by Inman Majors
My mom had been telling me just to swing the bat. She said it didn’t matter if I hit it or not. But I should try. I was still scared. But I kept telling myself that over and over as I walked that time to the plate. And then I did. I swung the bat. And believe it or not! I hit it! It was only a foul but I was very excited. The whole team and even my coach was jumping up and down and cheering. For me! I felt proud. The only thing that made me sad was that my mom was not there to see me. She had to work. She works at Coonskins. But I learned a valuable lesson. That it is always important to try. I hope I get a hit next time my mom comes to the game. The End.
Penelope’s eyes were watering halfway through, and by the end she was crying freely. Having nothing else to use, she pulled a corner of the shorty robe from the trash bag and used it to dry her eyes, the poly-blend mixing with the plastic of the bag as she roughly daubed her face. She knew it was a messy show but couldn’t help herself. Ms. Dunleavy now came over to the bulletin board and put her arm around Penelope’s shoulder. It was an awkward gesture but strangely reassuring.
“Theo,” Ms. Dunleavy said, “is one of the sweetest boys I’ve ever taught. He’s nice to every kid in the class, and other than a few bad apples, all the kids really like him.”
Penelope had just about gathered herself after the essay, but this line started a new flood. Now her nose was running like a faucet. She pulled the robe completely from the bag and used it to clear her nasal passages in a way that would have made Uncle Doozy in the shower proud.
When she’d stemmed the tide of tears a bit, she pulled the robe from her face and held it out in front of her, where both she and Ms. Dunleavy gawked at it. She’d always been a woman who got along with other women. The person beside her was not so different from herself, just another middle-aged, single working gal living in a small town. Yes, it wasn’t the most appropriate thing to be dating the father of a student, but Penelope and James were divorced, had been since January. And no one knew better than she about the slim pickings for single women in Hillsboro.
The thought hit her like a forcibly thrown peanut that the only beef she had was with her ex-husband. Confronting this woman would be akin to sister-on-sister crime.
“This is a shorty robe,” Penelope said.
Ms. Dunleavy loosened the grip on her shoulder and took a step back, looking perplexed.
“I found it last night, and then it was in the truck. I meant to get rid of it,” Penelope said.
Ms. Dunleavy nodded to this nonsense but said nothing.
“I’ve got to give it to someone,” Penelope said, still sniffling but about to regain her composure.
Ms. Dunleavy said: “I have a good idea who’s been picking on Theo.”
Penelope nodded, the thought striking her that Ms. Dunleavy likely hadn’t seen James starring as Mopey Boy, or proud Introvert, or even heard him recite Robert Burns ballads for a really long time when there was a pretty decent TV show that they could be watching instead.
“I have a very good idea about who the main boy bullying Theo is,” Ms. Dunleavy said. “And I can tell you that he’s been a problem all year long. For students and teachers. I do wish I’d known about the bus issues, though. That’s something the school will come down on if they know about it.”
Penelope nodded again. There was a good chance Ms. Dunleavy had never seen James trying unsuccessfully to get dog doo off his shoe with a stick on the front porch or seen him rosin his bow before returning it to the garage for six more months or even had him time one of her showers.
She felt as if she should be the one comforting Ms. Dunleavy. The poor gal had no idea what lay before her. Penelope now gave Ms. Dunleavy a hug, a big one, nearly cheek to cheek, averting her head at the last second so as not to smear tears on the teacher’s mascara.
“It’s okay,” Penelope said. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine with me.”
Penelope realized they were talking about two different things.
“I know who the main boy is,” Penelope said. “And I think I’ll call his parents this week. I don’t want this hanging over Theo’s head, especially since we’ll likely see this kid around town this summer. And if his parents won’t handle it, I’ll get the school involved next fall.”
“Let me know if there’s ever anything I can do.”
“I will. But listen, I have to run. I just wanted to get a better idea about the ringleader boy and how Theo has gotten along at school. Now I feel like I know all I need to.”
“Okay,” said Ms. Dunleavy. “I don’t feel like I did much, but I’m glad I could help. Theo is one of my favorites.”
Penelope smiled and said: “Thanks. And that really is a darling puppy you have.”
29
She stood on the porch, being undressed by a garden gnome’s eyes, waiting for James to answer the door. She had a few things to get off her mind, one of which concerned the plastic bag she held in her hand. She rang the bell again. What was he doing? Painting a portrait of Thomas Wolfe? Shortening the hem of a kilt for summer wear? Taking an IQ quiz? The possibilities were endless.
She rang again, waited, thought she heard furtive movement inside, then just laid on the bell. This did the trick, for James answered, or at least cracked the door. He peeked at her from a slit approximately three inches wide.
“I’m not armed, James,” Penelope said.
He opened the door perhaps an inch more. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
“I won’t keep you long. Now are you going to let me in or not?”
Slowly the door opened.
James was not wearing an artist’s smock. Neither did he have a tailor’s needle in hand. Nor was he testing his intellectual quotient.
He was, however, wearing a robe. A karate gi to be specific. It was black and tightly cinched with a white sash. Most of his legs were covered. His feet were beslippered.
