‘It is?’ he asks and sounds stricken. ‘You’re Ben,’ I tell him and mean it. ‘Am I really that horrible?’ he makes a pained face and drag... his fingers out of my hair. Strands catch gold in the street lamp light. ‘No, it’s just…’ I apologize and the spot where his hand was feels cold now. He lies back, arms flopping beside him. ‘Forget it. Just… forget it.’ I find it strange how defeated he sounds. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say because I don’t know what else I can say. I know I don’t want to tell him how. God, how gross could that be, just the idea was revolting.I slept very little that night, lying in the dark, afraid of my own thoughts, watching my father sleep on the little bed next to me. The sun burned away my nighttime fears and I saw my dad again as my father, not a predator. We rowed the boat to a spot on the lake near our cabin that looked intriguing as a place to catch a lunker. Dad and I fished for several hours, catching and releasing several nice sized fish but the big ones weren’t. More

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