In Real Life

by Lawrence Tabak

  Then without any warning Hannah flops back on the bed. “Nice mattress,” she says.

  “I like it.”

  Then I lie down next to her and as I put my arms around her add, “I like it even more now.”

  41.

  Sunday is my birthday. If Mom was around she’d have baked a cake and made sure that I got some stupid presents. But I don’t want a cake or presents. I want my driver’s license. I want to see Hannah. I want to hear from Coach Yeong.

  So I sleep late and I’m planning on getting up, really thinking seriously about it, when my cell rings. Naturally it’s Mom.

  As soon I say hello she starts singing “Happy Birthday.” Which is so corny I actually kind of like it.

  “Did you get the package?” she asks after the first chorus.

  “Package?”

  “Oh, no. They promised it would arrive on Saturday. You sure it didn’t get there?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  “Well, go check the front stoop. Between you and your father, a box could sit out there for weeks.”

  Which is true.

  “Hang on,” I mutter as I slip on a pair of shorts and my flip flops. “I’ll check.”

  “So what do you have planned?” Mom is asking as I head downstairs. A box of pizza with two slices left, which I swear I had thrown out the night before, is sitting on the table.

  “I don’t know. Me and Garrett might go out for dinner.”

  “Your dad isn’t going to be there?” I can hear her talking away from the phone, voice muffled. I picture her with a hand over the handset whispering something angrily to Martin. That was just so like her.

  “I guess. I mean, we didn’t talk about it or anything, but I think he told me he’d be back today.”

  I open the door and off to the side, behind a planter with dead flowers, I see a box that is about three feet tall and kind of thin.

  “Mom, it’s here! They hid it behind the flowers.”

  She tells me to open it and I take it inside and try to, although it’s hard to do while holding a cell phone. Finally I walk it over to the kitchen and get out a steak knife, set down the phone and manage to cut through the tape.

  I pull out a folded blue pad and a DVD that has a picture of a woman sitting on the ground, twisted into a weird position. It’s called “Yoga AM and PM for Beginners.” Gee, thanks Mom.

  “Mom, thanks a lot,” I say.

  “Seth, you’ve just got to try it. I know you’re not getting enough exercise and this would be just perfect for you. It would even help your, you know, computer thing.”

  “My computer thing?”

  “Well, yes. Yoga has been proved to help with concentration and dealing with stress. Doesn’t that sound useful?”

  I grunt an affirmative. Then Mom asks about the trip to Chicago. She says that she is very supportive of my interests. But that I should know that she and Dad both agree that school always has to come first.

  “Are you ready for school?” she asks. “Do you have your backpack all packed? Pencils and notebooks like we always do?”

  “It’s all set,” I lie.

  I answer another ten or fifteen questions. The final one, “Is Garrett there?”

  I run upstairs and open his door and he groans and throws a pillow over his head. I have no idea what time he got in.

  “Here,” I say, cheerfully, tossing him my phone. “It’s Mom!” And leave them to their conversation and head back downstairs.

  In the spirit of Mom I eat a bowl of non-sugared cereal. The blue yoga mat and DVD are on the table, along with the box it came in and all the stuffing and yesterday’s pizza.

  42.

  I’ve got a bunch of birthday greetings waiting on the computer. DT did this Photoshop card for me. My Facebook picture head cut out and stuck on top of a little wrestler who’s been pasted jumping on top of this sprawled, giant sumo wrestler. The sumo guy has a headband that says “Stomp.” The caption says, “Actio­nSeth stomps Stomp on his sixteenth birthday!” DT is really good with Photoshop. He could probably get a job doing it.

  I’m reading through some other messages when I get a text. From Hannah. She wants to know if I’m free at two o’clock. She has a surprise. Hell yes, I say out loud, but I just text back, sure.” Then she writes she’ll be over.

  I jump in the shower and find some clean clothes. I’m reading a news story about Team Anaconda’s exhibition in Las Vegas when the doorbell rings. The computer clock says 1:55.

  Hannah is standing with what looks like a large plate, wrapped in tissue paper with a red ribbon crisscrossing. Very professional.

  She leans over and gives me a quick kiss and says, “Happy Birthday!”

  Inside she looks askance at the mess on the table but then the mat and DVD catch her eye. She hops over and holds up the mat.

  “Nice. Jade Yoga—I hear these are the best!”

  Then she is looking over the DVD.

  “Wow, I can’t imagine my mom thinking of anything like this. I’m dying to meet your mom.”

  “Actually, if you’re interested, you can borrow it. I’m pretty sure I’m not doing yoga any time soon.”

  “No? I started hot yoga before we moved. I’d love to find a place near here.”

  “Hot yoga?”

  “It’s great. Sort of like yoga in a sauna.”

  I get this picture of Hannah in a black leotard doing some amazing contortion, sweat dripping off her brow. This image is enough to trigger an immediate physical reaction so I sit down on the couch, the present in my lap and say, “OK if I unwrap it?”

  “Sure.”

  I’m taking off the ribbon when I hear Garrett cough. He’s standing at the bottom of the stairs, wearing nothing but his boxers.

