Life and Other Inconveniences(125)

Manly stuff. That sounded fun. Just the three of them, too, which was nice, because Clark liked Daddy better than Mama.

So Daddy packed the big car, including the tent, which worried Clark because no one said anything about sleeping away from home. They had the canoe on top of the car, and Clark hated the canoe. It was so tippy.

“Mama?” he said.

“Clark, you’re too old to call me that,” she said, her voice tighter than when she talked to Sheppard. “Call me Mom or Mother, like Sheppard does.”

“Mom?”

“What is it?”

“I want to come home tonight.” He didn’t want to sleep away. He loved his bed with its heavy quilt and stuffed animals.

“It’s camping, dear. It’ll be fun.”

Sheppard was so happy about camping. He was asking Dad about all kinds of things that Clark didn’t know about . . . lines and weights and flies and fish grippers, firewood and owls. Clark tried to join in.

“How big are owls? What’s a bass?” he asked. “Why do we need corn?” Only Daddy bothered to answer, which made Clark feel small and stupid.

Daddy patted his butt as he got in the car, ruffled Sheppard’s hair. Sheppard got to sit in front. “It’s not fair,” Clark said, and Dad told him he could sit in front on the way home. They drove out of town, past the ice cream stand. “We’ll stop there tomorrow,” Dad said. “Maybe even tonight for dessert.”

Clark felt better. He loved ice cream.

They drove out to Birch Lake—Mama wasn’t allowed to know their secret location, but once they turned down the dirt road, Clark vaguely remembered coming here another time. The road was bumpy and long.

They got to the lake, the only car there. Clark wasn’t sure, but maybe it was just their lake and no one else could come. They were on a cove, sheltered from the wind, Dad said. It made it feel like a secret place. Clark played under a pine tree in the sandy soil, making roads with a stick, while Dad and Sheppard set up the tent and put things away.

“You can help, too, you know,” Shep said, but Clark pretended not to hear. He opened the cooler. There was soda in there. Good. Mama didn’t let him have soda.

“Get in the canoe, Clarkie!” Dad said.

Clark did, reluctantly. Dad helped him in, then got in the back, Shep in the front. They got to paddle; Clark just had to sit there and hold on to the sides.

“Can I have a turn, Shep?” he asked. He wasn’t supposed to call him Shep because Mama (Mom) didn’t like it. Daddy said it was okay for brothers to have special names for each other. Shep didn’t have a special name for him, though.

“Maybe later,” Sheppard said. “I can show you where the water’s not so deep.”

Yes. Shep was going to be nice to him today.

The lake was blue, and the water was warm enough to swim, Dad said. They paddled around for a while. Dad pointed out a blue heron, and Shep saw a turtle, which wasn’t fair, because Clark didn’t see one. When he leaned over to look, the boat tipped, and Dad yelled, “Sit up straight, Clark!” and he felt bad.

“We don’t want you falling in the drink, son,” Dad said, and Clark felt his father’s big hand on his shoulder, taking away the sting of the yelling.

They went back to shore, and Clark was glad, because he was bored.

“Get into your suits,” Dad said.

“In the car?” Clark asked.

“No, dummy,” Sheppard said. “Out here. No one’s around. No one will see.”

So they did change. Clark looked away from his father, not liking him naked, seeing all that hair and other things. The private things. He hoped he would never look like that. Shep was fast and didn’t seem to worry that someone would see him naked.

Clark dawdled, not wanting to take off his clothes. “Get moving, son,” Dad said, so he had to. It felt funny, the air on his parts, on his butt. He put both feet into the same leg hole; Shep laughed and didn’t help him.

That made Clark mad, a little bit. He pulled his leg out and put it in the right hole, then found the suit was on backward, so he had to do it again. He didn’t like Daddy and Sheppard seeing him, even if they were his family.

Dad and Sheppard ran right in. Clark was slower, and scared. The bottom of the lake was squishy and dark. He went in up to his shins, then came back out.

“Don’t be a baby!” Sheppard said as Clark walked on the shore back and forth. “It’s great in here! Come on! You can see the lake shark!”

“There’s no lake shark,” Dad said. “Sheppard, honestly. Be nice to your brother. Come on, honey. Swim to me. I’m right here.”

Clark liked that his dad called him honey. Some dads just said son or fella or buddy. It was nice to hear honey. It made him feel . . . safe.

He wanted his father to be proud, so he went in and in and in and then he was swimming, trying to keep his face out of the water, trying to keep his mouth closed. The water was silky and tasted strange, and he hated swimming.

“Nice job!” Dad said, catching him in his arms and pulling him close, and Clark coughed a little and held on tight. His father was warm and strong, and it felt so good to be safe again. Daddy never told him he was too big to be held, like Mama did. Clark was big, bigger than all his classmates, heavier than Sheppard, but he wasn’t too big for Daddy. To Daddy, he was still a little boy, and that felt so good.