American Dreamer

by Shawn Wesley Ballenger

  “It’s cool.” Brandon lied, definitely not wanting to let on how much it had hurt.

  “You got talent,” Cam said.

  “Uh-huh. Looks like we got a new quarterback.” Logan laughed, which only caused Cam to shoot him a dirty look.

  “You really think I have talent?” Brandon’s jaw dropped at the idea that he might actually have some athletic abilities.

  “Yeah. You need practice, but I think by next year you could be a starter.” Cam answered.

  “Get the fuck out!” Brandon’s voice cracked at the idea that his son, the star quarterback, actually believed he could be a starter for the team. It seemed impossible.

  “Well, that and with a little more growth.” Cam actually smiled.

  Brandon looked down at himself and chuckled, knowing that within the next year, he was going to shoot up almost three inches in height.

  “Yeah. I know.” Brandon distinctly remembered the cuffs of his jeans riding well above his ankles during the summer before his sophomore year.

  “What was your first name again?” Cam asked.

  “It’s Channing.” Logan jumped in.

  “I’m Cameron, but my friends call me Cam.” He held his fist out, which Brandon jabbed.

  As soon as their knuckles touched, Cam got a strange look on his face.

  “Something wrong?” Brandon quickly pulled his hand away.

  “No.” Cam shook his head quickly. “It’s just I feel like we’ve met before.”

  “I don’t think so. It’s my first time in Phoenix.” Brandon lied. “I’m from Georgia.”

  Cam’s expression returned to normal, waving his hand dismissively, yet jovially. “Yeah. It’s nothing.”

  “Come on, girls!” The coach interrupted them. “Quit gossiping and hit the showers.”

  Brandon gave the coach a disapproving look at the offensive way he referred to them as girls. He wanted nothing better than to explain to him that in 2019, his sexist comments were considered chauvinistic and downright insulting.

  “You coming?” Logan asked as he and Cam started towards the locker room.

  “Yeah.” Brandon turned away deciding, it best not to get on the coach’s bad side the first day.

  Walking alongside Cam and Logan, Brandon heard the coach calling after him. “Burkhart. I need to see you.”

  “Oh, shit.” Brandon’s shoulders slumped. “What did I do?”

  “Ooh. Someone’s in trouble.” Logan teased as he pushed Brandon’s shoulder, causing him to stumble sideways.

  “It’s nothing,” Cam said. “I told him that you had potential, and I’m sure that’s what he’s wanting to talk to you about.”

  “You actually spoke to coach about me?” Brandon’s jaw dropped.

  “Yeah. Good Luck.” He smiled as he and Logan continued onto the locker room.

  “Yeah. Good luck, little freshman!” Logan looked back and laughed.

  By the time the coach gave Brandon a pep talk about his potential to be a force on the team through practice and commitment, he ended up showering after everyone had left, which suited him just fine. A spontaneous erection in the shower was something he definitely did not need.

  After changing clothes, Brandon walked out of the gym, slung his backpack over his right shoulder, and started his two-mile trek to Tommy’s house. He looked toward the student parking lot at the other teens in their rides and felt a little envious. I miss my Corvette, he thought to himself. It was annoying, knowing he would not even be able to get even a driver’s permit for another year, which wouldn’t have been a problem if he had received the right dosage of potion. All-in-all being fourteen wasn’t that bad, though.

  Brandon waited until he was off-campus before he stopped, yanked off his backpack and reached inside. Fumbling around, he grabbed the one thing that he couldn’t give up from his old life—his cigarettes. I can't believe I’m still addicted to these suckers, he thought to himself as he dug for his lighter, pulled it out, and lit his smoke. While he had cut back significantly since the regression and only smoked when he was stressed, his craving for them had not dissipated.

  He continued his journey home with a smoke hanging from the corner of his mouth. Occasionally he would lift his fingers, grab it, and take a puff. His mind started calculating the logistics of how he was going to mow the five lawns Corbin had given him when a car pulled up from behind him. The passenger door opened, and a voice called out suddenly.

  “Need a ride?”

