Darryl never could what? I wondered. Get it up?
It took a while to cut through the wallboard, since I only had the keyhole saw, and when I lifted out the square of wall, the problem presented itself. Whoever had installed this plumbing had done a half-assed job. It wasn’t Dad. He’d never have used galvanized steel pipe in a bathroom. It didn’t last long enough, as evidenced by this leak. Leaks, I should say. Three or four continuous leaks. There was more than one botched repair too. Dad would never have fluxed steel pipe to PVC, or even tried to.
I decided to do it right. Rip out the pipe and replumb the whole setup with copper. I’d have to run back to the shop for supplies. Didn’t matter. I was psyched about the job.
At the top of the stairs, I found Charlene on the sofa breast-feeding her baby. “I have to run to the shop,” I told her, trying not to look.
“He was there when I had Todd. Did he tell you that?” Charlene said.
“What?” I wasn’t sure what she was talking about. Or who. She had this dreamy look in her eyes. I inched toward the front door. “I’ll let myself back in.”
“Darryl, I mean,” Charlene went on. She adjusted the baby, squeezing her boob with her free hand. “He took me to the hospital in Garden City and stayed during my whole labor and delivery.”
“Darryl?” I stopped in my tracks. “You’re kidding. When was this?”
Charlene glanced up, blinked. “Four, five years ago? Todd just had a birthday, so six years ago. Wow, has it been that long? Reese was at some officer training course in Topeka and it was snowing, like tonight. He couldn’t make it back. My mom was off visiting her sister. So I called Darryl. He handled everything, like I knew he would. He always was responsible. Good old dependable Darryl.”
“Darryl?” My Darryl? We were talking two different people.
“So sweet,” Charlene cooed.
Was she still talking Darryl, or the baby?
“I was scared,” she said. “It hurt bad, my first labor. Thirty-three hours. He stayed with me, held my hand the whole time. He held me during the worst of it.”
“I better.. .” I motioned toward the door.
“I should’ve married him. Stupid. I was so young and stupid. I should’ve said yes when he asked.”
Darryl proposed?
Charlene kept her eyes on her baby. “All I could think was the insecurity, you know? The instability. A life on the road? No sir, not for me. Darryl and his cars.” She sighed. “He loved racing those cars.” Her nipple slipped out of the baby’s mouth and my eyes strayed to it. Slick nipple, swollen. I couldn’t help looking.
I tripped over a Tonka truck. Then stumbled out of the house.
It took three hours to remove the old pipe, install the new, reconnect all the fixtures. While I was at it, I cleaned the faucets and put in new washers. Tomorrow I’d come back with a sheet of wallboard and replacement tiles. Until then, Charlene and Reese could use the tub. I found a can of Comet under the sink and scoured the tub until the porcelain sparkled.
I should’ve been exhausted, but I wasn’t. Exhilarated was more like it. Satisfied and happy with the job. It was late. After midnight. I packed my stuff and crept up the stairs. Reese lay on the couch, blowing a stream of smoke through pouched out lips. He was still wearing his sheriff ’s uniform. Shirttail out, bare feet. I assumed he was off duty. When he saw me, he quickly stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray on his chest and jumped to attention.
That wasn’t a regular cigarette.
“Mike, what are you doing here?” Reese said, fanning the air.
“I came to fix your shower downstairs. Charlene called me. Didn’t she tell you?”
He blinked and pawed the air some more. “She must’ve forgot. She went to bed with cramps.” His eyes fixed on mine. We had that moment of understanding. Different kind from Jamie’s. “You didn’t see this,” Reese said, glancing at the ashtray in his hand. Sliding it behind his back.
“See what?” I said.
He smiled sheepishly. I headed for the door. The things I’d been privy to in people’s homes while fixing their plumbing and heating... If I was into extortion, I could set myself up for life.
Reese kicked through junk on the floor, following me, tucking in his shirt.
“I need to come back tomorrow and fix the wall,” I told him.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’ll finish up.”
That’s what worried me. “I’ll come in the morning. I’ll drop by early —”
“I said I’d do it,” Reese snapped.
