I WAS on the floor in my room, my feet tucked under the side rail of my bed, doing sit-ups with the receiver from the kitchen phone tucked to my ear. A little grunt escaped my throat every time my chin reached my knees.
“Why are you on the landline?” Abel asked me from Arkansas. “Something happen to your cellie?”
“You could say that.” I went on to explain why Dad had taken my cell phone.
“Well, that sucks nuts. But I sorta see your dad’s point. You never know what kinda psychos are roaming the streets at two o’clock in the morning.”
“So I should just be like my dad and abandon my mom. Is that it?”
“Hey, don’t get mad at me, dude. I’m just saying.”
“I’m all she has, Abe. If you were me, if you were the only person left your mom could count on, you saying you wouldn’t be there for her?”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t help your mom, Bro. I get where you’re coming from on that. But you gotta keep yourself safe. If something happens to you, your mom won’t have anybody. Right?”
“Yeah. Damn. You just had to go and say something sensible.” My anger vanished almost immediately. I hated being upset with Abe, and a rush of regret went through me. That resulted in a burst of concentrated effort as I curled my torso upward in another rep, trying to numb my emotions.
“What the hell are you doing?” Abe snapped, his voice suddenly uneasy. “All that grunting, it sounds like you’re either getting laid or trying really hard to take a dump. I hope to God you’re not doing either one with me on the phone.”
“I’m just doing sit-ups.”
“Okay, what else is eating you? You only exercise when you’re seriously freaked out.”
I wanted to talk about Fawn. I wanted someone to help me understand why the girl I loved felt it necessary to cut herself off from me right when I needed her most. I was too fucking angry at Dad. He’d gotten straight-up silence from me during dinner, a favor he awkwardly returned. That left Abel. He was popular with the girls at our school, which turned him into a chick-of-the-minute type guy. He dated a lot but had never been seriously involved with anyone. The dude couldn’t help me make sense of my new non-relationship status any more than he could tell me how to perform open heart surgery. Besides, he had enough going on with his grandmother’s sudden death without me spilling my guts all over him.
“Nothing else is going on. Just the parent drama I told you about.” I stopped with the sit-ups, lying flat on my back and feeling the burn in my abs. “How’re things with you and your family? Are you okay?”
“I’m like a flat tire right now, man. My mom and sister worked me to death around this house, and now I’m told I can’t go to bed until I finish this boatload of assignments my teachers sent. I don’t know why Mom suddenly feels she has to lay down the law like that. She knows I always keep my grades up. Dad got the funeral arrangements made, but it looks like it’s gonna be at least a week before we get back home now. I overheard my dad tell my mom that he wants Grandpa Hodge to sell his house and move to Tennessee with us. He thinks Grandpa won’t want to leave his home, so that’s a big battle that’ll be coming up right after we get Grandma Marge buried. Grandpa’s not as steady on his feet as he used to be and gets a little confused sometimes, but seems to me he can still take care of himself. Personally, I don’t get why he can’t stay in his house if that’s the way he wants it but hey, I’m just a dumb kid. What the hell do I know, right?”
Abe was crazy about his grandparents. He’d looked forward to visiting with them, whether in Jeddersville or Little Rock. The only one of my grandparents I ever really knew was Grampie, Dad’s father. Grammie died when I was four, and I didn’t remember her that much. Mom’s parents were still alive and well, but they weren’t into the whole interracial marriage thing and cut off all contact the day Mom told them she and Dad were heading down the aisle. Mom sent them an announcement when I was born, but they never responded. Hell, they sure didn’t want anything to do with me, the living, breathing symbol of everything they thought was wrong about the life Mom had chosen for herself.
Abe went on for a while, talking about his family drama. I listened. I wanted to be his shoulder to cry on the way he’d been for me so many times. Thing is, Abe’s not the kind of person to let anything keep him down. If he couldn’t solve a problem, he’d move past it and find something positive to focus on. Before long, he’d switched topics and had us both laughing. “Believe it or not, Bro, I got put on dinner duty today.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Me. The dude who’s never even boiled water. Tashie goes, ‘Just find something in the fridge to make sandwiches out of, idiot. You don’t need a college degree to do that.’” Abe had his sister’s tart voice down pat. “So I looked in the fridge and found this big hunk of leftover roast beef. I sliced that hunk up, nuked it for a couple of seconds, and slapped it on some bread with mayo and pickles and stuff. Grandpa was resting, but Mom, Dad, Tashie, and me were starving. Man, we chowed down on those sandwiches and everybody was all, ‘Damn, Abe, this is so good!’ Then Grandpa wakes up, right, and comes into the kitchen, and he goes, ‘Oh, I see you found the coon.’”
“Coon? What the hell is that?”
“Well, a few days ago, Grandpa found out a raccoon was living in his attic. He waited outside one night with his gun, and when the raccoon climbed down the side of the house to go looking for food or whatever the hell they do, he shot it. Now, Grandpa’s not the kind of person to let anything go to waste, so he skinned and cleaned the raccoon and cooked it.”
My stomach clenched as if a live animal was trapped in it. With a loud gag, I slapped a hand over my mouth.
