by Rob Buyea
Mom was in her glory, humming away, making trip after trip from the kitchen with different bowls and platters of food. We tried, but she didn’t want our help. She ordered us to stay put. This was what she’d been waiting for, all four of us gathered around the table—together. This marked the first full-family dinner we’d had in a long, long time, and Mom was making a bigger fuss over it than she had over Thanksgiving. After what felt like her hundredth trip, we looked at each other and started laughing.
“What?” Mom said.
We didn’t say a word. I’d bet Mom was moving slowly because she didn’t want the night to be over too soon—not after waiting so long for it to happen—and that was fine by me, because neither did I.
“What?” Mom asked again.
“Nothing,” Brian said.
“This looks delicious, hon,” Dad commented. “Won’t you sit down and join us so we can eat it now, while it’s still hot?”
Mom studied the table, looking to see if she’d forgotten anything, and then she finally took her seat.
“Thanks for all this,” Brian said.
Mom smiled. “Let’s bow our heads.” Now, this was something we never did, but we weren’t about to gripe and spoil her special occasion. We kept our mouths shut and did as she asked. We even joined hands. Mom led us in a short prayer, which was really one giant thank-you because she had her family together again, and then we dug in. I don’t know if Mom put something extra in the food that night, or if having everyone in good spirits just made the food taste better, but it was incredible.
There’s no telling how long we would’ve stayed around the table, eating and talking, if it hadn’t been for the phone ringing. It had turned dark outside, and none of us had seemed to even notice. I went to answer it so Mom wouldn’t have to get up. After all the cooking she’d done, she deserved to sit.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hi…Trev.”
Hearing her voice on the other end made my heart start pounding and my throat go dry. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.
“Trev, it’s Natalie,” she said.
“I know,” I croaked.
“I’m calling because I initiated our phone tree. I have good news.”
“But Randi’s the one who’s supposed to call me, according to the phone tree,” I said.
Silence. Not a word.
“Natalie?”
Nothing. I could hear Brian telling me I was an idiot for saying that.
“Natalie?”
Still nothing. Idiot!
“I’m glad you’re the one who called,” I said.
I waited.
“I told Randi I’d call you. I…I wanted to,” she said.
I got hit with a second round of heart pounding and dry throat. There was silence on both ends. Slowly I recovered. “What’s the news?” I asked after finding my nerve again.
She told me everything. It was the news we’d all been hoping for, but if I’m being honest, talking to her on the phone was my favorite part of that call. That was the first time I’d ever talked to a girl on the phone.
When we hung up, I made my call to Mark, and then I returned to the table. Brian took one look at me and knew.
“Who was that?” Mom asked.
“My friend. Gavin’s mother is home,” I said.
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Mom exclaimed.
“Took long enough, but I’m glad that judge put politics aside and did the right thing,” Dad said.
“Your friend, huh?” Brian teased. “Don’t you mean girlfriend, lover boy?”
“What?” Mom sang, cluelessness ringing in her voice. “Lover boy? Trevor, do you have a girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Yes,” Brian said, egging her on.
“Trevor?” Mom repeated.
“What?”
She smiled at me. “My baby.”
Ugh! I glared at my brother. He wore a stupid grin spread across his face. He thought he was so funny. I sneered at him, but really I didn’t care. But if he told Mark, I’d slice his tires. I told him that after we had cleaned up and he was getting ready to leave the house.
“I wouldn’t do that,” he said.
“I mean it,” I warned.
“Okay, okay. Don’t worry, bro.” We fist-bumped. “Just let me know when you’re ready to be coached on how to kiss her. You don’t want to screw that up.”
I shoved him, and he laughed.
“Thanks for dinner, Mom! See you later, Dad!” Brian yelled from the doorway.
“Bye!” they called from the kitchen. That was followed by giggling. “Stop,” Mom squealed.
“Have fun with that,” Brian joked.
“Yeah,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Thanks.”
As I watched my brother walking out to his car, it hit me that sometimes you’ve got to break things before you can put them together again. Like I’d done with that old TV room at the Senior Center. Like with our family. The good news is, if you do the fixing part right, then you can make it even better and stronger in the end.
“Sto-op,” Mom squealed again. I heard them running down the hall.
I shook my head. Them carrying on like that was gross. Wicked gross. But it was better than yelling and fighting. I’d take their grossness over the fighting any day. Besides, by the sounds of it, I didn’t need to worry about their relationship anymore, which was music to my ears. It was time to focus on mine and Natalie’s instead. Shhh.
That afternoon was more of the same. Me and Megs huddled over Monopoly, Otis on the side, ready to steal our dice any second. I wasn’t in the mood for his nonsense, and I let him know that. I’ll give the dog some credit, he wasn’t all dumb, ’cause after one scolding he moaned, sprawled out on the floor, sighed, and closed his eyes. I’d won—for now.
A little while later Meggie said, “Gavvy, I’m getting hungry.”
“All right. We can pause the game and I’ll make us something to eat.”
“Mac-n-cheese,” Meggie insisted.
