by Susan Wiggs
“Yes, sir, right away, sir.” Andrew snapped him a salute.
The sarcasm seemed to be lost on Duffy, an old guy from Scotland, and Cameron was just as glad. The three of them filed out of the greenskeeper’s building and Duffy gave them their marching orders. Today they were to clear the pond near the Number Ten fairway. The marshy pond was choked with duckweed that had to be piled in a cart and taken away.
And that, of course, was only the beginning of their punishment. Suspended from the golf team, they were to spend every day after school at the course, virtual slaves performing acts of contrition.
Andy and Jason treated the punishment like a big joke, singing an off-key rendition of “Back on the Chain Gang” as they worked amid the weedy fringes of the pond. Cameron tried to joke around, too, but it felt forced and he soon lapsed into sullen silence. The brown mud sucked at his feet and he could feel the chill of the water through his rubber boots.
This sucked, literally and figuratively. Everything sucked lately.
He worked like a robot, bending, uprooting a handful of weeds, flinging them onto the bank. The mud felt like cement, closing around his feet, holding him captive.
“And to think we could be at the driving range with the team,” said Jason. “Look at all the fun we’d be missing.”
Although Cameron wouldn’t admit it, he did miss practicing with the team. He liked hitting drives, dozens of them in a row. He liked matching up his skills against a tough course like Echo Ridge.
It was stupid, the way he used to argue with his dad so much about golf. He wished he hadn’t done that. He wished he had simply told his dad the truth, that he loved the game and wanted to make it his life, just like his father and uncle. Cameron had blown it, though. He’d been given one chance to caddie for his father in an important tournament and he’d been a disaster. After that, he had to pretend he didn’t care, about caddying, about his father’s game or his own.
At least he’d managed to get himself suspended from the team. Mission accomplished. He should have done this a long time ago, except it wouldn’t have happened. No way would he have been suspended from golf when his father was alive. God, how many times had Cameron been tempted to tell his dad exactly why he wanted to quit the team? Of course, Cameron always chickened out or told himself it was pointless because as far as his father was concerned, you never quit for any reason.
“Hey, take it easy, Cameron,” said Jason, dodging a flung weed, its roots trailing mud. “You don’t need to throw stuff so far.”
“Sorry, wasn’t watching.” Cameron wondered why messing up the golf course had been so unsatisfying. He had taken intense physical pleasure in the act of destruction, but as soon as he was finished, he felt empty. His friends had been triumphant, declaring it a good night’s work. Cameron hadn’t shared their satisfaction. No matter what he did, he still felt empty. It was like eating cotton candy. It never filled you up, but eventually you made yourself sick on it, anyway.
As he slogged toward the next section of the bank, something caught his eye. “Hey, check this out,” he called in a stage whisper, gesturing to his friends. “It’s some kind of nest.”
“Ducks, probably,” said Andy. “Look at the size of the eggs. Hand me one, will you?”
“Me, too,” Jason said. “I bet I can hit that cart trail with one. Splat!”
“No way.” Cameron planted himself in front of the nest. “We’re not disturbing this. I’m not even going to pull the weeds around it.”
“Come on, we’re bored. It’s just a bunch of eggs. They’re probably all over the golf course.”
“Forget it,” he said. “We’re leaving these alone.”
“Guess what else we’re leaving alone?” said Jason, dropping his rake and gloves. Andy quickly caught on and followed suit. “If Duffy asks where we went, tell him we flew north for the summer.”
“Right.” Cameron was just as glad when they left. Sure, they were his friends, but sometimes he wished they meant something more to him than the occasional good time. He especially wished he hadn’t listened to them the other night when they came up with the plan to mess up the golf course.
He worked alone, relieved that Duffy didn’t come to check on him. He didn’t want to have to lie for his friends, but he didn’t want to get them in even more trouble, either.
He left a thick fringe of vegetation around the nest and finished just before dusk fell.
His coveralls stank of brackish water and he was covered in mud. His shoulders and back ached, but he felt curiously light. Maybe he shouldn’t have skipped lunch, he thought. Then he admitted to himself that it wasn’t hunger making him feel this way. It was the fact that he had been caught. Finally. The weight had been lifted off his chest.
