Tracy's Day

It was a Thursday evening and the smell of fresh, hot bread, baking pasta, and garlic filled the air. The boys were filing into the dining room, most of them stopping for an appreciative sniff, then glancing over at the sideboard, which occasioned a double take.

The first things you noticed on the sideboard were the two cheesecakes under their glass serving dishes. One was a variety cake, with different colors created by chocolate, caramel, and strawberry. The other was plain, but could be remedied by the smaller serving bowls of blueberries and cherries that stood near it, along with chocolate syrup and caramel sauce. The double take was probably inspired by something else entirely—the eighteen-inch long, three-inch wide Lexan paddle that lay discreetly between the two cakes. Since it was see-through, it probably took a second look to be sure it was there.

There is a wonderful, slightly guilty, slightly confused, look on the face of a boy when it’s been implied that someone is in trouble. ‘Is it me?’ ‘What did I do?’ ‘What did I do that he could know about?’ ‘Can he know about that?’ ‘Will I get off easier if I just confess?’ ‘What if that’s not what he knows about?’

Apparently my boys had fairly clear consciences, because there were some nervous looks (mainly divided between the boys who were too young for that paddle and old enough to play it cool) but no confessions. A few minutes later it didn’t matter, because Steven and I came in carrying plates of hot mozzarella sticks, while Troy followed behind with dipping bowls of marinara sauce. Added to the salad already on the table, it drew the boys’ attention admirably. Five minutes after that, Troy, Steven, and I excused ourselves to answer another ding, and fresh, piping hot garlic toast and peppered olive oil were added to the menu.

Ten minutes later, asking a couple more of the older boys to help serve, I carried a large red casserole dish with beef-filled cannelloni to the table. The other boys carried in an orange dish (for cheese), black (for Italian sausage), and green (for spinach, which was placed as far away from Noah as we could get it, so other people would have a shot at it—that boy must have an iron deficiency).

Over appetizers, there had been a dull murmur of voices as everyone carried on conversations with those next to them, punctuated by an occasional address to the entire table. The noise fell to almost nothing as the main course hit the table. Silence, punctuated by the click of silverware on china, an occasional ‘ummm’, and a few ‘this-is-great-Dads’ reigned for several minutes.

As stomachs began to grow full, the click of silverware slowed and conversation began to rise again.

"There’s more in the kitchen," I finally said. "Anyone want more?"

‘We’re stuffed,’ was the general answer.

"Too bad. I was planning on having dessert tonight," I suggested, gesturing at the sideboard.

"Oh," Noah explained for everyone, "I’m just stuffed on main course; I have plenty of dessert room."

‘Aha!’, I thought to myself. Teenagers, like cows, have multiple stomachs. That actually goes a long way towards explaining my grocery bills.

"Help ourselves?" Barry asked after a moment’s silence, which was apparently a moment too long in the face of dessert.

"Not yet, Bear," I answered.

Then Bobby, as we’d planned earlier, spoke up.

"This is pretty fancy, Dad. What’s up?"

"Well, I guess you all know it’s nobody’s birthday, but it is a special day anyway. Tracy finished his driver’s ed class today."

I didn’t see who, but someone started clapping and everyone joined in. Tracy stood and made a showy bow, but you could tell he was very pleased at both the acknowledgement and at the positive reaction to it.

I waited until he started to sit to say anything.

"Tracy, usually a boy’s had driver’s ed before he turns sixteen, so we take care of this as part of his birthday, but since we missed yours, why don’t you come on up here."

He started towards me, and I let him get two steps before I stopped him again.

"Bring the paddle."

Tracy sheepishly grinned as he turned back and picked it up, but I think he’d been expecting it by then. He was still looking a bit embarrassed as he carried it to the head of the table where I was standing, but there was something else in his face as well—happiness, maybe, at being recognized… or maybe just at being part of the family.

"Like I said," I repeated, addressing the table, "most of you boys get your licenses at the same time you turn sixteen, so this is all added together. In this case, while we missed Tracy’s sixteenth birthday, I think we should still take care of one little detail… One to drive safe on."

