by Thomas Melo
“Touche`” is what Tyler wanted to say, but he wasn’t 100 percent sure if he would be using it correctly, so, what came out instead was, “Oh, ok; sure.”
“Great,” Mr. Colabza said as he tore a late pass from its pad, picked up the pile of ScanTron answer sheets and gingerly walked back over to Tyler’s desk, leaning on other desks for support as he came.
“So, Ty, I was watching you during the test today,” he started. Tyler looked down with shame.
“I know, I know. I just–” Tyler began.
“What happened, Ty? Is everything ok?”
“Here or home?” Tyler asked, but he didn’t really know why.
“Either. It doesn’t matter. If you’re having a problem, I want to help you, and I want you to know that I am someone you can come to,” his teacher comforted. Tyler wanted to cry at the compassion his teacher was showing.
“No, no; nothing like that. I’m fine, really. Just that today, I don’t know, I-I just couldn’t focus.”
“I know, Ty, but there are a couple of things that concern me here: First, you didn’t answer any of the questions on the test. I mean, I could understand not knowing some of the harder questions like “what date did World War II end? Or–”
“September 2nd, 1945,” Tyler interrupted…he couldn’t help it.
“See!?” Jim Colabza smacked the top of the desk, “you’re one of my best students, if not THE best student in the class. You know answers to hard questions like that, but today you wrote absolutely nothing on your answer key? That trips some alarms with me, Ty. It concerns me and I understand that everyone has a bad day, I get that, but you didn’t get any questions correct on the pop quiz I gave last Friday either, and I know you knew about that stuff. You brought in some amazing medals your grandfather had given you from World War II and told us all about his battle regiment.”
“Yeah,” Tyler said lethargically.
“You’re obviously familiar with the subject matter. So why didn’t you answer those questions either?” Mr. Colabza asked, hands to his sides now that he was done gesticulating.
Tyler didn’t like this line of questioning. He liked the playful and funny Mr. Colabza much better, but even in his juvenile yet, mature mind, he understood it was coming from a place of sincere concern and he appreciated that very much. Even though he appreciated the concern, he longed for the button that he could push that would instantly turn this Mr. Colabza into the Mr. Colabza that chauvinistically joked with the females in the class, but never got a single complaint about it from the students themselves or their parents. A classic example of this, which actually happened the previous week, would be when he compared the New York Yankees and the Boston Red Sox to the allied and axis powers in World War II. After he began his oration, he would stop mid-sentence and address the females, saying, “Now, girls, just so that you’re aware, the Yankees and the Red Sox are major league baseball teams,” with what students would describe as a “shit-eating grin” on his face when they told their friends later that day. This was a line that wouldn’t only get a big laugh from the boys in the room, but from the girls as well. They knew where it was coming from; a harmless place. It was also a line that would’ve gotten 99 percent of the other teachers into hot water in our modern age. The contemporary United States is inhabited by a collection of finger-pointers and tattle-tails just waiting to catch their fellow man in another folly, regardless of how minor, so that they can call for his or her head on a pike.
“I know, Mr. Colabza. Nothing’s wrong though; I promise. I just kinda have a girl on my mind. That’s all,” Tyler confided while looking anywhere but at his teacher.
Mr. Colabza sat on the desk and folded his arms directly in front of Tyler with the satisfied look of a detective who finally cracked his suspect after hours of interrogation and finally got his confession. Book ‘em Dan-o!
“Ah, I knew it was something important,” Mr. Colabza smiled free of sarcasm. Tyler smiled back, but it was an uncomfortable smile. It was the type of smile that a child would wear while hiding behind their mother’s leg after being told that they were “just the cutest thing” by a complete stranger in a grocery store.
“Anyone I might know?” Mr. Colabza gossiped.
“Well, she’s a couple of years older. She goes to the high school.”
