JUSTIN’S DECISION
They left Atlanta early Sunday morning. Justin navigated, telling Mom where to turn to catch the interstate. Once they were out of the city and on I-75 headed south, he folded the map and fell silent. His head was full of things he had seen, things he had done, and things he might do someday if—well, if about a million other things worked out.
Mom was quiet, too. He glanced her way once or twice and saw that she looked worried. She was probably fretting about work, or money, or wondering whether Kate and Chip were okay. Justin didn’t ask what was bothering her, because he didn’t really want to know. He had enough on his mind already.
Each time a sports car zoomed past, Justin thought about his dad. He tried to picture himself at a racetrack. Maybe he could be on a pit crew before long … or even drive one of the cars! He imagined himself after a race, surrounded by his crew and a bunch of good-looking girls.
But what kept getting in the way was Justin’s memory of the garage where his dad had been working the night he arrived. True, Charlie traveled to some exciting places, but those garages would be pretty much the same everywhere, wouldn’t they? And that was where they’d probably end up spending most of their time. Plus, he wouldn’t even be working on race car engines. Considering that he had zero experience in auto mechanics, he’d be in Jimmy’s place, cleaning up after the real mechanics.
Justin also thought, briefly, about how in three years, or even two years from now, he could be a soldier if he wanted to. He knew of lots of guys from his town who had enlisted right out of high school. But Justin had just about had it with other people telling him what to do, when, where, and how. He couldn’t think of one good reason to put himself in a situation where he was getting bossed around and shot at.
The picture that kept replaying in his head, crowding out the other thoughts, was of himself running onto the field with his teammates, the crowd cheering. And afterwards, Booker pounding him on the back for driving in the winning run. Justin knew it was pure fantasy. But the thing was, it was a fantasy he might be able to make real.
They stopped for gas near the Florida-Georgia line. Justin pumped, and then went to wash his hands to get rid of the gasoline smell. On his way to the restroom he passed the station’s garage. He wondered how long you’d have to work in a place like that before you stopped noticing the smell. Justin smiled to himself, thinking about how his dad, who didn’t seem at all bothered by petroleum fumes, couldn’t stand the smell of the goats.
Around noon they stopped for lunch at a small park. “It was so sweet of Melody to pack a picnic for us,” Mom said as they walked across the grass. “How about over there?” She pointed to a table near a pond.
“Sure.” Justin set the basket on the table and took out a sandwich. By the time he had it unwrapped, a flock of ducks was paddling toward them.
Mom said, “Looks like we’ve got company.”
Justin broke a crust off his sandwich, walked over to the water, and pitched it to the ducks. They weren’t like Chip’s big white ducks. These were small and dark-colored, with bright green heads. Mallards? Justin wasn’t sure, but they were pretty—not to mention aggressive. They quacked and dived in front of each other for the bits of bread the way he had often seen Chip, Luther, and Lily scuffle over a soccer ball. Justin shoved the last of the sandwich into his mouth and went back to the picnic table. Mom poured him a cup of lemonade, which he downed in two swallows.
“I sure did like that campus,” he said, pouring himself a second cup.
“It’s one of the prettiest ones I’ve ever seen,” Mom said. “Although to tell the truth, I haven’t seen all that many.”
“It’s fun getting to see new places. I was thinking about Dad, how he travels all over.”
Justin picked up another sandwich and walked back to the edge of the pond. “I’d like to spend some time with him.” He tossed the ducks another crust. “Not right now, though,” he added. “I’ve got too much going on, with school and all. And Mr. Hashimoto’s offered me a summer job—did he tell you?”
“No,” Mom murmured. “He didn’t mention it.”
“So I won’t have time this year. Maybe next summer, after I’ve got my driver’s license. Or the one after that.” Justin paused, wondering if his mother would understand why he wanted to spend more time with Charlie. “Dad’s a fun person to be with, you know?”
He glanced over. His mother’s eyes looked damp and shiny, like she was about to cry.
“I know,” she said softly. “I remember that about him.”
She wasn’t crying, Justin decided. Actually, she looked pleased. Maybe her eyes were just tired from so much driving.
