Flesh and Blood

by Allison Hobbs

  There was nothing more to say on the subject and I was spared from having to give Phoenix a long lecture. We were so new in our roles of father and son that I wasn’t comfortable at all with the idea of reprimanding him.

  Tired from all the water rides and stuffed from devouring nachos, hot dogs, burgers, and all sorts of junk food, we all turned in earlier than usual. In the morning, Sasha and I both slept in, figuring the kids could fend for themselves and have cereal for breakfast.

  Early Saturday morning the persistent ringing of the doorbell pulled me out of a leisurely sleep. I stumbled out of bed and made my way down the hallway. I noticed that Zoe was sitting up in bed wearing headphones, unaware that someone was at the door. I glanced at the closed door of Phoenix’s bedroom, and assumed that being a sound sleeper, he hadn’t been the least bit disturbed by the noise.

  “Hold your horses,” I muttered as I trotted down the stairs. I disarmed the alarm and swung the door open and was startled to find Baxter standing on the porch.

  “Hi, um, Mr. Copeland. Uh, is Phoenix home?” Baxter’s voice was hesitant, on the verge of stuttering.

  “Yeah, but he’s not out of bed yet,” I replied, scowling.

  I wondered what was with this kid, coming over early in the morning. “Why don’t you come back in a couple of hours? He should be up by then.”

  “Okay.” Baxter stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned to leave. There was something so forlorn and pitiful in his demeanor that my heart ached for him.

  Baxter left and I headed for the stairs and then halted. There was no point in trying to get back to sleep, so I made my way to the kitchen to make coffee. While waiting for it to brew, Zoe wandered in.

  “Can you make me some blueberry waffles, Daddy?” she asked, flashing an irresistible smile.

  “Well, it’s not only about you, Zo-Zo. Phoenix may not like blueberry waffles.” I pointed toward the staircase. “Go upstairs and ask him what he’d like for breakfast. Maybe you guys can come to a compromise.”

  “Phoenix isn’t home.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He went bike riding with a group of boys.”

  I scowled. “What boys?”

  “They’re from around here, but I don’t know their names.”

  “How does Phoenix know them?”

  Zoe shrugged.

  “He should have let me know before taking off like that,” I muttered in irritation.

  “He didn’t want to disturb you and he asked me to let you know.”

  “Oh, okay,” I said tentatively, trying to process the fact that he hadn’t asked permission to leave the house.

  At thirteen I didn’t ask permission every time I hung out with friends, so I supposed it was okay. But on second thought, this was a different time period, and the world wasn’t as kind as it had been when I was a kid. For my own peace of mind, I’d have to set up some ground rules and Phoenix would have to follow them.

  I poured coffee while Zoe poured herself a glass of orange juice.

  “How’d he get a bike?” I asked as I lightened my coffee with nondairy creamer. “Did one of the kids loan him one?”

  “No, he borrowed one from Baxter. Baxter has, like, two dozen bikes that he never rides.”

  “Why didn’t he invite Baxter to go along?”

  “I have no idea,” Zoe replied and took a big gulp of juice.

  I felt immense disappointment in Phoenix for neglecting his friend, and I wondered what had happened to the thoughtfulness and compassion that I thought my son possessed.

  It was the height of disrespect for him to borrow a bike from Baxter and not invite him along to go riding with him and his newfound friends. I didn’t know how I was going to get through to Phoenix about treating others with respect. Was that something you could teach someone or was it an innate trait? I didn’t know, but as a parent it was my responsibility to guide him as best I could and keep pushing the issue about compassion and respect until it finally sunk in.

  “So, can I have blueberry waffles?” Zoe asked.

  “You sure can. Blueberry waffles coming up,” I said in a cheerful tone that didn’t betray the concern I felt inside. I couldn’t shake the ominous feeling that trouble was brewing on the horizon.

  I texted Phoenix and asked whom he was with, where he was, and what time he planned to return home.

  It took a full fifteen minutes for him to respond. He said he was bike riding on the trails with Ryan, Matthew, and Dustin and he’d be back around two.

