Foster's Fall (Foster's Life)

by Jake Williams

  “Nothing—I mean, well, watch the news tomorrow, if you want to. Right now let’s get down to business. I still don’t know why you don’t deal with Spence, he’s a lot better at this stuff than I am.”

  She smiled at me and I pictured a grinning great white shark. “Because you, Foster, are usually so stoned that I get everything I want out of you. Spence actually negotiates things, and I don’t have time for that.”

  “Ha! Go ahead and walk all over me, I have a tutoring session with a little kid in about an hour.” She pointed at Levi and I shook my head. “No, Ella, not him.”

  She put on some reading glasses and studied her laptop. “Number one, my people are not responsible for distributing FedEx and UPS packages to the rooms—tell your brothers they can pause their video games long enough to come downstairs and get their own shit.”

  “Okay.”

  “Number two, no more jeans in the freezer. That’s just nasty.”

  Levi raised an eyebrow. “It keeps them fresh,” I explained. “If you wash them they just fade and shrink and shit. And a lot of them are laundered, we only freeze the really good pairs.”

  “No. You don’t freeze dirt and God knows what else you people get on your pants. We do your laundry, so we know how little underwear you boys wear. That shit isn’t gonna sit next to your steaks and ice cream or whatever.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll make a note to buy a freezer just for jeans. Problem solved.”

  “Number three, people who pass out on the first floor have to be removed by Monday morning. We don’t need to be trying to vacuum and dust with comatose idiots sprawled everywhere.”

  “We’ll move the brothers upstairs to their rooms, the rest of them...we’ll put them out by the pool. Hardly anybody feels like swimming on Monday morning, they won’t be in the way out there.”

  “Number four, if the pot smoke exceeds a reasonable level then that room won’t be cleaned. I can’t have my employees spending the rest of the day here in the kitchen eating all the food.”

  “That pot smoke isn’t second hand, I’ve shared more than one joint with your innocent cleaning crew. And even when they’re sober they don’t do that great of a job. I mean, can’t they spend a little more time on my room?”

  She stared at me. “Ever since they looked under your couch last spring the staff has a three minute limit in your room—anything longer than that and we have to put them in hazmat suits to go in there. We have just enough time to gather up your laundry, vacuum the carpet, disinfect as much as possible, and run like hell. If you want your room to be cleaner try living like a human being and I’ll see what we can do.”

  I frowned. “Three minutes? I live there, and I’m fine.”

  Ella huffed. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, baby.”

  Tutor

  I was taking a class in coaching skills and for a little extra credit I was doing some personal training with kids to teach them basic sports skills—baseball, football, track, dodge ball, whatever. It really just depended on the interests of the kid and what the parents wanted us to focus on. Tossing a ball around or showing a kid how to swing a bat was easy and it was usually a great way to unwind and have some fun.

  Levi and I drove to the city park to meet a new kid. “Do you always do this coaching off campus?” He frowned a little. “I don’t think you’ll be able to do this after tomorrow, you should probably do this on campus or postpone things for a week or so. Maybe at the field house or around there.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want a lawsuit-happy parent trying to make allegations against me. I’m doing this in a public park out in plain view.”

  Just then I noticed a kid hopping up and down and dragging a guy who must have been his father across the parking lot toward us. I got out of the car and shook his hand as the kid leaned into the car and started talking to Levi. He looked to be about ten or maybe a little older and was kind of pudgy, his father was tall and thin and had a receding hairline and glasses that made it hard to guess his age. I shook his hand and said, “You must be Evan, I’m Fost—Jake, from Hawthorne.”

  He nodded and pointed at the kid. “And that’s Mark, I guess you can tell he’s pretty excited about that car. He’s become a car nut lately, he has pictures of cars from magazines and the internet covering his bedroom walls. A few weeks ago it was fighter jets. He’s really into stuff like that—anything with nuts and bolts or gears or things like that. I’m not sure where he gets that from, I can barely change a light bulb.”

