An Ocean in Iowa Read Online Free

all lifted their glasses—clink.
    ***
    That night Joan used a remaining shard of soap to lather her hands.
    “Let it go, Mom,” Scotty said.
    She let the soap drop. Scotty searched the bottom of the tub. Finding it near the drain, he raised his arms into the air, holding the soap sliver like a trophy.
    “Wash me,” he said.
    With her hands appropriately lathered, Joan began to soap Scotty’s back.
    “Starting tomorrow, Mom, I won’t need this anymore.”
    “No?”
    “No,” Scotty said, “I’ll do it by myself.”
    “Oh, you will, will you?”
    “You’ll see. I’ll do most things by myself.”
    She soaped his pale arms and chest. Using her fingernails, she scratched lightly over his shoulders, and she considered that one day these boy-shoulders would be broad. Soon his sweet face would grow hair, his voice would drop, and his hands would get rough and callused. How, she thought, how do I keep you, Scotty, just the way you are?
    ***
    But there was one habit of Scotty’s that Joan wanted to stop. In the middle of most nights, he found his way to his parents’bed and climbed in between them. The Judge had discussed putting a lock on the door. But Joan felt there must be a gentler way.
    So that night she asked him as she tucked him in, “Do you know the history of this bed?”
    Scotty shook his head.
    “When I was your age, it was mine.”
    “You weren’t my age.”
    “Yes, of course I was.” She combed back his wet bangs with her fingers and smiled. “And this was my bed.”
    “But now it’s mine.”
    “No, it’s my bed, Scotty. I’m loaning it to you.”
    Scotty said nothing.
    How could she tell him that he wasn’t wanted anymore in their bed?
    She kissed his lips, click went the light, and with her hand on the doorknob, and moments before all would be dark, she said, “Scotty?”
    “Yes, Mom?”
    “Will you do me a favor?”
    He nodded, for he would do any favor, anything, for her.
    “You will?”
    “I’ll do you a favor,” he said.
    “Will you take care of this bed.”
    “Yes.”
    Joan said, “Will you keep it warm for me?”

LOOK AT SCOTTY GROW
    (1)
    West Glen, Iowa (population 15,991), was one of a cluster of suburbs located west of Des Moines.
    In those days you still could drive a few miles out and be in farm country. Drive east on Interstate 235, and in minutes you’d be in downtown Des Moines with full view of the twelve-story Equitable Building, the KRNT Theater, and the State Capitol, a gold-domed building that shined on a sunny day.
    West Glen boasted one of the finest school districts in the state. With only half of its land developed, the Judge knew, and Joan didn’t argue, that West Glen was a town with a future. It could only grow.
    The Ocean house was built in 1962 along with forty or fifty others in a five-block radius. It had all that a family could need. Over half an acre of land, four bedrooms, a modern kitchen with a state-of-the-art stove, refrigerator, and dishwasher.It was typical for the neighborhood. The Judge wanted something that didn’t stand out. He had found such a house.
    They bought it before construction had been completed, a month after Walter was made a judge by the governor of Iowa. Thirty-seven years old at the time, he became the youngest judge in Polk County. A new, larger house was needed, as Joan was about to give birth to Scotty.
    With fake shutters painted light blue, a red brick first story, and a white wooden second story, the house had a slightly patriotic flair.
    Upstairs, Maggie and Claire had rooms of identical size that faced each other at the end of the hall. Scotty’s room, the smallest, looked out over the backyard and the younger of two willow trees. His room was closest to his parents’ bedroom, which was at the top of the stairs, across from the bathroom.
    Downstairs, a living room/family room boasted a new television with rabbit ears, a wooden coffee table, a long sofa propped up by books on one end, and a baby grand piano,