Duffy had said he could go home at sundown. Cameron wasn’t sure how to accomplish that. He was supposed to get a ride with Jason, who had his license.
It was a long walk home.
Most of his friends had their licenses by now, but not Cameron. He was too scared to get behind the wheel of a car and completely humiliated by his failure. Not humiliated enough to drive, though. He’d tried a few times, but it didn’t work. He broke into a sweat, couldn’t see straight, started shaking like a leaf in the wind. Dr. Sachs was “working” on the issue with him. They were “working” on a lot of issues, but Cameron thought it was all a waste of time. How did talking about something you can’t change fix it?
He eyed the gas-powered cart Duffy had given them to use. He was fine with driving a golf cart, but Duffy would have a fit if he drove it off the premises. He wasn’t about to call his uncle, though. He’d already screwed up enough for the time being.
He puzzled over the matter while he loaded clippings and debris into the cart. He stopped when he saw someone walking toward him. In the low light, he couldn’t make out her features, but he recognized the lanky figure and swinging ponytail instantly.
Great.
“Hey,” he said, barely slowing down his work. He felt kind of embarrassed, dressed like a jailbird, filthy from the day’s work.
“I heard about what happened,” Becky Pilchuk said.
“The whole school heard about it.”
“Pretty much.”
While he worked, she just stood there. He could feel her watching him.
“Is there something I can do for you?” he asked, loading the last bundle of debris into the cart.
“No. I just came to see—oh!” She was startled when a pair of mallard ducks landed in the water, throwing up a tail of spray in their wake. It was a male and female, gliding in tandem toward the reeds.
“Don’t go too close,” Cameron said. “There’s a nest.”
“Really?” Pushing her glasses up her nose, she craned her neck to see. “Where?”
He pointed. “In those reeds. Right in the middle.”
“I see it now.” Excitement lightened her voice. “Look at all those eggs! Cameron, that is so cool.”
It wasn’t that cool, he thought.
“I’m glad you left the nest alone. I bet they’ll hatch any day. It’ll be fun to watch. We should check on them every day, shouldn’t we?”
Oh, like he was going to agree to that. It was practically a…a date. A date with a dork. “I’m about finished here. I have to cart this stuff away.” He felt her studying him as he worked. Her intensity was disconcerting. “So go ahead and say it,” he blurted out.
“Say what?”
“All the stuff you’re thinking, like why I did it and how stupid and pointless it was.”
“I know why you did it. And I’m pretty sure you know that it was stupid and pointless.” Without being invited, she hopped into the cart.
He loaded up the tools and got behind the wheel. “All right, Dr. Freud, why did I do it?” he asked as he took off toward the decant and composting area of the golf course.
“Because your parents died and you’re going a little crazy,” she said simply.
That did it. He
slammed on the brakes of the golf cart, so hard that she put out her hands to brace herself. Her vulnerability made him even madder. “How the hell do you think you know that? You don’t know anything about me. What makes you think you know why I’m such a screwup?”
She winced as though stung by his temper, but she didn’t stop looking him in the eye. With deliberate, unhurried movements, she got out of the cart. “Because,” she said, “I felt the same way when my own mother died.”
Ah, shit, he thought. Shit, shit, shit. That was the last thing he’d expected from her. “Get back in the cart,” he said.
She walked away at an unhurried pace, her head down.
He pulled the cart next to her. “Please. Please, Becky.”
That stopped her—either the please or the fact that he’d called her by name for the first time. She looked up at him, and the evening light streaked across her face, burnishing it with deep gold. She wasn’t so homely, he thought, remembering the stupid scores he and his friends kept on the chalkboard in the locker room. Becky Pilchuk always came in dead last. Now he knew that was because no one ever really saw her. You just had to look past the dopey clothes and eyeglasses.
She sat down next to him and stared straight ahead. “I know you think I’m a dork, but there are some things I understand better than anyone else.”
