Gap Life

by John Coy

  Individual action plans, med changes. Suddenly it hit me that the job wasn’t going to be as simple as being paid to sleep.

  “The dining room.” Stephanie extended her arm. “Dinner is eaten inside or out on the deck depending on what people prefer.” She slid open the glass door and showed me the gas grill and new patio furniture.

  “Nice.” A couple of big oaks provided plenty of shade.

  She straightened the cushions on a chair. “We want to be part of the neighborhood, just like any other house.”

  We went back into the kitchen, which had granite countertops, shiny appliances, and dark wooden cupboards.

  “The people we support take turns doing the cooking.” She picked up a box of Pop-Tarts and put it back in the cupboard. “The evening staff person assists with skill development, and our goal, as you know, is to have people be as independent as possible.”

  As I looked around the kitchen, I liked how different it felt, not like some job at the mall.

  Stephanie walked me down the hallway. “The four bedrooms are all here. This is Nicole’s.” She stopped in front of a door whose every square inch was covered with Justin Bieber posters.

  “She’s into music.”

  “She’s into Justin Bieber.” Stephanie smiled. “Nicole’s outgoing and will talk to anybody she meets. She struggles with paying attention sometimes and in groups has a tendency to wander off.”

  She moved on. “This is Sean’s room. He loves to dance and tell jokes, sometimes as a way of covering up what he doesn’t understand. He’s also into shampoo and has a habit of stealing it from others.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, he’s got quite the collection.” Stephanie stopped in front of another door.

  “This room is Kate’s. She can be anxious and will bite her arm when she’s wound up. She’ll be suspicious of you, but don’t take it personally, and give her time.”

  I’d never heard of anybody biting her own arm. I noticed a little cat door in the bottom of Kate’s door. It was hard to picture people without meeting them or seeing inside their rooms. “Can we look in?”

  Stephanie shook her head. “No, we need to respect privacy.” She pointed to the last door. “That’s Brent’s room. He’s close to Rebecca, the staff person you’ll be subbing for. Brent’s an extraordinary man. He’s had seizures his whole life and has an unsteady gait, but he works harder at being independent than anybody I know, and he’s gone further than we expected.”

  “Sounds like an interesting group.”

  “It is,” Stephanie said. “When done well, this job looks easy. But be aware, it’s hard work to get to that point. Can you come for supper tomorrow night and meet everybody?”

  “Sure. What time?”

  “Six. I’ll be here as well, and we’ll pay you for your orientation hours. Any questions or concerns?”

  I considered telling her that I got faint around blood but decided that wasn’t necessary. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “One more thing.” We went downstairs to an open room in a finished basement. “This is where you’ll sleep.” In front of us was a full-size bed with floral pillows and a light-green bedspread. Beside it on a table sat a book titled Discover Skye. “In this closet are clean sheets and pillowcases. You’ll strip the bed on the last morning of your shift and put on clean sheets the first night you work.”

  I stared at the neatly made bed. That was where Rayne slept, where I would sleep. I felt myself getting excited. For my new job, I got to share a bed with Rayne.

  IT’S DIFFERENT

  “I GOT THE JOB,” I announced as I walked into the house.

  “Good for you.” Mom cut up a cucumber at the kitchen island. Beside her, Lansing sliced a red pepper.

  I pulled a Gatorade from the inside door of the fridge. “I’m going out tonight. Can I borrow your car?”

  “Where are you going and with whom?”

  “Bowling with Jett, Nora, and Rayne.” I unscrewed the cap and took a drink.

  “I guess that’s fine. Don’t be late.”

  “So you’re really not enrolling at St. Luke’s?” Lansing asked.

  “Yeah.” I took a cuke slice off Mom’s cutting board and popped it in my mouth.

  “Are you planning on living here forever?”

  “Shut up.” I glared at him.