Now, the high school and the middle school were essentially the same building at the Alan B. Shepard School District, but they were in completely separate wings, and those wings were separated by a long hallway which was always patrolled by an ardent hall monitor, Mrs. Darling, who was anything but. No one listened to her at home (especially her husband), so, by God, they damn well better listen to her here!
“If I guess correctly, will you tell me?” Mr. Colabza asked. Tyler just shrugged his shoulders, but the message was clear: take your best shot, Teach.
“Is it that ninth-grader, Lilith?” he asked, not without a shred of apprehension in his voice. Not much, mind you, but it was there for the trained ear to hone in on. Tyler was not surprised that his teacher had guessed correctly because Tyler would spend every minute he was allowed (when the high school and middle school students intertwined as the buses dropped the kids off at school and when they lined up to take them home) with Lilith. He had assumed that some people would have taken notice, he supposed. Not that he was hiding it. As a matter of fact, he wanted people to see. Tyler Swanson, just hanging out with older ladies…no big deal, boys. Let me show you how it’s done. Even though Tyler had all of this going on in his head, and knew who he had his eyes on was painfully obvious to any onlooker, that didn’t strip him completely of his astonishment at his teacher’s guess.
“How did you know that!?” Tyler said with genuine bewilderment.
“That’s why they pay me the big bucks, Tyler. I’m observant!” he triumphed as he raised a finger in the air in jest. And as quick as he was to joke with his favorite student, he was just as quick to bring it back down to have a little heart to heart, with the hopes of getting Tyler back on track. “Listen, Ty, I know that when you go through school, especially at your age, that you’re going to be checking out girls, but you can’t let it affect how you do in school. Most likely, girls will come and go in and out of your life, but you only have one ride on this Ferris Wheel that they call school. You know? Right now, your other teachers tell me that you’re doing excellent work in their classes, and up until last week’s quiz and today’s unit test, the same went for my class.”
Tyler looked down at the floor in shame. “I’m sorry, Mr. Colabza, I’ll do better,” Tyler promised.
“I know you will, Ty, and I’m not yelling at you, I’m just concerned because I know you have a lot of potential and I don’t want you to waste it, because that would be a very sad thing, that’s all.”
Tyler nodded, and he liked his teacher for saying so, but somewhere deep down in him, a place that he was not in control of necessarily, he resented Mr. Colabza for implying that pursuing Lilith would be a waste of his time in school, and by extension, his potential. Furthermore, he hated how his teacher implied that Lilith would be one of many girls to come and go out of his life. This voice, that spoke up from deep down within Tyler, was confusing him. Tyler never thought anything but pleasant and respectful things of Mr. Colabza, but to put down his woman like that?
Tyler slipped the late pass from between his teacher’s fingers and headed for the classroom door and on to his next class. As he walked down the vacant hallway towards the class that he was now five minutes late for, the subtle indignation he felt kindling deep down somewhere melted away as he began to think, once again, of more important things…Lilith.
Chapter 8
Dinner time was an important tradition in the Swanson family. Importance was not attached to the provision that they actually consume the meal traditionally known as dinner or supper, depending on what region of the country you hail from (in New York, it is “dinner”), you understand. It was the act of sitting down together as a
family and sharing a meal together that was imperative to this nuclear family. It was something that had grown outmoded, what with everyone’s busy schedules in Tyler’s quaint suburban community of St. Anastasio. Not the Swansons. No, Cindy made sure that regardless of how busy their lives got, “this family will sit down to dinner together every night.” So they did.
On this particular night, there was tension, and Tyler could feel it. His parents were being unusually quiet, and every so often Tyler could see his father and mother glance at each other briefly, as if to pose the question: “shall I start, or would you like to?” Tyler was finding that he was beginning to miss the run-of-the-mill softball questions that his parents would toss his way: “How was school today?”, “Did you learn anything interesting?”, “How is everything with your friends?”, “Is anyone giving you trouble?” Then his parents would turn a similar line of questioning towards one another, asking about each other’s work day and finding out what was new, if anything. Usually there wasn’t, which was just fine with a conservative family like the Swansons. Change usually meant that bad things were on the horizon. Just like tonight. Ray and Cindy had something that they needed to nip in the bud right quick.