Okay. Fine. He sounded guilty. He should be. For not repairing that tub right in the first place.
Reese jammed on a pair of work boots and followed me out to the truck. The snow had stopped. White cake frosting coated on all the lawns up and down the block. The street was wet, slushy in spots.
“Thanks for coming, Mike, helping us out,” Reese said, hanging on the truck door as I slid Dad’s toolbox onto the front seat. Reese added, “What do I owe you?”
“Nothing.” I hopped inside.
Reese screwed up his face. Removing his wallet from his back pocket, he flipped it open and slid out five bills, which he handed to me. “Buy yourself a burger,” he said.
They were five one-dollar bills. I seethed inside. If Darryl had come over and spent three hours on a weeknight to fix their freaking down-stairs shower, Reese would’ve paid him a bundle. He would’ve had to pay Dad time and a half.
So what? There was satisfaction in a job well done. That’s what Dad used to say. “Baby, be proud of your work. It’ll be your life’s legacy. There’s satisfaction in a job —”
“Caught your game with Deighton,” Reese cut into my thoughts. He eased the door closed. “You picked off that runner at second like a pro. Man, what an arm.”
Deighton. From last week. “Yeah, too bad we lost by a run.” To Deighton, no less. The toilet team of the league. Gina had walked three in the seventh and we didn’t have time to recover.
“You’ll kill ’em next time.” Reese winked at me.
My throat constricted. Dad used to say that: “You’ll kill ’em next time, baby.” Used to wink at me too, the same way. He’d stand behind the bench and cheer me on, give me a thumbs-up, let me know he was there for me.
Reese opened his mouth to say something else, but I gunned the motor. When I peeled out, Reese had to spring back off the curb to avoid my splashback.
She’d left a message on the machine. “Call me.” That was it.
Under the thick glow of moonlight through the grimy kitchen window, I squinted at my Timex. 12:19. Too late to call anyone, even her. I still wasn’t tired. A charge of electricity streaked through my entire vascular system. I felt edgy, restless, a live wire. I needed to go somewhere, do something.
The water tower. Yeah. Why not?
I decided to walk. Run. Get the exercise, the release.
Even though the snowstorm was over, it was cold, my breath visible in the night air. The extension ladder was slippery. I had to take it slow. Nearing the top, I thought I saw a bat dart under the globe of the tank, but it could’ve been my imagination. All my senses were heightened tonight.
At my usual spot, I stood at the railing, checking out the state of Coalton. Asleep. Peaceful. Nel’s Tavern sign lit up. And the pink pig, of course. Over at Jamie’s, there was a light on. His bedroom light. He was such a night owl. What was he doing up? Chatting with Shane? Probably. Planning their tryst. For a moment, I envied Jamie. Envied them both. Then wondered what Jamie was getting himself into.
I could never talk to a stranger like that. Open myself up to someone I’d never met. It was hard enough being honest with Jamie. Give me flesh and blood. Give me human contact. Give me Xanadu.
Jamie’s back door swung out and a figure emerged. Him. He was wearing his CHS sweater and, as he crossed the yard, the Mylar in the cougar emblem caught the light. Was he practicing cheerleading? At this hour? I shouldn’t talk. How many nights had I gott
en up at midnight, one AM, to do curls and crunches? Anything to get through the night, to ward off the nightmare. The recurring nightmare. Two years.
He launched himself onto his backyard trampoline and bounced to the middle. Instead of jumping, he sat down, lay flat on his back, his arms stretched out to the side.
I wondered if Jamie wanted a family, kids. If he’d even thought one day beyond getting laid. It’d be harder for him. Not impossible, though. Nothing was impossible.
Did I say that? No. Those weren’t my words. Not my philosophy of life. That was Dad.
He was wrong. A shadow of doubt clouded everything he’d ever said to me now. He was wrong about life. About living. What did he know about living?
My life’s legacy? Right, Dad. You didn’t leave me a legacy. I was your legacy. You left me.
“You should have stuck around, Pops. Should have seen the job I did tonight. Man, you’d have been proud.”
You taught me, Dad. You taught me everything I know.