I nodded. It was an easy recipe, and it made enough for the two of us. Megs wouldn’t eat that much, and I’d polish off whatever was left. Dad would take care of himself whenever he came home. I put the pot on the stove and cranked the heat. Megs grabbed me the butter and milk. When the water got close to a boil, I opened the box and dumped the noodles in. I took the white pouch of cheese mix and set it on the side.
Otis struck. He’d decided that if I wasn’t gonna let him get the Monopoly pieces, our cheese pouch would do the trick. He snatched it off the counter and barreled into the living room.
“Otis!” I yelled, tearing after him. “Drop it!”
The chase was on.
“Drop it!” I yelled again. That never worked. Why did I even try? The only way to get something out of his mouth was to catch him and pry his jaws open. Catching him was the hard part. Once we did, our cheese pouch was guaranteed to be soaked in slobber. Super-gross.
“Drop it,” I growled, inching my way forward. We stood, faced off in the middle of the living room, both of us in our stances, knees bent and ready to spring. For such a large beast, Otis could change directions on a dime. I was no match for his athleticism or his size, so I had to outsmart him.
I sent Megs in from the side.
“Ready, Megs?” I asked.
“Ready,” she said.
“On three, you charge. One. Two—”
I never made it to three. All of a sudden Otis dropped the cheese pouch and bounded to the front door, no longer interested in me and Megs or his game of chase. Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!
“Otis, there’s nothing out there, you dummy. Settle down.”
“Gavvy, the water’s boiling over!” Meggie yelled.
I ran into the kitchen and yanked the pot off the burner.
/> Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!
“Be quiet, Otis,” I groaned.
I went to the front door and opened it to see why he was causing a racket. Megs was behind me, and Otis was still barking. The instant I stepped outside, I saw what had him going crazy. Otis wasn’t an idiot. But how had he known?
Dad was parked in the driveway, and sitting next to him in the cab of the truck was the person I thought I’d never see again. Meggie ran toward them squealing, “Mommy! Mommy!”
I was stuck on the porch, frozen in place. I couldn’t move. I was already crying. I watched Mom jump out of the truck and swallow Meggie in her arms. Otis couldn’t take it. He bowled them over and covered their faces in slobbery slurps. Their giggles made me smile through my tears. It was the best sound I’d ever heard.
Dad joined me on the porch. He put his hand on my shoulder. “She’s home.”
I looked at Dad and saw that his eyes were wet like mine. In that moment I realized I was happier for him and Meggie than I was for me. Maybe that’s what it means to be family.
“Hi, Niño,” Mom said, climbing the steps to the porch.
I found my legs and took three long strides and fell into her hug. I held her for a whole minute, maybe longer. I didn’t want to let go. I was a little boy again, safe in my mother’s arms.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “So sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “It’s okay.” And it was.
“Mija, I have something for you,” Mom said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a card. “The judge asked me to return this to you.” She handed it to Meggie. I read it over my sister’s shoulder. It was the Valentine’s Day card she had sent.
Dear Mr. Judge,
Sorry you have bad kidknees. I heard my daddy say peeing those stones out is like haveing a baby, and he says haveing a baby is like pooping out a watermellun. That doesn’t sound plesent. I hope you don’t hurt too bad. Please get better fast so I can have my mommy back. Happy Valentine’s Day.
Your friend,
Meggie Davids
The judge had scrawled a note for Meggie at the bottom.
Dear Meggie,
Thank you for your thoughtful card. It made my day. I hope I’ve returned the favor.
Sincerely,
Mr. Judge
Good ol’ Megs. Told you melting hearts was her superpower. She had saved Mom. Little did we know, we’d need her to use her superpowers again in the not-so-distant future. But for now we were finally together again. Happy and safe.
NATALIE KURTSMAN
ASPIRING LAWYER
Kurtsman Law Offices
BRIEF #21
Spring: The Perfect Secret
Although spring signifies the beginning of the end when referring to a school year, it was quite the opposite for us. More like the beginning of the beginning.
After a whirlwind of challenges and unearthed secrets, seventh grade finally slowed down and stopped throwing surprises our way—well, except for a few. There were two events that merit my reporting.
The first of those took place during Mrs. Magenta’s program, when we were busy at Kids Klub. I found myself sitting at a table playing UNO with Randi, Trevor, Gavin, Meggie, and Meggie’s friend Robbie. Trevor had told me about this little boy; he had described the boy as sad and he wanted to do whatever he could to make him happy. It was things like this that made my insides go all funny around Trevor; he was sweet.
There was plenty of laughter and fun while we played. All involved were having a good time; none involved was paying attention to the time or to the person who had just walked in looking for his little brother. I had my face buried in my cards, planning out my sequence of moves, when the table suddenly went silent.
I peeked over my hand and saw Nicky Holmes standing there. He glared at us before turning to Robbie. “You ready?”
“Can I finish this game?”
“No. Mom’s waiting.”
Robbie scowled.
Nicky sighed. “We’re going to see Dad, remember?”
