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promises
wore thin and Susanna began to doubt that she would ever see New York City.
Despite her husband’s objections, she got a job working in the cosmetic
department of Woolworth’s. Every morning, she’d pull on a skirt that was way
too short and head into town; Benjamin wouldn’t see hide-nor-hair of her until
six hours after the store had closed for the evening.  “Where the hell have you
been?” he’d scream. “What about dinner?”
    “Oh, please! ” Susanna would groan, then turn her back to him and
start fussing with some stray hair that had fallen out of place. “Ethan’s got
the good sense to fix up something when he’s hungry,” she’d sigh, “seems like
you could do the same!”
    “It’s not my place!” he’d storm. “A wife’s got responsibilities! You
ought to be seeing to the needs of me and this boy!” Benjamin would gesture to
a chair that as it turned out was empty; then he’d wonder aloud where in the
hell the boy had gone to.     
    Ethan Allen knew when trouble was coming. He knew when his mama’s car
came rolling up the drive long after dark, there’d be hell to pay—given his
daddy’s shortness of temper there’d for sure be name calling and screaming. If
his mama wanted to, she could sweet-talk her way out of anything, but if she
was in the mood to start heaving dishes across the room, there could be
fisticuffs—the kind that sometimes ended with her having a black eye and him
sleeping on the sofa. Nights such as that, Ethan Allen hung around, tried to
smooth things over. “Here, Daddy,” he’d say, “I made you a sandwich. Cheese
with mayonnaise, like you like.” After that he’d sidle up to Susanna and
whisper something about how Benjamin’s bad temper was his way of
worrying. “Daddy, don’t mean nothing by it,” he’d say, “He loves you, Mama, he
surely does.” On a good day, his parents could end up laughing and tickling
each other. On a bad day, there was no telling what would happen. Those nights,
the only thing the boy could do was sneak out with a flashlight and a Captain
Marvel comic book, wait till things quieted down, then tiptoe back through the
kitchen door. 
    Some nights it never quieted down and when the sun came up they’d still
be screaming insults at each other. Other nights, he’d find the back door
locked and have to sleep on the porch curled up alongside Dog, a stray that
Susanna had lugged home one night when she’d claimed to have car trouble and
stayed out till almost dawn. “Here, Sweetie,” she’d said and handed the dog to
Ethan Allen; “This cute little fella’s your birthday present.” 
    The dog was as far from cute as possible—he was wobbly-legged and bad
tempered with most everybody. “What’s his name?” Ethan Allen asked.
    “Dog,” Susanna answered laughingly; but minutes later all hell broke
loose because Benjamin claimed he didn’t believe for one second that she’d had
car trouble.
    “You think I’m stupid?” he screamed, “You think I got no idea of what
you’re up to?”
    With never knowing which way the wind was gonna blow, Ethan Allen
figured he ought to have a hideout, a place to go on nights when there was no
appeasing anybody, and that’s when he starting building the fort. First a
hammer disappeared from the tool chest, then a good sized sheet of aluminum and
some wood Benjamin was planning to use for repairs. After that the large black
tarpaulin used to cover the tractor vanished with not a trace, then it was a
shag rug that for years had been right there in the hallway. Cans of food began
to be missing, a whole pound of weenies, blankets, a pillow, even the portable
radio Benjamin claimed, was nowhere to be found.  
    “Ethan Allen, you know anything about this?” Susanna asked.
    “Me?” he said, “I’m just a kid, why you asking me?”
    Susanna hitched her mouth up on one side and glared at him in a most
suspicious manner. “Seems to me, you know something,” she