“I don’t think—” He stopped. Why lie to this girl? She’d never done anything to him but try to be his friend, and he just went along with disliking her because everyone else seemed to. “All right, maybe I used to think you were a dork. I bet you used to think I was a—I don’t know. A tool or a poser.”
“Or a dumb jock.”
“Yeah, maybe that. Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t bother getting to know you and I should have.”
She glanced over at him, the sunlight slipping through her hair, making it shine. “It’s not too late,” she said.
“Tell me about your mom.”
She folded her hands very carefully in her lap. “It wasn’t a shock or anything, like yours was. She was sick for about a year when I was in middle school. She’s just as gone, though, and sometimes I miss her so much my whole body aches. And the worst thing is, I can’t make it go away. I loved my mom so much, even when I was in seventh grade and being rotten to her. I loved her like—I don’t know, in a way I can barely describe, you know?”
He nodded. He did know. Every night he lay awake and prayed his parents knew that, too. “There’s something else,” he said, tentative but yearning to get this out. “The very last thing I ever said to my father is ‘screw you.’” There. It was out. He hadn’t even told this to Dr. Sachs.
“Bummer,” she said.
“Bummer? I tell you something like that and all you say is ‘bummer’?”
“Everybody says ‘screw you’ to their parents. It’s not like you invented the phrase. I was horrible to my mom sometimes, even when I understood how sick she was. But I never stopped loving her and she knew that, same as your dad.”
Did he? Cameron wondered. He conjured up a picture of his dad and himself, and surprisingly, in every memory, the two of them were happy.
“And now that she’s gone,” Becky said, “where does all that love go? Where do I put it? Who do I love like I loved my mom? It’s still in me like it was when she was alive, but now it doesn’t have anywhere to go.” She took off her glasses and looked at him. “This isn’t very helpful, is it?”
“Actually, it makes more sense than anything else people have said to me.”
chapter 32
“Five more minutes,” Sean begged. “Just give me five more minutes.”
“No.” Standing next to the bed, Ashley peered at him over the edge of the mattress. “Up.”
“Who let you out of your crib, anyway?”
“Up.”
Next to him, Maura sighed and stretched, but didn’t fully awaken. Sean glanced at the clock—7:00 a.m. A school day. “All right,” he grumbled. “I’m up.” He wore pajama bottoms but no shirt. Having little kids around had quickly cured him of his habit of sleeping in the buff. “I bet you’re soaking wet, aren’t you?”
She smiled coyly.
He glanced back at Maura. She might be faking sleep. Diaper changing was not her favorite chore. “All right, you.” He picked her up and carried her away to change her. It was like this every morning. The baby first. It didn’t matter if he needed to take a piss or wanted to brush his teeth. Only afterward, when she was watching cartoons and eating dry Cheerios under Charlie’s desultory supervision, could Sean see to his own needs. He took the stairs two at a time, in a hurry to duck into the bathroom and then maybe get lucky with Maura. As he was brushing his teeth, he heard a burst of crying. Down the stairs again, two at a time. He could distinguish between Ashley’s cranky cry and her pain cry. This was a pain cry. He found them both in the kitchen.
“What happened?” he asked Charlie as he scooped Ashley up.
“She fell. She tried to climb up on the counter for more Cheerios and she fell right on her bottom.”
“Weren’t you watching her?” As soon as he spoke, Sean regretted his words. “I’m sorry, honey,” he said, jiggling the baby in his arms. “I shouldn’t have left her with you.”
“She made a ladder out of the drawers, see?” Charlie pointed out, indicating the counter drawers. “Mom always said Ashley’s too smart for her own good.”
Dogged by guilt, he trudged upstairs again. After what Lily had told him about her own experience, Sean should have known better. “Can’t even take a piss when I need to anymore,” he muttered under his breath.
Ashley was still whimpering when he set her on the bed next to Maura. She stirred and offered a sleepy smile. “What’s up, buttercup?” she asked the baby.
“She fell,” Sean said. “I don’t think she’s hurt, but could you check her out?”
