“I demand respect and obedience,” began Johnathan in a cracked, unnatural voice.
“Respect isn’t something that one person can demand of another, father. It’s something we earn by the way we conduct ourselves, day by day——”
Nathan never finished his sentence. Johnathan aimed a blow for his son’s jaw which, landed, would have split open the lad’s face. But this time Nathan saw the blow coming. And——
The step from terrible tragedy to divine comedy is oft but the space of a hair. Johnathan struck for his son’s jaw. But when his fist reached his son’s jaw, his son’s jaw wasn’t there. It had moved. With a boxer’s nicety of perception for distance, Nathan had whipped his head to the left.
The father’s fist went through plaster and lath halfway in to the elbow.
Anna Forge heard the dull smash and Johnathan’s bellow of agony. She burst into the kitchen. She beheld her husband for an instant with his hand and arm caught in a ragged aperture in the plaster. Off to one side Nathan stood with a tired, amused smile around his mouth.
But there was no amusement in the incident for Johnathan. He had broken two small bones in his right hand. And all further attempts at parental chastisement were adjourned for that night in the greater calamity of broken bones.
“You go to bed!” he ordered his son hoarsely. “We’ll finish this in the morning.” The father’s face had been ashen with anger. Now it was white with agony, and his eyes were streaming tears.
Nathan pitied his father. But he shrugged his shoulders and went from the room. The pain from the broken knuckles was so great that Johnathan soon sobbed openly. Still, one could hardly expect the boy to leave his face around to intercept any such blow as Johnathan had purposed.