by Laney Smith
“Well, wait a minute. Um . . . He told you I came and took him outside?”
“I don’t know you. I would rather you not hang around my kid. Honestly, that’s not normal. I don’t want to call the police. Like I said, I appreciate you helping him. But, this just seems weird. You just show up at my house? How does he know you, anyway? I’m a little nervous about all of this, to be honest.”
“OK. Did you tell him that you don’t want me over there?”
“Not yet.”
“I would like to talk to him. I’d like to tell him myself, if you don’t mind.”
Corlay sighed through the phone. “Thank you for being nice and helping him. I’d kind of prefer you just let him be.”
“Sure,” Ryan graciously agreed. “Now, I know it’s none of my business, but he seems really young to be home alone.”
“I knew it. You’re a cop? Child services? What?”
“No. It’s nothing like that. I’m retired. I was . . . I’m not tied to family services or whatever. I just feel like seven seems a little young to be left alone. That’s all. Do you have milk? Does he eat something besides cereal?”
Corlay’s voice had grit in it as she lowered her tone. “Look, I’m doing the best I can. You think it’s easy to raise a kid on minimum wage? You think I wouldn’t rather be here with him? Stay away from my son. Tend to your own family. We’re not looking for a savior.”
“Good to know. I’d make a shitty saint. Does he have milk? Yes or no?”
“What is in my refrigerator is really none of your business.”
Ryan clenched his jaw. “Yes . . . or no?”
“If you don’t stay away from my kid, you’re going to find out about how far a mother bear will go to protect her cub. I mean what I’m saying. Don’t come around here again, or I’m calling the police. Before you get the bright idea to report me, he’s going to start staying with my sister after school until I get off work. So, as you can see, we don’t need your nose in our business.”
“I’m not trying to upset you. Nathan is a cool kid. He’s a pretty cute little guy. I just want to help. If you need milk for him, I told him I’d bring milk and cookies. I can drop those by. I don’t have to stay, if you don’t want me to. But, let me bring him milk and cookies, at least.”
“He won’t be here. Thanks anyway.”
“When will you be home?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“This isn’t working right. Let’s reset. Hi, Corlay. My name is Ryan Priest. It’s nice to speak with you. I met Nathan today, as you know. He invited me to play video games with him. It seems that plan has changed. He’s a good kid, and I told him if he would clean his room, I would bring him milk and cookies when I came to play video games with him. I understand that this seems a little weird, maybe. I wouldn’t like some stranger hanging out with my kid, either, if I were in your shoes. But, if he cleaned his room, I would like to make good on my word and bring him milk and cookies, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t know you. I don’t know that you wouldn’t poison him, or something. It’s nothing personal.”
“You know what? I’ll bring you money. You can buy it yourself. I just want him to know that I did what I said I would do.”
“What did you say your name is, again?”
“Ryan. Ryan Priest.”
“I know that name. Why do I know that name? Get a life, pedophile. Stay away from my son or I’m calling the cops.”
“I can prove . . .”
There was no point in finishing his statement. The line went dead before he could even finish thinking his thought, let alone finish speaking it. Ryan felt his blood boiling. For some reason, everything about that conversation pissed him off. He was free. He was off the hook. He could now duck out of this situation with this kid with a clear conscience. After all, he tried. Then, the mental image of Nathan’s quizzical, curious eyes staring up at him flipped his stomach.
“Go ahead, momma bear. Call the cops. I’m trying to help you, you witch,” he griped under his breath. He pulled his shirt off, over his head, balled it in his hands and tossed it across the room to the laundry hamper.
Ryan turned off the lamp beside his bed and sank into his mattress. He stared at the ceiling, thinking about how he could help Nathan’s mom without her knowing the help had come from him. He couldn’t think of a way that wouldn’t be obvious. He was so annoyed that his lips were drawn; pursed tightly to the point of aching. He let a growl roll out of the back of his throat. The light from his phone screen lit his face in the dark room as he pressed buttons to return Scottie’s call. He just wanted to forget the experience with the crazy, cranky woman.
“Hello?’ she answered.
“How does a woman end up with a name like Scottie?”
She giggled. “My name is Scotland, after my family heritage. Scottie is the shortened version.”
“What are you wearing?” he flirted, trying to ignore the looming foul mood.
“Yoga pants, a tank top and a sweater thing. You missed your chance, bad boy.”
“That would be my luck.”
“Do you want me to change?” she asked seductively.
Ryan sighed. “No. I just thought I would show interest so you couldn’t point out how I didn’t ask, again.”
“So, how long will it be before someone calls you, again?”
“It won’t happen,” Ryan answered discontentedly.
“Girlfriend?’
“What kind of man do you think I am? I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“You want one?” she played.
Ryan rolled his eyes and clamped them shut. “I gotta hit the sack. Are you still going to call me tomorrow?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Yeah. Sorry I’m not being more fun. I just need to decompress for a little while.”
As Ryan lay on his bed, he stared at the ceiling and thought about little Nathan. He thought about Scottie’s aggressive, “go-getter” nature. He laughed to himself. These weren’t the changes he moved to San Antonio to find, but they were definitely changes.
