The Broheim Men

Michael sat in the study and daydreamed. His eleven year old mind wasn't on the game of Scrabble he played with his Uncle Gunder, a renown physicist and his father Bruno a promising geneticist. They were conservative and serious men. Michael stared down at the game board. He wasn't thinking about forming his next word. He wasn't even looking at the wooden letter-tiles on his rack. It was a bright afternoon. His mother and aunt were in the flower garden, weeding and pruning their roses and gardenias and such. The Broheim men usually spent their after church time tending to quiet, intellectual pursuits.  

His father Bruno kept score, and tapped a yellow pencil behind his tile rack like a drumstick while he struggled with mentally arranging his tiles in search of a new word. Michael's uncle Gunder rarely placed a word under six letters on the playing board and usually took an almost unbearable time taking his turn. Being men of science, Michael's father and uncle were very methodical and meticulous about their decisions. 

Every Sunday the Broheim men wore suits and ties as casual attire. Michael wore a crisp short-sleeve dress shirt and leaned his elbows on the polished walnut tabletop. He absently chewed his left thumb. He wondered how either of the men would react to what he wanted to tell them. The sunlight felt warm on his back. Michael’s mother had buttoned his pastel blue dress shirt up to the collar. Fortunately the collar was loose around his neck. If it was too tight, Michael would tend to fidget and squirm, something else Broheim men didn’t do. 

Michael's father finally placed his word on the board. CHROMOSOME. Michael knew that was the word he was going to form and that his father intended to get a double word and double letter bonus to his score. His uncle Gunder only gave a subtle sniff in response. Bruno scribbled his score down and then looked over at his son. It was Michael's turn next. The boy gnawed nervously at his thumb. He knew his uncle intended to use the letter M in his father's word to create the word meteoric and if he used that space for his word he would steal the score from his uncle. Michael shifted his gaze quickly over at his uncle and then dropped his eyes to the board. When they played games in the study on Sunday afternoons, the men didn’t converse much. But being so much younger and possessing a hearty dose of youthful impatience, Michael couldn't restrain himself any longer. 

"Father, uncle..." he paused and felt hot around his ears. 

"Father, uncle, I want to tell you both something, something unusual."

The two men on either side of him didn't answer or ask him what it was. His uncle Gunder pushed his tiles around and his father tapped the scoring pencil. 

"I wanted to inform you both of something I've discovered I can do, something, well... remarkable."

The two men remained mute, staunch in concentration. Only the ticking of the study’s brass desk clock could be heard. Michael began again. 

"I wanted to tell you that I can read your minds and tell what either of you are about to do next."

The two adults seemed completely steeped in their own concentration. Michael could have guessed their response even without his unusual, newly discovered ability. Michael took his tiles and used the M his uncle intended to use and spelled out the word: MINDREADER. Then he leaned back in his chair and waited with his arms folded in front of him. His uncle jut out his lower lip and grunted, then sniffed. His father adjusted his glasses and stopped drumming his pencil. The two men didn't look up from the Scrabble board for some moments.

Well Michael, I don't think this is information we need to tell your mother about, agreed Gunder? 

Absolutely. We Broheim men don't go around grandstanding our talents do we Bruno?

Neither of the two men moved their lips yet Michael heard them distinctly. A smile slowly curled on Michael’s lips. He glanced back and forth between the two men. 

All right uncle, it's your turn. Now that we all can see each other's tiles, it should be an even more interesting game. Michael sat up in his chair and stopped daydreaming. Sundays just got more interesting.