This tension was making Tyler less hungry than he already was. There was no time for hunger to nag at him, he devoted all of his time to thinking about Lilith. He played back their kiss in his head over and over and over again, focusing on different nuances of the recollection in his mind’s eye each time. It never got boring to him. It was almost as if he–
“Tyler, your mother and I want to speak with you about something,” Ray started. As if this was Cindy’s cue, she put her fork down and wiped her mouth with her napkin and waited for her husband to continue. Tyler didn’t say a word. He looked up at his father and sat there waiting to hear what his parents wanted to talk to him about. “And I’m only going to say this one time. I’m going to ask you something and I don’t want you to lie to me. The worst thing that you can do to your mother and me is lie to us. So don’t you do it, ok?” Ray warned.
“Ok, I won’t,” Tyler promised.
Now that the warning was out of the way, Cindy thought it was safe for her to pitch in and take her husband’s side. Ray was undisputedly the disciplinarian, which he found to be unfair because it made him look like an ogre and his wife, Cindy, look like the hero. In fact, they had many “discussions” about this matter. Did they argue about it? Not so much. Did it ever get a little heated? Perhaps, but that’s normal, and this married couple epitomized the word normal…whatever it means. This was Cindy’s way of showing her husband, and most importantly, Tyler, that she was on Ray’s team, but still enabled her to stealthily take more of a wingman’s approach.
“Remember what your father said, Tyler. Now, did you take your bb gun out and use it without our permission while we weren’t home?” Cindy asked. Tyler held fast for the better part of about ten seconds. He contemplated lying about it, but there were two factors which ultimately persuaded him not to: First, if his parents were asking him this question, it was most likely for a reason; some “t” left uncrossed or “i” left undotted when he was cleaning up after himself and his friends. The other reason, which would make any parent’s heart melt a bit, was that if he lied to his parents, beyond being angry with him, they would be disappointed with him. There were these factors, but anyone with half a brain would know that if you asked a child if they were guilty of something and they pause for ten seconds before giving you an answer…no, if they pause for two seconds before giving you an answer: all signs point to guilty.
“I did. I’m really sorry,” Tyler admitted.
Ray dropped his fork with an audible CLANK in his dish, mostly for show. He and Cindy knew this already, but they were relieved that their son admitted to it and took the honest and moral high-ground rather than stoop to subterfuge with the two people who provided–above and beyond–everything a child would ever need. They were testing his honesty as parents tend to do from time to time. Like looking back over your shoulder after passing a shady looking individual in the street who is doing nothing more than minding his or her own business: just making sure, thank you! Better safe than sorry!
How did Ty’s parents know? Simple. Remember the neighborhood charmer, Herman the Hobo? Well earlier that day (the day Ray and Cindy confronted Tyler at dinner) when Ray got home from work, he was met by Herman the Hobo, who had been halfway down the Swanson’s block before turning back to meet Ray once he saw that his car was heading towards his home. When Ray parked his modest car in the driveway and got out, a second before greeting Herman the Hobo, Herman had the nerve to complain that the cans the Swansons had left out for him to take and return for his nickel-a-piece had jagged edges on which he had cut himself. Ray was obviously annoyed that he was being scolded by someone he and his wife were donating a little money to. True, it was a synergetic relationship–he saved them a trip to the store and all of that–however returning the cans and bottles at the market was not something that the Swansons would have really minded doing. They would do it before they shopped, and then apply the credit they received from returning the bottles and cans towards their grocery bill. Convenient as a Lazy-Susan.
The other reasons Ray and Cindy had their son dead-to-rights was because Ray had found the plastic grocery bag that Tyler wrapped the squirrel carcass in, nestled between a couple of garbage bags in the garbage can out by the chimney. Ray didn’t make a habit of trolling through his trash cans, no sir, but when he walked past and began to smell that strong unmistakable smell of decomposing carrion, wafting from it, his curiosity was piqued.