“That’s just what Tashie did when she found out what she was eating!” Abe howled as if he’d seen my reaction. “You should’ve seen the look on her face! I almost pissed my pants, it was so funny.”
We were laughing like crazy over that when the knock came. Dad opened the door and stepped halfway into my room. “It’s getting late, Brodie. Get off the phone and do your homework.”
He lingered afterward, looking me flat in the eyes. For a second or two, I got the impression he wanted to ask me for something but wasn’t sure how to do it. Then he withdrew, leaving my door open.
I hadn’t laughed in months, it seemed, and I didn’t want to let Abe go. It was so good to talk with somebody, to forget for a few moments everything that was wrong in my life. “Sorry, Abe. Dad wants me off the phone now.”
“It’s cool, man. Mom’s been giving me the stink eye, so I gotta go myself. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow if Mom and Tashie give me a second to breathe. Remember, dude, say no to the worries.”
I disconnected, sat up, and tossed the phone onto the bed. Homework. Hell, it was Friday night. What was the rush on doing something that didn’t have to be turned in for two days? Fawn and I would be taking in a movie or something now if things were normal. Maybe she just wasn’t into me anymore. Maybe she’d never been into me. I was actually shocked when I’d asked her out that first time and she said yes. She was so out of my league—a hot, gorgeous athletic babe all the guys drooled over and all the girls liked. What could I bring to a table like that, especially now when I was best known for having a mom who’s a lush? I never understood what attracted Fawn to me in the first place. How could I understand what pushed her away?
Without her, I was stuck at home on a night when most everybody else was hanging out somewhere, meaning I was as lonely as my dad. There was a time long ago when things were still good between Dad and Mom, when they’d go out dining and dancing on Friday or Saturday night or go to parties. I remember how they’d either get Grampie to babysit or set me up on a sleepover with one of my then-friends so they could have time to themselves.
Dad turned into a real homebody after the divorce. He had yet to take a woman out on a date, maybe because he never went anywhere he had a decent chance of meeting a woman he could ask out. (I didn’t want him or Mom to date anyone else, but I didn’t want them to be lonely, either.) He had friends, mostly couples he and Mom had socialized with when they were together. Now that they weren’t, he didn’t see those couples so much anymore.
In college he was part of a fraternity, a brotherhood that still met once or twice a year for reunions and such, but Dad stopped going to the reunions. He became a member of some organization called the Freemasons but never went to any of their meetings. He signed up for a gym membership right after the divorce but seldom went to the gym now. He was a joiner, but not really.
That’s my example. No wonder I’m fucked-up socially.
One thing remained true about Dad. He had been, and still was, a heavy reader. He stopped by Barnes & Noble once or twice a month to plunder their discount bin, coming home with an armload. A few of the books, the ones he really liked, he kept after finishing so they could be savored again and again. The rest he read once and then donated to Goodwill or the town’s literacy program.
He was holding a book in his hand when he’d told me to get off the phone. Maybe what he wanted to ask then was if he could read to me after my homework was done. He used to do that a lot when I was younger. He probably hoped it would pass on his love of books to me, but it didn’t work. By the time I turned twelve, I was making excuses to get out of his reading sessions, and he stopped trying. And we started growing apart.
And now it felt as if there was a world of distance between us. Our relationship had devolved into a series of confrontations and dictates and silent rages.
Shit.
I got started on my homework, assignments in chem, trig, and English. When chem and trig were out of the way, I was actually done. The assignment in English was to read chapters seven through nine in Ordinary People, but I was already way past chapter nine. I only had maybe twenty pages left to read. I’d covered enough that I wouldn’t have to pick up the book again for days.
I picked it up anyway and got all comfy under the bedcovers. Hell, I didn’t have anything else to do. And I was anxious to know how the story ended.
Out of the blue, I wondered what Mr. Dakota was doing with his Friday night.
FORTY-EIGHT HOURS is one helluva long time.
Weekends had always been on fast-forward during the school year, at least for me. Seemed like I’d get home on Friday afternoon, put down my backpack, blink, and it would be Monday morning again. But that was when I wasn’t stuck at home, totally cut off from the rest of the world with my dad under the same roof.
Saturday morning, Dad and I ate breakfast the same way we’d eaten dinner, without looking at or speaking to each other. Clearing the table and doing the dishes got to me in the worst way because there were still so many bits and pieces of Mom’s life around. The blue plates bordered with white cartoony flowers, the mod-looking silverware, and the rooster and hen clock on the wall over the sink were all things that she had carefully picked out, reflections of the carefree personality she displayed when she wasn’t drinking.
After I finished cleaning up the kitchen, Dad gave me my phone back and I immediately started texting with Abel. Abe was off on a shopping trip with his dad and grandpa. Turned out his grandpa had lost a lot of weight, and neither of his two “Sunday suits” fit any longer. The old guy didn’t care what he wore; he just wanted to bury his wife. His son didn’t want him looking like “a half-empty sack” at the funeral and was freaking out about the weight loss. Abe hated the way they were going at each other and jumped right in the middle, brokering a compromise by getting his grandpa to agree to wear a new suit on the condition that his dad paid for it.