How could you take it from me? The plumbing. The softball. The things I valued most, loved most. The one thing. You. Us. You and me together.
Our time. You ended it too soon, Dad. Too soon.
Chapter Eleven
I lost track of time during my third circuit. I was testing myself. Seeing how much I could take. Armie was always after me to slow down. Lighter weights, he said, slower reps would give me a better workout. He said I shouldn’t be working out so much. He said I shouldn’t work out at all during softball season.
Armie talked too much.
I was only five minutes late to class, but I got the evil eye from Mrs. Stargell. She had to stop her lesson to erase the absent mark from my name in the roll book. Sorry, I sent her a silent apology. Couldn’t be helped.
I headed for my seat and skidded to a stop. Bailey was in it. Xanadu had laid claim to his desk, in front, and she gave me a look like, Wow, where are you going to sit?
Good question. Shawnee was back, so the only vacant desk was clear over by the broom closet. There was a reason that desk was empty. It was smaller than the others, shrimp-size, a castoff from the elementary school. I felt like a castoff myself, wedging through the rows, squeezing into the narrow seat.
Miz S drew a parallelogram on the board and I flipped open my note-book. Xanadu turned and smiled at me. I melted. She had on jeans today, plain old blue jeans. They looked sexy as hell on her, though. What didn’t? A light blue, V-neck, long-sleeved shirt exposed her cleavage — oh yes — and highlighted her hair — uh-huh — which was pulled up in a ponytail. She looked different. Like one of us.
I was too far away today, physically and mentally, to care about Geometry. Ratios or hypotenuses or Pythagorean theorems, what did they have to do with my life? Unless there was a connection I was missing to flare nuts or tag outs or trisets. A whole hour passed with-out me. When the bell rang, I glanced down at my notebook. I’d been doodling. One letter, X, filled the entire page. X X X X X.
She was waiting for me outside the door. “How come you didn’t call me last night?” She linked her arm in mine. My day suddenly took on meaning. “Did you lose my number?”
“No. I got home late.” I loved how she was always touching me, making physical contact.
“Heavy date?” She wiggled her eyebrows.
Right. She was so fresh in the morning. The afternoon. Evening. I realized I was staring and refocused ahead. Bailey stood at the end of the hall, talking with Skip and a couple of other guys. Bailey’s eyes traveled the length of Xanadu, taking her in. Deliberately, I pulled her closer, meshing our arms together.
“Hey, Mike,” he said when we neared.
“Hey.” I hitched my chin. “How’s it going?”
“Can’t complain.”
This was more conversation than Bailey and I had had since elementary. He’d been sitting in front of me all term and hadn’t said boo. I take that back. He asked once if he could borrow a sheet of paper for a quiz. Be still my heart.
There was a slight tug on my arm. Xanadu detached herself from me and hugged her books to her chest. “Hi, Bailey,” she said, her voice low and sultry.
“Hi,” he mumbled. He lowered his head. Then bolted.
Why? What’d he do, piss himself ?
Xanadu said, “Oh my God. He’s shy. That is such a turn-on in a guy.”
I could be shy. I was shy.
She added, “Should I call him? Do girls do that here? Call guys?”
How would I know? “Ask Deb Pastore,” I said.
“Deb? Oh, you mean that skank in our class.”
Deb wasn’t a skank.
“I asked Jamie if they were going together and he said no. Deb’s been after Bailey for years and he’s definitely not interested.”
Jamie and his big mouth.
“So should I?” Xanadu repeated. “Call him?”
We’d reached my locker and I drew a deep breath. Spinning my combination lock, I said, “Do whatever you want.”
Xanadu wedged her shoulder against the locker next to mine, facing me. Her books pressed against her breasts, heightening the cleavage. “What I want is for him to call me. Do you think you could give him my number without making it seem too obvious?”
I closed my eyes. Why was she torturing me? I’d call her. I’d call her every night. Unless it was too late. From now on, it was never going to be too late. I felt her eyes on me. Waiting, hoping.
“Sure, I guess.” I shoved my books onto the shelf. The promise welled up from some distant, detached place inside me. Whatever you want, Xanadu. Whatever you need me to do.
