by Karen Young
She gave him an exasperated look. “You’ve accused me of that before and it’s just as ridiculous now as then, and I’m beginning to think it’s a smoke screen, Ted, something you use to obscure your role in this mess. Our children’s home has been destroyed and their security threatened. The last thing I want is to add to their distress, and being nasty about you and Francine behind your back would do just that. The divorce has been horrible for them, but you’re still their father and they love you. They need you. It’s confusing and scary to them when you seem to forget that.”
“I have not forgotten that! Why do you think I planned this freaking weekend?” he demanded, angry now at being put on the defensive.
“Ted. You failed to come to Kendy’s rescue today when Francine hurt her,” Rachel said, stating the obvious. “That made a powerful impression and neither of them will get over it anytime soon.”
“And you certainly won’t do anything to help, will you?” His mouth was set in a grim line.
“If you mean I won’t allow Francine to get near Kendall again, then you’re right. Because if you can’t be trusted to look out for her, then both of us are negligent.”
“So now I’m negligent!”
She threw up her hands. “Francine bruised Kendall’s arm and you did nothing. Nothing, Ted. I call that negligence, and I’m not going to put my little girl in a situation where it could happen again.”
“Things got out of hand, I’m telling you,” he snapped. “It was a first-rate restaurant and people were staring when she spilled her juice. It was a mess. Francine was upset and embarrassed. She just wanted to escape to the bathroom and Kendall had to go with her. As I said, I could hardly take her to the men’s room, could I? But with Kendall crying and carrying on, Francine was rattled. She overreacted. She admits it. She’s apologized. Like I said, it won’t happen again.”
“She was embarrassed and she was rattled, so she’s excused? She hurt Kendy. She pinched her hard enough to break the skin and leave a bruise, Ted. That was just plain mean of her.”
“She apologized,” he repeated through his teeth. “What more do you expect?”
“What more? Well, first of all, once Kendy came out of that rest room in tears bearing the marks of Francine’s temper, it was your place to comfort your daughter, not to make excuses for Francine! You should have let her know you won’t tolerate it. And just because she apologized doesn’t mean she won’t fly off the handle and hurt Kendy again. Kids have accidents. They’re messy. Noisy. Demanding. Are you telling me Francine’s not going to overreact again?”
He simply stared at her in silence for a moment. “What does it take to please you, Rachel? You’ve done nothing but nag me constantly about spending time with the kids, and at the first sign that things didn’t go exactly like a Disney movie, you decide I’ve screwed up and therefore no more visits.” He paced a few steps away and then turned back, pointing a finger at her. “I know what this is all about and it isn’t that Kendall took a little pinch from Francine. Uh-uh, it’s about the divorce. It’s about Francine and me and the fact that we want to be together. You see a chance to stick it to me and you’ve grabbed it.”
Rachel stared at him with her mouth open. “This has nothing to do with the divorce, Ted! It’s about Kendall being abused by Francine. She’s nine years old. I won’t put her in a position to be hurt again. Period. If you choose to think that’s some kind of petty payback on my part, so be it. You’re free to think whatever. But the bottom line is this. Francine isn’t going to get another chance to abuse Kendall.”
“Well, I can see we’re going nowhere with this,” Ted said, stalking out of the kitchen and heading angrily for the front door. He jerked it open and crossed the threshold, then suddenly he stopped and turned back to glare at Rachel. “I should have known not to expect any understanding from you, Rachel. With you, things are black or white. Always were. No room for a little human misstep here or a screw-up there. Well, Francine’s just the opposite and it’s refreshing. She’s not perfect, she drinks a little too much and she can’t quite quit smoking. She doesn’t have your IQ and she’s damn sure not as organized. So, according to your standards, I guess that makes me shallow and shameless for loving her. But you know what? Nick’s right. I’m turned on by her boobs and her ass, and when we have sex, she makes me feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven. And before you start another lecture, think about this. I bet there’s not another man on the planet who wouldn’t trade places with me!”
