by Nancy Cupp
Arnold glared at her and grunted.
“So—I think the coach will let you back on the team. Arnold?”
Arnold finished his meal and walked out the door with his hands in his pockets. He lit a cigarette and started walking. He was halfway there before he decided he’d go to school. Maybe he could still get recruited for college football and then the big leagues. He knew he had what it takes.
The first class of the day was letting out when Arnold opened the double doors to his high school. He saw Slick talking to a couple of girls in the hallway.
“Yo—Arnold. You back for good this time?”
“Scram chicks—I got stuff to discuss with my man Slick.” Arnold dismissed the girls with a jerk of his head. “I need you and the guys to beg the coach to let me back on the team.”
“You gonna be around now?”
“I’m here now ain’t I?”
“We’ll talk to him. He wants to win this season. Maybe he’ll let you play.”
After school Arnold suited up with the rest of the guys and jogged out to the field for practice. The coach gave him a wary look but didn’t stop him from participating in the drills. Arnold channeled his aggression and tackled the dummy like he was going to kill it. He powered through drills pulling the parachute like nothing, his power and agility were the best on the team.
The coach pulled him aside on the way to the showers. “I liked what I saw out there. I want you back on the team.”
“Thanks coach. You won’t be disappointed.”
“You’re on the team, but I can’t start you yet. I already promised the spot to Jackson.”
“But the Royals scout is gonna be at this game. I’ve got a shot—and I’m better than Jackson.”
“Still can’t start you yet. You’ll get other chances. You better not miss any practice.”
Arnold slammed his fist into a locker when the coach left the room.
“Hey—easy on the equipment buddy.” Slick looked around the row of lockers, a towel wrapped around his trim waist.
“Tell the guys we got to work over Jackson at practice tomorrow.” Arnold pulled off his sweaty jersey and tossed it in the bottom of his locker.
“What’d he do?”
Arnold locked eyes with Slick. His glare said it all.
4
MALIBU
CLARA TRIED TO CATCH HER breath, she’d been hacking all day. She picked up her cigarette to take another drag, but the coughing overtook her again. She held her hand on her aching chest trying to clear her raspy throat.
“That you doing all that hacking Mom?” Bruce put his books on the hall table.
“Who else—would it—be?” Clara gasped between words, she held the cigarette between shaky fingers.
Bruce’s dark eyes showed concern for his mother. “Can I get you something—water?”
Clara waited for the coughing spasms to subside, nodding to her favorite son. She admired his thick brown hair and youthful good looks. She accepted the water, sipping it, when Arnold burst in the door.
“I got the starting spot on the team,” he roared. Arnold dumped his jacket and books on the floor. He put his head down and made to tackle Bruce right there in the living room. He went from a three point position and powered across the room.
Bruce deftly sidestepped his advance. “Take it easy, Mom ain’t feeling too good.”
Clara sized up her two boys. They couldn’t be any more different. Where Bruce was slender and good looking, Arnold was blocky and bull nosed. Arnold was bristles and brawn while Bruce had compassion and competence.
“I suppose there ain’t nothing cooked for supper either. Damn, an athlete’s got to eat.”
She made an effort to get off the couch, but the coughing overtook her again.
“Sit tight Mom. I’ll cook something,” said Bruce. “You’ve got to see a doctor about that cough.”
Clara nodded and coughed in a particularly rough spasm. When she pulled the tissue away from her mouth it was covered in blood. Arnold stared, wide eyed.
“Mom, go to the doctor.” Bruce picked up the phone and handed it to her. “Call them please Mom.”
Arnold sank back, then slipped into their bedroom.
…
Arnold was having a great year on the football team. He didn’t put a lot of effort into his studies, but he was keeping up. The scout had contacted his coach, they wanted to sign him up for a summer football camp. He’d be coached by some of the players on the Kansas City Royals team. If he did well enough it could mean a shot at a scholarship and college football. After that, he could be drafted into the pros.
Edward came home only three times during that school year. On one such stop Bruce pulled him aside.
“Dad, Mom isn’t doing too good.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know. I told her to go to the doctor a couple of times, but she doesn’t ever get there. She says it’s too hard to go on the bus. She needs a car.” Bruce braced himself for the blowout his dad was about to have.
“How old are you boy?”
“Almost nine.”
“Humph. Arnold’s old enough to get his license.”
Edward didn’t say anything more about the car, but before he fired up the Kenworth for another month on the road there was a ’98 Chevy Malibu in the driveway.
Arnold was stoked when he found out he’d be able to get his license. He drove his mom everywhere in the Malibu until he passed his driving test. After that she hardly ever saw the car.
Clara wandered from the refrigerator to the cupboard and back again. “Bruce, could you walk to the store for me please? I need some groceries.”
“I guess so. Why don’t you get ‘em in the car?”
“The car’s not here right now. I need some stuff if I’m going to cook supper.”
“But Arnold can get stuff in the car.”
“Are you gonna get my groceries or not?”
“Sure, but Arnold…”
“I don’t want to hear anything more about the car or Arnold. Here’s what I need.” Clara gave Bruce a list and some cash. He took it and shoved it in his coat pocket. Bruce shouldered the door and clomped down the back steps.