  I grinned. “He probably gets it from his mother, then. And kids go through phases, before you know it it’ll be the Sports Illustrated swimsuit models.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure where he gets it from, he’s adopted. My partner, Jeff, and I adopted him four years ago. One of the reasons I signed him up for this tutoring is I wanted somebody...comfortable with sports, I guess, to spend some time with him and see if he’s got any natural talent in a particular area. You know—running, catching a ball, shooting baskets or whatever.”

  I called out to Levi, “Hey, why don’t you and Mark grab a Frisbee or a baseball or something from behind my seat? You guys have some fun and we’ll be over there in a minute!” Levi grabbed a Frisbee and he and Mark walked out to the field. Evan and I sat down at a picnic table under a tree and watched them. Levi flung the Frisbee and it flew about ten feet over Mark’s head and became lodged in the branches of an oak tree.

  “So,” I asked, “is there a sport he’s interested in right now? Any skill he wants to work on?” I saw Mark trying to jump up to grab the Frisbee and he only went about two inches up in the air. He somehow lost his footing and fell backward on his ass.

  Evan was watching him and turned a little red. “I think you could really start with anything. I’m an art professor at the college, and Jeff is an accountant in town. We just, well, we’re not exactly athletes or anything like that. You know, he has two dads but with who we are and what we do, I’m just not sure he’s getting the right masculine influences in his life. I thought maybe spending time with a jock—sorry, with an athlete, I mean...and this isn’t coming out exactly right. I guess I don’t want Mark making choices in his life based on the way Jeff and I are...” He went silent and watched as Levi knocked the Frisbee loose and it hit Mark on the head.

  I wrinkled my brow. “I’m a little lost, Evan. I’m not sure what you’re asking me to do. I mean, I can coach Mark in a sport he wants to play or some skill—like jumping, I guess, that he needs a little help in. But most kids his age will pick a sport or two, soccer maybe, and they’ll play it until they get bored or hooked.” Mark had picked the Frisbee back up and slung it with both hands at Levi. It splashed into a pond about thirty feet away and the two of them stood there and scratched their heads.

  “Jeff told me signing Mark up for this was stupid, that I was pushing the poor kid in one direction without letting him make his own choices.”

  “Jeff sounds like he might have a point, no offense. I mean about the choice thing, not signing him up for a little coaching. Not every father is a jock or whatever, I’d be happy to help out if that’s what Mark wants.” Levi dug around in my car and came up with a baseball, he had to pull Mark away from the car and back out to the grass.

  “Well, Mark hasn’t really said anything about playing any sport. His friends come by and ask if he wants to toss a ball or skateboard and he’s just not interested. What I’m hoping is that you can get him motivated to do things like that. And when I found out about this program, and that you were a part of it I really wanted to meet you—I mean I wanted Mark to meet you. I saw you one time on campus, and ever since then I’ve thought maybe Mark needs somebody like you in his life.”

  I pulled my baseball cap off and scratched my head. This conversation was making me feel uncomfortable, and I really wanted to get out there and join Mark and Levi. I never liked sitting on the bench when I could be in the game. “Wait, you watched me? Like a stalker or something like—”
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br />   “No!” He was a little loud and Mark and Levi turned our way. He grinned at them and they started tossing the ball back and forth again. “No, Jake! I wasn’t stalking, I saw you playing baseball. I took Mark to see some kind of robot competition on campus, and when we passed the baseball field, or park or whatever, Hawthorne was playing ECU. Watching a game with your son, it just seemed like something Mark and I should do. We sat in the bleachers and watched the game. Well, I watched, Mark was studying some kind of pamphlet he picked up in the science building. Anyway, you hit the ball—a single, you made it to first base. It was just a nice, warm, spring day and you were standing there, and you looked...happy, like you were just a guy playing a game with his teammates, his buddies, and didn’t have a care in the world. A week or so later I saw you on the local news—some athlete-of-the-week profile or something. They had some video of you playing baseball, hanging out on the lawn of your fraternity house, and walking to class on campus. I realized that’s what I wanted for Mark—to be happy, just a regular guy’s guy, to...fit in, I guess.”

