Realities of the Universe Michael Schoeffel The boy, who is now a man, was standing in front of his father in a cold log house in a very cold part of the country. The father’s teeth were stained brown, and he was breathing like an injured animal. “You must learn how to take a punch if you want to be a man,” he said. “You are old enough now.” Before the boy (now a man) had a chance to brace himself, he felt a blunt strike on his cheek, and the world went black. He woke up on the cold floor of the cold house in the cold country, dazed and unsure of what had happened. It felt like there was a tumor on the side of his face. It was hot and doughy to the touch. When the boy tried to stand up, he became dizzy and nearly fell down, but then he steadied himself. There was a white bear pelt spread out on the floor in front of a fireplace that was producing minimal heat. The boy cradled his cheek and limped, hunched over, into the kitchen for ice. His mother, dressed in rags, was looking out the window with her hands clasped anxiously in front of her chest. The boy’s heart filled with love at the sight
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of her, for she was a beautiful woman, and he muttered, “Mama, Mama,” as he stepped onto the cold kitchen floor. She was beginning to turn her head toward the boy when he felt another thump on his cheek. The world went dark again, and he did not wake until many hours later, long after the sun had gone down, long after his father had left the cold house to meet two of his brothers at a tavern. The boy’s mother was kneeling over him with a cold rag in her hand. She tended to the boy’s injuries like an army medic, detached in spirit, efficient in technique. The boy noticed her beauty. Those two punches initiated years of animosity, and as the boy grew older, he became more capable of holding his own against his father. Once, just after his 16th birthday, he knocked his father out cold with one punch, causing him to collapse onto the bear pelt like a sack of mushrooms. Blood leaked from his father’s nose, staining the white fur. The world glowed and pulsated for the boy as flames raged in the fireplace, warming the boy’s blood
