“Yeah?” I say. “So that time you gave me a ride home, why did you say I didn’t have any idea who I really am?”
“Because you don’t. How could you? You’re so much more than you could ever think you are. Thoughts aren’t even big enough for it.”
“Oh.”
We meet each other’s gaze for a second, then both look away. I wish I knew some perfect thing to say back to him, but I don’t.
Across the field, the moonlight washes across the broken machinery, the high grass, and the sunflower stalks. Glancing down at Mr. White’s hand, I wonder if he’ll put it on my knee again. He doesn’t, though. We just sit there side by side until it’s time to go, and that’s just fine.
25
At home, the parents are lying in wait. No sooner am I in the door than Dad pops out of the shadows and orders me into the kitchen for a talk. Mom’s already in there. She sets a slice of pie on the table in front of me, like she can buy me off with that.
Dad sits across from me, his hands folded on the tabletop. Mom sits to my right. “Where have you been?” Dad says. He sounds like an FBI agent interrogating a terrorist suspect.
“Out with a friend,” I say.
Dad wants to know who this friend is. Mom’s probably already called all the usual suspects, so I tell the truth. “Padgett Locke,” I say. “You wouldn’t know him. He’s new in town.”
“You didn’t see Bobby?” Mom asks.
“No. He’s probably in deep hiding after the way you guys treated him.”
“Don’t try to lay the blame on us,” Dad says.
“We just want what’s best for him,” Mom adds.
I can’t look at them. Everything about them seems annoying right now. My dad’s built like a cement mixer with a Bassmaster T-shirt on. Even my mother’s hair annoys me. It’s so perfect. How can it be so perfect when everything else is so messed up?
“This is a serious thing,” Dad says. “It can affect your brother’s whole future, getting discharged that way—without honor.”
“Bobby’s not the one without honor,” I say, staring at the limp slice of pie. “He did his part.”
“Ceejay,” Mom says, “we don’t love Bobby any less. We want to help him, get him back on the right path.”
Dad follows up with, “Your brother needs to know—and so do you—that the choices you make matter. They have consequences. You can’t go around being a wild kid all your life. You have to take that long step into responsibility land. I know. I had to do it.”
Finally I look up at him. “So what kind of choice did you make today, Dad? You ran Bobby out of the house. You wouldn’t even let him tell his whole story. And Mom, you didn’t even make Lacy come back here for her own brother’s homecoming from the war. Those are some real great choices.”
Dad stares at me, and I try to match him but have to turn away before the tears start.
“Ceejay, your sister is doing what she has to do right now,” Mom says. “I talked about it with her. It’s not like she didn’t want to come. It’s just a hard time with your grandmother right now.”
“The world doesn’t revolve around your brother or you,” Dad says. “Your grandma has cancer. Do you understand that? Cancer.”
I nod.
Dad goes on, “I don’t know what’s wrong with your brother. Maybe some army buddy of his got him on that hashish, but that’s a weak man’s way to go, and that’s not how I raised your brother or you.”
“Bobby’s not weak,” I say, my eyes and face burning.
“If he’s not,” Dad says, “then he’ll come back here and face up to us. He’ll face up to us and to himself. And then he’ll get his butt in gear and face up to his responsibilities as a man. If he gets in touch with you, you tell him that.”
“And tell him we love him,” Mom adds.
I shove the untouched plate of pie away. “Is that all?”
Dad leans back in the chair and folds his arms across his chest. “For now,” he says.
26
Of course, Bobby doesn’t have any intention of facing the parental firing squad. He doesn’t even come back for his duffel bag. He sends Chuck over Sunday afternoon instead. Mom’s sweet to him about it, but even she can’t hide how crushed she is that her son wouldn’t come get it himself. Dad doesn’t say a thing. That’s his strategy. He thinks all Bobby needs is to do a little growing up, as if he’s just going through a phase like a junior high boy whose voice is changing or a girl getting her boobs.
