Before Mom went to Iraq, she had to go to South Carolina to train. She had to leave in two weeks. It was clear she was trying to spend as much time with us as possible, taking shorter shifts at the hospital, making sure she was home when we were … those kinds of things.
“I want to spend at least one night alone with each of you before I leave,” she’d told us one night at dinner. “We’ll definitely have some family time, but I want to do something special with each of you. So, all three of you should be thinking about what you would like to do for your night.”
I had my “special” night with Mom first. I guess it was because I was the youngest. It made sense.
“What do you want to do?” she asked me.
“I don’t know. Can we go to Fat Lorenzo’s?” Fat Lorenzo’s was a little pizza place on Cedar Avenue. It was one of my favorite restaurants. The pizza was good, but I thought what I liked most about it was the fact that they served the pizza on elevated trays. It looks like a big trophy. Sometimes the pizza blocked the person across from me, but that made it even more fun. When I was a kid (a real kid, not a “tween”), Mom and Dad used to play hide and seek with me behind the big pizza trophies. I loved eating there.
“Sure we can go to Lorenzo’s.” Mom always called it just “Lorenzo’s.” I think she didn’t like to use the word “Fat.” “Is there anything else you want to do?”
“I don’t know.” I hadn’t given much thought to “my night” like she told us too. I wasn’t that concerned with what we would do. I just wanted to hang out with Mom.
“I could take you to a Timberwolves game.”
My eyes lit up. Dad usually initiated Twins, Vikings, and Timberwolves games. Sometimes Mom and Jenna would come, but they were never very into it.
“Really?” I asked in disbelief. Going to a Timberwolves game with my mom was a rare occasion. It never even occurred to me to ask her to do that. I was impressed.
“Sure. Why not? It’ll be fun.”
It was a chilly Sunday afternoon. The Timberwolves were playing a 2:00 game. Mom and I drove to the light rail station and hopped on at about 1:45. Our family was notorious for being late. We muscled our way onto the train with hundreds of other people coming from Bloomington or Eagan or wherever. Ninety percent of them had Timberwolves gear on, most of which said “Garnett” on the back. Timberwolves fans were still living in the past. My new favorite Timber wolf was Kevin Love. Not only was he really good, but he also tried real hard. I liked that.
When we arrived downtown, the masses unloaded from the train, and I was pushed every which way. Mom grabbed my hand and helped me off the train. I quickly slid my hand out of her grip. There were a lot of people around. Who knows who might have seen me holding my mom’s hand?
We’d bought our tickets at the last minute, so we had nosebleed seats in the upper deck. The players looked like they were three feet tall from up there. But it was okay. The game was a lot of fun. Every time Love made a basket, I stood up and cheered. I wasn’t the only one. “Kevin Love” was a fan favorite.
Mom didn’t cheer a whole lot. Sometimes she would ask me, “Why was that a foul?” or “How come he’s shooting free tosses?” As the game went on though, she got into it. Anytime I clapped, she would too. Anytime I stood up, she would too. I could feel her eyes on me most of the game, watching, observing, wondering what I might do next. She even bought me a pop and a hot dog.
“But we’re going to dinner after this, aren’t we?” I asked hoping the plan hadn’t changed.
“Yeah. Who says you can’t have second dinner?” she said with a smile.
I laughed and took a bite of the hot dog.
The game went down to the wire. I hadn’t been to a lot of Timberwolves games, but Target Center was the loudest I had ever heard it. Unfortunately, they were a crappy team and crappy teams lost those kinds of games. That one was no exception. Final score: Portland Trail Blazers 98, Minnesota Timberwolves 95. It didn’t matter. It was a blast.
We shoved our way back onto the train after the game. Mom was standing directly behind me with her hand on my right shoulder and her other hand gripping the bar above her. Boisterous, sweaty people surrounded us.
“Did you have a good time?” she whispered in my ear, so no one else could hear.
“Yeah,” I said, trying to turn my head to face her. “It was really fun. Thanks for bringing me.”
She smiled and put her other hand on my left shoulder, releasing it from the safety bar above her.
We got to Fat Lorenzo’s at about 5:30. I wasn’t that hungry because of the hot dog, but I didn’t care. I was excited to see the trophy pizza. The place was like a tiny box, so it was rare that you didn’t have to wait for a table. This time, though, they sat us right away. I guess we beat the dinner rush.
We sat in a booth in the far corner. The booths were tall, like the fence our neighbor had. It was like our own private pizza place.
“So, what’s new at school?” Mom asked.
“Nothin’, really. Same old stuff.”
“Keeping up with your homework?”
“Yes, Mom. I always do my homework.”
“Good. You need to stay on top of that. I’m not going to be here to keep on you about it.” No, she wouldn’t. How would she know how my classes were going? How would she help me with math?
“I know. Dad will make sure I do it.”
“I know he will,” she said with a snicker. I stared silently at my napkin. “So, how’s the girl situation?” She couldn’t let that subject go.
“There is no girl situation, Mom.”
“Really? I bet there are a ton of girls at school to choose from.”
“I don’t know.” I didn’t feel like talking about girls.
Our pizza came shortly, and they stacked it on the tray right in the middle of the table. Mom’s head was hidden for a second, but she moved the tray over a little so we could see each other. No “hide and seek” this time. She dished up a piece for both of us. It was too hot to eat, so I had to wait a minute. The slices were enormous. I had to blow on it over and over to cool it down. Then, without thinking, I blurted, “Why did you join the Army?”
Mom looked up, a piece of cheese dangling from her mouth. She cut it off with her fork and chewed the rest of the cheese strand into her mouth. “What, honey?”
“Why did you join the Army? I mean, lots of nurses just work at hospitals, right? They aren’t in the Army.”
Mom bought herself time by taking a drink of her Coke. “It’s pretty complicated, actually.”
“How so?”
She could see I wasn’t going to let her off the hook. “Well, first of all, the Army helped pay for nursing school. We didn’t have much money then, so I probably wouldn’t have been able to afford it.”
“Is that the only reason? Money?”
“No, it’s not the only reason. It was an adventure, I guess. A chance to travel the world.”
“Like, to Iraq?”
“That wasn’t my choice. Trust me.”
“Why couldn’t you just travel on your own?”
Mom looked frustrated with me. “I don’t know, honey. It gave me a sense of duty, too. Like I was really doing something important. Even more than a nurse in a regular hospital.” She was looking at me, but I was focused on the piece of pizza on my plate. I felt her eyes on me. “I’m sorry it worked out this way, Tim. I really am. I wish I could stay here with all of you, but I can’t.”
I nodded, taking a bite of my pizza. The rest of the dinner was quiet, somber even. I don’t think Mom expected to be interrogated by me. I forced her to answer questions she wasn’t prepared for. I felt bad. She had tried to have a nice, relaxing final night with me and I had ruined it.