Page 61 of Prayers for the Prickly

For as long as I could remember, Sasha had been in that chair. No one ever talked about why, or how, not even Sasha. It just was. If I hadn’t seen twisted scars on his body when he’d been changing into his swimsuit, I’d have still been under the assumption that he was born that way. That was also when I understood that the old time men’s bathing suit, that covered half the thighs and most of the torso, wasn’t what Sasha wore because he liked the style, it was because he could hide his scars underneath it.

“Yeah, that’s what happened,” Pops said.

“There is nothing more painful than watching my son pay for one of my mistakes,” Uncle Atlas said. “As nice as it is to talk to you guys about my so-called glory days and all that bullshit, there are stories that aren’t worth telling besides to brag about a man I’m not anymore. Maybe it was cool then. When I look back on some of that shit now, I think we only did it because we thought others would think it was cool when really, we’d have much rather been sitting around a campfire with some kielbasa, linguiça and marshmallows.”

“I’ll go along with that.”

They’d given me a lot to think about, and not just when it came to what to tell my whelps when they were growing up. It made me wonder if my old man rarely talked about his past at all because he was afraid of saying something that would prompt one of us to do something reckless.

The whole thing with the rope bridge, I know I’d have wanted to try that, too. We’d all been little daredevils. More than one arm, leg, and collarbone had been broken while attempting poorly thought-out stunts.

“Nothing you tell them about your past is going to make your children admire you more than just the knowledge that you’re their parent,” my uncle explained. “That automatically makes you a hero to them.”

“Try to remember that when a certain someone is sitting at the table on the Fourth of July going on and on about how he set the market for blue fin up and down the coast,” Pops said. “We both know it was only one time and only because we had engine trouble because you let him take the better boat. I know you’d like to clock him, we’d all like to punch him in his stupid, sneering face, but then we’d all be accused of ganging up on him and Caroline will get Granny involved and you and I will never hear the end of it.”

“Yeah, it would be nice to go another year without her lecturing us,” Uncle Atlas said. “I always feel three inches tall by the time she’s through.”

“Because she makes us describe in vivid detail everything that was wrong about whatever we did.”

“I hate that.”

“You and me both.”

I’d never had a reason to fear Granny, she was just Granny. She sat in one of the rockers on the porch whenever she visited, knitted the coziest caps I’d ever owned, and told stories whenever someone had the time to listen. Granny was harmless. Only listening to Pops and Uncle Atlas, it sounded like she hadn’t always been that way.

Now I hoped to hear more stories about Granny in her younger days, so I’d be able to share them with the whelps if she wasn’t around for them to get to know. Now that I’d started to pay attention to the conversations and the stories that were shared whenever family members got together, it was opening my eyes to a lot of things I’d never realized about the way relationships worked in our family.

We might not come right out and tell someone how we feel about them, but when I looked around this room, I knew how they felt and how much I mattered, just by how many had showed up to help get the place renovated before the babies came. One day, they’d be wearing oversized toolbelts and struggling to carry toolboxes through a yard with their cousins while we worked on adding rooms for someone else. And when I looked up to see an adorable little whelplet holding the wrong sized wrench out to me, I was going to take it, thank them, and pretend to use it before I asked for the wrench I needed, because I know they’d smile ‘cause they were helping.

I’d rather that to them ducking their heads and slinking around a room, constantly second guessing themselves before they answered questions so they wouldn’t get it wrong. Nurture and encourage, that was the path me and August were determined to take with our litter. Fortunately for me, I had a room full of men, as well as others in the family, who would be there to answer my distress calls until I found my footing as a dad, the way they had.

Chapter 24

August

Ohh, what do you do to this grass to make it feel so wonderful?

I was in my hedgehog form, in grass that wrapped around me and brushed between my prickles, cool, soft and still smelling of the dew that had burned off earlier. A lazy day in shifted form was just what this hedgehog needed.

Brown eyes appeared in front of me as my mate poked his snout through the grass to peer at me with the tall, green blades framing his face.

You mean besides occasionally remember to cut it and turn the sprinkler on when it gets too hot?he thought back as he crept around me on his belly, bushy rear end sticking up from time to time.That’s about it, unlike my Pops, who actually puts lawn conditioner on his.

They make conditioner for lawns?

See, that was my point exactly, what the fuck, right? But apparently, they do.

It’s not much different from hair, I guess, so I can see where some lawns might need it if they’re all patchy and scorched in places, or covered with crabgrass, but this is like high-end luxury grass right here.

Luxury grass?

Sighing, I eased myself onto my side, rolled onto my back, and let my tiny little feet fall to the sides so my belly could feel the warmth of the sun shining down on it.

Yup,I thought, content and happy to watch the clouds drifting overhead.Luxury grass.

Well, my pampered little hedgehog, how shall we enjoy our luxury grass today? Would you care for a romp down the trail to the beach or shall we lie here, watch the clouds and dream the rest of the morning away?

Is that how you spent your time as a kid, daydreaming and watching the clouds float past?

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