Family Interrupted

by Barrett, Linda

  She rushed into the room. “Bobby! What happened?”

  His mouth twisted. “Nothin’.”

  “Nothing? Come on, sweetie. Have you looked in the mirror?”

  “Ask him.” Bobby’s chin jutted toward the principal’s private door. “He thinks he knows everything.”

  She looked over to see the principal coming toward her, followed by a boy about Bobby’s age. A boy sporting wounds similar to Bobby’s. A boy she recognized, one of the students she tutored at the learning center where she worked evenings to supplement her part-time librarian’s salary.

  “Phillip?”

  The boy nodded.

  “They’re both suspended for two days,” said Mr. Emanuel. “Fighting will not be tolerated here, and neither of them had anything to say.”

  Phillip sat down at the other end of the bench. The boys knew each other only through school. They might have seen each other at the learning center a few times when she’d had to bring her son, but they weren’t fast friends. They had no history. What could have set them off?

  “That’s not true.” Bobby got to his feet and looked at the principal. “I had something to say. I said that he started it.”

  The principal motioned Nancy and Bobby inside his office. “And last week, you said Nathan Brownstein started it. The month before, it was….let’s see.” He scanned the computer screen. “It was John Pappas.”

  She recognized the names from her prior visits to this office. But now, with Phillip added to the list, she made the connection.

  “I tutor all those boys after school,” she said. “So Bobby, what’s this about? You don’t take any courses at the learning center. You barely know these kids.”

  Her son jumped to his feet. “I know enough. And I wish you didn’t teach there.”

  BOBBY

  My mom doesn’t understand anything. Especially about guys. She thinks that Phillip and the others really care about pulling their grades up. They don’t give a flying you-know-what about their grades. I’d use the F-bomb but that would make me as gross as those jerks. No better than guys I’ll have to keep beating up if they call my mom a MILF one more time.

  I bet she doesn’t even know what that means. My mother is very pretty, real-ly pretty, and she doesn’t even know it. But they know it. That’s what guys my age do. They look at girls…and women…and maybe they look harder at a woman without a husband. Well, they’d better stop staring at her. And Steve Duggan had better stop, too. He’s been hanging around Mom for the last few months, and I think she likes him! The whole thing gives me a stomach ache. And I don’t get bad stomach aches anymore, not since after Dad died.

  I guess I haven’t been afraid of anything much since I passed my thirteenth birthday last year and stopped being a kid. Personally, I think thirteen is where the line is drawn. On one side, you’re just a boy. Step over it, and you’re a man. As soon as I hit thirteen, I looked at my little family—Mom and me—and realized I was the “man” of the house. The idea felt comfortable. I felt comfortable. It seemed right.

  But as soon as Mom introduced me to Steve Duggan, my comfortable world shifted. I thought the earth jumped right off its axis. When I looked into Duggan’s face on that first day, I knew I was looking at trouble. It wasn’t because he was big—heck, some of my coaches are bigger—or because he had these gray eyes that gleamed like the sun shining off metal, or because those eyes stared right at me, maybe even through me. His strong handshake didn’t scare me either. Not then. I could have handled all those things easily, except for one small hitch: my mom.

  The person who scared me most on that first day was my own mother. And that’s how I knew Steve Duggan spelled trouble.

  We were on the patio in the back yard, my baseball stuff on the ground next to me. Mom watched me shake hands with Steve, her glance darting from one of us to the other. My mother has big round, dark eyes, the kind that usually look soft and mushy. They don’t normally glance back and forth in nanoseconds. She also smiled at me with too many teeth. Usually when she smiles at me, I feel warm inside, but not that day. On the day I met Steve Duggan, Mom sort of wore a disguise. She looked like my mother but not like my mother all at once. The whole thing was weird, and I didn’t like it.

  Anyway, I shook the guy’s hand and mumbled something. I sounded like a growling bear. Either my voice came out too high or too low. My hormones should get overtime pay. Steve didn’t seem to notice. He just looked down at my lanky five and a half feet and started to talk. Friendly words, I guess. But all I wanted to do when Steve Duggan started talking was escape as fast as I could.

