The Homecoming

by Stacie Ramey

  “Thanks,” I say, even though I’m sure that my look is something between incredulous and worried.

  Uncle Dave comes out of what used to be Ryan’s room, which makes me wonder where the hell Dad stayed last night. “Glad to see you’re eating better, John.”

  Dad reaches into his wallet to supplement the already-made lunch, and I wave him off. He refuses to put the money away, slides it toward me on the counter. “Just in case.”

  I scoop it up. No reason to fight him on this, especially since I know he’s only doing what he knows. Plus, what’s the real harm in giving me money? I’d have to be a total asshole to be pissed at something like that, and I’d like to believe I’m past being that guy now.

  “You have a scrimmage today?” Uncle Dave’s eyes go to my lacrosse bag on the floor.

  And I realize I’ve got no idea what my lax schedule is or who got my gear ready for me. The feeling of having walked into someone else’s life surrounds me, feels like a noose around my neck.

  “Practice today. Game tomorrow.” Dad drinks from his mug, the one he used all the time when he lived here. “I called the coach. Just to make sure you weren’t going to miss anything important.”

  “Season opener.” Uncle Dave nods as if remembering some of his glory days.

  “Those were the days?” I can’t help but be smart-ass.

  “Definitely,” Uncle Dave says. “Good thing I’ve got you to live vicariously through.”

  I smile. Drink my coffee. Uncle Dave’s way of saying he’ll be there.

  Beep.

  “OK, see you after practice.” Dad walks me to the door.

  “Sure.”

  “By the way, John, Coach said you’d be starting tomorrow. Said you’re one hell of a warrior.”

  “Thanks,” I say, even though there’s no reason to thank Dad.

  “No surprise to me,” Dad says. “You’ve always been one helluva kid.”

  • • •

  Emily smiles at me as I get in the car.

  “You know, I could drive you every once in a while,” I say.

  “Nah. I like my power position in this relationship.”

  “I like powerful women.”

  “Well, all right then.” She pulls out into the street, and we ride like this for the five minutes it takes to get to school. The car goes into park, and she swivels to face me. “Want to tell me about it?”

  “Nope.” I drink my coffee but don’t move to get out of the car. “I think we should keep it light.”

  Her face falls. She misunderstood. But still she says, “You’re probably right.”

  I take her hand. “I just mean the conversation.”

  “Oh. OK. I mean, we should probably keep it all light, right?”

  “Only if you’re planning to break my heart.”

  She puts her hand out, and I hold it. “Not a chance.”

  Chapter 29

  I run off the field at halftime, look into the stands, and see my girls, Livy and Emily, watching me. And one more. My heart stops. Allie. She came. Nerves build in my stomach, and more than anything, I want to know that Emily and Allie are cool with each other. That Allie is cool with me moving on.

  Allie smiles at me and pumps her fist.

  I scan the stands until I find them. Mom, Dad, and Uncle Dave all raise their hands as I run back on the field. This is what it feels like to win. No matter what the score is on the field. Man, I’m getting way too in touch with my feelings. Good thing it’s time to dish out some punishment. On the field anyway.

  The game goes better than any of our scrimmages—we actually win this one 5–1—but this isn’t Parkland, and I still want to make that Nate kid feel me get my hate on. I might be a better human being at this point, but I’m still no saint.

  The locker room is filled with guys who have too much energy. Funny what a win will do for you. Parker stands on one of the benches.

  “We are kings of the world!” He holds his hands over his head, and everyone cheers as if he’s said the most incredible thing. Then he points to our goalie, Luke. “So close to a shutout, man.”

  And everyone starts chanting, “Luke, Luke, Luke, Luke.”

  Even me.

  The locker room door opens, and everyone gets quiet as Coach Gibson walks in, his arm resting around Pete’s shoulders. It takes me a second to register that Pete is here, actually here, and also that he’s with our coach. “Great game tonight, boys!” Coach Gibson says. “You played well. You stuck to the game plan and executed. It’s that simple.”