  “That’s enough.” Mom set her knife down and wiped her hands on a towel. “Cray, I want you to understand something. I know you think your father’s being tough on you. He’s a complicated man, but he cares deeply and is concerned about your future. He’s worked hard to be successful and he wants the same for you. Believe me, I know how traditional he is and how difficult that can be sometimes, but he wants you to be a doctor, partly as a way to stay connected.”

  “There are other ways to do that.” I turned to Lansing. “You’re going to do it, right?”

  “Sure; I want to be a surgeon.”

  “He doesn’t need both of us.” I took another cuke. “I want to study what I choose, not what Dad wants.”

  “You can be premed and still study other things.” She pulled a package of salmon out of the refrigerator. “What about being a pediatrician? You’re good with kids. We need more pediatricians.”

  “I don’t want to be a doctor. How many times do I have to say it?”

  “You probably don’t know this, Cray, but one of the reasons this is so important to your father is what happened to Stevie. He never talks about it, but I know it weighs on him.”

  “Who?” I turned around.

  “Stevie. Stephen, your father’s younger brother.”

  “What happened to him again?” Lansing asked.

  I took a gulp of Gatorade. I wasn’t even born when Stevie had his accident.

  “Stevie was fun and funny, but a bit of a lost soul,” she said. “He drifted around Europe and couldn’t figure out what he wanted. He ended up on some farm with a bunch of odd people in Scotland.”

  I finished off my Gatorade. This had nothing to do with me. I wasn’t going to live on a farm.

  “One day he spent the afternoon at a pub. I’m sure he had plenty to drink, and when he got in his car, he started driving in the right lane, the one we drive in here, but the wrong one there. Another driver came over the hill, didn’t see him, and smashed into him. He was killed instantly.”

  I shook my head. “So if I don’t agree to go to St. Luke’s and be a doctor, I’ll be killed in a head-on crash. That’s what you’re saying?”

  “No.” She held up her hand. “But you need to think seriously about what you’re doing. You need to have a plan. Being a doctor is a good life. You wouldn’t believe the number of people who come up to your father and thank him for what he’s done for them.” She picked up the salmon package and sliced it open. “We just want what’s best for you.”

  “No, you don’t. Dad wants to maintain the family tradition, and you want to tell people both your sons are going to be doctors.”

  “That’s enough.” She pointed the knife at me. “You’re the one who let us believe you were enrolling at St. Luke’s when you weren’t and kept it secret. That was dishonest, a major betrayal.”

  I rinsed the empty Gatorade bottle and threw it in the recycling bin. I saw Lansing staring at me with big eyes.

  “And now we’re not even having your graduation party since you’re not going to college. The whole thing is humiliating. I’m disappointed in you. I expected much more.” Mom shook the knife. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

  “Me being stubborn?” I raised my voice. “You and Dad are the ones being stubborn.”

  “You’re more like him than you realize.” She slammed the knife on the cutting board.

  “I am not!” I grabbed the extra set of Audi keys from the holder.

  “You both refuse to give in when you think you’re right. Believe me, you’re a lot like him.”

  “Don’t ever say that again!” I stormed out.

  �
��Be careful,” she called after me.

  I tried to leave her words floating in the air, but they chased after.

  Be careful. Be careful. Be careful.

  * * *

  I RACED DOWN THE STREET IN THE CAR. Disappointed. I hated it when she said that, like I was a complete failure. Betrayal wasn’t fair either. Yeah, I should have told them earlier about deciding not to go to St. Luke’s. But they would have gone crazy and tried to force me to do it. I didn’t want to end high school that way.

  But saying I was like Dad was the worst thing she could say. I wasn’t like him at all. I blasted music to drown out my thoughts.

  When I pulled up to an old three-story brick building on a bumpy, cobblestoned street on the other side of the river, I thought I’d made a mistake. It looked like an abandoned factory, not a house.

  I turned down the volume and checked the address Rayne had given me: 109 Canal Avenue. I couldn’t see any numbers or tell where the door was. I got out and looked around. At that moment, Rayne appeared from a metal door and came down the loading dock carrying a canvas bag.

