Stern Men by Elizabeth Gilbert Page A

to fish? Do you want to fish, Chester? Do you boys want to be lobstermen when you grow up?”
    “You sent the boys outside, Senator,” Mrs. Pommeroy said. “They can’t hear you.”
    “That’s right, that’s right. But do they want to be fishermen?”
    “Of course they want to be fishermen, Senator,” Mrs. Pommeroy said. “What else could they do?”
    “Army.”
    “But forever, Senator? Who stays in the Army forever, Senator? They’ll want to come back to the island to fish, like all the men.”
    “Seven boys.” Senator Simon looked at his hands. “The men will wonder how there’ll ever be enough lobsters around this island for seven more men to make a living from them. How old is Conway?”
    Mrs. Pommeroy informed the Senator that Conway was twelve.
    “Ah, they’ll take it all from you, for sure they will. It’s a shame, a shame. They’ll take the Pommeroy fishing ground, split it among them. They’ll buy your husband’s boat and gear for a song, and all that money will be gone in a year, from feeding your boys. They’ll take over your husband’s fishing territory, and your boys will have a hell of a fight to win it back. It’s a shame. And Ruthie’s father probably gets the most of it, I’ll bet. Him and my greedy brother. Greedy Number One and Greedy Number Two.”
    Under the table, Ruth Thomas frowned, humiliated. Her face got hot. She did not entirely understand the conversation, but she felt deeply ashamed, suddenly, of her father and of herself.
    “Pity,” the Senator said. “I’d tell you to fight for it, Rhonda, but I honestly don’t know how you can. Not all by yourself. Your boys are too young to stage a fight for any territory.”
    “I don’t want my boys fighting for anything, Senator.”
    “Then you’d better teach them a new trade, Rhonda. You’d better teach them a new trade.”
    The two adults sat silently for some time. Ruth hushed her breathing. Then Mrs. Pommeroy said, “He wasn’t a very good fisherman, Senator.”
    “He should have died six years from now, instead, when the boys were ready for it. That’s really what he should have done.”
    “Senator!”
    “Or maybe that wouldn’t have been any better. I honestly don’t see how this could have worked out at all. I’ve been thinking about it, Rhonda, ever since you had all those sons in the first place. I’ve been trying to figure out how it would settle in the end, and I never did see any good coming of it. Even if your husband had lived, I suppose the boys would have ended up fighting among themselves. Not enough lobsters out there for everyone; that’s the fact. Pity. Fine, strong boys. It’s easier with girls, of course. They can leave the island and marry. You should have had girls, Rhonda! We should have locked you in a brood stall until you started breeding daughters.”
    Daughtahs!
    “Senator!”
    There was another splash in a glass, and the Senator said, “And another thing. I came to apologize for missing the funeral.”
    “That’s all right, Senator.”
    “I should have been there. I should have been there. I have always been a friend to your family. But I can’t take it, Rhonda. I can’t take the drowning.”
    “You can’t take the drowning, Senator. Everyone knows that.”
    “I thank you for your understanding. You are a good woman, Rhonda. A good woman. And another thing. I’ve come for a haircut, too.”
    “A haircut? Today?”
    “Sure, sure,” he said.
    Senator Simon, pushing back his chair to get up, bumped into Cookie. Cookie woke with a start and immediately noticed Ruth sitting under the kitchen table. The dog barked and barked until the Senator, with some effort, bent over, lifted the corner of the tablecloth, and spotted Ruth. He laughed. “Come on out, girl,” he said, and Ruth did. “You can watch me get a haircut.”
    The Senator took a dollar bill from his shirt pocket and laid it on the table. Mrs. Pommeroy got the old bed sheet and her shears and comb from the