Speechless, Rachel watched him descend the steps, reaching for his cell phone as he walked. He glanced at it, hit a single digit—Francine’s number programmed, she guessed—and was talking before he reached the end of the sidewalk. Before her eyes, the grim look on his face instantly morphed into something different, gentler. As he spoke, even the pace of his stride slowed. And by the time he reached the street, he was actually smiling. Rachel stepped back and quietly closed the door.
While his parents were arguing, Nick was prowling Dinah’s backyard, fantasizing the many ways he’d like to see Francine wiped off the face of the earth. Or fried in oil. Or run over by a truck. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t understand why his dad had deserted everybody to be with a ditz like Francine. She was hot, yeah, he could see that, but how much time could a man spend screwing around? Sooner or later, there had to be something else to pass the time, was the way he saw it. Francine talked mostly about what was hip in fashion and the latest movies and where the best restaurants were in Dallas. Jeez, to hear her tell it, she knew the best restaurants in the whole state of Texas and what to order when you got there. But so what? Nick could tell she was bored when Kendy wanted to tell her about her digital and the photos she liked to take. And as for sports, man, she was, like, a total zero.
His dad had walked away from his mom for that? No way Nick could ever understand it. No way he could get used to the changes that had happened because his dad split, either. He bent and picked up a penny that lay on the ground. If you found a penny, it meant good luck, he thought. He could sure use some good luck. Lately his life just plain sucked.
Hearing the sound of a car, he turned to see Cam pull into his driveway and begin unloading groceries from his SUV. He straightened and looked at Nick over the top of his vehicle, but didn’t make much of a sign of welcome. Nick wondered, now that he knew about Cam losing his son, Jack, whether he’d been cheerier before that happened. The taste of the fiasco with his dad and Francine had just about ruined his day, and in spite of his mom frowning on him talking to Cam, he felt in the right mood for Cam’s kind of dark personality. So he headed over there.
“Hey,” he said, approaching the SUV.
“Nick.” Busy with the groceries, Cam barely glanced up.
“Can I give you a hand?”
Cam hesitated. “Yeah, sure.” He had one bag beneath his arm already and a couple more in each hand. “You can bring in the twelve-pack and that bag with the fragile stuff in it. Careful with the chips. Nothing worse than crushed nachos.”
“Tell me.” With the twelve-pack wedged between his knee and the bumper of the SUV and the sack in his other hand, Nick pulled the hatch down.
“Weren’t you supposed to be at the rodeo today?” Cam asked when they were inside.
“Yeah, I didn’t know if you remembered.” That’s what he liked about Cam. You told him stuff and he actually heard it. You could talk to him.
“Back early, aren’t you?”
“We never made it.” Nick didn’t wait for permission but began removing cans of chili, tuna, chicken and dumplings and spaghetti sauce from a sack. Cam’s diet came mostly from a can. “This stuff go in the pantry over there?”
“Except for the spaghetti sauce. That’s tonight’s dinner.” Cam took two cans of soda from the twelve-pack, tossed one to Nick and popped the second open for himself. “You can have chips with that drink if you want.”
“Thanks.” Nick tore the bag open and helped himself. “Francine s
crewed up the trip.”
“Huh.” With his back to Nick, Cam placed stuff on the pantry shelves.
“Yeah, she made us stop at this snooty restaurant for brunch.” He made a face just saying the word. “Then Kendy dumped her OJ into the queen’s lap. Big row over that, so she took Kendy inside the bathroom where she pinched the hell out of her and made a nasty bruise, which sort of took the shine off the trip, so Dad got pissed and drove us all back here and dumped us. Goodbye, rodeo.”
Cam frowned. “She actually bruised Kendy?”
“Uh-huh. How’s that for being plumb mean? Which she is.”
“You said Kendy dumped her OJ. Was it an accident?”
“Yeah, sure. You know, it happens. Kendy was, like, bummed over doing it. But you don’t get the bejesus pinched out of you for an accident, right?”
Cam took a dairy carton out of a bag and held it up. “I’ve got dip. You want some?”
“Nah, I’m good with just the chips.” He ate a few, then popped the top off the can of Coke. “You want to know what really ruined the trip?”
“Hmm.”
