Page 10

Zack O’Neill Sea Lion 


Announcer:
“Will
count
if
it
goes….”
 (pause)
 Sacramento
fans:
“HHHHhhhhhhahhhHHHhhhhhaaaaaAAA!”
 Me:
“Man.”
 My
brother:
“God
that’s
irritating.
Well,
it’s
nice
that
these
losers
get
at
least
one
good
moment.”
 My
dad:
“Well,
screw
the
Lakers,
I
just
need
the
points.”
 
 “When
their
interior
defense
gets
attacked,”
my
brother
went
on,
“it’s
like
they
just
shut
 down.”
 My
 dad
 agreed
 with
 him.
 It
 was
 a
 good,
 tactical
 insight
 I
 had
 to
 admit,
 a
 historical
 anomaly
 given
 the
 dominance
 of
 their
 inside
 game,
 but
 when
 I
 took
 note
 of
 how
 relaxed
 and
 unflattered
my
brother
was,
slumped
in
the
chair
pontificating
by
the
window
furthest
from
the
 front
 door
 (I’d
 have
 been
 pacing,
 trying
 not
 to
 shake)
 I
 felt
 inclined
 to
 rebut
 him.
 All
 I
 could
 think
of
though
was
African
 catfish
 (clarias
 gariepinus)
 show
 no
 link
 between
 aggressive
 behavior
and
food
intake,
which
I
was
still
converting
when
the
doorbell
rang.

 Tracy
 was
 here.
 After
 an
 artificially
 cheery
 hello
 my
 mother
 escorted
 her
 through
 the
 front
door
and
foyer.
My
brother
didn’t
get
up
until
she
was
in
the
center
of
the
room.
She
had
a
 brown
t‐shirt
and
jeans
on,
just
like
him.
I
wasn’t
sure
if
their
getup
represented
some
movie
or
 maybe
 TV
 reference.
 Whatever
 the
 case,
 when
 she
 gazed
 at
 him
 with
 her
 smiling,
 mackerel‐ colored
eyes,
my
personality
went
into
its
shell.

 My
dad
turned
in
his
chair.
 “Hey
Tracy!”
 She
went
over
to
him
with
a
kind
of
lumbering,
unladylike
gait
and
shook
his
hand
like
a
 man.
 “Hello,
 Mr.
 O’Neill”
 she
 said,
 in
 a
 husky
 voice.
 My
 brother
 laughed;
 my
 dad
 did
 too,
 repeating
 “Mr.
 O’Neill”
 like
 the
 officiality
 of
 it
 was
 absurd.
 She
 smiled,
 blushed,
 put
 her
 hair
 behind
her
ear,
looked
at
my
brother
again.

 When
she
noticed
me
she
said
hi
and
my
name.
I
was
standing
near
our
small
fireplace,
 feeling
heat
on
one
side
and
cool
ocean
air—which
always
seeped
in
through
wall
pores
and
old
 window
frames—on
the
other.
I
said
hi
back,
and
looked
away.
 10
 


The Oklahoma Review, Spring 2014  

The Oklahoma Review; Volume 15, Issue 1