I did the evil deed at lunch. Moseyed by Bailey’s table and dropped a folded note onto his mound of mashed potatoes. Just like junior high. How weak. Bailey arched bushy eyebrows up at me.
“I’m only the messenger,” I said. The delivery drone who feels like hurling all over you. Blowing some chunks on those potatoes.
I didn’t stay to watch him open and read the note. I didn’t stay to eat. It was all I could do to keep my head up all the way out the exit.
Wakeeney was a respectable team. The score was tied 4-4, bottom of the seventh. I was up.
“Sza-bo. Mighty Mike. Sza-bo.”
The bleachers were packed, of course, this being a home game. Jamie led the chant.
T.C. was on first, two outs. I bounced the bat off the bottom of my cleat and took a practice swing. “Come on, Mike. You can do it,” I heard Gina holler behind me from the dugout. Rather, the lean-to. The rest of the Cougars stood at the edge, cheering me on. My stomach cartwheeled around the bases. Forget what I said about one player not determining the outcome. It was up to me to win this game.
I took my stance. Visualized a hit.
“Sza-bo. Mighty Mike. Sza-bo.”
The rhythm of the chant pulsed through my head. Wakeeney’s pitcher nodded, narrowed her eyes, and let one rip. Too high. Ball one.
I straightened and took a deep breath. Under the bill of her cap, the pitcher eyed me; tried to psych me out. Me, Mike Szabo. In your dreams. Casually, I removed my batting helmet and smoothed back my bangs. I smooshed the helmet back on. The pitcher began her windup and reared to throw. Just as she was about to release the ball, I held up a hand and called, “Time.”
The ump stepped out, throwing up his hands. The pitcher faltered, stumbling off the mound. The smirk may have registered on my face as I squatted to retie my shoe. When all the posturing was over, the pitch was dead center and
I smoked it. The crack of my bat echoed as the ball sailed over the heads of the infielders. Like they say in the movies, the crowd went wild.
I don’t usually grandstand or even look at the spectators when I cross the plate, but my eye happened to catch the motion of shimmering gold pompoms behind the backstop. Jamie. He was whooping and split jumping in the air. That wasn’t what interested me though. In front of him, at the fence, stood Xanadu.
She gazed into my eyes and smiled. My knees went weak. She stuck two finger
s in her mouth and whistled, shrilly.
I cracked up. This girl was full of surprises.
She motioned me over to the fence. Hands were reaching through the chain-link and I touched fingers and palms on my way. Xanadu grabbed my wrist and held on. “I have to talk to you,” she said, urgency in her voice.
“Okay.” I waved to the crowd that was hailing me. God, I loved this game. “What is it?”
“Not now.” Xanadu lowered her voice. “In private.”
Private? My stomach fluttered. Just the two of us?
She said, “You’re a hero.”
A hero. Dad called me that. He was the only one who ever called me that. “Baby,” he’d say, “you were the hero today. Believe it. You’re going pro.”
Sure, Dad. Thanks to you I’m not. After our post-game hand slap with Wakeeney, Coach Kinneson cornered me in the dugout. “Have you talked to your mom about softball camp?” she asked.
I pretended to rearrange the stuff in my duffel. I’d pored over the brochures, front to back. The camp sounded cool. The stuff dreams are made of. Someone else’s dreams. The glossy folder ended up on Darryl’s stack of auto zines bound for the incinerator one of these years.
Coach said, “Mike —” “We can’t swing it.” I stood and slung my duffel over my shoulder.
“Are you sure? It’s such a great oppor —”
“I’m sure.”
“But Mike, there are scholarships.”
Was she deaf ? I crossed in front of her and jogged out onto the field.
I didn’t see Xanadu at the backstop anymore. A flash of red hair disappeared inside the Davenports’ hearse. She’d come with Faye and Leland. Jamie said in my ear, “She told me to tell you to call her. Bossy bitch, isn’t she?”
I sneered at Jamie. Everyone was congregating on the lawn to walk to the Dairy Delite for a victory celebration. It was tradition. T.C. called, “Mike, your banana split’s on us.”
Far From Xanadu Page 10