  The boys’ names didn’t ring a bell. Aside from Baxter, the only kids I was familiar with were Zoe’s friends and classmates.

  Having communicated with Phoenix made me feel less on edge, and I launched into preparing breakfast. I whipped up waffles, scrambled eggs and bacon for Zoe and me and popped a few slices of bread into the toaster oven for Sasha, who rarely ate a big meal at the start of the day.

  As the three of us sat at the breakfast nook, Zoe filled Sasha in on Phoenix’s early morning activities.

  “How’d he meet the kids he’s bike riding with?” Sasha inquired.

  I lifted up a palm. “I have no clue. But their names are Ryan, Matthew, and Dustin.”

  Sasha’s brow creased. “Shouldn’t we know more than the first names of the boys he’s associating with? Suppose something happened…we don’t know their parents or where they live. We don’t anything about them. For all we know he could have gotten involved with a rough crowd…the kind of kids that could lead him astray.”

  Sasha was right, but for some inexplicable reason, I felt the need to downplay my own concern.

  “He’s a thirteen-year-old boy, Sasha. Boys are adventurous. We can’t monitor his every move…and we can’t pick his friends, either.”

  Sasha’s eyes bore into me. “Boys are adventurous! That’s a sexist remark.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way. I meant to say that teenagers are adventurous. But as soon as Phoenix gets home, I’m going to lay down some ground rules.”

  “Good! I don’t know what we would tell his parents if they called at this moment,” she added.

  “I am his parent, and while he’s here in Arizona, I don’t intend to answer to Elle and Everett as if I’m a glorified babysitter.” My words came out with much more bite than I’d intended, and I should have apologized but I didn’t.

  “I’m not suggesting that you’re a babysitter; I only meant…” Sasha’s voice trailed off. She looked at her watch. “Zoe, your hair-braiding appointment is in an hour. We better get going.”

  It was rare for there to be any degree of discord in our household. Sensing the unusual tension between her mother and me and not wanting to add to it, Zoe jumped to her feet without delay and raced up the stairs to grab her backpack. She was back downstairs in record time, wearing a glittery backpack that was no doubt stuffed with books and numerous electronic devices that would help her endure the four-hour hair-braiding session.

  When Sasha and Zoe left, I was glad to have the house to myself. I needed to figure out how to deal with the Phoenix situation without any input from Sasha. We were always in agreement when it came to parenting Zoe, but I found myself on the defensive when it came to Phoenix. Until I became comfortable assuming the role of his parent, I didn’t need the added pressure of Sasha’s concerns regarding his behavior.

  Parenting a teenage boy wasn’t as easy as I’d thought it would be. I cherished our friendly relationship and I didn’t want to say anything that might alienate him. But I couldn’t simply be his buddy; I also had to guide him and take some sort of disciplinary action when necessary.

  Disciplining him was something I didn’t look forward to, and hopefully after I laid down the household rules, he wouldn’t break any of them.

  CHAPTER 15

  I was watering the front lawn when Phoenix rode up on Baxter’s mountain bike. It was a beauty with snazzy gold chains replacing the typical silver ones that adorned the average bike. The pedals were neon green, the fanc
y handlebars were a matching green color, and the rims of the tires were custom-painted orange and green and embellished with beautiful Aztec designs.

  Baxter had obviously put a lot of time and love into accessorizing his bike, and it bothered me that Phoenix hopped off the bike and let it fall to the ground with a clatter.

  “Hey! That’s not your property. Treat it with respect and use the kickstand.”

  “My bad.” Phoenix picked up the bike and stood it up properly.

  “Why’d you leave Baxter behind? He’s been a loyal friend to you, and he was nice enough to loan you a bike. It’s inconsiderate to abandon him for new friends, don’t you think?” I didn’t want to sound like a nagging parent and I was careful to keep my voice in as neutral a tone as possible.

  “Baxter has asthma, Pops, and he’s scared of having an attack. He says that not being able to breathe is terrifying. He told me that every attack lands him in the hospital, and he really hates the spectacle of an ambulance ride and the entire hospital scene. That’s why he wouldn’t get on any of the water rides yesterday. So, that’s the reason I didn’t invite him to go biking with me and the guys. He wouldn’t have accepted, anyway,” Phoenix explained.

