My parents argued in the kitchen. “I’m taking her out of school tomorrow. We’re going fishing,” my father insisted. “She’s not sick!” my mother fired back. I listened from my bedroom, my ear to the door, the bump on the back of my head throbbing. “The boy who threw the rock that hit her is in her class.” My dad had confronted the boy’s mother, but I was anxious about seeing the boy, and my dad understood. To escape life’s pain, my dad fished; the lapping water, fresh air, and birdsong soothed him. And that day, they soothed me, too.
Samantha Rice was an Assistant Professor of Mathematics for fourteen years. Now, she writes fiction about complicated family relationships.