Everybody has some kind of opinion about Bobby. Mom acts like he’s a little boy with a bruised knee, and if he’d just come home and let her put something on it, everything would be all right. Brianna thinks he lost the big fun side of himself in the war. Gillis says he can’t be too worried about Bobby if he’s still nailing some sweet ass off Mona, and Tillman thinks Bobby hasn’t really changed all that much. He says Bobby was always crazy, but it’s just not funny now that he’s out of high school.
I don’t pay too much attention to Tillman’s opinion, though. He’s nursed a grudge against Bobby ever since fifth grade when Bobby came down hard on him for playing keep-away with skinny little Ronald Farquar’s glasses. “You think Ronald’s pathetic?” Bobby told him. “Well, from where I’m standing, you’re the one who’s pathetic, taking a little dude’s glasses away from him like that. Now, why don’t you and your giant Adam’s apple give ’em back before I go jackass wild all over your frame.”
Before that, Tillman had always looked up to Bobby, which just made it worse. Especially the Adam’s apple part. I guess that’s how it is, though—you don’t want to think you’re wrong, so you have to think the other person is.
At work, Uncle Jimmy tells me not to worry too much about Bobby. It’s just the wild life of the army he’s still living. Uncle Jimmy’s had buddies who came back from being stationed in places like Taiwan and Malaysia and they knew how to get their party on better than anyone he’d ever met. Even Jerry throws in his two cents. To him, Bobby sounds like Batman, a superhero with a dark side that he’s bound to overcome. Of course, I wouldn’t be surprised if Jerry thought most people were superheroes compared to his goofy little self. Probably thinks I’m Wonder Woman.
The only person that doesn’t really have an opinion is Chuck. He just says Bobby is Bobby. That’s Chuck for you. He looks at things for what they are. Then one day, I call his apartment, and he drops an absolute bomb on me—Bobby isn’t staying with him anymore. He moved in with Dani.
Don’t you know my heart just about caves in through the rickety floor of my stomach when I hear that? How am I ever going to talk him into moving into a little rent house with me if he’s shacking up with some girl?
I’m like, “Dani! You have to be kidding. I thought he was still all hot for Mona.”
“Maybe he is, but what’s he going to do—move into her attic or something? I don’t think her husband would like that too much.”
“What about Jace?”
“Dani gave him the boot. Packed up all his stuff and told him never to come back. Can’t blame her, can you? That guy’s a tool.”
This sounds like a completely terrible idea, and not just because I was hoping me and Bobby would get our place together. Dani is just not a good match. Sure, she’s Tillman’s sister and everything, but there’s something a little diabolical about her. She gravitates toward trouble. Mistakes ugly drama for passion.
Later, when I talk to Tillman, he’s not too happy about it either, though for the opposite reason. He claims he actually likes Jace. Thinks Jace is great with Dani’s little boy. “I don’t want to say anything bad about Bobby,” he tells me, “but he’s semi-psychotic.”
I’m like, “Screw you. He is not.”
“Well, all I can say is he better treat my sister right.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means.”
Nevertheless, he ends up agreeing to call his sister and get us invited out there. I want to see ju
st how permanent this situation appears, and Tillman says it’ll give him a chance to see how Bobby is with his sister and her son, Ian. “I want to see for myself how Bobby stacks up next to Jace,” he says. “I have an idea that’ll be real interesting.”
I don’t like the sound of his voice. It’s almost like he’s plotting something. Sometimes Tillman can be a little sinister, just like his sister, but I figure he’s not smart enough to pull off anything too evil.
So the next evening rolls around and it’s me, Tillman, Brianna, and Gillis heading to Dani’s trailer. As we pull away from Brianna’s, I casually drop the suggestion that maybe we should see if Padgett can come with us, and Brianna’s like, “Padgett? You’re calling Mr. White Padgett now?”
“Yeah,” says Gillis. “What’s the deal? Are you going romantic for this idiot or something?”
I’m like, “What are you talking about? It’s just that he’s been good with Bobby. That’s all.”
