wildlife.
The house was more of a cabin, with a kitchen and living room tied together, a single bathroom and two small bedrooms. But it was more than enough for the three of them. Kane had his own little house in the front yard with a small, wooden plaque which Stephen had carved in Kane’s name. But even Kane wouldn’t be able to survive living outside in the Colorado winters. So, whenever it was too cold out, he’d stay inside, either in the kitchen on a rug by the stove or with Stephen at the foot of his bed. Whenever Stephen’s father went to sleep early, Stephen would sneak Kane in so that he didn’t have to spend the night alone. He loved his dog and didn’t like being alone.
When Stephen turned the corner to the backyard, he nearly tripped over an ax. Realizing his mistake—he’d forgotten to put it back in the shed after he chopped and stacked wood the day before—and was now thankful his mother had asked him to come out to the garden. God forbid his father found out he’d left the ax in the middle of the yard all night! Stephen got chills down his spine just from thinking about all the additional exercises his father would’ve put him through for his negligence.
Snatching up the ax, he brought it to the shed and put it in its proper place. He double-checked to make sure he’d stacked the logs just the way his father had taught him, to make sure he hadn’t done anything to get himself in trouble. After the quick confirmation, Stephen trotted over to the garden and picked out two fresh basil leaves and brought them back to the kitchen.
“Thank you, sweetie!” His mother kissed him on the cheek as he handed her the basil.
He responded with an awkward smile that did not part his lips or expose teeth, still worried his father would find out about the ax.