  “You must be Hannah,” Garrett says. And then, as I watch in amazement, he walks over and shakes her hand, as if he were wearing a suit and tie.

  “Sorry for the informality,” Garrett says. “My inconsiderate brother failed to mention that we were having guests.”

  “Guest,” says Hannah, still holding Garrett’s hand, smiling. “And you must be Garrett. Seth didn’t mention you were such a romantic.”

  Garrett looks down at his boxers, which have little hearts all over them.

  “Oh that. These were a gift.”

  “I’ll bet,” Hannah says. Then she looks at me. “Seth was just opening his first gift.”

  I fumble it open and find a plate piled high with large, fragrant chocolate chip cookies.

  “Very nice,” Garrett says. “Breakfast.” Then he takes a couple steps back, saying, “I think I’ll slip into something more comfortable.” He winks at me before heading up the stairs.

  “Well,” Hannah says when he’s gone. “Your brother has some sort of knack for first impressions.”

  “His coach always said he was good under pressure. OK if I try a cookie?”

  “Don’t ask me, they’re yours!”

  I grab a first, soft bite and with my mouth full, “Delicious. Thanks!”

  “Come on,” Hannah says. “I want to show you your second present.”

  43.

  When we get to Hannah’s house we go straight up to her studio.

  “Everyone’s at my brother’s soccer game,” Hannah says as we climb the stairs.

  “I thought you weren’t supposed to have boys over when your parents are gone.”

  Hannah stops in front and turns around.

  “You forgot the birthday exception.”

  Inside she motions me over to a computer monitor which she lights up with a touch of a hand. It’s a black and white photo of a guy in a sailor uniform kissing a woman in white, wearing what I think is an old-fashioned nurse’s uniform. In the middle of a crowded street
, looks like New York. I’ve seen the photo somewhere before.

  “You recognize this?” Hannah asks.

  I nod. “End of WWII, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s one of the most famous photos ever.”

  I look at her questioningly.

  “So hang on.” She walks across the room and comes back holding two garment bags. She unzips the first and it’s a sailor’s uniform.

  “We’re going to redo that photo. I got these from a costume store downtown.” She points to a green background at the end of the room, where the lights and camera are set up. “I can swap the backdrop later. Don’t you think it will be hot?”

  All I’m thinking about is that kiss in the photo. The girl is tipped back, balanced on one foot.

  “You think you can handle that?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Here, try this on. I know the nurse’s costume works.” And just like that she starts taking off her jeans. She’s got white pantyhose underneath.

  So I change into the sailor suit while Hannah slips on the white dress over her T-shirt. Mine seems a little big but Hannah is like, “Perfect. Perfect. Say ‘ahoy’ or something!”

  “Ahoy,” I say, as I try to figure out how to get the blue shirt adjusted. Hannah comes over and straightens out the collar from behind. I spin around and pull her close to me, but she wiggles away, giggling.

  “Save it for the photo.”

  After she’s satisfied with the angle of my sailor’s hat she leads me over to the screen. She has some marks on the floor and tells me where to stand. She opens up her hand and shows me a small remote. Then puts my right hand on her waist. She wraps the hand with the remote behind me and then tells me to do something weird with my left arm, so my elbow is sort is sticking out.

  “Perfect,” she says. “Now kiss me.”

  I do, and barely hang on as she leans back. Then the flashes fire.

  “Again!” Hannah commands. No arguments from me.

  We try a few more and then Hannah runs around and checks the pictures which flash up on a laptap next to the camera.

  “Pretty good,” Hannah says. “Except this time I need to bend over more.”

  She checks the marks on the floor and then puts my hands back in place.

  “OK,” Hannah says. “Just don’t let me fall.”

  I don’t.

  44.

  Late Sunday afternoon Dad actually does get back and the three of us go for my birthday dinner to the Olive Garden. I love their breadsticks. While we wait for our food Dad gets out his cell and manages to reach the Institute office and a few minutes later Mom calls back.

  So for a couple of minutes it’s like we’re all together. It feels a little weird since we haven’t really been out together for a long time. Probably Garrett’s high school graduation. But still, it’s nice.

  Monday I get my birthday present from Garrett. He drives me the DMV and hangs around a couple hours while I take the written and driver’s test. It’s a great birthday present. I get a perfect score on the written and when I do the parallel parking thing it’s just a bunch of cones and although I don’t get really close to the curb I don’t run anything over. Just like that I’ve got my license.

  When we get home I ask Garrett if I can use the van and he rolls his eyes. So I drive around the block a few times. It feels really weird driving alone, like the feeling you get when you’re out for the night and you’re in line at a food place, and have just patted all your pockets, realizing you’ve forgotten your wallet.

  Then I drive over to Hannah’s and park in front of her house, idling, AC pumping. Wondering if I can just show up like that. I have my phone out, texting her when I’m startled by something knocking on my window. It’s Hannah’s brother, on a skateboard.

  “Hey,” he says. “You stalking my sister?”

  I roll down the window and mumble something. Embarrassed to be embarrassed by a smart-ass twelve year old.