“Forget it,” says Tillman. “We’re not taking that pussy over to my sister’s house.”
I start to argue but decide against it. What can I say? I’m not even too sure why I want to bring him along.
As we pull onto the winding gravel drive that leads to Dani’s trailer, Bobby’s motorcycle comes into view—he must have gone by and picked it up from Uncle Jimmy—and then so does Captain Crazy’s lime-green pickup truck. I’m not exactly happy to see that, but Tillman is completely pissed.
“Are you kidding me?” he says. “Your brother’s bringing Captain Crazy over here? I knew Dani taking him in was a bad idea.”
“Just shut up,” I tell him. That’s the only argument I can come up with. It’s not like I want to put out a lot of energy defending the captain as appropriate company for Dani’s two-year-old.
Dani meets us at the door and takes us inside. Bobby’s sitting at the kitchen table with little Ian, in his booster seat, on one side and the captain on the other. He looks a little too much at home for my taste.
The captain shoots a big, bright smile our way. He has a napkin tucked into his collar for a bib, but it looks like his beard’s doing the real work as far as catching crumbs. They’re finishing a heat-up pizza and Ian has tomato sauce smeared across his face. He looks like one of those little bitty clowns that come piling out of a miniature car at the circus.
Dani tells us to get ourselves some pizza and beer and have a seat in the living room. She also has some ice cream and strawberries for after the pizza’s gone. It’s weird—she seems to be trying to come off as some kind of grown-uppy party hostess like you see on TV, but you can’t really take her seriously. I mean, Martha Stewart probably threw dinner parties for more upscale groups than us even when she was in prison.
It’s like I’ve stepped into the middle of some demented freak-show family, and Bobby’s the head of the household.
Once everyone’s finished with their ice cream, we’re left in the living room staring at each other. Tillman gets up and heads back to the bathroom. I glimpse him pulling his phone out of his pocket and have to wonder who he’s calling. Just about everybody who will put up with him is already here.
Sitting on the couch, the captain is beaming. It’s like he can’t believe his luck to be invited to such a gathering. “Well,” he says, giving his knees a hearty slap. “We’ve got ’em on the run today, don’t we?”
“Got who on the run?” Gillis asks.
The captain just smiles and winks at him. Ian toddles across the room, stops in front of the captain and stares at him. Dani tells him to come back over to her, but the captain’s like, “Let him stare. I don’t mind. Not a bit. Children are attracted to the Yimmies. You can’t blame them.”
Dani’s like, “The what?” and the captain goes, “The Yimmies, man. They’re here today. Very much beautifully so.”
Dani looks at Bobby for an explanation, but he just says, “The Yimmies. Dude. That’s what I’m after.” He studies the captain and Ian with a satisfied expression on his face, like the captain and him have been friends for decades.
“Ian,” says the captain, “would you like to see an aero-velocipede?”
Ian nods and the captain sits on the floor, pretending to pull levers, push pedals, and guide a steering wheel, all while making a sputtering engine noise with his tongue sticking out of his mouth. Ian claps his hands and squeals with glee. Then the captain hops up and runs around the room with his arms jutting out like wings until he knocks over a lamp and pretends to crash down onto the orange carpet. The way Ian stamps his feet and laughs, you’d think his favorite cartoon character just walked into the room.
Bobby glances at Dani and jabs his thumb in the direction of the captain as if to say, “See, that’s why I invited him to come over in the first place.”
The captain sits there grinning. “Come here, Ceejay,” he says. “I’ll teach you how to fly.”
“That’s all right,” I tell him. “Maybe later.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Okay, but you have to learn sometime.”
Of course, Ian is more than ready to take flying lessons, so the captain gathers him up and runs around the room making his engine-sputter sound.
“Goddamn,” Tillman says to Dani. “You’re gonna let Captain Crazoid play with your kid?”
“He’s harmless,” she says, but from the look in her eyes, I’m not sure she one hundred percent believes it.
“You know what?” says Bobby. “When the captain gets the Yimmies, there isn’t anyone better to have around a kid. He’s like a whole bookful of fairy tales come to life.”