Maura pushed herself up on her hands. “Sure. Wait here a minute. I need to pee and brush my teeth.”
When she was gone, Sean looked at Ashley, who had stopped crying. “Where does it hurt? Head? Elbow? Bottom?”
She shook her head but waited patiently for Maura. Sean glanced at the clock. Seven twenty-five. T minus thirty-five minutes and counting. Maura seemed to be taking her time in the bathroom; it was all he could do to keep from yelling at her to hurry up. When she finally came out, he said, “I need to go make sure the other kids are ready for school.” Pulling on a T-shirt over his head, he walked down the hall, hammering at Cameron’s door. “You up?”
“I am now” came a grumpy voice.
Sean went downstairs and made sure Charlie ate something. She was looking down in dismay at her Brownie jumper. “This needs to be ironed.”
At that, he laughed aloud. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, kid.”
She looked wounded. “Will Maura do it?”
“Doubt it. You look fine, Charlie, I swear. Come over here and I’ll fix your hair.” It was their morning ritual, and Sean was getting pretty damned good at braids. This morning, however, with her yellow braids and weird uniform, she looked like a member of the Hitler youth. He said nothing, though. Charlie was as fragile and volatile as a vial of nitro.
Cameron came thumping down the stairs, as surly as he dared to be without Sean calling him on it. Since the golf course incident, he’d been reasonably well behaved. Nothing like a sentence of hard physical labor to keep a kid out of trouble.
“Where’s my backpack?” he asked.
“Wherever you left it,” Charlie said before Sean could.
“Yeah, that’s real cute.” He found it on his own under the kitchen table, exactly where he’d left it.
Sean didn’t nag him about breakfast. The kid was old enough to know he was supposed to eat. There was a chaotic flurry of last-minute paperwork—a permission slip for Charlie, a surprisingly adequate grade report for Cameron—and then they both rushed out to catch the bus. For a moment, the kitchen was utterly silent. Sean looked at the digital clock on th
e stove. The glorious silence lasted approximately one minute. Then Maura came in with Ashley who looked happier but still wasn’t dressed. He had the urge to ask, Do you think you could have dressed her? But he resisted. Maura hadn’t signed up for this, any of this. She tried to be a good sport about it.
“Is there coffee?” she asked, her usual morning greeting.
He dumped some into a filter, filled the reservoir of the coffeemaker and flipped it on. “In about five minutes.”
Maura took out her Blackberry to check messages before heading to the hospital. Sean put Ashley in her high chair and opened a can of diced peaches for her. The phone rang, and he reached for it with one hand while the other dumped the peaches into a bowl. It was Mrs. Foster, saying she wouldn’t be able to babysit today. “I understand,” Sean said, because there was nothing else to say. “Call me when you’re better.”
He hung up and checked the coffeepot. Maura had already taken the first cup. “Mrs. Foster can’t come today. She’s sick.”
“That’s too bad.” She finished her coffee. “Listen, I need to run.” She gave Ashley a quick kiss on the head and Sean a longer one on the mouth. “See you.”
“So it’s just you and me, kid,” Sean said to Ashley, who was placidly eating her peaches. “I was going to get in a round before work today.” Nerves and frustration made him hyper, and he cleaned up the kitchen while he talked to his niece. “Instead, I’ve got you,” he said. “Not such a bad deal. What do you want to do today? Watch Teletubbies? Discuss toilet training? We could answer fan mail from all the wackos who keep writing to us,” he suggested.
She offered him some of her peaches.
“No, thanks,” he told Ashley. “I ought to be going nuts. I’ve got so much on my plate I’m about to drop something. My career’s in the shithole, I have this confusing pseudo-relationship thing going on with Maura and I’m having a hell of a time making ends meet.” He picked up Maura’s coffee cup and rinsed it in the sink. “She’s great in the sack, but…not exactly mother material, so we’re in commitment limbo. And Lily.” He shook his head. “What’s up with her, huh? No idea where I stand with her, or if I even care.” He watched Ashley slurp down the last of her peaches, then wiped her face. “Who knew I’d actually like this?”