  I felt bad that Baxter had health issues, but I was relieved to know that Phoenix wasn’t insensitive.

  “Son, I’d appreciate it if in the future, you let me know where you’re going before you leave the house. If something were to happen to you, I wouldn’t have any idea where you were or who you were with. We have house rules, Phoenix, and neither Sasha nor I am comfortable with you coming and going as you please.”

  “I get it, Pops. It won’t happen again.”

  “Good, good,” I said, nodding my head. “So, where’d you meet the guys you hung out with today?”

  “Around the neighborhood,” he said vaguely.

  I didn’t want to press him for more information, but I knew Sasha, a much more responsible parent than me, would want to know more than the first names of his new associates.

  “Are the boys your age or older?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

  “I can invite them over if you want to inspect them,” he said with a chuckle.

  Before I could respond, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and started texting. A few moments later, his phone pinged with a response.

  “I asked Dustin to round up Matthew and Ryan, so that you can interrogate the three of them and make sure that I’m not being influenced by thugs,” he said with a smirk.

  “I don’t want to interrogate them, Phoenix. I only—”

  “I’m kidding. I invited them over to play video games. That way you can look them over and form an opinion about their character without actually interrogating them.” Phoenix winked, and I nodded dumbly.

  My kid was quick on his feet—quicker than I was.

  The three polite boys that came over didn’t have a thuggish bone in their scrawny, little bodies. Even though they seemed completely harmless, I made sure to get their last names. I didn’t want to embarrass Phoenix by asking for their exact addresses, but I managed to find out the general vicinity of where they lived.

  I was in my office behind the kitchen, going over the work assignments for the upcoming week, when Phoenix popped his head in.

  “Is it okay if I go swimming at Ryan’s house?” he asked, adhering to the house rules I’d put into place.

  “Sure. But…for my own peace of mind, I need you to text me Ryan’s address,” I said with an apologetic smile.

  “Okay.” He gave me a wink, like we were in on a secret. In a way, I supposed we were in cahoots because Phoenix was aware that I wasn’t personally concerned about Ryan’s exact address; I was only asking to appease Sasha.

  He and his friends left and I went back to setting up the weekly work schedule for my five employees. The doorbell suddenly rang, and I assumed that Phoenix had left something behind, including his keys. It was a big surprise to find Baxter on the front porch.

  “Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Copeland. Is Phoenix around?”

  “No, Baxter. He, uh, went out.”

  Baxter scratched his left cheek, where the skin had erupted in red, angry pimples. The kid couldn’t catch a break. It was bad enough that he suffered with asthma, but he had also developed a bad case of acne overnight.

  “Do you know when he’ll be back?” he asked, awkwardly shifting his feet.

  I felt a pang of guilt, as if Phoenix were cheating on Baxter with his new friends. “He’ll probably be back around dinnertime.”

  “Okay. Would you tell him to give me a call or stop by my house? It’s really important.” There was a desperate tone in his voice, and I wondered if he was concerned about the bike he had loaned Phoenix.

  “Yeah, I’ll be sure to give him your message,” I said, making a mental note to take Phoenix shopping for a bike tomorrow.

  • • •

  After swimming at Ryan’s, Phoenix returned home with Dustin and Matthew trailing behind him. I’d forgotten how inseparable teenage friends could be. Sasha and I would have to get accustomed to having teenage boys underfoot for the duration of Phoenix’s visit.

  Zoe seemed delighted to have boys around, and she joined them in the living room, hoping to be included in playing their video game. After a while, the boys put down the controllers, and all three trotted to the rear patio. When Zoe got up to follow them, Sasha held up her hand, stopping her in her tracks.

  “They’re here to visit Phoenix, young lady, so leave them be,” Sasha said sternly.

  “But—”

  “But, nothing,” I interjected. “You’re supposed to stay in your lane, Zo-Zo. Remember?”