“Oh yeah,” Robbie said, suddenly excited. He hopped up and grabbed his bag. Then he gave Trevor a fist bump. “See you next time, Trevor. Bye, Meggie. Bye, everyone else.”
“Bye, Robbie,” we said.
The little boy hurried off, but Nicky stood rooted in place. He stared into our faces for several long seconds, and then he turned and left. No words were exchanged, but it felt like a lot was said. What exactly, I wasn’t sure any of us knew. It could’ve been I hate you. It could’ve been Watch your backs. It could’ve been Thanks for playing with my little bro. For me it was, I’m sorry.
* * *
—
The second event I need to report takes the prize. It took place at the Senior Center. You may have guessed that, yes, it was the special double ceremony at which Coach and Mrs. Woods renewed their vows alongside Mr. and Mrs. Magenta.
In the weeks leading up to the grand occasion, we worked to get everything ready. This entailed giving the Community Hall a thorough cleaning and adding decorations, since this was the spot where the ceremony and reception would take place. We did the usual: filled balloons and hung streamers; and then for a special touch, throughout the venue we displayed photos of Coach and Mrs. Woods from over the years, along with a few shots of Mr. and Mrs. Magenta, and a gorgeous sequence of her paintings.
The first time Mrs. Magenta walked in and caught sight of the pictures and her paintings on display, she froze. We watched in silence as she stood there, taking it all in. Then she turned to us and swallowed. “Thank you,” she croaked.
We nodded. The fact that she didn’t even try to say anything more said it all.
There were many highlights on the big day, starting with the moment when Coach and Mrs. Woods actually renewed their promise. Don’t tell me Coach’s memory is gone. Looking at his face, it was as if he were seeing his wife on their wedding day all over again. Maybe he didn’t remember all the details, and maybe he couldn’t tell you much about it, but his heart remembered.
The expressions he and Mrs. Woods wore as they watched their daughter with her husband were every bit as sweet. When the men kissed their brides, the Community Hall broke into applause, and those of us who could stood. Old and young were left crying and smiling. The only word to even come close to describing the moment would be “beautiful.”
The reception got under way immediately afterward. Mrs. Ruggelli and Mrs. Magenta had made the wise decision to have it catered, knowing that would be nicer and easier than a buffet line. While the meals were being served, Mrs. Woods and Coach, and Mr. and Mrs. Magenta, took the opportunity to go around visiting and thanking people. All of us Recruits were together at our table when they stopped by.
“You dress up nice for a football player, Valentine,” Coach said. “You too, Junior.”
“Thanks,” they responded. The rest of us chuckled.
Mrs. Woods was next to say something. “All of you, Olivia and I want to make sure you understand…you’ve given us something we will never be able to repay. Thank you.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Magenta echoed.
The best we could do was smile and nod—except for Gavin. He knew what to say. “Keep fighting. Okay, Coach?”
“To the last play, Valentine. To the last play.”
That exchange choked me up as much as anything else that afternoon. I actually had to look away.
They moved on to the next table, and we turned back to our plates. The food was truly delicious, but it was the dessert that Scott flipped over—no surprise there.
“Did you try the cake?” he cried. “I’m on my third piece.” He stuffed his mouth full. There was frosting on his nose and in his hair, but he didn’t care.
Randi and I shook our heads and laughed.
Indeed the
cake was amazing, but the ensuing music and party were even better. DJ Duane for the Ages, according to the banner hanging off his table, knew how to play to his crowd; his playlist of old-time rock ’n’ roll got our friends out of their chairs and onto the dance floor. And let me just say, these seniors knew how to boogie. Their generation was way ahead of us in that department.
“Don’t look now,” I said to Scott, “but your grandfather is twirling Eddie around.”
Scott gawked. Cake fell out of his mouth, but he just shoveled it back in and ran out to join the excitement, entertaining us with his own wild dance. It looked like a cross between the headless chicken and the drunken goose, but it worked. He and his grandpa got the party started.
Next to join were Mr. and Mrs. Magenta, followed by Coach and Mrs. Woods, and then Mr. Davids and Meggie, and Gavin and his mother. I won’t kid you—by then I’d gone from smiling to wiping my eyes and choking back more tears. Having everyone together, after all that had happened, was no small feat. It was an enormous achievement, a borderline miracle.
And then the unimaginable happened. “Natalie, would you like to dance?” Trevor asked, taking me by surprise.
“Um…I…”
Randi nudged my arm.
“Um.”
She nudged me harder.
“Okay.”
“Don’t let Eddie see you,” Randi whispered.
I shooed her.
This was my first-ever dance with a boy, and it was not romantic or graceful. It was awkward. Trevor had two left feet; he stepped on my toes repeatedly and sputtered apology after apology. Here’s the funny thing—I didn’t mind.
“Guess I still need more practice,” he said.
“You’ve been practicing?”
“A little. My brother’s been coaching me.”
“Who’ve you been dancing with, your mom?”
He hesitated. “No. Mark.”
I couldn’t help it; I laughed. What a sight, I thought. But how sweet.
“Don’t tell anyone,” Trevor pleaded. “He’d kill me.”