This was going to be the worst weekend of Kevin’s life. He would be spending Saturday without his friend, and then Sunday would come crashing down on him. It would be a day spent at church until around noon—a torturous hour and a half spent in uncomfortable clothing and even more uncomfortable seating. Then would come another hour after that of socializing with grownups and listening to friends of his parents repeating the same old spiel: Kevin, you are growing so tall. Kevin, don’t you look handsome! Kevin, how are you liking it here so far? There would even be the occasional pinch on the cheek, and almost everyone polished their palms on his stubbly, shaven head.
What a total waste of a perfect day. I could be fishing. I could be having fun! Agh!
After church, Kevin plopped on his bed, good clothes laying in a pile on the floor. He knew he would have to hang them up, but he defiantly wanted them to suffer on the carpet for a few minutes more. He could only agonize over the future socializing that was still to take place, either at church, or at someone’s house; he didn’t even remember what the plan was supposed to be today. And he didn’t care. All he could think about was running with Leonard, wearing worn-out clothes, dirty old shoes, and fishing tackle clanking at their sides.
The only good thing about Sundays in summer was when, after dinner, he and Leonard could go for a jaunt, since the light lasted for hours.
And he needed a head shave. This popped into his head for no reason, except that he was thinking about all the things he and Leonard would do during their short reprieve on Sunday evenings. Leonard’s mother would sometimes set the boys up on the back porch to “tune up their haircuts,” as she liked to call it. A few quick seconds of electric tremors and they were left with a cool and tidy neckline.
He remembered how he and Leonard had planned for buzz cuts this summer. With a tablecloth wrapped around their necks, Lynette set the trimmers to buzz and sheared the hairs from their heads so that only nubs were left. On the back porch floor boards, Kevin’s brown locks mixed with Leonard’s tight curls. It had surprised them how much hair had come off them, and they’d palmed their heads curiously. The sensation of a bald head to a young boy in the Texas sun enhanced the feeling of freedom, or so it seemed.
Sunday slowly crept by and gave way to Monday, the Fourth of July. Kevin’s family had no major plans for the holiday, except to go to a friend’s house in Houston for an early dinner and to enjoy some fireworks later on that evening. Instead of sleeping in and waiting to leave, Kevin woke at five o’clock and dressed, planning to make his way to the ranch. His father, normally an early bird, was already up. A steaming pile of eggs and a big bowl of grits were on the table. This was new.
“Breakfast of champs. Want some?” Allen offered.
“No thanks, Dad,” Kevin said in a sleepy voice.
“I thought you had the weekend off?” His father asked.
“I do, but—”
“Ah. Never mind. I think I get it.” Kevin’s father understood. His son was holding out hope that perhaps today Leonard would return to work, a neutral ground where they could talk. “But you better hurry before your mother wakes up and talks you out of it.”
Kevin grinned and swiftly moved through the house and out the door.