Bruce juggled the heavy bags, switching hands to try to get the circulation going where the plastic cut into his fingers. He still had three blocks to go when he saw the gold car streak past. Arnold had his arm perched on the open window, he flicked an ash from his cigarette and waved as he roared by. The car sagged with four burly football players from his team stuffed in it.
Bruce was already asleep in his top bunk when Arnold came home and flicked on the light waking him. “Hey, I’m trying to sleep.” Bruce pulled his pillow over his head.
“Shut-up pansy. I gotta see what I’m doing.”
“How come you didn’t stop when you saw me walking with the groceries?”
“Where you gonna sit stupid? On the roof?”
“I thought that was supposed to be Mom’s car.”
“So? I was using it.”
“But sometimes Mom…” Bruce didn’t get to finish what he was saying. Arnold dragged him off the top bunk with a thud.
“Back off boy. Your mommy didn’t need the car today and I did.”
“But Dad got the car so…”
“He wanted me to learn to drive. So shut-up.”
Bruce crawled back into bed. He lay awake long into the night listening to his mother’s coughing and Arnold’s snore.
5
CHRISTMAS VACATION
SCHOOL LET OUT FOR CHRISTMAS vacation. The coach was planning to spend time with his family in California over the week long holiday. The guys on the team were rough-housing in the locker room when he made the announcement.
“There won’t be formal practice over the Christmas break, but that doesn’t mean you guys can slack off. I expect everyone to work out on their own.” The coach pulled out a stack of papers. “Lade, hand one of these out to everybody.” He handed t
he stack to Arnold.
Arnold glanced at the long list of exercises and drills he was handing out. There was a general grumble and groan from the roomful of half dressed athletes.
“Attached on the back page are the new plays that each of you needs to have memorized by the time we get back from vacation.” The coach slammed his fist on a locker to get the team’s attention. “No exceptions! You know these or you’re off the team, got it?” The guys mumbled in agreement. “Okay fellas have a nice Christmas.”
Arnold dropped off the last of his teammates and drove home. He was finding it to his advantage that he had repeated the third and fifth grade. He’d been held back when he missed so much school because his dad made him ride along to learn about trucking. The school board didn’t agree when his father argued that he was getting a real-life education.
Because he was older, he could get the team to do almost anything. They followed his lead when he took them to the shopping mall to shoplift and cat-call at the girls. The girls were attracted to an older guy even though he treated them like trading cards. To him they were something to be collected, looked at, and handled. When he was bored with one of them, she’d be discarded, usually a little worse for wear.
Arnold thought about driving straight past the driveway when he saw his father’s big rig parked on the street. He turned in because he didn’t want any trouble with getting the car for tomorrow. He had plans for the team.
“Where you been boy?” Arnold cringed at his father’s voice.
“I had practice tonight. Coach has me on first string and the scouts like me.” He expected to get cuffed for having the car out, but instead his dad grabbed him in a bear hug and rough-housed with him in the living room.
Bruce sat heavily on the couch. With Arnold in the room there wouldn’t be much to talk to his dad about anymore.
“See if you can tackle me boy, then you’ll see what tough is.” Arnold powered into him and actually managed to push his dad back a few feet. “Good, good. And you learned to drive that car all right. That’s good.”
Arnold was surprised, but it felt good to have some manly praise. His father was finally proud of him. “Coach gave us these drills for the Christmas break. We got plays to learn too.” Arnold took the folded paper out of his back pocket and showed it to his dad.
“Hell—these are for kids. I’ll show you what a man does to toughen up. Pull a few tarps in twenty mile an hour wind and you’ll get tough.”
“Yeah, uh—we do drills with a parachute. It builds power in our running.”
“When do you start back to school again?”
“We have a week off.” Arnold shifted uneasily, shrinking back toward the bedroom door.
“With a week-end on each end. It ought to be enough time to make a run to the West Coast and back. I’ll teach you to drive the rig when we’re empty.”
“Pop—I can’t. I have to be back at school or I’ll get kicked off the team. What about Christmas?”
“You ain’t gonna miss much school, if you’re really good they’ll let you stay on the team.”
“No! Take Bruce, he’s always wanted to ride with you.”
“Yeah, Pop, take me. I’d love to ride along. I don’t have to worry about missing practice.” Bruce stood up trying to insert himself into the conversation.
“He ain’t old enough, I’m gonna teach you to drive. I’ll make a man out of you.”
“I don’t need you to make a man out of me. I ain’t going.” Arnold shoved his way to the door, he still had the car keys in his pocket.
“I’ll ride with you Dad,” said Bruce.
“Arnold, get back here boy.” Edward stormed across the room, he caught the door before it slammed shut. “You’re riding with me boy, or I’m taking that car away,” he yelled after his son.
Bruce pushed past his mother who’d been standing in the doorway to the kitchen watching the entire exchange.
“Ed, take Bruce this time. He really wants to go and he gets good grades. It won’t hurt him to miss a little bit of school.” Clara coughed, and moved out of her husband’s way when he stomped back inside.
