by Greg Logsted
Even in a crowded restaurant you would think we were the only people in the room. The waiters and waitresses would fall all over us but I guess my dad’s generosity might have had something to do with that. People like to say that money talks. Well, my dad knows how to make it shout.
There’s this darkness now, this emptiness that surrounds me, and I can feel it slowly seeping into my skin. The longer I’m away from my dad the thicker this emptiness becomes. None of this would be happening to me if we were still together. Doesn’t he know there are other things in this world that can kill you besides bombs and bullets?
Try spending forty-five minutes in Mr. Stanton’s algebra class. Now that’s lethal. It should come with a warning.
The Jeep pulls into the driveway and stops by the garage. Jenny turns off the engine and the music dies with it.
I’m about to move but something stops me: a thought that’s been burning away in my head.
“Aunt Jenny.”
“Yes.”
“What was my mother like?”
I think the question caught her off guard. She seems hesitant, unsure, like a diver frozen at the end of a very high diving board thinking about a difficult jump.
“She was…a lot like me but completely different. I always lacked confidence, but not Jodi. She excelled at everything she did. She was athletic, popular, and always did well in school. She was a fantastic sister. I loved and admired her so much.”
Jenny stares through the windshield for a moment. “I guess you could say she was like this great, strong, mighty ship. Her only fault was when it came time to raise a sail she always left that to others and the sails they cast were never large enough to pull her along.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Jenny puts her keys into her purse before giving me a sad smile. “I mean your mom was a strong, intelligent woman. If she had lived, I believe she would have done some incredible things in this world.”
“You really think so?”
“I know it. Actually, you remind me of her.”
I’d been studying my backpack. I look up into her eyes. “I do? How?”
“You have her determination, her intelligence, and her smile.”
“Really? She smiled like me?”
“She sure did. When I see you smile it brings back so many pleasant memories.”
We head over to the cottage. I quickly change, grab a water bottle, and go outside. A few days ago I took a bunch of thick, old cushions from discarded lawn chairs and wrapped them around a tree by the side of the cottage. I secured them with a ton of duct tape, and it turned out to be a really good kick bag.
All I want to do now is knock the stuffing out of those cushions for a while and forget all about this day. I’ll start with a hundred high front kicks and move on from there.
I think about Cell Phone Girl.
Bam, bam, smack, bam!
I think about Steroid Steve.
Bam, smack, bam, bam!
I think about the Ice Queen, Mrs. Owens, and her “low tolerance for troublemakers.”
Bam, bam, bam, smack!
I think about that dumb locker I couldn’t get open. I know how to hot-wire cars, pick locks, and bypass the best security systems money can buy, but I get stumped by a stupid junior high combination lock.
Bam, bam, bam, smack, smack!
That Spanish teacher.
Bam, bam, bam, smack.
The English teacher.
Bam, smack, bam, bam.
The terrible food they served for lunch.
Bam, bam, smack!
The way everyone made fun of my clothes.
Bam, smack, bam, bam.
My mother. Why was she taken from me? Why couldn’t she have lived? I can feel the tears of frustration starting to flow down my cheek.
Bam, bam, smack, smack.
I hate this.
Bam, smack, bam, bam.
It’s so stupid.
I hear a deep voice behind me. “If you lower your shoulder you’ll get greater height and force on that kick.”
Out of the corner of my eye I can see Andy. How long has he been standing there? I turn my back to him and quickly wipe my face.
I bury my emotions and follow his suggestion, lowering my shoulder, but it doesn’t seem to change anything.
“No, no, no. That’s too low. Here, turn around. I’ll show you.”
I turn around and face Andy. He’s wearing gray sweats and a T-shirt that says ARMY across the front. A tan, socklike thing covers his stump. If he noticed I was crying he doesn’t let on.
“Here, you lower your shoulder like this.”
He shows me what he means and I can immediately see how it would be helpful.
Then he sets his feet at a slight angle. “Now, this is what I want you to do: kick me in the chin.”
“You want me to kick you in the chin?”
He chuckles. “Well, I want you to try to kick me in the chin. Don’t worry, I’m a martial-arts instructor, I’ll move.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I bow to him just like my dad taught me to. He smiles and bows back to me.
I get in my stance. “Okay. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready when you are.”
I kick him in the chin. He falls backward onto the grass.
Jenny bursts out of the cottage, and shouts, “Cody! What in the world is wrong with you? Why did you kick Andy?”
“He asked me to.”
She runs to my side and the two of us look down at Andy. He’s rubbing his chin and shaking his head. He grins up at me. “Man, for a little guy you sure pack a big wallop.”
Jenny kneels by his side. “Andy, are you okay? I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with Cody.”
He sits up and starts to laugh. “There’s nothing wrong with Cody. He’s right, I asked him to kick me. I just didn’t realize he was that quick. I guess he’s full of surprises.”
Andy slowly rises to his feet and then gives me a bow. “Here’s a very valuable lesson—I’m glad I was able to demonstrate it for you: Never underestimate your opponent.”
