The next day at school, I kept a sharp eye out for Nicole. With all the rumors going around there was no way I could keep avoiding her. I decided to get it over with. I headed towards Social Studies, knowing Nicole would be there. I decided to time it so that we would meet at the doorway. I hung out at my locker for a couple of minutes, pretending to look for something, and when I saw Nicole walking to class, I closed my locker door, and “coincidently” walked into class with her. She grinned, and ducked her head quickly. “Hey, Nicole,” I said.
She looked up, “Hey, Tim.” It was a good thing I got that over with. As far as I was concerned that would solve the problem. I sat through Social Studies feeling much better about things. We were learning about the Civil Rights Movement. Mrs. Donaldson had just thrown in a video that showed a bunch of people protesting and policemen beating them up.
When the video was over, Mrs. Donaldson talked to us about how lucky we were and how we should never take things for granted because of all the sacrifices people had made before us. I thought about my mom. About her sacrifices. I wasn’t sure if she was making things better. I hoped so, but I wasn’t sure.
After class Nicole was standing at her locker looking at me. I quickly turned back and stared into my own dark locker. What was I doing? Why wouldn’t I talk to her? Maybe Seth was spreading rumors about us, but really, I kind of wanted those rumors to be true.
“Don’t take things for granted,” Mrs. Donaldson had said. I heard those words echoing in my head and at that moment I shut my locker, took a deep breath, and nervously walked down the hall toward Nicole. She had to have seen me coming, but she must have been nervous too because she buried her head in her locker like an ostrich and pretended that she was looking for something.
As I got within five feet of her, my heart pounded. I felt like one of those cartoon characters whose heart rhythmically bulged out of his chest when they were “in love.” I had to talk to her. As I opened my mouth to say hi, I heard a loud, boisterous voice yelling my name.
“Tim! What’s up?” It was Seth.
“Oh, hey. Not much.”
I turned back toward Nicole. She smiled and said, “See you later.” And just like that my chance was gone.
I waved and said, “Yeah, I’ll see ya.” I turned toward Seth, disappointed and annoyed.
“All right!” he smirked. “So it’s true. You two are, well … you know.”
“No, I don’t know.”
“Yeah, okay,” he replied sarcastically. “You going to gym?”
“Yeah.”
“All right, let’s go.”
We walked to gym, or I guess I should say Physical Education. Our teacher, Mrs. Peters, hated it when we called it gym. “Gym is a place. Physical Education is a class,” she would whine.
Anyway, we stopped every few seconds for Seth to chat with anyone and everyone. When we stopped, I turned back and looked down the hall. It was almost completely empty. There were just a couple of kids hanging out at their lockers. The emptiness reminded me of that last episode of Cheers. The whole bar was empty except Sam Malone. He was there by himself. At one point the place had been bustling with people and excitement, and then it was vacant. It also reminded me of what our home had become. For a brief moment in the hallway I felt that energy returning as I had approached Nicole, but just like that, it had been swiped away by the sorcerer known as Seth Michaelsen.
When I got home from school, my sister was already sitting in the living room. It wasn’t very often Jenna was home right after school those days. I sat down next to her on the couch. She was reading Catcher in the Rye. “How’s the book?” I asked.
“It’s all right,” she said without looking up from her page. I sat there staring out the window for what seemed like an hour. Jenna obviously didn’t have much to say to me, but just being there with her was kind of nice. She finished her chapter, put the bookmark in the book, closed it up, and turned toward me. “So, what’s up?” she asked.
“Not much I guess.”
“Do you know when Dad’s coming home? I bet he got a hold of Mom today.” She was pleasantly optimistic.
“Uh, he usually gets home between 5:00 and 6:00.” I paused for a minute, trying to think of something else to say. “So, where’s Josh today?”
She quickly turned away from me. “Not here!” With that, Jenna slammed her book down on the coffee table, got up, and huffed her way up the stairs. Obviously the “Josh situation” was not so great at that moment. I didn’t follow her upstairs to talk to her about it. That had always been Mom’s job.
I flipped on the television. It was time for Cosby. I watched Dr. Huxtable and the gang for about fifteen minutes, when I heard a car drive up in our driveway. I flipped off the TV and looked out the window. It was Josh’s Jeep Wrangler. I knew it well because last summer he used to put the top down and take me for rides. I remembered feeling pretty cool that I was riding around with a sixteen-year-old. I would even have him drive by my friends’ houses in case they were outside, so they could see me.
He walked up to our front door and rang the doorbell. Josh was about six feet tall, with short, blond hair. He kept it pretty buzzed. Not military buzz, but short nonetheless. He was wearing jeans and a Che Guevarra t-shirt. He wore that shirt a lot. I asked him once who Che Guevarra was, and he told me, but I couldn’t remember now.
Clearly there was something wrong that day because he almost never came to the front door and he certainly wouldn’t have rung the doorbell. I answered the door. “Hey, Tim,” he said. He sounded unusually dry and distant somehow.
“Hey, Josh. Come on in.”
“Thanks. Is Jenna around?”
“Yeah. She’s upstairs in her room.”
“All right. Thanks,” he said.
“You may want to watch out though. I don’t know if she is in a very good mood.” I felt that we guys had to stick together in times of crisis. “Relationships suck, huh?”