  Matt moves closer to Pete, who is looking at the ground but smiling. Curiosity grips me, but there’s this good feeling that pushes everything out of the way.

  “I’ve tried to talk to you boys about patience. Patience makes you a better lacrosse player. A better student. A better person. Patience will get you this.” He shakes Pete’s shoulder. “This kid, Pete, was on the first team I coached here. He’s had some tough breaks, but he’s decided he wants to move forward. Pete is going to be our junior varsity coach and strength coach for you varsity animals.”

  Cheers erupt.

  Pete sort of waves to the locker room. Awkward. Matt snakes his way through the crowd, hugs his brother, and, I swear, if a group of stupid-assed jocks don’t get all teared up. Now the room starts chanting, “Pete, Pete, Pete!”

  Especially me.

  • • •

  By the time I make it out onto the field, I’m a little worried I’ve made Emily and Allie and Livy wait too long for me and they’ll be pissed, but they’re standing by the soda stand.

  “Hey,” I say and break up their conversation.

  Allie shoots forward, hugs me. “You played great.”

  “I’m so glad you came.” She’s got her hair cut short and sort of cool looking with sharp angles. Even with her navy beanie on, you can see her dark-brown hair is painted with blue-and-purple streaks in the front. She looks like the artist girl she wants to be, and that makes me glad.

  “Me too.”

  Allie pulls my arm, and I follow her so we can have an off to the side conversation. “How are you? Really?”

  “I’m good. Now. I think.” My eyes skate over to Livy and Emily.

  Allie notices. “Livy is so cute. Oh my God, I can’t believe how cute she is. We’ve been talking about my adopting her. So to speak.” Allie laughs, and it’s good to see her happy.

  “She’s something. How are you? Really?”

  “I’m good. Waiting to hear from Rhode Island School of Design. So I’m actually very nervous.”

  “You’ll get in. You know it.”

  “Hope so.” Her eyes brighten, and she says, “Livy told me there’s some talk of you going to college.”

  “I’m just starting to think about…”

  “You should. Leah would be so proud of you. She really would.” Allie’s eyes fill with tears but don’t spill over.

  “She’d be proud of you too.”

  Allie looks at the ground. “Yeah, I think she would.” She elbows me and says, “Soooo…Emily seems very, very cool.”

  “I like her.”

  Allie links her arm in mine. “Good. It’s time you settle down, don’t you think?”

  “You’re really OK with it?”

  “I don’t know… Is she good to you?”

  I nod.

  “Does she take care of you?”

  I nod.

  “Good. You need someone to take care of you. You deserve it. Leah would want you happy.” Allie reaches up and kisses me on the cheek. “I’m going to let you two talk.”

  Allie jogs ahead, wraps her arm around Livy, and pulls her toward the pretzel guy.

  Emily waits for me. “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself.”

  “I was thinking, I’m feeling a little like
getting serious about things in my life.”

  She pivots away, faces the field. “Things or people?”

  I come up from behind her, wrap my arms around her shoulders. “Maybe both.”

  “Well, let me know when you figure it out.” Her voice is playful, and she pulls away from me, but I can tell she really wants me to pull her back.

  “What if I told you I’m getting very serious about maybe going to college?”

  “I would say awesome sauce.”

  “And what if I said I might actually be serious about a girl I met?”

  “Hmmm. I’d say good luck. To her.” She laughs, and I pull her so close, I can feel every part of her against every part of me.

  I pull the hair away from her neck and whisper in her ear, “What if I said that girl was you?”

  “I guess I’d say cool.”

  I turn her around to face me. “Cool? Cool? That’s all I get?”

  “You want a big parade?”

  I wave her away, still playing. “OK, forget it.”

  That makes her run after me, crash into me, climb onto my back piggyback-style. “I mean, I’d say that makes me very happy.”

  I lower her to the ground, turn around, and take her hands in mine. I bring them to my lips. “I really am.”

