“I wonder what Joey said to the pitcher,” Hayden remarks to Rosamond. “Is there a scout in the stands? Though aren’t twelve- and thirteen-year-olds a bit young for recruiting?”
“We’ll probably never find out from Joey,” replies Rosamond. “In case you haven’t noticed, he’s not talking to us.”
“It’ll blow over.”
“You did have a talk with him, didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t have a talk wi’ him.” Hayden’s brogue noticeably thickens, the way it does when telemarketers call during dinner. “I’m no good at talkin’.”
“You must be joking! Why, you talk such a good game that if you ever take up the Lord’s work all the fallen Catholics will be back in their pews by next Sunday, even if it means buying tickets from scalpers.” The absurdity of Hayden’s statement makes Rosamond laugh so hard that she leans back on the narrow aluminum bench and almost slips through the bleachers.
However, Hayden catches her with an outstretched arm and doesn’t remove it even after she’s regained her balance. “Better be careful or you’re going to be a fallen Catholic.”
“That’s exactly what I mean!” says Rosamond. “Anyway, I wish you would talk to Joey, because I hate the feeling that he’s angry with us.”
“Rosie, that kind of talk is girl talk. Diana and her mother would sit around for hours yammering about their feelings.” Hayden places his light blue handkerchief over his hair like a scarf, bats his eyelashes, tilts his head to the side, and offers his imitation of women talking to each other. “How did you feel when he said that? Was he being honest about his feelings. . . .”
Rosamond attempts to stay serious, though it’s hard with Hayden continuing to flutter his heavy-lidded eyes under bushy brows, knowing full well that he’s getting her permanently off track with laughter. Because if there’s one thing Hayden definitely is not, it’s feminine. She turns away from him in order to stay focused on the issue at hand. “It’s not just about us taking the trip without him. You’re his best friend and he’s beside himself that you’re, you know, not well.”
“He’s makin’ more friends here at baseball. I caught him and the pitcher tryin’ to smoke behind our garage the other day.”
“Well, I’m warning you, Diana’s threatening to send him to a child psychiatrist.”
“A psychiatrist? My grandson will see a shrink over my dead body. Speaking of which, we are dyin’, Rosie. I’ve told Joey that. And I’ve shown him lots of dead people at funerals. What else do you want me to do? Tell him we’re going to paradise and that he’ll see us again in heaven? Come on, you know I can’t do that.”
Rosamond frowns at him, exhales loudly, and turns back to watch the game, even though she isn’t seeing anything. If only she’d had the opportunity to speak with her mother just once. What were her hopes and dreams? And were any of them fulfilled? What was it that had attracted her mother to her father, a kindly but solemn man who put food on the table but displayed little emotion, at least not after her mother was gone. Rosamond often wonders if she’ll meet her mother again in heaven. She likes to think so. There are so many things she’d like to ask her and tell her.
Hayden is also annoyed. Just when they’re about to take this vacation they have to start arguing. He decides that women do this on purpose. It was going to be his one big chance to romance her without a twelve-year-old around. What’s equally aggravating is the shrug and sigh business she just displayed. Hayden is convinced that Rosamond learned those moves from Diana. In fact, it occurs to him that his daughter is most likely the inspiration for the entire performance, right down to the furrowed brow, pursed lips, and sweet-smelling perfume she has on. If it were up to Hayden, women would be housed like murder suspects and never allowed in the same room together without an officer present. He’s convinced the distaff half spends the majority of their time strategizing against men and exchanging potentially damaging information that can later be used for the purposes of male entrapment.
A summer storm moves in quickly from the west and obliterates the orange sunset with dark purple clouds. Umbrellas come out and spectators start running for their cars. Soon thick walls of raindrops bounce three inches above the white bases, rivers of water begin connecting all the ruts on the playing field, and the coaches briefly study the sky before calling the game. Lightning zigzags across the heavens, causing everything to stand out for a moment. Hayden gallantly attempts to cover their heads with his windbreaker but they end up getting drenched.