“Come on in,” James said, motioning her toward the living room.
Penelope entered, trying—but failing—to suppress a smile. This seemed too good to be true. Sure, it had been a terrible week, and she was broke and living with sex-addicted seniors. But somehow seeing her ex-husband dolled up for what she assumed was another foray into the martial arts made things just a tiny bit better. The universe felt more harmonious. James was brooding as well.
“I’ve signed up for karate again,” James said as Penelope took a seat on one end of the sofa and he on the other.
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, a new dojo just opened, and I think it will be a much better fit. It’s more of a mind/body focus instead of just straight karate. You know, tai chi, that sort of thing.”
Penelope didn’t know about tai chi, other than the sound of it kind of made her hungry, but she nodded anyway. She had other business to conduct.
“Well, I won’t keep you long if you’re running late for your class,” she said. “Just a quick word about those bullies on the bus.”
“Actually,” James said, interrupting as was his custom, “that’s something I wanted to talk to you about. How would you feel about Theo taking karate with me? It would do a world of good for his confidence. And who knows? Maybe he could learn enough to take care of those bullies by next year if they’re still messing with him.”
Penelope found it a bit rich, this equating of karate and confidence-building, since it had taken her about forty handjobs and all sorts of cowgirl outfits to get him over his initial go at the Eastern arts. But she let it slide.
“I’ve already taught him to wrestle,” Penelope said. “He knows plenty to handle those bullies.”
James smiled his indulgent smile at this, showing just how much respect he had for southeastern-style wrestling and Penelope’s ability to teach it. More than ever she regretted going half speed in their bed bouts. There weren’t enough handjobs in the world to restore his confidence after the ass-whipping she could have put on him.
“We’re talking karate, Penelope. Self-
defense.”
“I’ve just come from a meeting with Ms. Dunleavy.”
The indulgent smile, always so slow and leisurely when making its approach, vanished at this. And the sash of his gi must have suddenly felt constricting, because James started fiddling with it in a herky-jerky manner.
“Oh yeah?” said James.
“I know you’re dating her. It’s kind of gross and definitely inappropriate, but whatever.”
“Just since last month,” James said, standing now and pacing across the room. He roamed aimlessly for several seconds before stopping under the framed copy of the family coat of arms, under the swords and the apples and the Scottish lions that shouldn’t be stroked or petted. Penelope noted that her ex-husband didn’t look quite so leonine as just moments before. In fact, he was downright kittenish.
“You could have waited till the end of school, when she wasn’t his teacher. It’s just tacky. But listen, I don’t care, I seriously don’t.”
“I was going to tell you.”
“It’s fine, forget it. But while we’re on the subject of slightly irritating things you’ve done. How about from now on you check with me before buying something like an iPod touch for Theo? You’re the one who’s always complaining about how much time he spends on screens.”
“I wasn’t trying to bribe him or anything.”
Penelope found it interesting that he went there right away, but maybe he’d just anticipated her reaction. They had been married for more than a decade, after all, so he knew how she’d respond to most things.
“I believe you,” Penelope said. “But I still think big purchases should be discussed. I wouldn’t buy him a phone or something like that without consulting you first.”
“I just thought it would be handy for Facetiming with whichever parent he wasn’t with before he went to bed. But you’re right. I should have asked you. I’m sorry about that.”
Penelope nodded. James wouldn’t have admitted fault so readily without the Ms. Dunleavy thing, but she didn’t care. She’d hold him to this. They were no longer a couple, but their interests and lives would always be intertwined because of Theo. They would keep seeing each other, presumably, for the next thirty or forty years. She could handle that without being ugly, but she’d stay firm on issues that mattered.
“If Theo wants to take karate,” Penelope said, “that’s fine. I’m calling the bully’s parents this weekend. But if that doesn’t work, maybe self-defense classes will. I’m fine with it.”
“Great,” said James. “Fantastic. It will be nice to have someone to ride to the dojo with me.”
Penelope knew he was surprised to be let off the hook so easily about Ms. Dunleavy, but she no longer cared what he did or whom he dated. Let someone else hear the word dojo about forty times a day and run point on a Manhood Reclamation Project. Let someone else wake up to an aroused man in a shorty robe.
Speaking of which.
“James, this is yours. I found it in among my stuff. I thought you might want it back.”
So saying, she pulled the yellow kimono from the plastic bag.
“You might want to wash it first,” she said.
James took the proffered silky with a misty look in his eye, as one sees at forty-year reunions or in movies when couples displaced by warfare reconnect. In the soundtrack of Penelope’s mind, the violins were swelling. Or maybe it was something by Peaches and Herb. Needless to say, emotions were running high.
“I thought it was lost,” James said.
“Apparently not.”
“I bought a replacement just a few weeks back.”
Penelope almost said: I bet you did. Right around the time you took up with Theo’s teacher. But somehow managed to refrain. Other than that one pair of running shorts he sometimes wore in public, James’s milky thighs would never again be seen by her eyes while his upper torso was covered. That was enough to stem the snarky comments piling up in her brain.