  Her smile starts small but spreads all the way to her eyes. “I’m glad.”

  “So…does the lacrosse warrior get a kiss when he wins?”

  She pulls away from me, gathers her hair into a ponytail. She’s got this crooked smile, and she pulls at a corded necklace that has a heart and three small circles on it. “You’re setting a dangerous precedent.”

  “What?” I move closer to her. Close enough to move the stray hair behind her ears, but I leave a few to blow in her face as the wind picks up, because I like how wild it makes her look.

  “You only want me to kiss you when you win?”

  “I didn’t say that.” I lean in and kiss her. “I want to kiss you when I win.” I kiss her again. “And when you win.” Another kiss. “And when either one of us loses.”

  “Because we’ll need to be consoled.” She leans in and kisses me this time.

  “Obviously.”

  “Ew. You guys are disgusting!” Livy pushes between us. “Allie wants to go for pizza.”

  “Joey’s!” Emily and I say at the same time. Then, “Our place.”

  Allie throws her arm around Livy’s shoulder. “Let’s give them their space, girlfriend.”

  I watch the two of them walk ahead. Allie bends to listen to something Livy is telling her. My fingers interlock with Emily’s. I walk off the field feeling as happy as I have in a really long time.

  When I get to the parking lot, I’m surprised to see Matt and Pete and Parker and Brandon waiting. “Where you guys heading?”

  “Joey’s,” Livy answers.

  I click my Jeep open.

  “We’ll meet you there.” Parker winds his finger in the air, motioning to the rest of the lacrosse team, who, inexplicitly, have also been waiting for me. And this super weird feeling settles over me. Like maybe this is me actually moving on. Living my life. Because I can. Because I should.

  Chapter 30

  I’m not sure how many things can change in your life in a short time and it still be your life. When do you stop being the person you used to be and become a new one entirely?

  I sit in Steve’s office. Talk to him. Smart-ass comments for sure but with none of the anger to heat them. I eat meals with my family. I speak to my mother like a son who doesn’t need armor. Or a dragon. I feel good. Bad. Tired. Sad. Each individual emotion presents itself in front of me, each one taking a turn. I feel clear.

  But there are still things that keep me from feeling free. Number one is a conversation I need to have with my brother. A conversation that can’t ever happen. That doesn’t stop me from trying.

  I sit across from Ryan at his new group home. He’s at a table with a group of his new friends: Dylan, Eric, JJ, and Christian. They’re playing Sorry, and Ryan keeps saying “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” Then waits and says, “Not sorry.” Then they all crack the hell up like they are comic geniuses. It’s pretty cute.

  I take that as my cue. “I’m sorry, Ryan,” I say. Even though he couldn’t care less that I’m talking, not when there’s this group of kids who are all having fun with him. “I really am. I wish I’d been a better brother. I wish I hadn’t pushed you away that day… I wish…”

  He looks at me for a second, and it’s almost like he gets what I’m saying. But then he breaks into a chant of “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

  “Hey, Ryan?” I put my hand on the table in front of him. “Can I show you something?”

  He nods, and I get out my phone and show him the picture of the metal igloo I built for my project. It did OK in the contest, but that wasn’t really the point. I enlarge the picture and show him the door. I pull up the cross-section photo. “This is where we were going to have the fire pit. Like we always wanted to.”

  Ryan looks at me and smiles, then looks at the picture. “Mom?” he asks.

  “Yeah. Mom’s fine.”

  He laughs. Does the sign for Mom and then the sign for crazy. All his friends crack up.

  One of the workers, a woman who is about Mom’s age, with very curly blond hair and a badge with the name Barbara written on it, comes over and stands next to us. “Ryan, your brother wants you to see the igloo he made.”

  “It’s OK,” I say. “He doesn’t have to look. He’s kind of over igloos anyway, I guess.”

  “It would make more sense to him if it were here in person,” she suggests.

  “Maybe I’ll bring it in.”