  Brandon had just taken a big puff when he turned his head to figure out who had yelled out. His eyes widened at the sight of his baby. He immediately started coughing, feeling as though someone had walked, or in this case, drove, over his grave. It took a moment for him to catch his breath before he focused on the driver of his Corvette—Cam. Quickly, he threw the cigarette down and stomped on it before he forced an innocent smile on his face.

  “Um…yeah…sure,” Brandon said as he moved cautiously towards the car, a sense of panic setting in as he got in and shut the door.

  “Cool car, man.” Brandon buckled himself in, hoping that Cam didn’t notice he reeked of cigarette smoke.

  “Yeah. It was my dad’s.” Cam gunned the car, causing Brandon to gasp and fall back into his seat.

  “Fuck, Cam! Slow down.” Brandon grabbed the dashboard.

  Cam hit the brakes, bringing the car to a complete stop in the middle of the empty street. He turned towards Brandon. Brandon realized his screams had made him sound like a father.

  “Sorry, just not used to going this fast.” Brandon laughed nervously as he removed his hands from the dash.

  Cam hesitated before speaking. “Nah, dude. It’s okay. It’s just my Dad used to say that every time I drove with him in the car.”

  “Parents. Pfft.” Brandon shook his head and forced himself to turn and smile at Cam.

  “Dude. I know it’s none of my business, but does Uncle Tommy know you smoke?” Cam asked as the car started moving once again.

  “What are you talking about? I don’t smoke.” Brandon replied with a lie automatically, just like a kid caught with its hand in the cookie jar.

  Cam laughed. “Dude, I totally fucking saw you. And I can smell you.”

  Brandon sighed. “Fuck. Yeah, I smoke. And no, he doesn’t know.”

  “Hey, man. Like I said, it’s none of my business, but Uncle Tommy hates smoking. He was on my Dad’s case all the time about it.” Cam hit the left turn signal.

  Brandon was taken a bit by surprise that Cam actually remembered, or cared to remember, the ongoing battle between him and Tommy over cigarettes.

  “Yeah. I know. I’m trying to quit.” Brandon lamented.

  “So, how do you like Arizona?” Cam changed the subject.

  “Hot, but not humid-hot like Georgia.” Brandon stared causally out his window, scanning overgrown lawns for potential customers.

  “Yeah, I used to hear my dad compare the ‘dry heat’ in Arizona against the humid heat of Georgia. I’ve never been to Georgia, so I wouldn’t know.”

  “I heard about your dad. I’m sorry, man”. Brandon turned his head towards Cam, waiting on his reaction.

  “Yeah. Well, my dad was a selfish bastard. He only thought about himself.” Cam snarled.

  Brandon felt a stabbing pain in his chest, but couldn’t help but pry further into his son’s feelings.

  “I take it you and your dad didn’t get along?”

  “Oh, we got along. At least we used to before he started his mid-life crisis when I was about thirteen.” Cam gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands until his knuckles turned white.

  “I’ve heard mid-life crises are bad.”

  “Well, he could have handled it better than he did. Hell. He hated his job. Just quit and get another one. Seems simple to me.” Cam moved his hand to shift gears.

  “I guess it’s not that simple. Hell if I know.” Brandon shrugged.

  Cam turned his head and stared at him. “You look so famil
iar. It’s weird, dude.”

  “Maybe we knew each other in a past life. I mean, if you believe in that shit.” Brandon laughed and quickly turned towards his window again to avoid his son’s stare.

  “I guess. How old are you?” Cam chuckled.

  “Fourteen.”

  “For some reason, you seem older.” Cam glanced sideways at him.

  “It’s this mustache.” Brandon flipped the visor down and stroked the non-existent hairs above his lip.

  Cam laughed. “Dude. You’d need a microscope to find any hairs on that baby face.”

  “Fuck you.” Brandon flipped the visor up with a laugh.

  “Freshmen.” Cam shook his head as he continued to laugh.

  Brandon heard something he hadn’t heard in a long time—a genuine laugh from his son at something he had said. It felt good to joke with him again. He wanted to keep it going.

  “You’re a senior, right?” Brandon asked as if he didn’t know already.

  “Yep.”

  “You got big plans after high school?” Brandon turned his head and looked at his son again.