James gave a wry smile now, the one that had attracted her in the first place. “You never did care much for Old Yeller, did you?”
“I’ll reserve comment,” Penelope said, returning his smile.
“Well, thanks for returning it, anyway. My new one’s okay, but it’s too long. I don’t like long robes. They get all tangled up in your legs, especially when you sit down.”
He said this without irony, and Penelope did what she could not to smile.
“I’ll let you know what I find out from that boy’s parents,” she said, turning to leave.
“Okay, thanks. And thanks for being so cool about the teacher thing. It wasn’t ideal timing, I know.”
Penelope waved a dismissive hand over her shoulder, then walked down the porch steps, past the garden gnome and the pansies and the shiny new garden hose, toward the old pickup that waited for her in the driveway.
30
She was nearly to her mom’s, thinking the first thing she’d do when she got home was cancel her Divote subscription. The odds of meeting a cool guy had gotten a lot longer since word of the Coonskins Jezebel began making the rounds among the single and devout in the area. BrettCorinthians2:2 was really quite the tool. While she was at it, maybe she’d cancel LoveSynch too and just go cold turkey in the man department for a while as Rachel and Sandy suggested. Dating while living with her mom would be like high school without the sneaking out. She’d be sorry to leave Fitzwilliam hanging—she’d enjoyed his quirky notes—but likely it was for the best. Maybe he was too old for her anyway, as Missy kept saying. And what were a few more months, or even a year, without dating? It wasn’t like she was competing with James about who had most successfully moved on, right?
Anyway, right after supper Divote would get the boot and her days of being candied by young Christians on the go would be over for good. She could decide about LoveSynch later on.
Pulling into the driveway, she detected three cars already parked there, though Daisy’s traditional spot—nearest the house and George’s heart—was still vacant. For a moment she wondered who was visiting, but then realized she recognized the car. She should have. It was her own.
She parked and sprinted into the house. Her mother was at the stove, stirring mashed potatoes in a pan.
“Hey, what’s my car doing in the driveway? I never did hear anything.”
Her mother turned and smiled. “It’s all fixed and ready to go. You’re back in business.”
“Is Skeeter just going to bill me?”
“Nope.”
“How am I supposed to pay him then?”
“George took care of it. You know that poker game over at Judge Wyatt’s? Well, a few months back George pushed all in, and Skeeter wanted to call but he’d spent all his money. Betty only lets him take a hundred dollars out the door. So Skeeter said if he lost the hand, George could just take out the difference next time he needed a car worked on. That’s the way Skeeter’s been doing it for years, to get around that hundred-dollar limit. That way Betty never knows. She pays all the bills, you know.”
“That was super nice of George. And I appreciate it, I really do. But I’m not sure I’m okay with George taking care of the car. I’ve always paid my own way.”
“I know you have, and so does George. He wants to do this for you, so why don’t you let him? You know how he feels about you.”
Penelope did. Good ole George. He was the best.
“Wow. I don’t know what to say. This is crazy.” She felt flummoxed in the best possible way. And then the magnitude of it struck her. “I can still use my first two paychecks on a new place.”
“I know you can, honey. That’s the best part.”
“No. The best part is not having to share a bathroom with Uncle Doozy for a month.”
“If that dog can’t corral him,” her mother said, frowning over her potatoes, “we’re going to have to lock the door to the basement at night. I can’t have him crashing into my ceramic ballerinas.”
Penelope felt giddy and jittery and discombobu
lated. She’d come visit when Aunt June and Doozy were in town, they were nice folks. And Theo would like having a dog in the house for a month. But they would not, repeat not, all be roommates down in the basement.
“Wow, that must have been a big pot,” Penelope said, feeling at a loss for words to sum up the emotions coursing through her.
“Big enough to pay for a new head gasket, that’s for sure.”
“I never would have guessed they played for such high stakes. George is a secret agent man.”
“He will surprise you,” her mother said, eyes twinkling.
Penelope laughed at this as if they were in on the same joke and apparently they were for her mother now offered a rakish wink, the saucy senior.
“Where’s Theo?” Penelope asked.
“I think he’s playing the Wii.”
Penelope had long admired her mother’s phrasing of playing the Wii and was glad she’d never corrected. She’d even warned Theo about it. Some traditions were worth maintaining.
“Frankly,” her mother said, “I’m surprised he’s not already in here. He’s been asking me where you were every ten minutes since he got home from school.”
Penelope gave her mother a look, or her back a look, but her mother didn’t turn. “What’s going on?”
“Just go in the den. He’s waiting for you.”
“Tell me if it’s good or bad.”
“You’re being ridiculous. Go see for yourself. Supper’s almost ready.”
Penelope walked into the den to find Theo jerking this way and that with his joystick, so engaged in Mario Kart he didn’t notice her.
“Theo, what did you do to your face? Why’s it all scratched up?”
For the first time in recorded history, Theo stopped playing a computer game unbidden. He flung the controller on the couch and ran up to her, smiling and talking all at once.