Tracy had been holding the paddle out to me, but now he snatched it back.

"Are you sure you give those to everybody?" he asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Well, by the time they’re sixteen, most of the boys don’t really need one to grow on too much, and," I added dryly, turning to stare at Cal, "I obviously overdid it with some."

"And my basketball coach thanks you," Cal replied, without missing a beat.

There were some giggles, but when they died down, Tracy handed me the paddle. I took it from him, then watched as he got into place.

He’d obviously had experience with this. He pulled wallet and comb from his back pocket, and dropped them on the table. Then he pulled my chair away from the table and turned it. With the chair in place, he stepped up, spread his feet, so the inside of each foot was against the outside of each chair leg. Then he took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling for a second, then bent over, keeping his legs straight, putting his elbows on the seat of the chair and grabbing the back.

I patted his rear with the paddle, lined up, pulled back, and launched.

CRACK!

I think every boy in the room except Tracy jumped. Several of them looked very sympathetic.

"Just one, right?" Tracy asked in the strained voice of someone trying to lift a heavy weight.

"That’s it. Hop up."

He didn’t quite hop, but he did stand straight, and then very theatrically grimaced as he reached around to rub.

"Ouch," he commented.

I dropped the paddle on the table, then reached over and pulled him into a hug.

"Congratulations," I said after a second.

"Thanks," he replied, refusing to hug back, since his hands were still busy behind him.

After a few seconds, I released him. He smiled at me, picked up his stuff, and then turned back to his seat. I replaced the paddle on the sideboard, put my chair back in place, and sat. I waited until he reached his chair and was gingerly trying to sit before I said anything else.

"By the way, your mom is still taking you for the test, but you’ll come home with Cal, and she’ll meet you here."

"Okay," he said, after managing to sit. "How come?"

Bobby had reached into his pocket when I said that; now he tossed a set of car keys to Tracy.

"’Cause her and Dad thought you’d like to drive your new car for the test."

There was a moment of stunned silence at the table. At least Tracy was stunned. No one except Bobby had known what was coming, though the other over-sixteen boys had probably guessed. I think they were just waiting quietly for Tracy’s reaction. His reaction didn’t take long, but I think it surprised us all.

Tracy’s chair tipped over backwards as he jumped up and ran from the room.

There was a babbled confusion that basically boiled down to ‘What the heck?’, but several people also came to their feet. While Bobby and Cal were fairly expected to rise, I was surprised that Parker and Barry were standing also.

"I’ll take care of it," I told everyone as I stood. "Sit down. Bobby, go ahead and serve the cake."

I rushed out of the room as quickly as I could and followed Tracy through the kitchen. I’d expected him to already be upstairs, but he’d apparently missed a step, and was lying face down on the living room carpet, shaking with sobs.

I stepped up beside him and knelt down.

"You okay?" I asked.

He was crying as hard as he ever had when I’d spanked him—harder maybe. He did manage to nod his head, though, indicating that the fall hadn’t hurt him, I supposed.

"What’s wrong?"

He tried to say something but couldn’t, so just shook his head. I sat down beside him, my back against the couch, and then pulled him up so I could hold him. Tracy’s not especially big for his age, so it was easy to pull him half into my lap, and he didn’t resist as I cuddled him against my chest.

When his crying died away, he rolled a bit and looked up at me.

"Why?" he asked miserably.

"Because you’re a good kid, you’ve been trying hard, and it’s not your fault."

His eyes went wide, I think in surprise, that I knew what he’d meant, or maybe just that I’d been able to answer. He started crying hard again, but it was different this time—cleansing, not broken.

Let me tell you a little secret about boys who’re abandoned by their fathers: it breaks something inside us. It matters a little how old we were when they left, but why doesn’t matter at all. No matter what people tell us, there’s a part of us that always knows it was our fault. And when the family ends up with an asshole stepfather who makes everyone miserable, or when mom has to work long hours at a low paying job to make ends meet, we blame ourselves. ‘If only we’d done something different, BEEN different, everything would have worked out better.’ And the truth just can’t get a hold on us.