  I didn’t want to think about the exact reason for this, but I knew it had something to do with the vibes between him and my mom. I felt those vibes and didn’t like them one bit. Mom’s hand rested on Steve’s arm, and when she looked at him, her eyes became soft and dreamy. When she looked at me, they narrowed and became worried.

  “The guys are waiting for me at the field.” I scooped up my bat and glove and ran toward my pick-up game at the neighborhood park. I could have run for miles or flown without wings. Instead, I pitched a quick five inning no hitter. It felt terrific. I smiled all the way home until I smelled the hamburgers on the grill and saw Steve standing next to it. I’d forgotten all about him, and now the afternoon fell flat again. Mom was tossing a salad while he held a spatula, and it looked like the two of them were playing house. It made me sick. I showered, gulped down a burger and disappeared into my room.

  Just like I’m doing right now after spending the afternoon at the library with my mother. Two days at home lay ahead thanks to a stupid principal and those dumb ass boys.

  NANCY

  Bobby’s door slammed shut and she winced. Her son needed an attitude adjustment, but she wasn’t sure how to proceed. Until now, he’d been such a joy. Such an easy-going kid. Once more she wondered about Steve and whether her blossoming relationship with him was the root of Bobby’s problem. After four years, maybe Bobby still wasn’t ready for her to begin dating. Sons could sometimes be too protective—according to psychologists. But what did that have to do with all the fights he’d been getting into? Those boys had nothing to do with Steve.

  She knocked on Bobby’s door and walked in when he answered.

  Her heart tore at the sight of him. The bruises glowed purple, crimson and green while his complexion had paled. Her precious son had had a hard day, and she wanted to cradle him in her lap. Of course, his big feet would hit the floor, but still…the thought had her opening her arms and grabbing him around.

  “Bobby, Bobby, what’s wrong? What’s happening? How can I help?”

  He turned around and flopped on his bed. “I’m fine.”

  “Getting into fights isn’t fine.”

  Instead of answering her, his gaze rested on the photograph of his dad. The eight by ten framed picture maintained its place of honor on Bobby’s night table since the day of the funeral.

  “Thinking about Daddy?”

  Bobby nodded.

  “Are you thinking how you’d talk to him about what happened today if he were still with us?”

  Another nod.

  Nancy sat down on the bed and took her son’s hand. “But I’m here, sweetheart. I love you. Talk to me.” She held her breath for a long moment, waiting for his response.

  “I can’t, Mom. I just can’t.” As if trying to placate her, he finally said, “You’re…a girl.”

  She would have laughed if the situation weren’t serious, but being suspended from school couldn’t be taken lightly. “Well, that’s true, but I’m as intelligent as your dad was. So, how about it, kiddo? Tell me everything.”

  But his gaze returned to the photograph, his mouth tightening. Words remained unspoken.

  She scrambled for ideas. “Well then, how about calling Grandpa? He’s a good listener, and he’s certainly not a girl.”

  The horrified look on his face startled her. Bobby loved Jason’s dad, and that was a fact. “Why not?” she
pushed. “Grandpa would do anything for you. He’d certainly listen.”

  Bobby jumped from the bed. “I can’t call him. You don’t understand.”

  “What are you afraid of? Is it about school?”

  “No.”

  So, if it wasn’t about school…? Nancy took a breath. It was now or never. “If you won’t talk with me because I’m a girl. And you won’t talk with Grandpa for your own private reason, then how about Steve? He’s a guy.”

  If looks could really kill… “Are you kidding? Not in a million years.”

  And with those two short sentences, Nancy’s hopes and dreams for a new beginning fizzled like old champagne. Her son had to come first.

  “Steve’s a good guy,” her words, a quiet prayer. “Just think about it.”

  Chapter Two

  Nancy closed Bobby’s door behind her and made her way downstairs to the kitchen. No tutoring for her tonight, so no class for Wendy, Steve’s daughter. A stroke of luck. She needed time to figure out what to do and seeing Steve, even for a few minutes, would throw her good intentions awry. How long did a smile take? How long for his eyes to warm to that soft smoky shade of a hand-knit angora sweater? More important, how long before she’d be able to put him behind her?