  “That would be great. It’s about dinnertime. You going to stay?”

  “Nah. I’ve got to get home.” I reach over and kiss Ryan on the top of his head. “I love you, brother.”

  He swats at me in a friendly way, like maybe he’s too cool for that.

  “OK, guys, time to wrap this up.” Barbara points to the board game. “Put everything away where it belongs.”

  I walk away, looking back over my shoulder as Ryan’s hands, even as stiff as they are, even with the splints he’d never wear at home and has on here, no problem, close around the dice as he helps put the game back in its box, and I realize Ryan is exactly where he belongs.

  “Bring that igloo in. I’m sure the kids would love it,” Barbara calls to me.

  I hold my hand up. “I will. Definitely.”

  Emily is waiting for me in the hallway. “How’d it go?”

  “Fine.”

  We walk out to the car. “He like the igloo?”

  “Sure. He just didn’t remember it. The aide said I should bring in the big one for him to see the real thing. It would mean more to him that way.”

  “That’s a great idea.” And then she’s got her phone out, and she’s googling. She shows me her phone. “You could make it into a beehive. I’ve been reading about the effect of beekeeping with kids with schizophrenia and autism and head trauma.”

  I smile at Emily as I hold the door to my Jeep open for her.

  “You OK?” she asks.

  “I’m good,” I say, and I guess I really am. The Old Ryan is gone. He doesn’t care about the befores anymore. Maybe I have to be more like he is. New Ryan is living in the now. As it turns out, I really can still learn a lot from my big brother.

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  Acknowledgments

  Each book is a world in and of its own. I’m lucky to have so many people helping me build each one.

  My children have been lucky enough to have had Vicky and Bill Hassel in their lives for most if not their entire lives, and it all started with my boys.
In short, Vicky helped me raise them. She used to tell me that boys couldn’t be tamed. Not in a take-over-the-world or hurt-anyone way but in an adventurous, take-on-life way. When my boys caught flies and lizards and released them on me so that I fake screamed and ran, she’d always call them stinky boys and I sort of loved that. This book started with my love for those kind of boys. Big brothers. Teammates. Complicated. Messy. Angry. Loving. Boys.

  The first boy I ever met after my dad was my brother, Mark, who has always been an incredible support to me. As of course, has been my sister, Bonnie. I always knew I won the family lottery, but it’s never been truer than at this point in my life. My family now includes wonderful sisters-in-law and one of the most entertaining larger-than-life brothers-in-law ever. So to my entire family, including wild and wonderful nieces and nephews from Boston to San Diego and back, this book is filled with their spirit and my thanks. I wish my parents were in this world to celebrate all of this, but much thanks has to go to Kathy Ramey, who, in their stead, is filling in as parent-in-residence. And Mom and Dad are cheering from their heavenly perch, I know.

  I of course also have to thank Nicole Resciniti. This writing business is a nerve wracking and wonderous thing, and without her faith in me and her constant and vigilant shepherding of my career, this book wouldn’t have been born. Annette Pollert-Morgan has this uncanny way of finding the heart of a book and clearing away the rest. I will never be able to thank her enough. I’ve been lucky enough to meet some of the other Sourcebooks team but am hesitant to thank any specific members because they all have been so incredibly supportive and patient and I realize now that for as many as I have met there are so many unsung heroes within the Sourcebooks family. So a huuuge thanks goes to everyone at Sourcebooks.

  As for the writing of The Homecoming itself, I need to thank the specific people who have heard and worked on this novel in its many, many forms along the way. First was Terri Farley, who fell in love with the character of John Strickland almost immediately. David Case and Laen Ghiloni were early readers for this book.

  Steven Dos Santos and Jonathan Rosen receive thanks as always for their constant support and loyal friendship. To my betas, Steven Dos Santos and Tori Kelley, thanks so much. Thanks to Marjetta Geerling, who read the beginning of this one and offered her wonderful feedback, support, and friendship. To Jill Nadler with her Kombucha and write-ins.