As we grow older, we come to realize the truth. That we were just kids, and that there’s nothing we could have done differently. That the blame lies with the adults in the situation, and that we were casualties, not causes. But that takes a long time to come, and when you never have a chance to meet the biological father and realize what a jerk he really is, it takes longer.

I waited until Tracy had started to cry himself out, and then I tried to tell him some of that. He didn’t believe it anymore than I had when I’d been younger, but he needed to hear it anyway.

"But how?… Why?… You…" he finally managed to choke out.

I didn’t really know if he was talking about the car, or me letting him live with us, or just how I’d known the things I’d just told him. It didn’t really matter anyway, because the answer was the same.

"Because I went through the same thing, and I was miserable, and I can’t let that happen to someone else when I have the chance to do something about it."

Now Tracy shifted around so we could hold each other while we both cried just a little bit more.



I didn’t let go of Tracy as he climbed to his feet, and I kept my hand on his back while he washed up, and he stayed hip to hip with me while I washed my face. Then we went back to the dining room.

Everyone had finished their cake by now, but not one of them had left their chairs.

"You okay?" Steven asked.

Tracy nodded.

"I guess that was one of those delayed action swats, huh?" Noah said with forced hilarity.

Tracy smiled at that, nodded, then added, "Must have been."

With assurances that he was all right, Parker hopped up and got a slice of cheesecake for Tracy. One by one, as Tracy and I began to eat, they left, while Barry and Noah started to clear the table.

Tracy did finally leave my side to take his car for a ride (with Bobby supervising in the passenger’s side since Tracy only had a learner’s permit so far), then went over to show his mom (who’d already known about it but hadn’t seen it yet since it had been at the garage getting a tune up and full detail).



When I went to tuck him in that night, Tracy was freshly showered, wearing only boxers, and sitting on the side of his bed. He cringed just a bit when I picked the paddle up from where it hung by his wall.

"I don’t think I’ve done anything, Jack. Did I forget my chores?"

"Nope, I’m taking it down because you don’t need it anymore. You’ll have your license tomorrow, and then I can ground you when you get in trouble."

He was quiet for a minute, looking away from me, then looked up into my face.

"I thought I had to go more than six months without a spanking before you took it down."

"Well, that’s the rule for boys who’re too young to drive generally."

He nodded, and then looked away again.

"Cal says he hates when you take his car away."

"That’s kind of the point, Tracy; though with Cal, since he was taking you and Danny to school, I usually had to come up with something else."

I paused for a second.

"Now that you’re going to have a license, I guess I can just ground him normally, and you can do the school run."

"Unless we get grounded at the same time."

"Yeah," I replied. "Unless. Tracy, you don’t sound really happy."

He turned kind of red, but looked up into my eyes.

"You’ve been really strict on me since I moved in here, Jack. I always liked staying here when Charlie was around, but I really feel like part of the family now. I like it. I like not getting into trouble all the time and knowing what I’m supposed to do."

He paused, almost like he was trying to swallow something, and turned real red.

"I like when you’re strict with me. At least with you, I know what I’m supposed to do. It’s easy to not get in trouble, because when some of the other guys try to talk me into something, I can just say, ‘Nah, my Dad’ll kill me if we get caught,’ and they leave me alone."

"You almost sound like you like the paddle, Trace."

"No way. I hate it. But I think… I think maybe I still need it for a while."

I nodded slowly and thought a minute before answering.

"Want to see if you can make the six months?"

He nodded.

"From today?" I asked.

"Do you remember when my last spanking was?"

I nodded. "I have it written down."

"From then?"

"Sounds like a deal," I answered.

We shook on it before I tucked him in.



Tracy did pass his driver’s test the next day, though he took it with his mom’s car, since he was more used to it.

While he’s not been in trouble in the three weeks since taking the test, the paddle still hangs next to his door, awaiting anything that might come up.





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