Tillman ignores that. “What happened with Jace?” he asks Dani. “I thought you guys were doing pretty good together.”
Most people wouldn’t ask a question like that right in front of a girl’s new boyfriend, but Tillman never was too great with manners.
Dani scrunches up her nose as if he just let off a stink bomb. “Jace wasn’t going anywhere,” she says. “He had a bunch of talk, but it wasn’t anything but noise.”
“Yeah,” Tillman says, “well, how about you, Bobby? You got a job lined up?”
“I’m not in any hurry,” Bobby says. “I have some money saved. Besides, what am I going to do, skulk around Wal-Mart wearing an apron? Give me a break.”
I mention that Uncle Jimmy has a lot of work lined up this summer and could probably use another hand, but Bobby just takes a pull on his beer and says, “Yeah? I’ll think about it.”
The captain stops in the middle of the room, little Ian still tucked under his arm. “Me and Bobby already have some work to do this summer, don’t we, Bobby?”
“That’s right,” Bobby agrees. “We have the aero-velocipede to finish.”
“And miles to fly when it’s done,” says the captain, the light in his eyes dancing.
This is scary to me. I’d hate to see Bobby pouring his savings into the captain’s stupid aero-velocipede, but worse, I’d hate to see him try to fly it.
Tillman isn’t exactly impressed with that project either. He looks at his sister and shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, Dani. Jace was doing pretty good selling weed, and then he had the part-time tow-truck deal on top of that.”
“Yeah,” she says, “like selling weed is a real great occupation.”
“Well,” Tillman says, “you sure don’t mind smoking it.”
Bobby’s not even paying attention to any of this. Instead, he makes funny faces at Ian while the captain holds the boy up by the armpits.
Tillman goes on, “And Jace never brought any escapees from the nuthouse over either. He had fun parties with cool people.”
“Right,” Dani says. “Cool jailbirds and meth freaks.”
“Wait a minute,” says Brianna. “If, by jailbirds, you’re talking about Randy Pilcher, he’s a good guy. You can’t condemn someone because they went to jail once.”
Randy Pilcher is the smoosh-faced knucklehead that Brianna’s been fooling herself into thinking she has a crush
on. He’s been calling her, but they only went out once since she met him at the party. He took her to the sprint-car races and then back to his place, which is a garage apartment behind his mother’s house.
“Randy’s a fun guy,” says Tillman. “He’s got some good stories.”
But Dani’s like, “You hang around with him then. I don’t want anything to do with that crowd. They don’t respect me anyway.”
“Maybe that’s not their fault,” Tillman says.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Think about it,” Tillman says, glancing at his watch. It’s weird—I’ve noticed him checking his watch several times now.
“You got somewhere to go?” I ask him. “You keep looking at your watch.”
“I’m just bored,” he says, but a couple minutes later, he checks it again, and just after that, I hear the sound of a car pulling up the gravel drive. Tillman smiles, but it’s not a happy kind of smile.
Car doors slam and then a drunken voice hollers, “Hey, soldier boy, I want to have a word with you out here.”
It’s Jace.
“Oh gawd,” says Dani.
I’m like, “What’s going on?” and Tillman says, “Who knows?” but from his expression, you can tell he does know something.
“Soldier boy,” Jace yells again. “Come on out!”
A weary look crosses Bobby’s face. “I guess that’s your ex, huh?” he asks Dani.
“Don’t pay any attention to him,” she says. “He’s too scared to actually come in here.”
Jace is persistent, though. “Unless you want your motorcycle busted up and scattered around the yard, you better get your ass out here.”
I’m like, God, this is just the kind of thing I was afraid of.
“Looks like I better go on out,” Bobby says, rising slowly from the couch. “He’s just gonna keep annoying us if I don’t.”
“He’ll go away,” says Dani, but Bobby’s like, “No, he won’t. The only way to keep a guy like that away is to give him one good ass-kicking.”