  “Hey, you look great.”

  “Thanks.” She wore flip-flops, long, flowing pants, and an orange silk top with a dark bra.

  “What’s in the bag?”

  “Bowling shoes.” She pulled them out proudly. “I went down to Goodwill this afternoon and they had this one pair exactly my size. I still don’t like getting together with Nora, but I’m pleased with these.”

  I opened the passenger door. “Interesting place.”

  “What do you mean?” She sat down and gathered the bottom of her pants to make sure they were out of the door as I closed it.

  “I mean it’s different.” I got in and started the car.

  “Different from what?” she said sharply. “Different from your house? Different from what a house should be?”

  “No, I didn’t mean it that way. I like it.”

  She slumped back in the seat as we drove in silence, and I tried to figure out what was going on.

  “I hate people saying it’s different.” She stared out the window. “Usually that means they don’t like something but don’t have the balls to say it. Different is fine. Different is good. We need more different. We have way too much the same around here.”

  “I agree. I really do.”

  We stopped at a red light next to a bearded guy on a motorcycle. He had a collie wearing a small helmet in a sidecar.

  I was on the verge of saying, Now, that’s different, but caught myself. “That’s cool.”

  Rayne nodded.

  The guy revved his motorcycle and raced off. I made a note for the future: Rayne could be touchy about being labeled different.

  * * *

  JETT AND NORA WERE AT THE BOWLING ALLEY WHEN we arrived, and Jett gave Rayne a hug while Nora cleaned a pink bowling ball with an antibacterial wipe. She waved halfheartedly. “Hi, Rayne.”

  “Hey.” Rayne sat down and put on her orange-and-green Goodwill specials.

  I said hello and went up to the counter to pay and get shoes.

  “Those are different,” Nora said, pointing to Rayne’s shoes.

  “Oh, do you like them?” Rayne asked.

  “Sure,” she said, and I could see what Rayne had meant. It was obvious Nora didn’t.

  Jett followed me. “I got a strange call from your dad today.”

  “About what?”

  “He wanted me to persuade you to go to St. Luke’s. Even when I told him I couldn’t and it was your decision, he insisted I try.”

  I shook my head. Going behind my back to Jett was pathetic.

  “He said to keep it a secret, so don’t tell him that I told you.”

  “I won’t, but he’s a jerk to do that.”

  When we started bowling, Rayne glided up to the line and her pants flowed out behind her. Rather than watching her blue ball, I watched her. But then I heard the clatter of pins. She’d knocked them all down. She raised her arms and grinned, and I was glad to be on her team.

  The other surprise, though, was Nora. She was good, too. It turned out she bowled with her grandpa, and she matched Rayne with strikes and spares.

  Jett and I were even, so the game stayed tight. Early on, it shifted from bowling for fun to winning. Jett hated to lose and so did I, but Nora and Rayne were super competitive. They watched each other closely and kept an eye on the score. On our last frame, we were down by nine and it was up to me. I needed my best roll of the night.

  I took my black ball out of the rack and tried to relax.

  “Visualize a strike,” Rayne called.

  I stepped forward. The lane seemed narrower and the pins looked far away. I tried to imagine all of them tumbling but couldn’t. Remember to follow through. I moved to the line and let the ball go.

  It looked good as it struck the pins. Six went down, seven, eight, then nine. The tenth one wobbled, but it balanced and stayed up. One lonely pin on the left side next to the gutter to knock down for the win.

  “Way to go, Crayster!” Rayne rushed up and hugged me.

  “Sorry, Cray.” Nora stood up. “That was a foul.”

  “What?” I turned and stared.

  “Your foot was an inch over the line.” Nora pointed. “Wasn’t it, Jett?”

  He shrugged. “I guess.”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  “You don’t call a foul when we’re bowling for fun,” Rayne protested.

  “It’s the rules. If your foot crosses the line, you get a zero.” Nora adjusted her bra strap.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Rayne started toward her.