~EIGHT~
Just after three o’clock in the morning, Ryan’s phone rang, waking him from his peaceful slumber. Lying on his stomach, he reached over, slapping his hand on the nightstand, feeling for the source of the obnoxious noise. He knew it wasn’t the alarm clock. He grumbled as he lifted his upper body to look at his phone. He slid his finger across the glowing screen.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Ryan?”
Ryan sighed. “Hey, buddy. What’re you doing?”
“I had a bad dream.”
“You had a bad dream? OK. Well, go back to sleep. It wasn’t real.”
Nathan whimpered into the phone. “I can’t.”
“Where’s your mom?”
“She’s sleeping,” the boy cried.
“OK, well, could you maybe wake her up?”
“I really have to go to the bathroom.”
“Nathan, buddy, I don’t see what I can do to help you. Are you OK?”
“I’m scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“In my dream, there were monster plants chasing me. I went to the bathroom and the plants broke the door. I was sitting on the potty and they were coming up out of the hole. They trapped me in the bathroom and they were trying to eat me. They were everywhere and the whole world got taken over by plants.”
“And, now you need to take a whiz?”
“No. I need to go poop.”
“Oh, good grief,” Ryan groaned and sat up on the side of his bed. “OK, uh . . . You have baseball cards, right?”
“Yes.”
“OK, then you’re good. See, plants are afraid of baseball cards. So, you just take your baseball cards in the bathroom with you. Problem solved.”
The boy sighed. “Ryan, I don’t think that’s going to work.”
“Why not?”
“Can you just come help me? I really do
have to go really bad.”
“Nate, no. I can’t come to your house in the middle of the night. Wake your mom up.”
“I can’t,” the boy growled, crying harder. “Her room is on the other end of the hall.”
“Yell for her. Mom’s hear their kids. They’re magic. Plants are really afraid of moms that get ripped out of dreamland. Everybody is afraid of that.”
“Please, Ryan? They’ll bite my hiney.”
“No, they won’t. They’re not real. Remember, it was just a nightmare.”
The boy whispered, “There are plants everywhere in my house. I’m too scared.”
“Who the hell takes a shit at three o’clock in the morning? Are you serious? Can’t you go back to sleep and wait until the morning?”
“No,” the boy softly wailed.
“OK, look, we’re going to do this together. Go to your bedroom door.”
He could hear the sound of a creaky door hinge as the boy did as he said.
“What do you see?”
“There’s a plant there and another one right there. There’s a plant on that thing. And . . .”
“Hey, Nate, I can’t see what you see. I’m on the phone. So, what I really want to know is if you see plants coming after you. No, you don’t because plants don’t eat people. They’re nice. They give us oxygen to breathe. Now, real fast, run to the bathroom.”
“No way,” Nathan countered. “It’s too far.”
“Oh, wait a minute. What phone are you on?”
“The phone in my house.”
“Does it have a cord?”
“No. It’s just like a cell phone but without being a cell phone.”
Ryan chuckled mischievously. “Ah, you are so safe. You are going to be so happy when I tell you this. As long as you talk to me, that phone creates a shield of frequency waves around you. It kind of makes you invisible to plants. They can’t see you because of the frequency waves that are all around your body. So, take two steps toward the bathroom and see what happens.”
“Are you sure about this?” the boy asked nervously.
“You’re my friend. I wouldn’t tell you to do something dangerous. Right?”
“OK, now what?” Nathan whispered.
“Take two more steps and see what happens.”
“I almost think you might be right. There’s just one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“I have to walk by the plants on the stairs, where the bars are.”
Ryan rolled his eyes and dropped his head. “I’m telling you, you have to trust me. You’re invisible to all plants. Try it. If you see the plant start to move, you run back to your room.”
“Ryan, it is moving.”
“No. No, it’s not. You’re invisible. Remember, I wouldn’t tell you to do something unless it was safe.”
“Buh,” the boy sighed. “I just don’t know about this.”
“Nathan, get your butt to that bathroom,” Ryan barked through his clenched teeth.
After a little more coaching, Nathan finally made it to the bathroom. For twenty minutes, Ryan talked to the child while the boy tended to his business. There were conversations Ryan never would have imagined he would ever have. In fact, he had never thought of discussing ninety percent of the things Nathan wanted to discuss. Ryan considered most of it to be an unnecessary information dump. However, Nathan was getting the situation taken care of, so Ryan allowed the boy to ramble on. He couldn’t help but laugh at the honesty that came from a child’s mouth, especially this child. If Nathan knew it, he told it.
When everything was said and done, and Nathan was safely back in his room, Ryan had grand visions of going back to bed. Nathan had other plans. He started talking about baseball. He shared what he knew about all the baseball greats, spanning the entire history of the game.
The boy’s enthusiasm reminded Ryan of his own passion for the sport. He missed the days when he played for fun. Part of him wanted to discourage Nathan’s interest. Yet, another part of him hoped, someday, he would see Nathan’s name all over the television and on every sports magazine in the country. Then, the sparkle abruptly faded.
“Ryan Priest used to be so cool. He was an MVP. That’s the guy that looks like you. He could’ve made it all the way to the hall of fame. Now, he is going in to be in the hall of shame.”
