Free Last of the Summer Tomatoes by Sherrie Henry Page A

and faster, and soon he was flying, his dad yelling to be careful. It was freedom, total freedom for the first time, and the world was his—that is until he hit a pothole and flew over the handlebars, scraping both knees and elbows. In a flash both Mom and Dad were there, holding him and brushing his tears away as Band-Aids were applied. That was the last time he could remember anyone caring if he was hurt. Until now.
    Sam finished with the bandage and was packing up the box. Kyle craved Sam’s hand on his for just a few more moments, but it didn’t come.
    “You okay there? You look a little spacey. Don’t like the sight of blood? You may want to stay away from the birth, then; we can’t have you passing out.”
    “No… it’s okay, blood doesn’t bother me. I was just… remembering.”
    “Must’ve been one hell of a memory. You looked like you weren’t even here.” Sam placed the first aid box back on the wall just as a crack of thunder roared through the barn. “Gonna be a doozy. Hope Pops’ radar is still working. We might as well hunker down here until it’s over.” Sam plopped down next to Kyle. “You sure you’re okay?”
    “Yeah.”
    “You wanna talk about it?”
    Kyle shrugged. “Just remembering my mom and dad.”
    “They probably miss you. Have you been able to call them since you got here?”
    Kyle looked away. “Dad’s dead. Mom has her life now.”
    “That’s cryptic. But hey, you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. We all have our secrets.” Sam rubbed his hands on his jeans. “So, you still in high school?”
    “Just graduated. Heading to art school in the fall.”
    “Art school, huh? My uncle was an artist.”
    “I saw the paintings. He was good. What… what happened, if you don’t mind telling?”
    Sam took a deep breath. “I was only fourteen, but it affected the whole family. Uncle Doug was an artist for the government. He did paintings of local landscapes that hung in the rest stops and government buildings.”
    “That sounds like an awesome job. I love drawing landscapes.”
    “Well, he loved it too. But it didn’t pay very well, so he gave up his car for a motorcycle. Said he could get around the state better for less gas. He… he had an accident.”
    “Oh man, I’m sorry.”
    “Yeah, it hit everyone hard. He had just turned forty. He had told grandma that life begins at forty. It devastated her. She didn’t live more than three months after that.”
    “That’s rough.”
    “Yeah, at fourteen, you think your dad is a rock, has only a couple of emotions, you know, laughter, getting mad, but you never think dads can get sad.”
    “Your mom said he cried. I… I’ve never seen a grown man cry. Hank says men don’t cry.”
    “Whoever Hank is, he’s a jerk. Men cry. We have feelings, you know. Haven’t you ever cried?”
    Kyle swallowed hard, remembering his breakdown in the kitchen just the previous afternoon. “Uh, yeah, when I was a kid.”
    “Guess you haven’t experienced stuff to cry about yet. But believe me, men cry. Don’t try to be macho and hold it in. It’s not good for you.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    “So who’s Hank?”
    “My stepfather.”
    “You like him?”
    “No, not really. He… he hits people.”
    “He hit you?”
    Kyle played with the bandage on his thumb. “Only when I deserved it.”
    Sam sat up straighter. He turned to kneel right in front of Kyle. “No one deserves to be hit. Ever. And from what I know about you, there’s nothing in the world that you could do that would deserve such punishment. Hank sounds like a bully.”
    “He’s a union boss at the docks. His word is golden.”
    “His ass is mine if I ever meet him.”
    “Why?” Kyle looked up into Sam’s eyes.
    “Because of what he’s done to you. I don’t know the whole story, but when my mom tells me to watch out for someone like she said to do with you, I know there’s a horrible story there.”
    Kyle shrugged and looked away. “Won’t