The Daredevils by Gary Amdahl

(the human being) are that which is not. I am that I am. If thou perceivest this truth in any soul, never shall the enemy deceive thee; thou shall escape all his snares.’ Can anybody tell me who said that? No? Saint Catherine of Siena. My theater will be a rough and immediate theater, but it will above all be a holy theater. A holy theater in an empty space.”
    â€œEmpty space: of that there can be no doubt!” said Mother. As for holiness, I think rather ‘spitefulness’ or ‘mean-spiritedness’ is the word you are looking for.”
    â€œNo, ‘holiness’ is the word.”
    â€œBoring,” said Mother. “Boring, mean-spirited theater in an empty space.”
    â€œWell,” said Charles mock-amiably, “I sure hope not. But people will be bored no matter what you do.”
    â€œWrong side of bed, Chick?” asked Father.
    â€œNo,” said Charles. “I levitated.”
    â€œYou know I don’t care for sarcasm,” said Father, smiling, “especially from my sons.”
    â€œYou have been taking jabs at everybody here,” said Mother. “You have hurt everybody here with your nonsense. Can you please tell us why you have embarked on such a course? I want to blame Sir Edwin because I am surprised and disappointed at what a stinking drunkard and fraud he is, but you cannot be so easily—”
    â€œâ€”and swiftly replaced?”
    â€œâ€”excused.”
    â€œI am rehearsing my life.”
    â€œI asked you once before,” said Mother quietly. Then she really let go with everything her extraordinary voice had to give: “ STOP TALKING LIKE THAT! ”
    Because she had sung it, Charles applauded, briefly, politely. And said, “Father, if I hurt your feelings with what I said about destruction and change, please forgive me. It wasn’t meant to hurt you or even refer to you. Everything I know about the world I’ve learned from you and I am grateful for every last bit of it.”
    â€œOf course I forgive you,” said Father.
    â€œThe sarcasm is a weakness I hope I can learn to do without.”
    â€œI’d rather you were sarcastic,” said Mother, “than humorless.”
    Amelia wiped her eyes and smiled. Tom nodded. The twins veiled their interest somewhat successfully. Mother glared and trembled, so finely that it could not be seen by the others save the strange rigidity. Socially Darwinian Christians, thought Charles, laboring for the glory of a Socially Darwinian Jesus Christ and the Socially Darwinian Regeneration of Socially Darwinian San Francisco when—and this was the kicker—they didn’t know the first thing about Darwin! Everything was an accident. Father paid lip service to the idea when he said everything that was lost could easily and swiftly replaced, but he didn’t understand what he was saying. If he did, he would save his numerous foes the trouble and shoot himself in the head.
    Though Germany had declared the North Atlantic a war zone, Father and Mother left the next week for New York, where they boarded a ship that took them to Iceland. For the fly-fishing, Father had said, in no mood to talk to Charles about anything serious, or anything at all, really, even though he said he had forgiven him. For the salmon. Indeed it was possible they were going for the salmon and the sea trout. There was a joke in there somewhere about brown trout and German submarines, but no one felt like making the effort. Charles had fished with flies a great deal when they had lived in Paris but summered in Scotland—not to mention golden days camping with Andrew and Alexander and even Father on the rivers of northern California—and if he could not help but continue to remember it as a pleasant pastime, indeed as golden, he could no longer find the time or rather the inclination to findthe time to go fishing. Strangely, he could no longer even imagine himself standing in a river