“Yes. Yes, they do, man.” He nodded, a slight smirk on his face. He was such a cool guy. I realized that as he walked up the stairs he probably thought I was a complete dork. I mean, I was a seventh grader, trying to “keep it real” about relationships with a junior in high school. What was I doing? What did I know about relationships anyway? I certainly didn’t have one. But why not? Why couldn’t I have a relationship? I sprinted upstairs to my dad’s office, turned on his computer, and went straight to facebook. I had new motivation to “check my status.” I expected to hear Jenna and Josh arguing, but I heard nothing. I clicked on Nicole’s wall and began typing.
Dear Nicole, was just writing …
I stopped in the middle of my typing. What was I doing? How was sending Nicole a facebook message going to solve anything? I hated facebook anyway. It was just a way for me to avoid actually talking to her again. Technology was good that way-it made “communication” really easy, but rarely got you anywhere.
I canceled the message and shut down my dad’s computer. I decided to try a different route. I was going to pick up the phone and talk to Nicole Thompson. Or maybe I could just text her. No. I was really going to call her.
I found her number in my dad’s address book under her dad’s name. Dad was pretty “old school” when it came to keeping phone numbers and addresses. He had them in his phone too, but he has never really trusted technology. When I found the number I wondered when our parents would be getting together again so Nicole and I could hang out together. I picked up the phone, and then paused for a second so that an excuse not to call would conveniently appear, but it never did.
I dialed her number. I was breathlessly silent in between each ring. I still couldn’t hear Josh or Jenna at all. I wondered what they were talking about in there. After the fourth ring I thought I was in the clear. I would leave a message and wait for her to call me back. “Hello?” said a soft voice on the other line. I didn’t get to leave a message after all.
“Uh, hi. Is Nicole there?” I spoke as if I had never made a phone call in my life.
“This is Nicole.”
Her voice sounded a little different on the phone. I realized at that point that I had no idea what I was going to say to her. I had to think fast. “Hi, Nicole. This is Tim Hansen.”
“Oh, hi Tim. How are you?” Her voice perked up when I told her who I was. That was encouraging.
“I’m pretty good. How about you?”
“I’m good too.”
“Good.”
“Yeah.”
“Well …” I was struggling now. “I just wanted to call and say hi. I was going to talk to you at your locker today, but Seth kind of barged in. You know how he is.”
“Yeah, but that’s okay. I’m glad you called.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I am. I mean, I sent you that email about your mom, but I felt kind of stupid because I didn’t even tell you to your face. But I really am sorry that she had to go over there. That has to be tough.”
“Yeah. It kind of sucks.”
“I’m sure it does. I don’t know if you knew this or not, but my cousin is in Afghanistan. I know it’s not the same as having your mom over there, but I kind of know how you feel.”
“Really? I didn’t know that. How old’s your cousin?”
“He’s twenty. He flies helicopters I think.”
“Wow. That’s crazy.”
“Yeah. It’s pretty scary,” she said.
“No kidding. I don’t think my mom is doing anything like that.”
“Maybe not, but it doesn’t mean it’s not scary to have your mom in the middle of a war.”
“That’s true. It’s kind of scary around here too, you know? Not only because she’s gone, but also because everything around here is different. My sister has totally changed. I hardly ever see her or talk to her anymore. And my dad tries really hard, but it gets real quiet around here sometimes.”
“Yeah. My aunt’s always talking about how weird it is to not be able to call up Zach—that’s my cousin—whenever she wants. It’s been really tough on her I think.”
I realized all of a sudden that it was the first time I had really talked to anyone about my situation. It felt good. I decided to go out on a limb and explain the new development. “So,” I began, “my mom is supposed to call us every Sunday night. She has never missed a call before.”
“Yeah?” Her tone was of genuine concern.
“Yeah. But last Sunday she didn’t call. It’s been three days, and no one’s heard from her.”
“Oh, my God. That must be horrible. Have you tried calling her?”
“My dad’s made some phone calls I guess, but hasn’t found out anything.”
“Wow. I’m really sorry. But I’m sure everything’s fine. I’m sure something just came up.”
I wanted to believe her just like I wanted to believe my dad.
“Yeah, hopefully. I just wish people would start telling me the truth about what’s going on over there.”
“I know what you mean. I asked my mom about how things were going with Zach, and all she said was that he is ‘making his way’ or something stupid like that.”
“Everyone must think we’re idiots or something, like we can’t handle the truth,” I said.
Nicole laughed. “You sound like Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men.”
“Do you like that movie? I didn’t think anyone I knew had actually seen that movie. I love it!”
“Yeah. It’s one of my favorites.”
Nicole and I talked for another half hour, moving through the conversation like this Maya Angelou poem I read in English class. No hiccups. Rhythm. I hung up the phone with the confidence of an artist after finishing his masterpiece.
I passed by Jenna’s room and noticed that the door was slightly open. I peeked inside. She was sitting on her bed crying. I knocked lightly on the door so I wouldn’t startle her. “Hey. Are you okay?”
“Does it look like I’m okay? I just want to be alone right now.”
“All right.” After I walked down the stairs I looked out the front window and saw Josh’s Jeep driving away. I didn’t know what they were fighting about. Before Mom left, Jenna and Josh were the perfect couple. I never saw them argue about anything. But the months after Mom left were different. They fought a lot. Watching Josh drive away, I felt like picking up the phone and calling Nicole all over again.