  Jett stepped between them. “Hey, wait. How about a do-over?”

  “You can’t have a do-over on a foul,” Nora insisted. “Those are the official rules.”

  Jett avoided looking at me. He wasn’t challenging her even though she was way out of line.

  “It’s the rules,” Nora repeated.

  “I don’t care,” I said. “You can’t call that.”

  Rayne picked up her blue ball and flung it down the lane. It cracked the remaining pin solidly. She grabbed up her flip-flops, shoved them in her bag, and reached for my hand. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  GONE

  “SEE WHAT I MEAN?” Rayne said. “She’s a manipulating liar.”

  “Sorry I suggested it.” I started the car.

  “She runs that crap on everybody, and one person after another backs down. What’s the matter with Jett? I hate to see him with her. Why didn’t he say something?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Because he’s scared of her. She’s the hot blond girl going to Stanford, and he can’t believe she’s sleeping with him. Some guys lose their balls around girls like that. If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s guys without balls.”

  I made another mental note: Hang on to my balls.

  “What about Sam’s for pizza?”

  Rayne shook her head. “Wheat, remember?”

  “Oh, right. No pizza, no pasta—where do you go?”

  “There’s a Thai place across the street from the post office. Do you like Thai food?”

  “Anything. I’m starving.”

  “You would have knocked that last pin down and we would have won. That’s why Nora did that.” Rayne slapped the dashboard. “And Jett went along with her like she was a dictator.”

  I’d never seen Rayne like this. I thought of her as more calm and under control, but this side of her was kind of exciting.

  “Do you understand now why I won’t be around her?”

  “Yeah, definitely.” That had to be the reason Jett hadn’t wanted me to ask Rayne. “You bowled great, though.”

  “You think so? I haven’t done it in a long time, and smashing that last pin was satisfying. And I love these shoes. I can wear them for more than bowling.”

  Images of what that could be flashed in my mind.

  * * *

  RAYNE CHOSE TO SIT NEXT TO ME AT
THE RESTAURANT, rather than on the other side of the table. “Everybody sits across from each other,” she said. “There’s no law that says you have to.”

  I opened the menu. Doing everything differently could get to be a lot of work. “Do you want to start with egg rolls?”

  “Wheat,” she said. “We could have vegetarian spring rolls.”

  “What are spring rolls?”

  “Like egg rolls, but with a rice-flour wrap and not deep fried. They’re good here.”

  “As good as egg rolls?” I stopped my heel tapping since I was right beside her.

  “You can get egg rolls.”

  “No, I want something we both can eat.”

  We ordered spring rolls, and I chose chicken pad Thai while Rayne got green curry with tofu.

  “You don’t eat meat either, do you?”

  “No wheat, no meat,” Rayne said. “I’m difficult.”

  “But you’re okay with me ordering it?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I think the way meat’s produced is obscene and that people who eat it put their health in jeopardy and that the planet would be in better shape if people ate less meat, but I respect other people’s choices.”

  “You’re trying to make me feel guilty.”

  “A little.” She smiled. Her smile was cool. It wasn’t one of those over-the-top, teeth-flashing smiles. It was subtle, more real. “I like guys who don’t eat meat.”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely. They smell better.” She stated it definitively, like it was a well-known scientific fact.

  I got the waitress’s attention and changed my order to tofu.

  “You don’t have to,” Rayne said.

  “I know.” I wasn’t sure if what she’d said was true, but I wasn’t taking a chance on smelling bad.

  Rayne got up to use the bathroom and I did, too. I looked at my face in the mirror, and I didn’t look sad, like I had in the picture she’d drawn. I looked excited, like I couldn’t wait to get back to see what would happen next.

  The waitress set down the spring rolls and peanut sauce. Rayne picked one up with her chopsticks and set it on my plate. “Enjoy.”

  I examined it. Veggies inside a soft roll. “This looks like something that’s good for you.”