  I watched as Mark tripped over his own feet trying to catch a wobbly pitch from Levi. He stood back up and they were both laughing. I tugged my cap back on and studied Evan. “He’s like ten, I didn’t pledge a frat or get laid until I was at least twelve.”

  Evan nodded at me, and then shook his head a little. “It’s just that I always thought guys like you had it all, you know. I mean, you’re the all-American jock, the guy all the girls want and all the other guys want to be like. Look at me, I’m a geeky professor, and look at you. The way you wear your cap, the way you walk, how comfortable you seem to feel with...yourself, I guess. I don’t think Jeff and I can teach him to be a guy like that, like you. I don’t want him growing up with his nose in a book, being laughed at, being bullied—”

  I watched Mark throwing the baseball in Levi’s direction, it took a wild bounce and clocked Levi in the nuts. He dropped to the grass and Mark walked over and sat down with him. “So, you want me to teach the kid how to wear a hat, or play ball, or be happy? You want me to teach him to be whatever it is you think I am? Don’t take this the wrong way but that’s kind of fucked up. I think you need—”

  “No, you’re right! I think I had some kind of idea that you’d be able to teach him...maybe to teach him how to be masculine, how to not be like me or Jeff.”

  I stood up from the table and looked down at him. “I really hope that you’re not asking me to teach Mark how to be straight. Because I think you’re confused about what being a guy, being a man, means.” The way he flinched let me know I’d hit the bullseye. “You have got to be friggin’ kiddin’ me, Evan! What do you want me to teach him—how to walk right, talk right, how not to throw like a girl, how to scratch his nuts or burp or fart or whatever? Maybe a little advanced training—how to talk shit in a locker room, maybe get him a hooker when he turns sixteen? He’s adopted, I don’t think that you and Jeff being gay is just going to rub off on him and he’s going to become a drag queen or run an antique store—but so what if he does? Jesus, listen to yourself! If he’s gay he’ll be gay, if he’s a jock he’ll be a jock—and he might be a gay jock or he might be a straight geek or any combination of those things—and if he’s a bookworm then he’ll be smarter than me, that’s for sure!” I looked over and Mark was pointing at an RC sailboat moving across the pond. He seemed to be explaining something to Levi, who still looked like he was in some pain but was paying attention to the kid.

  “I know, this was a stupid idea, Jake.” He sighed and shrugged. “Jeff told me how crazy I was being. I love Mark, I love him so much it scares me. I want him to be happy, that’s all. And I’ve had to go through a lot of bullying, a lot of crap for being...different. I don’t want him to feel that kind of pain.”

  I grinned and looked around the park and then back at Evan. “Do you know why I looked so happy on first base that afternoon last spring?” He shook his head. “I looked happy because the first baseman for ECU was asking me if we could...hang out together that night.” Evan looked a little confused and I patted his shoulder. “I’m the last guy who you want to give Mark ‘straight’ lessons, Professor. And you may be misguided but I think you’re doing a pretty good job as a dad. You care, you’re taking the time to care or whatever.” I thought about the news conference tomorrow and told him, “If you still want me to give Mark some basics on baseball or soccer or whatever sport he’s interested in, give me a call next week and we’ll set something up. And if I’m not available then anybody in the program would be happy to work with you.” I pointed at Mark. “I’d say he looks happy right now, just goofing off with Levi. That’s probably all Mark wants from you, just some attention and some time.”

  Evan looked at Levi and raised an eyebrow. “That kid there, he’s not really one of the other tutors, is he? He makes Mark look like an Olympic athlete.”

  We went our separate ways after I talked to Mark for a few minutes and Evan said he’d call to schedule something in the future. “I hope you’re happy, Foster,” Levi said as we walked back to the car. “I think that kid may have done permanent damage to my balls.”

  I rapped on my crotch with my knuckles and there was a muted thunk. “Kids don’t have great aim. After the first one of these tutoring sessions I learned to always wear a cup. But thanks for taking one for the team.”