  “Aw, it’s not fair that Phoenix gets to have all the fun while I’m bored to death.” Swinging her long, freshly braided hair, Zoe flopped back down on the sofa and picked up a controller and began playing a game by herself.

  While Sasha puttered around the kitchen, I went back to my office. From the window behind my desk, I could hear the boys horsing around and seemingly enjoying typical adolescent fun. As I smiled at their youthful exuberance, I suddenly recalled that I hadn’t given Phoenix Baxter’s urgent message.

  I scooted my rolling chair back, stood up and raised the blinds, prepared to rap on the window and beckon Phoenix to come inside for a moment. But when I peered through the windowpane, I could see the boys hovering around Phoenix, gazing at something on his phone. Simultaneously, Matthew and Ryan pulled out their phones, and with mischievous grins, they stared at their screens.

  “Oh, man, I gotta send this to Dustin. He’s not gonna believe it,” Ryan said, giggling and elbowing Matthew.

  They were obviously all viewing the same thing, and there was something about the tone of their laughter—it had a jeering ring to it—that led me to suspect they were looking at something forbidden. Something X-rated. Most likely, they were looking at porn.

  Once again I was in a quandary as to how I should react. Would a responsible parent go outside and demand to see his son’s phone to find out if he was on an adult site? Shaking my head, I decided against that idea. Demanding to know what Phoenix and his friends were looking at on their phones was taking my parenting role to an extreme.

  Boys will be boys, I told myself. Sexual curiosity was a normal part of growing up, and in this instance it was best to mind my business and get back to work.

  Fully immersed in creating a staff schedule, I had no idea how much time had passed when I was startled by the shrill sound of a siren—something rare in our neighborhood.

  Sasha, Zoe, and I rushed to the front lawn to find out what was happening. The boys came running from the patio with excitement glinting in their eyes.

  “I bet it’s a fire,” Matthew exclaimed gleefully.

  “I bet some old lady’s cat got stuck in a tree,” Ryan added glumly.

  When the ambulance stopped in front of Baxter’s house, Sasha shot a worried look at me. “Oh, my God! I knew that Mrs. Westfield wasn’t feeling well
, but I had no idea that it was serious.”

  The EMTs brought out a stretcher and Mrs. Westfield emerged from the house, crying and motioning for the men to hurry inside.

  “Something must be wrong with Baxter,” Zoe murmured.

  “Probably an asthma attack,” Phoenix offered grimly.

  “Shouldn’t we go offer Mrs. Westfield some emotional support?” Sasha asked.

  “We’d only be in the way,” I said, protectively wrapping my arm around both Sasha and Zoe, grateful that my family was safe from harm.

  Moments later the EMTs dashed out with Baxter on the stretcher. They loaded him into the ambulance and Mrs. Westfield tried to climb inside. One of the men blocked her from getting in and closed the ambulance door.

  I wondered what had brought on Baxter’s asthma attack, and hoped it wasn’t an emotional response to feeling rejected by Phoenix. As I pondered the situation, I noticed Mrs. Westfield standing at the curb, her face buried in her hands as she wept.

  “I’m gonna give her a ride to the hospital,” I said to Sasha as I pulled my car keys from my pocket. I raced to our two-car garage and swiftly backed out, swerving as I peeled out of the long driveway in reverse.

  Split-seconds later I was parked in front of the Westfield home.

  “Mrs. Westfield! Do you want me to call Mr. Westfield for you? Can I give you a lift to the hospital?”

  Crying bitterly, she said, “I already called him. He’s on his way home. But I need to be with my son.”

  “Absolutely,” I said as I got out of the car, so that I could assist her.

  “You need to lock your house up and grab your keys and handbag,” I said slowly and clearly, as if speaking to someone who was hard of hearing or learning disabled.

  I guided her to her front door. Inside her home, she shuffled to the kitchen area, walking with the unsteady gait of someone twice her age. She emerged from the kitchen with a set of keys.

  “We need to hurry,” she said.

  I nodded and relieved her of the keys and locked the door myself.

  Apparently she wasn’t concerned about carrying a handbag to the hospital and under the circumstances, I couldn’t blame her.