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The noises came from behind the bedroom door. Jamie played with his trucks for a while, lining one up against the wall and then scooting another one into its side, slamming into it with great force. He made noises with his lips and screamed when the trucks hit each other. Every once in a while, pieces flew off and he scurried to retrieve them.

After a while, he didn't ignore the sounds anymore. He walked by the bedroom door several times, then crept to the crack in the door and looked through.

He wasn't sure what he saw, and he wasn't sure whether Dad or Sally saw him.

Later on, his Dad asked him for help with a project in Dad's basement shop. Dad asked Jamie to hold a small part in a pair of pliers while Dad applied a drop of glue.

It turned out that Dad _had_ seen Jamie peering through the crack in the door. He wasn't mad, he said, but he was counting on Jamie to be a man just this once.

"You promise? I can count on you, right, son?"

Jamie nodded silently. Tears streamed down his freckled face as he bit his lower lip. Strangely, his father did not yell at him for crying. Usually, if his Dad caught him crying, he would scream at him and brandish his belt. "Big boys don't cry! I'll give you something to cry about, you little fruit!"

This time, his Dad's words were soft and gentle. It was scarier to Jamie than being yelled at.

His Dad needed him to be quiet about this one thing. Jamie's 12-year-old heart swelled with pride. He could prove to his Dad that he was a man, a trustworthy man, every bit the equal of his Dad. He would prove that he had crossed the bridge into manhood.

====================== ============================== ============================== ============

And so it was, many years later, that his younger sister Phyllis called him late one evening, after Jamie and Sal had put their own kids to bed.

"Jamie, I have something I need to talk to you about."

"What's up, Sis? Is everything all right? It's kinda late."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, you just scared me. We were up, watching Leno."

"Jamie, I had my first session with a new psychiatrist today." Jamie blew air out of his cheeks and hoped Phyllis had not heard. This made - what? - eight shrinks in the last six years? Jamie was glad Phyllis was getting good use out of her company-paid medical insurance.

Phyllis continued, as if she hadn't heard. "I need to ask you a question, Jamie." Her voice was grave and deep, her words carefully measured.

"Shoot."

"Do you remember Dad abusing me when we were children? Putting his hand up my skirt, stuff like that?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Sis," Jamie said.

Learn more about this author, Jim Hutchins.
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