Even though Joey’s team is behind when the game is called, they go out for ice cream to celebrate the fact that he finally got on base, even if his occupancy didn’t lead to scoring a run. Hayden drops off Rosamond and Joey so they can get a booth while he searches for a parking space.
Once they’re seated it’s obvious to Rosamond that Joey’s still sulking about not being invited on the trip, because instead of speaking to her, he buries his face behind the menu that he knows by heart.
Joey wonders if she understands that he’s upset by the significance of the trip as much as the trip itself. And that he is heartbroken now that Rosamond has finally chosen between the two of them. Furthermore, he’s angered and insulted at the way his mother refers to his feelings as a “schoolboy crush.”
By now Rosamond has determined that even if Hayden won’t have a talk with the boy, she sure as heck will. “You know, Joey, sometimes your grandpa doesn’t feel all that well and he makes a big effort to do things so that you and I can have a good time.”
Joey is accustomed to his mother barking orders at him, fretting aloud about safety, and listing all the accidents and illnesses that could befall him at any given moment. But he’s rarely been exposed to some well-placed guilt. Eventually from underneath a pulled-down baseball cap comes a remorseful, “I know.”
Rosamond gently removes the cap so that she can meet his gaze. “This trip we’re going on is supposed to be good for his health, so that he can rest a bit.”
“You mean without Mom nagging him all the time?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that, exactly. Diana loves your grandpa, the same way she loves you.”
Joey frowns. He is also discovering that guilt can be like cough medicine, the bad taste fading quickly after it’s been dispensed. Much to Joey’s surprise, Rosamond takes his smooth young hand in hers. “Being that your grandpa isn’t up to a more rigorous vacation, how about when I get back the two of us will finally go on that camping trip? Just you and me.”
“Really?” Joey’s face lights up.
“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Rosamond crosses herself. Meanwhile, a shadow crosses her face as she remembers that she really is dying. She reaches over and hugs him to assure him of how much she loves him, but the sight of Hayden waving as he makes his way through the crowded restaurant and over to their booth causes him to wriggle out of her embrace, retrieve his hand and hide it under the tabletop.
Hayden sits down next to Rosamond and faces Joey. “Hey Slugger, you’re not trying to take away my girl?” He laughs heartily, oblivious to Joey’s heartache and Rosamond’s efforts to keep the peace between the men in her life. “Now, I’m dyin’ to know what you told that pitcher to strike out their best batter!”
“I told him that if you can get Artie’s dad to start yelling then he goes to pieces,” Joey confesses with a grin.
“That’s my boy,” says Hayden and reaches across the table to rumple Joey’s hair. “You’ve got a good read on people. Maybe you should be a coach or else one of those Wall Street traders.”
chapter fifty-three
Sometime after midnight Hayden is awakened by a commotion out in front of the house. There’s a plaintive cry followed by an angry shout and then the sound of gravel hitting the downstairs windows and ticking against the metal gutters. He assumes that Diana has forgotten her key and climbs out of bed to go and let her in. But Diana appears with Hank at the top of the stairs while Hayden is unlocking the front door. It’s clear th
at they’ve also been sleeping. Hank is wrapped in a bedsheet and Diana is wearing a filmy green nightgown. Thus Hayden deduces what’s awaiting him is a visit from Tony-the-Sofa-Tester, or some other disgruntled ex-boyfriend, and braces himself for a confrontation.
“Joey!” An agitated voice can be heard shouting from the front lawn. Next to appear on the landing is a sleepy Joey, with Rosamond trailing behind him in pale yellow pajamas.
“Jayzus, Mary, and Joseph!” bellows Hayden. “Did you throw a baseball through some guy’s window?” He looks up toward Joey.
“Joey!” the voice comes again, this time more plaintive than threatening.
“Evan!” concludes Diana.
“Evan?” echoes Hank.
“Dad!” Joey shouts excitedly, eyes now wide open with excitement. He dashes to the screen door and races outside. “Dad! Dad! I knew you’d come!”