He had to stop texting when his dad and grandpa got into yet another argument inside the store. There was no one else I could call or text, and I was still so pissed at Dad that I didn’t want to talk to him.
Dad put himself on laundry duty. He came into my room and started gathering my dirty clothes off the floor and the bed. My room suddenly became way too small. I took myself off to the den and found a movie to watch. Inside of ten minutes, I was bored numb, so I pulled on my hoodie and went outside where I spent the morning raking our lawn. I spent the afternoon bagging leaves and piling them at the curb for the garbage truck.
My mind went off on all kinds of crazy tangents while I worked. I remembered that amazing Saturday evening back in May, when Fawn had let me touch her breasts for the first time. We were in her backyard, hidden in the shadows beneath the trees as night came down around us. I wrapped my arms around her from behind, burying my face in her hair. The soft, thick strands tickled my nose delightfully and smelled of vanilla. Her skin was soft and warm as I slid my hands under her blouse, and then under her bra. She moaned—a sound as soothing as a kitten’s purr—when my fingers found her nipples. The memory brought on such a raging boner, I had to duck into the bathroom to take care of it.
Afterward, I was more depressed than ever. When I got back to work, I found myself thinking about Dad’s neglected gym membership. Maybe I should use it. Maybe it was my body that made Fawn push me away. I wasn’t a jock. I’d checked out other guys in the showers during PE sessions. My arms and legs didn’t have the muscular definition theirs had, my chest wasn’t as pronounced. Why couldn’t I look like them? Just as guys had their standards about what makes a girl hot, girls had their standards about guys. What girl wanted a dude with a physique like a twelve-year-old? Maybe if I worked out, got myself in shape, that would bring Fawn back.
When I tried to stop thinking about Fawn, my mind automatically went to Mom, wondering if she was okay. It would drive me crazy to take a turn down that emotional dead-end where she, like Fawn, wanted me out of her space, so I tried to focus on the sounds around me. The shouts and laughter of little kids playing in some backyard shuddered through the air like a rough drumbeat; the neighbors next door were chatting as they fired up their grill; from somewhere down the street came the roar of a leaf blower; three guys rode past the house in a car with the top down, dabbing to a mean rap.
Life. Would I ever be a part of all that again? Had I ever been, really? It was like being trapped behind an invisible wall, cut off from the rest of the world and unable to touch what you could see taking place right in front of you.
Dad made burgers, fries, and salad for dinner. We sat down at the table together and started eating.
“You raked the leaves without being asked today,” Dad said after a while. “I really appreciate that. Thanks.”
I didn’t look up at him, didn’t smile, didn’t do anything except go, “You’re welcome.”
More silence followed. Then Dad said, “I folded your laundry and left it on your bed. You can put it away whenever you want.”
“Okay, thanks.”
That turned out to be the longest conversation we had all weekend.
I WENT to Mom’s apartment on Sunday afternoon. She didn’t answer when I called to give her a chance to talk me out of it. If she’d just answered, I would’ve known she was okay, and that would have stopped me. It was the not knowing that was driving me crazy.
I stood at her door, knocking hard. “Mom. It’s Brodie.”
No answer.
I knocked harder. “Mom!”
Still no answer.
“Mom, come on! You don’t have to open the door! Just say you’re okay! Just say you’re okay and I’ll go. That’s all I want!”
I was pounding so hard the whole door rattled in its frame.
Another door clicked sharply open somewhere down the hall. I turned and saw a skinny, white-haired old woman standing in her doorway, decked out in a thick tan sweater that draped all the way down to the tops of her fluffy black bunny-eared house shoes. The look in her eyes said she wanted to murder me.
“What in the world is wrong with you, boy?” she growled, hands on her hips in a show of outrage. “All that racket you’re making, I can’t hear my TV. Get the hell on out of here.”
“My mom lives here. I’m Brodie—”
“I know who you are. I’ve seen you come around. That doesn’t give you license to go disturbing the peace, for God’s sake.”
“I just want my mom—”
“Jenny’s not there.”
“What?”
“I said she’s not home. She left here in a cab Friday morning, all dressed up. I guess maybe her hours changed and she was going into work earlier than she used to. I haven’t seen her since.”
“But… she didn’t go to work.”
“Maybe she went off for the weekend and didn’t tell you. Whatever the case, she’s not home, and you need to stop banging on that door before I call the police.”
I stood staring at the old lady, waiting. That couldn’t have been all. There had to be something else she could tell me about Mom.
“Look, this is serious. You have to tell me where my mom went.”
The woman narrowed her eyes at me. “I’ve already made clear, young man, that I don’t know that. Now, for the last time, you take yourself on out of here. Jenny’s a nice neighbor, and I sure as hell don’t want to have her son hauled off to jail.”
I didn’t argue, just turned around and left. As I crossed the parking lot, I dialed Mom’s number again. Like before, the call was shuffled directly to her voicemail.
I smacked myself in the forehead, fighting back tears. “Jesus, Mom!”