IMPORT AND EXPORT
“Cody, I want to show you something.”
We head over to Andy’s basement. I’m thinking he wants to show me something from the army: a souvenir, a photo album, or maybe even a weapon. When he opens the door I can feel the smile stretch across my face. It’s a room full of exercise equipment.
There are karate bags, weight and aerobic machines, free weights, and thick mats covering every inch of the floor. It’s a midsize gym that rivals some of the best health clubs I’ve ever seen.
“Wow, this is amazing!”
He laughs as we walk into the room but there’s something sad about the sound. There’s no true joy behind it. “I guess you can say I’m a bit of a compulsive. Most guys would be happy with a weight bench and a few weights, but I’ve always got to take everything to the extreme.”
I move around the room; there’s equipment here that I’ve never even seen before.
“I can’t believe this.”
“I’ve spent a lot of time and money putting this together. I guess it’s…maybe it’s too much. I don’t know, sometimes I think I would have been better off just messing with a car or something like that. Hey, check this out.” Andy opens a closet, reaches in, and a moment later music is pumping into the room. I look around and notice recessed speakers built into the walls and ceiling. The sound is rich and full.
I ease into a hydraulic leg press machine, check the pressure gauge setting, and begin pushing the plate forward in long, slow movements. “This place is great. My dad always said, if you’re going to do something, do it the best you possibly can.”
“Sounds like your dad likes things to be perfect.”
A short laugh escapes; it just pops out of my mouth like a shotgun shell. “Oh man, that’s an understatement.”
He gives me an odd look. “Looks like I touched a n
erve.”
I stare at my feet resting on the plate. “What? No. It’s just that with his job it’s important that things are…um, done perfectly the first time.”
“What kind of work does your father do?”
I follow our standard response to this question. “He’s in the import-export business. It’s important that he pay attention to the details.”
“What does he import and export?”
“Mainly electronics, computers, televisions, um…lamps, you know, that kind of stuff.”
He’s still looking at me. “The import-export business, huh? Funny, I once went into Pakistan using that as a cover. I don’t think we really fooled anyone. I could have used some advice from your father.”
I want to change the subject. I don’t like the way this is going. I feel like I’m balancing on top of my words. I’m worried if I pile them too high they’ll all slip out from under me. Without thinking I blurt out, “What about your father? Where does he live?”
He doesn’t say anything at first, just walks over to a rack of dumbbells and picks up one of the midsize weights. He curls it a few times; I notice that his small stump moves upward with the movement of his good arm. It looks like a dog’s wagging tail.
It occurs to me that his father might have died. Sometimes I say the stupidest things. My dad always told me to think before I speak.
After about ten curls he says, “My dad disappeared.”
“He disappeared? What do you mean…disappeared?”
He drops his weight back on the rack and grabs another heavier one and continues curling. “When Albert was four months old, I was about your age, maybe a little younger. Everything seemed fine, everyone seemed happy. Then one day my dad went off to work and never came home.”
“What happened to him?”
He drops his weight back on the rack, this time more forcefully than the last. There’s a loud, metallic clang. “Nobody knows. It used to drive me crazy, the not knowing. Sometimes I think he just left us, went off someplace and started a brand-new life. Other times I think something terrible must have happened to him, maybe he picked up a bad hitchhiker or stopped to help the wrong person. I don’t know.”
I decrease the machine’s pressure and it hisses loudly, then I press the plate out a few more times. “So you never heard from him again?”
“That’s right. Not a word, a letter, or even an e-mail.”
I guess I should let it drop but I’m really curious; it’s my nature. “Did the police look for him?”
“In the beginning we talked to them but I don’t think they looked very hard. They seemed to have it in their heads that he left us.”
“Do you?”
“Do I what?”
Andy reaches up to a chin-up bar and pulls himself up a few times with his one arm.
“Do you think he left you guys?”
He drops back to the mat and blows out a breath. “Well, one way or another he left us. Right? The effect is the same, regardless of the reason.”
“Did you ever hire a private investigator?”
He gives me a look that I recognize. It’s the look you give someone when they’re asking way too many questions. I get off the leg press machine and move over to a box of karate weapons and start sifting through it. I’m surprised when he starts talking again.
“A few years ago I was with military intelligence. I ran a check on my dad: name, social security number, bank accounts, driver’s license, passport applications, everything I could think of. It all came up blank. He just…disappeared.”
“That’s weird, like a movie or something. How did Albert deal with it?”
Andy shakes his head. I can tell he really doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. I start thinking about new things to talk about, maybe karate or the army. I feel like a jerk for asking so many stupid questions.
I almost jump when he starts talking again. “Albert didn’t know anything different. Our life without Dad was his normal. I was his older brother, almost like a father, and his mother was just another struggling single mom. I think there were times when it was tough for him. Sometimes we’d talk about it all and I’d try to tell him…”
Andy stops talking. I turn around and notice Albert standing by the door. He’s got a strange expression on his face.