  She grabbed a frying pan and started simmering chop meat. Meat sauce. Enough for two days. She put pasta on the boil. With that in the works, out came lettuce, tomatoes and ingredients for a tossed salad. She went through the motions. If Steve had been coming for dinner, the preparation would have put a smile on her face and a dance in her step.

  She hadn’t been looking for romance, not after sharing the best part of her life with Jason. Her grief had been soul deep, and she’d had no heart for other men. Until the evening Steve Duggan had walked into the tutoring center with his arm around his daughter. Sweet. Protective. She’d noticed, and maybe she’d stared at him. And maybe he’d recognized the feminine part of her that she’d forgotten about.

  His eyes had widened in response, a smile emerged. To her surprise, way down deep inside herself, something stirred. Something she barely recognized. A seed of something new, yet familiar. She hadn’t blushed in years, but heat suffused her neck and rose to her cheeks on the day she’d met Steve Duggan.

  She’d extended her hand, introduced herself and turned her full attention to Wendy.

  “Dad’s worrying about SAT’s,” the girl said. “I’m only twelve. Can you tell him I’m too young to be here? He should save his money. And I have more important things to do.”

  Nancy couldn’t decide whether to laugh or groan. The child was serious, but her dad could barely suppress a grin, and Nancy wasn’t getting in between father and daughter. She motioned them toward the classroom, but Wendy’s dad had something to say.

  “When you come home with A’s in language arts, sweetheart, I’ll save my money. In the meantime, maybe Mrs. Wyatt can help you rebuild your writing and vocabulary skills.”

  Of course she could. The subjects were her forte, but nice as he was trying to be, this dad wasn’t giving his daughter an inch.

  “I don’t understand it,” he said. “Wendy’s smart, her grammar is excellent. She should be a great writer.”

  Wendy stared at the wall.

  “That puts you one step ahead,” Nancy said. “Let’s work together a time or two and see where we are.”

  The girl spun around. “Just once or twice?” Hope shone on her face.

  “That’s up to you,” said Nancy. “I can’t make promises I might not be able to keep.”

  Wendy glared at her dad. “I guess adults aren’t good at keeping promises, are they?”

  TMI. Nancy’s cue to disappear.

  But Steve Duggan put his arm around his daughter, looked at Nancy in apology. “We’re making an awful impression, aren’t we?” he said. “I’m sorry about that. Divorce is tough, especially for kids, and some days just go that way.”

  He apologized, but didn’t gush. Nancy gave him points for confidence and agreed with his observation. Some days were simply better than others. She could attest to that herself.

  “I love you, baby. Always.”

  His soft voice caressed. Nancy startled and felt that telltale heat in her cheeks again. But, of course, Steve was speaking to Wendy—words that ended with a chuckle as he glanced Nancy’s way. She made a bee-line to her assigned classroom and greeted the other five youngsters- two girls and three boys: Phillip Chambers, Nathan Brownstein, and John Pappas.

  The six kids who needed writing help would get her undivided attention despite the distraction of one fine looking single dad. A man with the warmest gray eyes she’d ever seen.

  In the kitchen, she finished setting the table and called Bobby down for dinner. His poor face. “Can you eat with one hand and hold an ice pack with the other?”

  He grunted and took the cold pack. “Nice supper, Mom. So, is Stev-ee coming over?” His sarcasm revealed all. As though her only concern was Steve Duggan when her baby was hurting inside and out.

  “Dinner will get cold,” she said quietly. “Sit down and eat.”

  He sat. He ate. He stared at her, then at his plate. Then once more he met her glance, his eyes highlighted by the purple bruises around them. She heard him inhale before he asked, “Is Steve Duggan your boyfriend?”

  Her thoughts whirled. Grab the opening. Don’t miss an opportunity.

  “A boyfriend? Hmm…I’m not sure about using that label…

  Bobby’s expression lightened.

  “…but… I like him. I like him a lot. He can make me laugh. He listens. He’s kind….”

