MOM DROVE SEPARATELY AND HAD TO cut out before the awards to make her shift at the hospital. Dad insisted on driving me home from the meet.
“Tell me something, Leo,” Dad asked me. “Where did that performance from Curtis come from?”
“Dad, Curtis is a damn good runner,” I told him.
“Yeah, but you kicked his butt just last week,” he said to me. “Do you think maybe you went out a little too fast?”
“Today went off exactly as planned,” I assured him.
“I’m not sure I get it, Leo.”
“Let’s just say Curtis gave me my moment of glory last week, and today I returned the favor.”
“Whatever you say. I may not know much about this sport, but I’m very proud of you. I can’t wait until next year.” Dad was looking through the windshield with a little smile on his face. Caleb was quiet in the backseat, still twirling that stick. I sensed he was working himself into a very foul mood.
Dad said he knew about this great burger joint called Lester’s at the next highway exit, and he wanted us to celebrate. Everything was going fine until Caleb found out Lester’s was out of fish-and-chips. Then all hell broke loose.
“MENU SAY FISH-AND-CHIPS!” he screamed.
“They ran out, Caleb,” Dad whispered. “If I could make fish-and-chips appear out of my ass, I would.”
“FISH-AND-CHIPS!” Caleb screamed.
“We’d better beat it,” Dad said. He grabbed Caleb by the wrist, and we scrambled out of that restaurant before he was able to make more of a scene. The rest of the way home, Caleb was kicking the back of my seat, pounding the windows, and screaming bloody murder about fish-and-chips. Dad flipped on the radio, clenched the steering wheel, and tried to tune out. When Caleb delivered a donkey kick that jolted my seat toward the dashboard, I just focused on the white lines of the highway in front of me and pretended I was somewhere else, too.
“Damn it, Caleb,” Dad finally said. “What do you frickin’ want me to do?”
“FISH-AND-CHIPS, DAMN IT!” Caleb screamed. “Long John Silver’s fish-and-chips restaurant!”
“Frickin’-A!” Dad yelled.
I thought for a moment. “Well, the way I look at it, Dad, you can either drive him to the Long John Silver’s, or you can drive him to Children’s.”
Dad smacked the steering wheel before finally caving to the absurdity of our situation. “Jesus,” he swore, laughing quietly, “it’s never a dull moment.”
It was a zoo inside our car until Dad pulled into the parking lot of Long John Silver’s, our old standby whenever Caleb needed a guaranteed fix of fish-and-chips. Dad brought Caleb here almost every other week because of some television commercial Caleb became fixated on seven years ago. The place was always empty, and I feared the day it would eventually go out of business.
“Order food by self!” Caleb said.
“You got it,” Dad agreed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He pulled out his wallet and handed Caleb a ten-dollar bill.
Then Dad turned toward me. “Let’s wait out here a moment,” he said. “I could use a breather.”
When Caleb was young, Dad had taught him how to order from a menu. It was painful. Caleb ordered by giving not only the name of the entrée but the entire description as well, plus his own special requests. It sometimes took him up to five minutes to place a simple order.
Caleb marched purposefully toward the two women behind the counter, who were conversing. They stopped talking when they saw Caleb and stood at attention. They knew him well. The lunch-hour trickle was over, and the restaurant was empty except for an older couple seated at a two-top near the front window.
Dad timed our entrance just as Caleb was placing his order.
“LONG JOHN SILVER’S TWO-PIECE COD MEAL!” Caleb demanded. “Choice of Sweet and Zesty Asian or Creamy Garlic salad dressing. Want Creamy Garlic. Sides green beans and corn cobbette. Two hush puppies. RIGHT!”
Despite all his challenges with communication, Caleb had no problem expressing his needs in restaurant situations. The women behind the counter treated the situation like a stickup. One grabbed the microphone and slowly repeated Caleb’s order verbatim. The announcement reverberated throughout the entire dining room: “Long John Silver’s Two-Piece Cod Meal! Choice of Sweet and Zesty Asian or Creamy Garlic. The customer would like Creamy Garlic. Sides green beans and corn cobbette. The customer has requested two hush puppies. Right!”
He had Long John Silver’s completely under his command.
“Large Diet Coke. TWO ICE CUBES!” he demanded.
She relayed his precise drink order into the microphone: “Large Diet Coke. The customer would like two ice cubes.”
The woman at the beverage dispenser went out of her way to show Caleb that she was fulfilling his demands. Aware that she was under his watchful eyes, she clutched a pair of tongs and slowly placed the ice cubes individually into the paper cup. Caleb paid his bill with the money Dad had given him, counted his change, and took his receipt to an empty table and waited for his order.
It was our turn to order. “Hope you’re in the mood for fish-and-chips,” Dad said.
As we made our way to Caleb’s table, Dad patted me on the shoulder. “Just remember, Leo. Life is always going to throw you curveballs.”