“No, he won’t,” Ryan argued.
“Uh-huh! First of all, he did too many bad things to steal people’s money or something. I don’t remember what it is called. But, it is when someone gets a whole bunch of money and stuff. Then, he pretended he got hurt just because his team lost the World Series. He’s a poor sport. He ran away, crying for his mommy.” In a mocking voice, Nathan added, “Wah! Mommy, I’m a loser. I hurt my arm. Boo hoo!” Nathan laughed. “I wouldn’t have done that.”
“Oh really, plant boy? What would you have done?”
“I would’ve caught the ball and won that game,” the kid excitedly offered. “If I would have missed, I wouldn’t say I got hurt. That is dumb. He should’ve caught the ball. I could’ve caught it. I would’ve grabbed it out of the sky, if I had too.”
“He tried,” Ryan defended. “He reached for it.”
“Yeah, right! He didn’t try. He was greedy and he wanted to win so much money – all the way up to the moon, even when he had too much, anyway. I used to like him, but now . . . no. Not anymore. He cheats. That’s why now, they won’t let him play. My mom said they’re teaching him a lesson.”
“You think so? What lesson are they supposed to be teaching him?”
“That if he wants to cry, they’ll give him a reason to cry. Just like my mom tells me. He shouldn’t have tried to steal money from the World Series. He should’ve apologized. He could’ve won that game. Instead, he lost. He lost everything. Even me.”
Ryan drew a deep breath through his nose. “That’s enough baseball for tonight. You should get some sleep, young man. Are you feeling better, now?”
“Are you going to go to bed, too?”
“If a certain little buddy of mine will quit calling me, waking me up.”
“I know my mom said you can’t come over. She’s afraid of you, or something. I’m not scared of you. You’re really nice.”
“She’s your mom. It’s her job to protect you. She’s doing the best she can. You be nice to her. Do you have milk for your cereal?”
“No. I’m not eating cereal, again, silly,” the boy giggled. “Sometimes, I don’t like to eat cereal every day. Sometimes, I eat other stuff.”
“Well, if you need something, you call me, ‘k?”
“Ryan? Will you be my friend?”
“I thought we were already friends.”
“But, I mean the kind of friend that doesn’t go away.”
Ryan sighed. “Yeah, Nate. I’ll be your friend.”
“Thanks!”
~NINE~
The golden sun lit Ryan’s room a little sooner than he was ready. He lay on his back, extending his arms and legs so that his body was covering the surface of the mattress. He stared at the ceiling, annoyed by the fact that, once again, he had no purpose for his day. Sure, he could call his old team mates, but he hated feeling as though he still had to defend himself, knowing his words were falling on deaf ears. He hated their reservations about discussing anything baseball related, as though he were an outsider and his fifteen years in the sport never happened. He hated feeling the paranoia from suspecting his friends thought less of him, now. Actually, he pretty well hated everything his life had become. He was waking from his two-year long depressive slump. He just had no clue what he wanted to do with himself. His entire life, until two years ago, had revolved around a game – practices, endorsements, coaches, nutritionists, physical therapists, sponsors, meet and greets, autographs, interviews, uniform fittings, travel, and, finally, the actual games.
Realizing he couldn’t just hold his bed down all day, Ryan sat up and slid his body into the pair of jeans from the floor. He went to the
bathroom down the hall. As he passed the mirror, he noticed the scruff that had grown from a few days without shaving. He brushed his fingers over his face as he thought about shaving. Nah! Maybe he wouldn’t. That seemed too laborious. He shrugged off the notion and started the shower before stepping to the toilet to tend to his cramping bladder issue. He rolled his eyes at how mundane life seemed. He was going through the motions, but he was not living.
After his shower, Ryan went to visit with his parents. Being back at home had benefits, namely not waking up to an empty house. He found comfort in their company, at least until his mother would bring Rick’s name up.
“You know, I’m trying to get Rick to come see you.”
“Mom, come on,” Ryan grumbled. “You know that’s a dead horse.”
“I don’t understand why you two can’t move past your differences.”
“There’s nothing to understand. We can’t move past them. That’s all there is to it.”
“You two were the best of friends. Don’t you miss that?”
Ryan kissed the top of his mother’s head. “Let it go. He knows where I am. I know where he is. If we decide to work it out, we know where to start.”
“I guess I just don’t understand what could’ve possibly come between the two of you. You were so close.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mom. It’s done and over.”
“I do worry about it. You’re an uncle. You’ve never met the girls. You know, anything could happen, at any moment. You may not always have the liberty to work things out. Call your brother, please?”
“Why? So he can press charges on me? Nope! I’m not giving him the satisfaction.”
“He wouldn’t do that. Just tell me what happened.”
“You would have to ask his wife.”
“You slept with his wife?”
Ryan glared at his mother. “Why would I . . . No. I didn’t.”
“Well, what is it, then? Why would I need to ask Sasha?”
“Forget it. Rick is doing his thing. I’m doing mine.”
“Tell me, Ryan. I’m not letting it go. I want my boys to be friends, again. I want the holidays with all of us, laughing and having fun.”