“That Dad didn’t take up for Kendy.” Nick worked the bottom of the can on the tabletop, making concentric circles. “He was more worried about the queen and how upset she was than his own kid. And Kendy’s only nine. She was real upset, crying and all.”
“Was your mother around when Ted brought you back?”
“Yeah. I think she had plans to go somewhere with Marta, but she hadn’t left yet. Good thing, too. I guess I said a few things when we first went inside ’cause I was really ticked off. I mean, wouldn’t you be? And then Mom banished me while Gran took Kendy, so she and Dad could talk privately.” He crunched into a chip. “I bet she lit into him, big time.”
“Hmm.”
Nick shifted in the chair and, with one leg stretched out, gazed thoughtfully at the window above Cam’s kitchen sink. “I used to wish my mom and dad would patch things up and get back together,” he said, still twirling the can. “But now I wonder if it’s even possible. May not be the best thing, considering.”
Cam, fitting a roll of paper towels on a spindle, turned to look at him. “Considering what?”
“My dad has never been much of a family man, to tell the truth.” He hesitated and, as if wanting to be fair, added, “Well, he’s a doctor and they perform a noble service to mankind, I guess, or at least that’s the line Mom’s fed us all these years when he never found time to be with us. Always claims he’s got a bunch of other stuff going. Like, he travels a lot and he plays golf and tennis, and there’s always the professional garbage. Plus, doctors keep pretty long hours. Like I said, with all that stuff going, there’s not much left over for hanging out with us.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I mean, when you stop and think about it, it’s surprising that my mom wasn’t the one to have an affair first.”
“I don’t see your mother doing anything like that.”
“I know, but I’m just saying, she had more reason to do it than my dad.”
Cam turned from his task and, leaning against the counter, said, “I wouldn’t be so quick to judge, Nick. Every marriage is unique. It’s like finding yourself in a game where you don’t know the rules. There are two players, both with different backgrounds and personalities. You go at it the best you can, making mistakes along the way. And there aren’t any guarantees that you’ll win. You just—”
“Pay your money and take your chances?”
Cam straightened and reached for the empty grocery bags. “Something like that. And remember, I’m hardly one to be advising anybody about marriage. Mine ended in divorce, too.”
Nick studied the logo on the can. “I guess I’m a little bitter about the weekend turning out to be a bust because I had a couple things I wanted to mention to Dad. I mean, we haven’t spent much time together lately because of the divorce, and like I said, his schedule makes it tough for him to go to my games as much as some of the guys’ dads on the team, but—” Nick lifted his shoulders in a wry shrug. “Anyway, maybe you could…you know, sort of give me your take on something.” He shot a quick, questioning look at Cam.
Cam hesitated only briefly. “Sure,” he said. “Shoot.”
“It’s about me and Ward and the situation with Coach giving us special help.”
“There’s a problem?”
Nick rose and went to the window above the sink. With his back to Cam, he said, “You said once that we might get some static from other guys and it could become a problem.”
“And has it?”
“Well, it’s nothing that’s out in the open, at least not yet, but I can sort of feel it, you know?” He turned but stayed put at the sink. “There’s nothing outright, no crap on the field during practice or messages left where you can’t miss them, but there’s this…stuff kinda hanging in the air, if you know what I mean. It’s got me wondering whether getting special attention from Coach Monk is the way to go. I mean, Ward’s getting the same thing and I guess he’s okay with it. But I’m thinking I’d just as soon be like most of the other guys on the team. I make it on my own, or I don’t. That way, nobody can ever say I had special treatment.”
“Monk Tyson’s good at spotting talent. He’s not just killing time coaching you, and the boost you get from his training might mean the difference between a fantastic scholarship and none at all. I guess you’ve thought of that.”
“Yeah, sure, but how many athletes make it into pro sports, anyway? One half of one percent, even if you’re really good.” Back in his chair, Nick hunched forward, both arms on the tabletop. “There’s something else that I guess is kinda making me rethink whether I want the special coaching. I know it might sound, like, weird or something, but when I’m with Coach Monk and we’re all alone, you know, just the two of us, I’m not, like, really easy.”