  “Nah, I don’t know. I might go into sports medicine. Hell, I haven’t really decided.”

  Brandon resisted the temptation to go into detail about college prep courses, universities with good sports medicine programs, and the average income for professionals in the field, instead choosing to respond with a standard teenage response: “Cool.”

  “Yeah.” Cam nodded. “Don’t laugh, but I once had this crazy thought of getting an education degree and becoming a high school history teacher.”

  Cam gave a one-shoulder shrug.

  Brandon’s eyes widened. “You mean you want to be a teacher?”

  “I don’t know, dude. I really like history, and I think it would be cool to teach it.”

  Brandon’s heart swelled. Holy shit! He wants to be a teacher just like I did! Brandon thought but forced himself to stay calm.

  “You should do it, dude. Teachers are cool. I’m kind of a nerd, though.” Brandon admitted.

  “I am too in a way.” Cam laughed. “I think some of my old man rubbed off on me. I’m actually the captain of the Quiz Bowl team.”

  “Get out! You?” Brandon’s eyes widened again as he felt ashamed of himself once again for thinking his son was just a dumb jock.

  “I know, right? Not your stereotypical high school quarterback.” Cam laughed and looked at Brandon. “You any good at Quiz Bowl?”

  “Hell yeah! My team placed third in the state back home.” Brandon only partially lied since his team had won third place—in 1986.

  “Dude. You have to sign up. We need some team members.” Cam slowed the car down.

  “I’ll do that!” Brandon said excitedly as Cam pulled into Tommy’s driveway and stopped.

  Brandon grabbed his backpack from the floor and placed it in his lap. He turned Cam. “You coming in?”

  “I don’t know.” Cam fidgeted nervously.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s just…I don’t think Uncle Tommy and Aunt Kathy like me too much these days.” He looked sadly towards the house.

  “Why wouldn’t they?” Brandon noticed that Cam still called Tommy and Kathy his aunt and uncle, although they were not blood-related.

  “Well, honestly, I’ve kind of been an asshole,” Cam admitted.

  Brandon agreed, but he certainly wasn’t going to say it out loud. “I’m sure Uncle Tommy isn’t, like, going to throw you out or something.”

  “I suppose.” Cam tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he stared at the front door.

  “Come on, dude.” Brandon motioned as he opened his door. “It’ll be fine.”

  Cam hesitated, but finally reached to open his door, exiting the car tentatively.

  Upon entering the house, Brandon threw his backpack on the floor just inside the door. The sound of a one-sided conversation was coming from down the hall towards Tommy’s office.

  “Business call,” Brandon said and motioned for Cam to follow.

  As soon as they entered Tommy’s office, Tommy’s eyes lit up. He held his index finger up and rolled his eyes. Brandon glanced around the office, which was much different than his own. Tommy’s office was much more business-like and had very little whimsy. Architectural drawings of houses hung on the walls along with a couple of models of brick homes on two tables in opposite corners. A photo of him shaking the hand of former President Bill Clinton hung on the wall behind his chair. Both he and Tommy met him when he was campaigning for president in Arizona back in 1991.

  “Yes, Mr. Gregory. I’ll have my men out there first thing Monday morning…yes…yes…got it.” Tommy scribbled on a notepad before hanging up.

  “Cam.” Tommy stood up and walked over to him with open arms and grabbed him in a bear hug. “How you doing, buddy?” He patted him on the back.

  “Okay, I guess,” Cam replied, taken aback by Tommy’s friendliness after everything that had happened.

  Brandon was just relieved to see that Tommy wasn’t holding any bad feelings towards his son.

  “Have a seat.” Tommy pointed to the two leatherback chairs in front of his desk.

  “So, how was the first day of school?” Tommy looked at Brandon as he sat back down.

  Brandon slumped in his chair. “Couple of fights, cussing out a teacher, pot-smoking in the restroom. You know? General trouble-making.” Brandon smirked.

  “Smartass.” Tommy chuckled and turned his head towards Cam. “See what I have to put up with?”

  Cam laughed as Tommy switched back to Brandon.

  “How was the football practice?” Tommy asked.

  “He’s pretty good.” Cam jumped in before Brandon could answer.