Rosamond feels as if she’s in the eye of a hurricane. Diana and Hayden rush past her toward Joey while Hank runs by her in the opposite direction to go back upstairs, presumably to put on some pants. By the time they’re all assembled on the front lawn Joey is hugging his father, who is now down on bended knee.
Evan, a tall, lanky man with jutting cheekbones and a ponytail that only serves to accentuate his leanness, places his arm possessively around Joey’s shoulder.
“I want my son!” he announces to Diana and Hank, who are standing to the left of the front stoop, and Hayden, who is off to the right. Only it appears as if the energy expended in making this proclamation throws him off balance and he has to cling to Joey for support.
“He’s high,” Diana tells Hank, loud enough so that Hayden can hear her.
“I’ll take care of him,” Hank assures her. Having thrown on jeans and an unbuttoned blue dress shirt, he pushes up his sleeves as if preparing for a fight. The urge to protect and defend that has welled up inside him trumps any lingering notions he had of entering the priesthood. And having grown up with four brothers he’s accustomed to working things out with his fists if need be.
In the intervening moments Rosamond has pulled on her borrowed white silk bathrobe and now appears on the front stoop. Upon seeing her friend Diana yells, “Call the police!” Then Diana attempts to restrain Hank from tackling Evan and shouts at Hayden, “Dad, help me. I don’t want to lose custody.”
But Hayden enters into the fray with his own agenda. “You want your son, do you?” he threatens Evan in an icy tone that contains not a trace of his regular good humor. “Why haven’t you paid alimony or child support since nineteen canteen? And where’s the money from the cashed-in life insurance policy that was supposed to be for Diana and Joey in case anything happened to you? Did you think I wouldn’t find out about that?”
“I want my son!” Evan repeats in an unsteady voice that sounds increasingly desperate. He continues to use Joey as a leaning post.
“Then be a man,” Hayden shouts back. “It’s better to die on yer feet than live on yer knees!”
Frightened by the faltering uncertainty in his father’s voice and uncomfortable with the weight on his slender shoulders, Joey steps to the side. Without the support of his son, Evan sinks down on the lawn so that he’s sitting on the heels of his boots.
Joey becomes increasingly alarmed, his gaze frantically darting from grown-up to grown-up as they all start to shout and gesticulate like angry statues that have magically come to life under the cool glow of the moon.
Having gone inside and made the phone call, Rosamond returns to her position on the front stoop. In the midst of the erupting chaos she slowly raises her arms, the billowing fabric of the robe suggesting an enormous white heron stretching its wings. Joey dashes toward the bathrobe and Rosamond wraps her arms around the frightened child. She leads him into the house so they can wait for the police.
From the kitchen they hear a loud series of arguments out front, mostly men’s voices. But occasionally there’s an isolated diatribe from Diana, sharp with distress and protectiveness.
Soon they hear the wail of sirens. Rosamond places two dishes of vanilla ice cream on the table and sits down next to the shaken boy. Joey silently spoons the ice cream into his mouth. And the tears that occasionally drop onto his bowl aren’t born of sadness so much as discovered strength.
Rosamond understands Joey’s frustration with waiting—waiting for his father to act like a father, waiting to grow up, waiting to be able to take control of his life. She’d felt much the same way about waiting to become secure in her faith and devotion to God. Only she’d failed and finally surrendered to her disappointment.
Eventually Joey says, “I don’t understand. I prayed and prayed for Dad to find a good job and to come back and live with us. But it didn’t work.”
Rosamond places her hand on his arm. “All prayers are answered. It’s just that sometimes the answer is ‘not right now.’ ”
It takes another half hour for the quarreling in the front yard to subside and a complaint to be filed. Diana, Hayden, and Hank return to the house exhausted. Hayden is muttering “useless as a wet Woodbine” and rattling around the cabinet for his scotch. Diana is too unnerved to stop him and effusively coddles and comforts Joey the same way she always does after he’s suffered an injury.