“Not easy,” Cam repeated. “How…exactly?”
Nick shrugged. “It’s nothing I can explain. I just get this…feeling. And to tell the truth, it’s kinda…creepy, I guess. I mean, I know he’s doing me a real favor, but the truth is, I wish I could think of a way to tell him I appreciate it, but—”
“But no thank you?”
“Yeah.” Nick frowned at his hands a long minute, then looked up at Cam again. “And hey, I do something like that and the fallout’s gonna be big. I mean, telling Monk Tyson no means he might just possibly decide to bench me, like, forever.”
“And you’re prepared to accept that?”
“Well, shoot! What do you think? Heck, no.” He worked up a smile, sort of. “That’s why I’m in the market for advice from a grown-up.”
“Your mom’s a grown-up, Nick. Have you considered talking to her about this?”
“Nah, she’s got a lot of things on her mind right now. And, let’s face it, she’d have a female point of view on the sports aspect of my problem, right? I mean, she’d immediately say there are other fabulous career possibilities for me—medicine, law, engineering, writing.”
Cam’s gaze sharpened. “You have some interest in writing?”
Nick grinned. “No way, I just threw that in to see if you were listening.”
“I’m listening.” Cam opened the dishwasher and began removing the items inside.
“So, what do you think?” Nick prodded.
“I am thinking,” Cam said, placing a stack of plates in an overhead cabinet.
Nick watched him sort the silverware and drop it into a drawer to the left of the sink. This was a chore his mom assigned to Kendy, but if you were a guy living alone, he guessed, you’d have to do the kitchen chores, including cooking, by yourself.
“Okay, how about this?” Cam faced him, resting against the cabinet with his arms crossed. “You’ve just mentioned how your mom’s got a lot on her plate. Maybe you could use that as your excuse to pull away from Tyson. Tell him that with the move to your grandmother’s house, plus adjusting to the divorce, and having the full brunt of household responsibilities on
your mother’s shoulders now, you need to take up some of the slack. Tell him playing ball is still a high priority and you’ll do your dead-level best to stay competitive on the team, but putting in extra hours is adding a hardship to your mom. Blame it on the divorce and your changed circumstances, Nick. I don’t think he can dish you for taking the high road.”
“Man, that’s great!” Nick looked at him with real admiration before adding wryly, “He might even buy it.”
Cam nodded, understanding as Nick did, that there was an even chance Tyson would see right through the bullshit and Nick would be benched out of sheer spite. In his gut, Cam thought Tyson was probably capable of that sort of mean-spirited retaliation to an athlete who somehow displeased him. From his window, he watched Nick’s easy lope across the lawn, heading home. The thought of Nick being singled out didn’t set well, he realized. But after a few minutes, he put the boy and his problems out of his mind by focusing on his book, a tactic guaranteed to distract him.
The tactic worked for the hours that Cam spent writing that day, but later, as he threw together a few ingredients to improve the canned red sauce, he found himself again thinking of his conversation with Nick. He didn’t like the idea of Nick going up against a man with Tyson’s power without parental support. Which wasn’t his job, he reminded himself as he chopped an onion. Here was a kid needing his dad and Ted was too busy chasing a woman to notice. And the kid was just plain heroic for not wanting to add to his mother’s burdens by telling her. Nick was grappling with a decision that might well affect his entire future and both his parents were blissfully unaware.
As unaware as Cam had been when Jack was in trouble.
The knife went still in Cam’s hand. He stood looking at nothing in particular, but thinking of the irony that he should be the one Nick confided in. It was not his problem, he told himself again. And unlike Jack, Nick wasn’t suicidal, just conflicted. He laid the knife aside and tossed the onions in a skillet. What was more of a puzzle was whether Nick had been totally candid about what had driven him to consider rejecting an opportunity that most athletes would kill for. Cam sensed there was more, and if so, what was it? He adjusted the heat under the skillet and went to the fridge to get the meat. The person who should know the answer to that was the kid’s mother. In spite of Nick wanting to spare her, Cam thought, maybe he ought to give her a heads-up, let her do some nosing around in Monk Tyson’s little kingdom.