  “Him?” Tommy pointed at Brandon with a doubtful look on his face. “That guy?”

  “Fuck you. I did good.” Brandon responded, feeling slightly offended. He still wanted to argue with Tommy that football wasn’t as hard as he made it out to be.

  “Dickhead over there had me out practicing for four hours yesterday,” Tommy said, still pointing.

  “You can’t throw worth shit.” Brandon retorted. “I’m lucky I caught any of your throws.”

  Brandon laughed and glanced at Cam, whose mouth was agape. His eyes quickly darted towards Tommy, them both realizing at the same time their normal best friend banter could be considered weird for a nephew and his uncle.

  “Yeah. He…needs to work on some things, but he’s got talent.” Cam sputtered.

  Tommy resisted the urge to make another brash joke and, instead, responded with: “That’s surprising.”

  “Tell me about it.” Brandon laughed, scaling it back as well.

  They sat in silence for a few moments before Tommy gave Cam a serious look. “Cam. Listen. If you ever need—"

  Cam held up his hand. “Please, Uncle Tommy. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Tommy nodded and shot a look to Brandon, just as Cam’s phone beeped. He pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at it and rolled his eyes.

  “I really need to get home. I got some chores I need to get done before mom gets home.” He stood up.

  “How is your mother?” Tommy asked.

  “Same as usual.” Cam didn’t go into any details.

  “I’ll walk out with you.” Brandon stood.

  Tommy looked between Brandon and Cam, who had his eyes down on his phone once again. “Well, you’re welcome in our home anytime, Cam. You know that, right?”

  Cam looked up again, slipped his phone back into his pocket, and gave Tommy a sincere smile. “Thanks, Uncle Tommy. I appreciate it.”

  Brandon escorted Cam out of the house, and by the time they got to the front porch, his curiosity over the text that he assumed was sent by his ex-wife had gotten the better of him.

  “Is everything okay?” Brandon asked in his most concerned and sympathetic tone, hoping that Cam would open up a little, unlike he did with the father-son talks in the past.
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  “Yeah, man. It’s just my mother’s boyfriend, Lance.” Cam’s face turned red.

  “What about him?” Brandon asked though the mere mention of his ex-wife’s boyfriend made his blood boil.

  “Oh, he’s drunk as usual, and he and mom had a fight. He’s passed out on the back porch, and she needs my help getting his fucking sorry ass into bed.” Cam’s hands turned to fists.

  “Hell, dude.” Brandon clinched his own fists. “Do you need some help?”

  Brandon hoped that Cam would accept his help so that he could potentially hurt Lance in some way that would make him feel better.

  “Nah. I can carry him.” Cam sighed.

  Brandon looked at his son’s quarterback build. “Yeah. I don’t think that’ll be a problem for you.” He chuckled.

  Cam changed the subject. “Say, you want to come over to my house and hang out tomorrow after practice? Logan and I are playing some Zombie Apocalypse. Nothing big.”

  “Really?” Brandon’s eyes shot up, and his voice cracked in excitement at the opportunity to hang on with his son and his gorgeous friend Logan.

  “Yeah, man.” Cam laughed at his new friend’s pubescent voice. “You should come.”

  “I’m a freshman, you know. Aren’t you afraid you’ll lose cool points hanging out with a kid?” Brandon smiled.

  “Dude! I don’t give a fuck what grade you’re in. If I like you, I’ll hang with you. Anyone that doesn’t like it can fuck off.” Cam laughed.

  Brandon swelled with pride for his son for not falling into that typical high school popularity trap of only being friends with people who made him look cool.

  “I’d like that,” Brandon answered before suddenly remembering he had a big lawn to mow the following day with Corbin.

  “Shit!” He snapped his fingers. “I got a lawn to mow tomorrow after practice.”

  “Lawn to mow?” Cam asked.

  “Well, you know Corbin Mitchell, don’t you?” Brandon asked.

  “Yeah. He’s the kid that used to mow my dad’s lawn.”

  “He and I are going to be partners in a lawn mowing business.” Brandon boasted.

  Cam laughed. “Well, glad it’s you and not me. I hate mowing.”