But Rosamond can tell by his trembling lips and rigid body that Joey is no longer the idealistic boy who ran out of the house to greet his daddy. Nor will he ever be again. As farmers feel the weather changing deep within their bones, Joey senses that his childhood has come to an end.
chapter fifty-four
The morning of the big trip dawns lush with summer and the scent of freshly mown grass. Trees bow under the weight of overripe fruit and swollen seedpods split open and fall to the ground. Hayden and Joey rise early and go to the service station to fill the car with gas and buy windshield-washer fluid. Or rather, Joey confidently attends the automobile, even replacing a fuse and checking the tire pressure, while his grandfather waits in the driver’s seat. Though Hayden hates to admit it, he has limited energy these days, and the same small errands and quick chores that used to start his day now drain him.
There’s hardly any traffic on the way home and so Hayden lets Joey sit next to him and steer while he operates the gas pedal and brake. This cheers Joey slightly, but once they arrive home and he sees the suitcases on the front porch he falls silent again, and Hayden reconsiders Rosamond’s advice. Only he can’t think of anything philosophical to say to his grandson—about fatherhood, life, or even death, the subject in which he’d so recently attempted to make himself an expert. What he considers mentioning is that women are somehow at the bottom of the whole thing. They can give a man more self-confidence than a new suit and old money, or else knock him into the gutter with a single disapproving glance.
When the two enter the kitchen to get some breakfast, Hayden is surprised that the coffeemaker, blender, toaster, juicer, and all Diana’s favorite morning appliances aren’t going at full speed. Though knowing the way his daughter worries, as if it’s a job she gets paid to do, he assumes it was a long while before she finally went back to sleep the night before. Joey continues to mope around and carelessly pours cornflakes into a bowl so that they spill over onto the countertop. It breaks Hayden’s heart to see his grandson so world-weary.
“Joey, run and get a rubber band from the mailbox,” Hayden says with forced enthusiasm.
Joey appears puzzled, but does as he’s told. When he returns, Hayden is standing in front of the sink holding a black Magic Marker and motions for Joey to bring the rubber band over to him. “Now watch this.”
Hayden colors the tan rubber band until it’s black on both sides. Then he pulls the sprayer out of the sink, presses down on the black plastic bar so it’s in the “on” position, and then winds the rubber band tightly around the nozzle before replacing it. Just as the hose clicks back into place they hear footsteps on the stairs. Hayden jumps away from the sink and motions for Joey to do the same.
Diana enters the
kitchen bleary-eyed and still in her bathrobe, her hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail. “What a night,” she says to Joey and Hayden and dazedly lifts the top on the coffeemaker as if half asleep.
Hayden sneaks a quick peek at Joey, who suddenly realizes what’s going to happen next as his mother reaches toward the sink, and is thrilled by the look of anticipation on his grandson’s face. As expected, when Diana turns on the faucet a huge blast of water sprays her directly in the face and also soaks her hair and the front of her nightclothes. She lets out a shriek and backs away from the water-spewing sink while frantically rotating her arms like a high-speed windmill.
Hayden closes in on the sink from the side, turns off the faucet, and while Diana’s eyes are still closed from the surprise deluge, he quickly removes the rubber band and slips it into his pocket. Standing a few feet behind Diana, Joey is convulsed with laughter from the sight of his normally glamorous and composed mother flailing like a person drowning.
“Oh my God!” a thoroughly soaked Diana shouts as she wipes her eyes and forehead with a dish towel.
Rosamond comes running into the kitchen. “What’s wrong now?”
“Nothing to worry about,” says Hayden. “Just a little plumbing problem. It happens with these old houses.”
Meanwhile Joey is covering his face with his hands as he tries to stop laughing but is unable to reduce his gleeful howls. If anything, he’s laughing progressively harder and in danger of vomiting.
“It’s not funny, Joey!” Hayden chastises him with a sly wink. “In fact, go and get the toolbox and fix the pipes for your mother, just like I’ve been showing you.”
Diana looks concerned. “Shouldn’t we should call a plumber?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Joey will have that fixed in a jiffy.”
Last Call Page 28