“Want me to drive awhile?” he asked.
“Sure.” Mom started picking up their picnic things.
“I can’t wait to tell him about the sports program they’ve got there. Oh, man! It is so cool!” Justin swung an imaginary bat at an imaginary ball.
Mom threw a bright red apple at him. “Let’s see you hit this!”
Justin caught the apple in one hand. Both of them ran, laughing, back to the truck.
They arrived home late that afternoon. The pickup had barely rolled to a stop before it was surrounded by jabbering kids. Kate’s big news was that Ruby and Mr. Jackson had made up. She tried to make it sound as romantic as possible, but Chip, Luther, and Lily drowned her out with shrieks of laughter and comic imitations of two people kissing.
Justin carried the bags into the house and looked at the clock, wondering if he’d have time to raid the refrigerator before his dad arrived. Just then Charlie’s convertible turned in the driveway, so that answered that question. Justin hurried outside, hoping his dad would want to go to dinner before the movie.
Mom was still in the yard, encircled by kids. Chip was hanging onto her like he thought she was going to leave again any minute.
“Hi, Charlie,” she said cheerfully. “Justin will be right out.”
Charlie answered in a tone that wasn’t nearly as friendly as Mom’s. “Have a good time in Atlanta, Betty? With the great Booker Wilson?”
Mom’s face turned red. “As a matter of fact, we had a fantastic time.”
“I guess you think this kind of ‘vacation’ is in the best interest of our son?” Charlie snarled.
Justin stopped in his tracks.
Mom put her hands on her hips. “Oh? And just what do you think is in Justin’s best interest, Charlie Martin? Should he be an itinerant car mechanic like you? Or a minimum-wage nursery worker like me? Or should he be the best at whatever he wants to be?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Charlie snapped back at her.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about! Why don’t we let Justin make up his own mind, without any pressure from either of us?”
“Well, sure. I don’t have a problem with that.” Charlie seemed to be backing off a little. “But this thing with Booker Wilson—”
“Is none of your business!” For a second, Justin thought his dad was in danger of being slapped. “In case you haven’t noticed, Charlie, walking out on your family changes things. Maybe you gained something by it, but you definitely lost something.”
Mom turned on her heel and took a step toward the house, but Chip clung to her and whispered something in her ear. She nodded. Then Kate showed her something partially wrapped. Justin realized that it was a present for their dad, and felt a little embarrassed. It hadn’t even crossed his mind to get Charlie a going-away present. Oh well, he thought. Too late now. Then Justin remembered the pictures they’d taken in Atlanta, and went back in the house to get them.
When he came out, Chip was holding a basket of duck eggs that he had obviously decorated for Easter. “Go ahead, Dad,” Chip said. “Choose one. Any one you like.”
“Uh, this one,” Charlie said.
Chip beamed. “I painted that one. With magic markers that sparkle.”
Kate held out the package she’d shown Mom. “Here, Dad. For you. I made it myself.”
Charlie pulled away the paper and held up a denim vest.
“Remember how I told you that Ruby and I sell things?” Kate reminded him. “The candy is sort of seasonal, so we started Denim Designs to have something between holidays, you know? It’s all one-of-a-kind stuff, like this.” Kate stopped babbling and smiled shyly. “This is the first vest I’ve made. Do you like it?”
“Like it? It’s great!” Charlie slipped on the vest and stood there looking down at it. “I didn’t realize you kids were so … you know … talented.”
Justin slid the photos out of the packet. “Want to see some pictures we took in Atlanta?”
“Sure.”
“Here’s one of the field house at Booker’s college. And here’s one I took of Mom and Booker, in front of his apartment.”
Charlie barely glanced at the first photo, but he jerked the second one out of Justin’s hand and held it up close to his face. “What’s he in a wheelchair for?”
Justin stared at Charlie. It never occurred to him that his dad didn’t know Booker’s feet had been blown off. But then, how could he have known? He probably hadn’t seen Booker since the time he and Mom went to watch him play ball a dozen or more years ago. Actually, Justin remembered, Charlie had seen Booker recently. But with Booker sitting in his van, Charlie couldn’t have seen that he was crippled.
