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His father shook his head slowly, wiped his mouth with obvious irritation, then looked at his mother.

FATHER

I’m worryin’ about takin’ care of this family, he’s out writin’ stuff for faggots!

His mother touched her husband’s shoulder again.

MOTHER

Joseph, please don’t take it out on him. …

BOY

Yeah, Dad. We’ve been through this stuff before, haven’t we?

Dominic’s father did not speak as he exploded from his chair and backhanded the teenager across the face with one quick, furious motion. The force of the blow slammed the boy’s head against the wall and he staggered away, dazed and glassy-eyed.

FATHER

More! You want morel You smart-assed kid! You don’t speak to your father like that … not never!

His mother moved to help her wounded son.

MOTHER

You didn’t have to hit him like that.

FATHER

You stay away from him, goddammit! I oughta give it to him twice as hard! He don’t respect his father. At his age he oughta be out workin’ like a man. He oughta be helpin’ his family!

The teenaged boy looked at his father with terror in his eyes. He appeared helpless, but he forced himself to speak.

BOY

What do you want from me? What have I ever done to hurt you?

FATHER

(in mocking effeminate voice)

What have I ever done to hurt you!

I’ll tell you what you done … you ain’t acted like a man! And that hurts more’n anything. But that’s gonna stop. As of today you’re gonna be a man.

His father grinned at his little joke, then raised his hand towards the boy, just to watch him shy away.

BOY

What do you mean?

FATHER

You’re goin’ to work.

BOY

But I already have a job. …

FATHER

Hal You call that paper route a job? I’m talkin’ about a real job. Make some real money! It’s about time you started helpin’ your mother and me.

BOY

But what about school?

His father laughed, then stared at him defiantly.

FATHER

What about it? You’re old enough to quit… so now you’ll quit! I hadda leave school in the fifth grade! You think you’re any better’n me?

BOY

But, Dad, I don’t want to quit school. I can’t quit now.

FATHER

Don’t tell me what you “can’t” or what you “want” ‘cause that don’t mean shit to me! I’m tellin’ you what you gotta do ‘cause I’m your father! That school’s just fillin’ your head with a bunch of crazy shit anyway. …

BOY

Dad, I can’t believe this. …

FATHER

Shut up and listen to me or I’ll bust you again!

Dominic had been watching the scene with a morbid fascination and a growing anger. Things seemed so much clearer now—how things worked in his family. He could not allow his younger self to succumb to the ravings of a beaten, humiliated man.

Without thinking further, he stood up and called out to the younger version of himself: “Hey! You tell him to keep his hands off you! And that if he tries anything again … you’re going to stop him!”

As before, neither his father nor his mother seemed to have heard Dominic’s voice. But the adolescent boy reacted immediately. He turned to the edge of the stage and peered into the darkness.

BOY

What did you say? Is it you again?

“Yes,” said Dominic, his voice almost catching in his throat. “It’s me … now tell him what I told you. Tell him what you’re thinking. What you’re really thinking.”

Dominic watched the boy nod and turn back towards his father. There was a sensation of great tension in the air, like an electrical storm gathering on a humid day.

BOY

You can’t hit me like that anymore.

The boy stood there, seeming to radiate a new strength.

FATHER

What?

BOY

You can’t hit me—Just because you feel like doing it. I haven’t done anything wrong and I’m tired of you making me feel like I have.

FATHER

I’ll bust you any goddamned time I—

BOY

No! No you won’t! I won’t let you!

His father smiled and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his arms hanging loose as though ready for a fight.

FATHER

Well, what’s this? A little