Free NANOVISION: What Would You Do With X-ray Vision? by Paul Harry Page A

covering his ears, but
still neatly trimmed. Ethyl insisted on that. He heard the car horn honk and
his name being called. Tapping the ground with his white cane he crossed the
grass and sidewalk, heading toward the car. He stepped off the curb, felt for
the door handle and opened the door. It only took a second for Ethyl to comment
on his face as he sat. It was red and swollen. 
                “Daniel, what happened?” 
    “Nothing,” he
answered.
    “Look at you,”
she persisted. “Something must have happened−you’re hurt.”
    Aggravated by her
intrusiveness, Daniel barked at her, “I fell down the stairs! Okay! Can we just
go now?”
    “Sure,” noted
Ethyl, quietly.
    Gingerly, she put
the car into drive, nursing her injured right hand. Two of her fingers were
bandaged with heavy white gauze and there was a pinkish hue on one where blood
had seeped through. The drive home was long and quiet.
    Later that
evening, while Ethyl cooked dinner, Katie and Daniel set the table. It was
their usual time together and normally a period of friendly chatter and banter.
However, that was not the case tonight. Even the radio playing all the golden
oldies that Ethyl loved and Katie and Daniel put up with, was being overlooked−Daniel
was preoccupied.
    “Did Nanna tell
you what happened at Nanobytes today?” Katie chirped, trying to draw her cousin
out.
    Still glum from
the misfortunes of the day, Daniel responded with a sullen, “No!”
    “Some guy shot a
Golden Eagle,” she blurted with excitement, “and they brought it to the lab for
Nanna to help and it bit her−she had to get four stitches and a tetanus
shot!”
    Wallowing in self
pity, Daniel barely heard what Katie had said. His mind was still occupied on
the girls who had laughed at him when he fell on the steps at school. “Mmmm...”
was all he said. 
    “Boy someone’s a
grump,” Katie said, banging the silverware on the table. “So... What? Did you
get into a fight at school?”
    “No,” answered
Daniel.
    “Geeze, yah
could’a fooled me.”
    Unexpectedly, the
song "Daniel" by Elton John began to play on the radio. The melody
floated across the room and Katie took note. “Hey, listen − they’re
playing your song.” 
    “I hate this
fuckin’ song,” cursed Daniel.
    Daniel may as
well have shot someone. The use of the word “fuck” in the Santini household was
one of the highest taboos and it drew Ethyl’s immediate ire. Ducking her head
around the corner she quickly admonished him. “Young man, we don’t talk like
that in this house!”
    In a burst of
rage, Daniel replied to her declaration by sweeping his arms across the dinner
table−his actions sending everything to the floor−plates, glasses,
silverware everything. The clamor that followed was a loud, shattering
explosion as the dishes hit the tile floor. To make matters worse, Daniel
punctuated his tantrum by screaming at the top of his lungs, “I don’t give a
fuck!”
    Like a runaway
locomotive Ethyl was in the dining room instantly. Throwing her pot holder
down, she waved Katie from the room while coming face to face with Daniel.
Furious beyond words, she slapped him across the face, stunning him.
    “Now you listen
to me young man,” she reproached the boy as he stumbled back. “I understand you
have been through a lot−in fact I can’t pretend to know the pain you’re
going through, but I will not tolerate such disrespect in this house. Now sit
down!”
    Groping for a
chair, Daniel did as he was ordered. He sat while Ethyl grabbed another chair.
She sat in front of him. Hotter than a gas furnace, her voice quivered as she
spoke as only a mother can.
    “Daniel, I think
it’s time for us to come to an understanding,” she declared firmly. “Your
actions tonight are beyond the bounds of acceptability in this household. Your
use of foul language and unbridled anger will not be tolerated. We do not
deserve this. We’re your family−the ones taking care of you.