“Well, hold a minute, Ty, there’s more to it than just getting right to an apology–” Ray started.
“But your father and I are glad that you didn’t lie to us,” Cindy added as she glanced over at her husband for some sign of agreement on his countenance. Instead, Ray had a mild look of derision on his face because he felt that even when they established a unified front, Cindy had to put small fractures in that alliance by making Ray come across as the tougher of the two. What would that lead to except Tyler coming to the “push-over” parent (Cindy) for her blessing after the disciplinarian (Ray) had already said “no?” Going even further, what does that lead to? You guessed it, more arguments which possibly leads to a divorce, which leads to the division of holidays, amongst other things. How splendidly linear! Give yourself a hard-candy for following.
“Do you know how else we knew you’ve been using your gun without our permission?” Ray asked. Tyler looked at him and just shook his head. It wasn’t an outright lie, technically, but he knew where his dad was going in his line of questioning.
“I found a dead squirrel in the trash, in a plastic bag, sandwiched between other bags of garbage like it was stashed there so it wouldn’t be found. I wouldn’t have known that it was there, but when I put out the trash, the goddamn garbage can stunk to high Heaven.” There was a moment of silence at the dinner table while everyone thought two moves ahead about what came next, as well as a brief look of contempt at Ray from his wife for the blasphemy. To Ray’s surprise, Cindy spoke up first.
“Did you kill that squirrel with your bb gun?” Cindy asked.
“Think really hard and carefully before you answer your mother.” Regardless of the cooperation shown by his son, Ray’s blood was beginning to simmer, but finally, true fortification between husband and wife was established. After some thought, Tyler spoke up. He had to concede.
“I did,” Tyler answered.
His parents were disappointed. His dad rubbed his face in exasperation, starting at his forehead and working his way to his chin and then back up where his hand would pass through his hair with sharp speed at the end. His mother let out a deep sigh.
Some children need to be spanked, some need to be put through a wall, some need the less than useless bout in “timeout,” but Tyler only needed to see and hear his parent’s reactions right there at the dinner table.
; I disappointed them, would be the rote hymn that would taunt Tyler until exhaustion mercifully sent him off to sleep that night. Ray was surprised that such a graphic story, his rabbit story, was not enough to deter a boy with Tyler’s temperament from shooting animals. This was a big deal to Ray and Cindy, but not the end of the world. During their evening coffee together, they would always hear Bill O’Reilly or Sean Hannity say that “killing small animals is how it begins” for a significant amount of children who grow up with homicidal ideations and/or other mental irregularities, which are most assuredly dangerous if they remain untreated. Knowing Tyler, his parents were not worried to that extent, but to say that the thought never even crossed their minds would be quite the fib.
Tyler was grounded and stripped of his air rifle for a week, which was and wasn’t the end of the world for him; if that makes sense.
It wasn’t the end of the world in the sense that he would spend more of his time in his room rifling through books about sharks and outer space and other areas of science he had an interest in, as well as taking care of his homework early because it was just something to do. Also, after the disappointing ending to his surreptitious meeting with Lilith and Jayson, he figured that a break from them…well, from Jayson, wasn’t such a bad thing. This brings us to why this was the end of the world for Tyler. He wouldn’t be permitted to spend time with Lilith. He told himself that he would do homework and take care of some of the back-log of books that he’d been meaning to read but always seemed to find something he’d rather be doing at the last minute, but deep down (and even on the surface) he knew better. He would be grounded for a week, and what this actually amounted to was that Tyler had a week to think about Lilith without interruption, but not be able to actually spend any time with her…ouch.
That night, as Tyler lie in his bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to the crickets outside his window with his arms crossed behind his head, an ear to ear grin began to conquer his face from east to west. Conquered from east to west; just like Alexander the Great, Mr. Colabza would say.