“Hey, we’re going into town later. Mom wants to know if you need anything.”
“No. I think I’m all set.”
“Okay, well, if you think of anything we’re leaving in about an hour. Oh, she baked some cookies, too. They’re on the kitchen counter.”
Albert turns and starts to walk away.
“Get back here!”
“Yeah?”
Andy seems aggravated. “Why didn’t you say hello to Cody?”
He shrugs. “Dunno, just didn’t, no big deal.”
“It is a big deal. Don’t be rude. Say hello to Cody and tell him you’re sorry.”
“Hey, Cody. Sorry about that.”
“That’s okay.”
Andy walks over to Albert. “Why don’t you come in and we’ll get a quick workout together.”
“I dunno, I’ve kinda got some homework and stuff.”
Andy places his arm around his little brother’s shoulders and leads him into the room. “Come on, it’s early, you can do your homework later. I was going to show some karate moves to Cody. I could use your help.”
He looks at me. “Albert’s been studying karate since he was about six. He’s a member of the dojo in town.”
It doesn’t take much more talking to get Albert to join us.
The three of us go at it together for about forty minutes. Albert surprises me. He’s in great shape and really knows his karate. He doesn’t seem to grasp my level of experience, but that’s okay. I let him show me moves I’ve known for years and I don’t get offended when he tries to “correct” me.
In the end it’s Andy who tires first. I grab three bottles of water from the small refrigerator in the corner. We head outside and sit in lawn chairs under a large tree.
Andy takes the cold water bottle and rolls it across his forehead. His shirt is soaked through with sweat and he suddenly seems very tired. “Man, I’m still not anywhere near one hundred percent yet. I guess getting blown up takes a lot out of you.”
For a passing second I almost tell them about the café bombing but realize that’s a box that can’t be closed once it’s opened. There’s a tall wall of secrets that will always surround me.
Andy stretches out on his chair, takes a long pull from his water bottle, and looks my way. “You know something? I never asked you about your first day of school. How was it? Any problems?”
“It was…um, it wasn’t really what I expected. I’m sure it will get better once I get used to it. I’ve got gym tomorrow. I’ve never been to a gym class before. That should be fun.”
Albert laughs. “Don’t count on it. Coach Dinatelli can be a real pain.”
Andy leans forward. “So school was kind of tough? What, the kids or the teachers?”
“Both. It’s all so new and different to me. I don’t know how to fit in with the other kids or how to talk to the teachers without making them mad. I don’t even know what to wear. How pathetic is that?”
Andy smiles. “Don’t know what to wear? That one seems easy to correct. Tell you what. Why don’t you go into town with Albert? I’m sure he can hook you up with some good clothes. What do you say, Al, can you help Cody out?”
He smiles. “Sure, why not. I could use a couple new shirts myself.”
CAMOUFLAGE
No one laughs as I walk down the hall. There’s no pointing or new nicknames. I don’t hear anyone calling me “Mr. Shorty Shorts.” Cell phone cameras are not snapping my picture; hushed voices are not mocking me.
I guess I’ve found the required costume. Special thanks go out to Albert. I am now officially dressed for the junior high experience. I blend right in. I feel camouflaged.
I’m walking past
a huge mirror. There’s a sign above it that reads are you looking at an honor student? I stop and study my reflection. What comes to mind is “I’m looking at a stranger.” The long, baggy shorts, oversize T-shirt, baseball cap, and brightly colored sneakers might be what everyone else is wearing, but this isn’t me. I feel like an impostor. I’m used to my custom-fitted suits and designer ties. I’m used to expensive leather belts and highly polished shoes. How am I ever going to get used to dressing like this?
Albert appears by my side and lightly punches my shoulder. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
He eyes my reflection and the expression on my face. “Come on. The clothes look great.”
“I guess.”
He lowers his voice. “We’ve been over and over this. You look sharp. The clothes fit you fine. Relax.”
“I know. It’s just that I’m not used to dressing like this, that’s all.”
Albert rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, just try to loosen up, okay? You’re walking around like you stole your clothes out of somebody’s locker.”
“Okay, I’ll try.”
“Gotta run. History with Mrs. Smith.”
He takes off, then stops and turns around. “Hey, what’s your next class?”
I smile. It’s the class I’ve been looking forward to all morning. “Gym.”
He shakes his head. “Well…good luck. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Oh, what lunch period do you have, A or B?”
“B.”
“Me too. Look for me…I’ll save you a seat. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I head for the gym but go down the wrong hall and wind up at the girls’ gym. I find my way to the right gym just as the bell rings.
A tall, dark-haired man wearing gray sweats and a Yankees baseball cap is standing in the gym with a couple students. His muscular arms are folded across his chest.
He looks up as I walk into the room and bellows, “May I help you?”
“Um, I’m new. My name’s Cody Saron. Here’s my paperwork.”
I walk over and hand him the form. He handles himself like an army drill sergeant.
“You’re late.”
“Sorry, like I said, I’m new. It took me a while to find the right gym.”