  I drove Levi back to campus and convinced him that I would stay out of trouble for the night and that it was safe for him to let me head back into the house alone. “Come over to the house in the morning and we can watch Megan’s speech or whatever.”

  He climbed out of the car and then leaned back in to gather his stuff. “I’m going back to Ashley’s office and see if I can get an update from her before she heads out. But yeah, if I don’t talk to you tonight I’ll be over here first thing in the morning. Tonight might be the only chance we get to unwind for a while.”

  The Secret Agent Man

  A bunch of us were in my room playing some prototype of a shooter game that Brent’s brother had sent him from the software company he worked for. All of us were stoned and none of us were doing all that well at the game—it seemed to be about rescuing wild animals from terrorists and returning them to the zoo without being eaten or shot. I kept getting killed by one exceptionally hostile giraffe and I finally leaned back on the couch and reloaded my bong.

  There was a knock on my door and one of the guys hopped up off the floor and opened it. Everybody got quiet when Dave cleared his throat from the hall and said, “Uh, Foster, this guy says he knows you. He says you guys are supposed to go ‘shoot some hoops’ or something.”

  The guy in question was about my height—at least six feet or so, and in good shape. He was wearing a wife beater and some shiny basketball shorts that went down to his calves, and his socks were pulled up to meet them. A gold chain hung around his neck and he had a huge baseball cap spun sideways on his head. There was a tattoo of some quote running across his chest but it was so smudged I couldn’t read it. He had short black hair, a five o’clock shadow, and a pearly white grin. The guys had all gone silent, just staring at him, and the only noises in the room were random animal screeches and gun shots coming from the TV.

  Quinn hopped up off the floor and looked around at the other guys and said, “Bro’s, we need to get out of here. I just got a text from somebody downstairs and there’s a cop headed here.”

  I shook my head and pointed at the guy in the doorway. “They’re talking about him, Quinn. And he’s not a cop, he’s my Secret Service agent.” Everybody still bolted from the room, then Dave walked in and plopped down on the couch beside me. I nodded as the wanna-be whatever walked over to me. I squinted at him and said, “Howdy, Rob. Good to see you, but what are you are doin’ here, dude? And why are you dressed like an extra in a twenty year old rap video?”

  He leaned over and shook my hand. “Hiya, Foster! I could barely see you in here through all the pot smoke.” He frowned at the bong. “I go
t a call from my boss telling me to come up here and check out...things. I think he just wants me to touch base with you—take a look at security around here, see when you’re scheduled for campaign appearances with your dad, that sort of thing. I figured I’d just dress like a college kid so I didn’t draw any attention to myself.” Dave and I just stared at him, there was a Mercedes hood ornament hanging from his gold chain. He walked over to the window overlooking the front yard of the house, it was a huge palladium thing. I was surprised when he slid the bottom sash of it open about a foot, I didn’t think it opened. The breeze flowing through the room cleared a lot of the pot smoke and general funk out of the room. He slid the curtains back and forth and a ton of dust came off of them. I made a mental note to tell the cleaning crew to pay a little more attention to the room, maybe an extra minute or two wouldn’t hurt anybody. “You know, there’s a clear view of this room from the sidewalk, don’t you ever close these things? I mean your bed is right here, aren’t you a little concerned about privacy?”

  I shrugged. “Rob, I live in a frat house. The whole concept of privacy doesn’t really apply to anything around here.”

  “Well, what if you have some chick up here and you two are going at it? Do you want to put on a show for anybody walking down the sidewalk?”

  Dave made this snickering kind of sound and elbowed me in the side. “Yeah, Foster, what if somebody sees you ‘going at it’ with some chick?”

  “Ha. But your boss didn’t tell you anything else, Rob? Did he say anything about tomorrow, about anything in particular that you should be here for?” I grabbed a couple beers out of the little fridge and handed one to Dave. When I offered one to Rob he looked tempted but then shook his head.

  “What’s going on here tomorrow, Foster? Are you making some kind of speech to the Young Republicans Club or something?”