“Don’t tell me how to raise my sons, woman!” Edward raised his fist in rage.
Bruce jumped up, overturning a kitchen chair to get between his mom and dad. “No problem, I don’t need to go.” The fist came down and caught Bruce’s cheek, sending him sprawling.
…
Arnold sat in the driver’s seat of his father’s Kenworth. It had been a long day and he was tired, but he had to admit he had fun learning to drive the eighteen wheeler. They were parked in a Memphis truck stop for the night. Arnold was watching the night life in the parking lot.
His eyes followed a young woman, not much older than himself, as she went from truck to truck gently knocking on the driver’s doors. She was blonde with a nice figure, but kind of homely.
“You like her boy?”
“Huh?”
“That lot lizard,” said Ed. “I can get her for you. You done a good job today.”
“I don’t know. What for?”
Edward laughed. “What ever you want, I told you I’d make a man out of you.”
Arnold’s face turned red, and he fidgeted with the steering wheel cover. He watched the blonde carefully step out of a truck parked across from theirs. She wobbled on her spike heels in the uneven parking lot, tugging and adjusting her skirt.
“Flash the lights on and off,” said Edward.
“What for?”
“Just do what I tell you for once dammit!”
Arnold flashed the lights. The young woman immediately turned and walked over to their truck.
“Would you like some company tonight?” The woman stepped on the running board and leaned in the window, inches from Arnold.
“My boy here needs some companionship. How much?” Edward held out a twenty, the blonde snatched it from his hand. “I’ll be in taking a shower.” He picked up his duffle bag and climbed out of the passenger side, winking at Arnold before he slammed the door.
“You gonna let me in or not?”
“Uh—sure.” Arnold opened the driver’s door and moved out of the way so she could climb in. “What’s your name?”
The blonde didn’t waste any time. She went to the bunk and slid the curtain closed. “What do you want my name to be?”
“Huh?” Arnold watched her pull off her shirt.
“What do you want to call me? I can be whoever you want me to be.” Her skirt hit the floor.
“Oh—ah, Jenny?” His eyes followed her curves.
“That works for me. You getting undressed or not?”
Ten minutes later Jenny slammed the door of the Kenworth, her lip was cut and already starting to swell. “Creep! It ain’t my fault you don’t know what you’re doing!” She walked off in a huff.
Arnold was asleep in the top bunk when Edward returned to the truck. He laughed gently to himself then turned in for the night.
The next morning Edward sat with his son at the counter reserved for drivers. He ordered a big breakfast for both of them. “My boy here needs a big meal,” he announced for all to hear. “He’s a man now.”
Arnold scowled at his dad and glanced at the exit. A driver with a big belly chuckled, and another nodded in his direction.
“Yup, broke him in good last night,” boasted Ed.
“Okay Pop—that’s enough.” Arnold was relieved when his eggs and hash browns arrived. He concentrated on the meal while the conversation turned to the best way to get around the construction on I-55.
Arnold was wiping up the last of his egg yolk with his toast when a driver got up to pay his bill. The burly man grabbed his shoulder as he walked past. “Atta boy,” he said. Arnold sat up straighter, and rubbed at his sparse stubble of a beard.
…
He watched his father supervise the loading of the flatbed. “Boy—drag those chains and load binders out here.” Arnold grabbed a pile of rusty chain and tried to drag the whole
thing at once. His hands were cold from gripping the metal, the rust embedding itself into his skin.
“Arnold I ain’t got all day. I need a chain right now—move it!”
Arnold dropped the wad of tangled chain and tried to sort one of the chains out from the rest. He gritted his teeth in frustration as the links knotted themselves together. His father shoved him out of the way, with one gloved hand he flopped one chain over the other and picked up the free one, carrying it to the end of the flatbed.
“See if you can manage to bring another one back here. Don’t just stand there, I’ll need those binders too,” yelled Ed.
Arnold cussed under his breath while he dragged chains and binders back to where they were securing the load. Lifting the chain up onto the deck of the trailer strained every muscle he had. He watched his father toss the end of the chain over the load and then secure it on the other side.
The wind was picking up and a cold drizzle saturated the air. “Pull those tarps out of the box, I need one at the far end first, one in the middle and one in front. Hurry up, the wind ain’t gonna get any better before we get this done,” hollered Ed.
Arnold dragged heavy rubberized tarps to where his father needed them. He tried to keep them away from his clothes, but the only way to handle the heavy fabric was to hug it to his body and use both arms to hold it. By the time he was done his clothes were filthy.
“Grab ahold on that corner and pull it up over the load,” directed Ed. Arnold held on and pulled with all his strength, but the wind caught the tarp like a sail and yanked it out of his hands. It seemed like hours until the tarps were on and fastened securely.
…
Arnold was bored riding in the passenger seat. His dad didn’t want him to drive because they were loaded and driving through the mountains in Colorado.
“We’re gonna get home before Monday, right?”
“This load delivers in Lawerence at six A.M. Monday morning.”
“Good, so you’ll drop me off at home Sunday night?”