  “If you give me a dollar I’ll tell her you’re here. It’s OK, she’s doesn’t have anyone over right now.”

  “Anyone over?”

  The kid looks at me like I’m a real loser.

  “Well, it’s not like New Jersey. Always some guy or guys hanging out. But I didn’t mind. I could usually get one of them to play Xbox or Wii. How about you? You play video games, right?”

  “Sort of,” I say.

  “That’s not what Hannah says. She says you’re like a pro. Come on, we’ll play some Mario Kart.”

  I shake my head as a text comes in. Hannah says she’ll be right out.

  “Maybe some other time,” I say.

  I see the front door swing open and Hannah pops open the screen door to the porch and jogs down the stairs. Hair bouncing, smiling. She flips open the passenger door and jumps in. Leans towards me and says towards the open window, “Zeb, get lost, will you.”

  “Eat my shorts.”

  “OK, Bart Simpson. Just go work on some new knee scabs or something.”

  Zeb flips her off as I roll up the window.

  “Wow, let’s see it.”

  “See what?”

  “Your license, stup.”

  I get out my wallet and give it to her. She flips it open and starts laughing.

  “Worst picture ever!” she says. She looks even more amazing when she’s laughing.

  I grab it back and look at it. I didn’t think it was that bad.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve been working on the other photo.” She pauses, as if remembering the moment fondly. “I think it’s going to come out pretty great. I might even add it to my portfolio.”

  “Look,” she says. “Mom and I were just getting ready to drive down to the Plaza. She wants me to buy a few more ‘outfits’ before school starts. As if jeans and a top are an outfit.”

  She shakes her head. “She’s like driving me nuts. But I have to humor her.”

  I must not be using my poker face because she notices my disappointment.

  “If you’ve got a sec come on in. Mom’s been asking to meet you.”

  “Yeah?” I’m wondering what Hannah has been saying about me.

  So I turn off the car and follow Hannah up the stairs and into the family room.

  “Hang on,” she says. “I’ll tell her you’re here.”

  On the mantel there are a bunch of old photos of Hannah and her brother. I’m browsing them when I’m stopped by what looks like a recent picture of Hannah all dressed up for a formal. Hannah looks annoyed. She really does hate snapshots. It’s a weird shaped photo, not quite square and then I notice what looks like part of someone’s arm on the right side of the picture. And the border on the top and left doesn’t match what is clearly a trim job. I’m staring at the picture when Hannah surprises me from behind.

  “This is Seth!” she says.

  I turn around. Hannah’s mom is smiling and walking towards me with her arm out so I shake her hand. She just stands there grinning and I feel like I’m getting graded or something. She’s a little taller, a little heavier than Hannah, but very nice looking in a sort of formal, ready-to-go-out way. Not like my mom who always looks slightly frazzled.

  “Nice to meet you,” I finally say and she lets go of my hand.

  “Hannah has told me so much about you!” she says. I blush. I have no idea what sorts of transfer of information are normal between daughter and mother. I have the sinking feeling that it goes well beyond the nothing Garrett and I convey. “She says you’re quite a young mathematician. Taking college courses already!”

  This is just the sort of stuff adults are always saying to me. And there’s never anything you can say in response.

  “I like your collection,” I say out of desperation. Nodding towards a glass cabinet in the corner with a bunch
of ceramics.

  “Oh that,” she says. “I’m afraid Hannah wouldn’t agree with you there. She thinks it’s just clutter.”

  Hannah steps up next to us and says, “Mom, that’s not true. I just think you overdo it sometimes.”

  “Well, I’m so glad Hannah has made friends. You should have heard her a few months ago. You would have thought we were dragging her to the North Pole or somewhere.”

  “Mom.”

  “Well, it’s true. And it’s so nice that you’ll be in the same school. I’m sure you’ll introduce her to lots of people.”

  I nod and glance at Hannah who is standing a bit behind her mother, rolling her eyes.

  “Well we were just off to the Plaza,” Hannah’s mother says. “And we’ve got so much to do before school starts…”

  “Me too,” I say, idiotically. Then Hannah grabs my hand and leads me out of the door and down the steps.

  “You see what I have to deal with every day?” she whispers. Honestly I didn’t see anything that bad but I nod to be agreeable. When we get to my van she says, “Don’t worry. You’ll have a chance to show off your driving skills. Congrats on your license. And thanks for coming over!”

  She leans over and gives me a peck on the lips. I climb in and shut the door. Look at her longingly through the open window.

  “You look so cute behind the wheel,” she says. “I’ll text you when I’m free.”

  I watch her bound back up the steps. Thinking this thing that we somehow have, this amazing thing. It’s as miraculous and fragile as one of those giant shimmering soap bubbles you can make with those large plastic rings. And I sit there for a minute, wondering if there’s anything I can do, if there’s any trick, to keep it from bursting.

  45.

  The days are ticking down for school starting and I get up early on Tuesday so I can have breakfast with Garrett before he heads back to school. We don’t say much, but I’m glad he was able to come back. Help me with my license, meet Hannah.