  A thundercloud pushed his smile away. “If he’s so wonderful, how come he’s divorced? Even Wendy doesn’t like him!”

  Although they attended the same school, their kids had barely known each other until Nancy and Steve had taken them to play miniature golf one Saturday. They’d topped that off with a pizza supper and the latest Star Trek movie. Since then, the Duggans had joined them for a couple of Sunday dinners at the house. But the young teens had been no more than civil to each other, their attention more on their parents. Watching. Judging. Too aware of their power to make or break the adults’ relationship.

  Nancy sighed. Her son’s mind seemed closed to new ideas. Closed to change. “Wendy loves her dad, Bobby. She loves her mom, too. She’s just confused at the moment. It’s tough. But they’re doing the best they can.”

  “So let them figure it out! It has nothing to do with us.”

  “Oh, Bobby…

  “He-he’s just lonely, Mom. He’s using you ‘cause he wants a girlfriend. Don’t fall for it. He’s-he’s not good enough!”

  Her chest tightened. Tears welled and rolled down her face. Bobby’s pain consumed her, but she forced herself to probe.

  “No man will ever be ‘good enough,’ will they, Bobby?”

  His eyes flashed, his mouth thinned. “Right.”

  “Because they’re not Dad.”

  He jumped from the table, his chair crashing behind him as he ran from the room. Nancy sat quietly, her eyes tracking her disappearing son. Four years of healing gone in a moment. Four years of coping turned upside down. All it had taken was the appearance of Steve Duggan. A man who was not Jason.

  BOBBY

  Every time I think about my dad dying from cancer, I get hot and cold inside, and I can’t sit still. Sometimes I pace, and sometimes I go to the schoolyard and shoot hoops.

  I was nine then, and I went berserk on the day of the funeral. When I saw his coffin go into the ground, I couldn’t breathe. Daddy was gone forever, for “eternity.” A black awfulness filled me. When my mom and I got home, I picked up a soft roll from the dining room table and crushed it. Then I crushed another one, and one by one I started throwing them. First it was rolls. Then I threw eggs and china plates and cups –whatever I could get. People ducked and hollered, but no one could catch me and make me stop. Not even my Grandpa ‘cause he was crying, too.

  “Stupids, stupids
! You’re all a bunch of stupids,” I yelled. “Stupid doctors, stupid people, stupid Daddy! Why’d you have to die?”

  By then I was crying and hiccupping, but I was still mad. How could we have buried my dad like that? How could he go off and leave us?

  It was a lousy, rotten thing to have happened, and now I know why. The real reason. Dad was the one who was cheated most of all. He was too young to die. At the time, all I could think about was Mom and me being without him. And that was scary and…lonely. I loved him so much and missed him every day. My dad was special and no one, including the big man with the gray glinting eyes, could take his place.

  I know Mom wants me to like Steve Duggan, and I suppose I would if my dad was still here, and Duggan was a neighbor or something. But I just can’t do it. He’s no better than those morons at school. His eyes are hungry when he looks at Mom. A big bad wolf. He thinks she’s a MILF, too.

  Chapter Three

  STEVE DUGGAN

  One week later

  “Slow down, slow down, Nance. Just what are you saying?”

  Steve Duggan wasn’t used to knots forming in his stomach, at least not since the divorce. But as he held the phone and listened to the woman who’d captured his heart, the woman he loved, his insides began doing the twist. Tears laced her words. Words he’d suspected might come one day if nothing changed between him and her son. He hadn’t counted on that day sneaking up on him. He needed more time to break down the barriers Bobby presented.

  “Please, honey. Don’t say anything else. We need to work this out. Remember that we’re the adults. Let me ask you one question. Only one.” He paused for her agreement. “Is it me, or would Bobby resent any man who came into your life?”

  He waited, his fist tight around the receiver.

  “I’m not sure, Steve. You’re the only one I’ve brought home with me since Jason died. So, I don’t have an answer. All I know is that Bobby isn’t himself. He’s usually a happy kid, and now…all these fights in school. And you’re on the scene. I-I can’t let him go on this way.”