“Booker was in the army,” Kate said. “He lost his legs.”
“His feet,” Luther corrected. “And part of his legs.”
Charlie frowned, studying the picture. Justin couldn’t figure out what he was thinking, but he guessed it was best to get his show-and-tell over as quickly as possible. He handed his dad another photo. “Here’s one of Mom and Booker and me at a restaurant where we went for breakfast.”
“Who took the picture?”
“Booker’s girlfriend, Melody. Here’s one of her.”
“You have a picture of Booker’s girlfriend?” Kate squealed.
“Let me see!” Luther demanded.
Justin took the snapshots from his dad and gave them to Kate, all except the last one, which he slid into his pocket.
“Wow!” his sister exclaimed when she saw the picture of Melody. “She’s even prettier than Ruby!”
Charlie gave Mom a sulky look. “You might have told me Booker was just a friend.”
“Hasn’t he always been?” Mom retorted. She grabbed Chip’s hand and walked off toward the house, trailed by Luther and Kate, who were still marveling over the photos.
For a minute Charlie stood looking after them like they were going to a party to which he hadn’t been invited. Then he noticed that Justin was already in the car and got in. Justin held out the last snapshot. “Here’s one of me,” he said. “Do you want it?”
Charlie looked at the picture a long time. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s a good one. It looks just like you.”
They were halfway to town before Charlie spoke. “So how was Atlanta?”
“Great. We got to go to a game. Mom said you took me to see a game at that same field when I was two years old.”
“I remember. When Booker was in college. We went to see him play.”
“I’d sure like to play there someday.”
“Yeah, well. Pretty tough competition, college sports.”
“I know. That’s why, well, I’ve been thinking.” Justin stopped, not knowing exactly how to break the news to his dad. Finally he blurted out, “This isn’t such a good time for me to be taking off.”
“What do you mean?” Charlie gave him a sharp look, then turned his eyes back to the road.
Justin swallowed hard. “I mean, I’d rather not leave right now.” He added quickly, “But I told Mom I wanted to go visit you later on.”
“What did she say to that?”
“She didn’t say anything. I mean, it’s my decision, right?”
“And this is what you’ve decided, to hang out in this backwater town?”
Justin took a deep breath. “I know it’s not much of a town, not compared to the places you go. But it’s, like, I’ve just made the varsity team, see? I’ve got a lot going on right now.”
Charlie swung into a parking spot near the movie theater and turned to Justin. “So you’re not interested in coming with me?” Charlie paused, then added, “A person doesn’t have to be a high-school graduate to make good money as a racetrack mechanic—not when he’s got an old man as well known as I am to teach him the ropes.”
Justin knew Charlie was a good teacher, and believed him when he said he could show him how to work on race cars. What Justin didn’t know was if he could ever learn to like car mechanics, which would mean spending most of his time in an oil-saturated garage. But how could he explain that to Charlie?
In a voice that was the closest Charlie had ever come to giving Justin a direct order, he said, “Make up your mind, boy. I’m leaving in a couple of days, and I won’t be back anytime soon.”
“I’d like to spend more time with you. But …” Justin hesitated, still searching for the right words. “Cars are your thing, Dad. Baseball’s mine. I figure I’ll get to play a whole lot more ball if I stay in one place. Maybe by next summer—”
“Look, I have no idea where I’ll be then. I really doubt—” Suddenly Charlie stopped speaking, as if he didn’t want to hear himself say what he was about to say.
Justin’s heart sank. The last time his father left he’d said he was coming back. But he didn’t, not for four long years. And he wasn’t even angry then. If he left mad, he might never come back. Just when Justin was beginning to feel totally hopeless, Charlie grinned. It wasn’t one of his natural, lighthearted grins, but at least it was there. “Oh, what the hell!” he said, slapping Justin on the knee. “Sure. Whenever.”
“Is that a promise?” Justin asked.
“That’s a promise. And here’s another one. If you ever come up to bat on that field in Atlanta, your old man will be there to see it!”
Justin’s stomach rumbled. Charlie laughed and glanced at his watch. “We’re way late for the show. What do you say we grab a pizza and catch the next one?”