out.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. G’night Dad.”
“Good night?”
I didn’t remember taking off my tux and hanging it up so neatly before passing out in my bed, but I did. At least I think I did. I didn’t wake up until my mother barged into my bedroom around noon.
“Telephone. Your ___friend, Everett.”
She said it exactly like that, pausing where she could have said ‘boy.’ Dad had obviously had a follow-up conversation that morning as I slept off my hangover. I think my mother was more upset that I hadn’t come out to her first.
Groggy and queasy, in a T-shirt, some sweatpants over the previous night’s shorts and my itchy black socks, I followed her into the kitchen and picked up the phone.
“I’m totally grounded,” Everett growled.
“Dude,” I whispered, “is your dad gonna–”
“Him? No, don’t worry. He’s … Don’t worry about it. Dad and my mom had a big fight about something else, and I’m in trouble by extension, plus the drinking, so I can’t see you today and I gotta head back to school tonight. My dad’s got chauffeur duties, even though it’s two hours out of his way.” A bit of silence, then, “So, anyway, we had fun, yeah?”
I felt a lurch in my stomach, as if his saying ‘had fun’ meant there wouldn’t be any more.
“Yeah. Yes, we did.” And then, impulsively, I said it, attempting to sound casual. “What if I drove up to your school?”
“What?”
“Come up and visit you.”
“Oh. Um…”
“Forget it. Stupid idea.”
“No, no, it’s … Sure. This weekend’s no good. We have a home game Saturday after next. They have guest dorms, but we’ll figure something out.”
I assumed he meant that we would have to concoct some clandestine scheme to make out in private, if at all. But more than that, I couldn’t understand how he could be so casual, let alone not hung over. Would my visiting mean anything? Would it mean too much?
“You think your parents’ll be cool with it?” Everett asked.
Recalling my drunken confessions of the previous night, I snuck a peek around the hallway toward the kitchen and living room. While Mom angrily scrubbed some surface, Dad calmly read the Sunday paper.
“Fifty-fifty chance.”
“I like those odds,” he said. “Gotta go. I’ll call you with directions in a few days.”
I didn’t tell him I knew exactly where his school was –twenty-nine miles north– having looked it up on a state road map.
The next week, the Three Mile Island nuclear power plant nearly blew up on the other side of Pennsylvania. People starting talking about panicking, but nobody panicked. Gas lines got longer, then shortened. My dad held some serious discussions with some business associates most evenings about their truck drivers. The news on television and in the papers honed in on our state in a somewhat gruesome fascination with the near-disaster area that it was.
I thought about doing an extra credit paper for Biology on the potential effects of nuclear fallout on the environment, but I couldn’t muster any interest. I didn’t expect my level of apathy, nor did my parents.
“I would think you would care more, with your interest in nature,” Mom said over a humorless dinner.
“Actually, I do. It’s just, if we’re going to all die of radiation, I’d like to have one more visit with my, uh, ___friend.”
What I didn’t expect was my mom allowing my visit, but then only a day beforehand telling me she needed her car. She seemed upset about something, that something being me.
I told her that was fine, I would simply take a bus and jog the rest of the way. They didn’t know I was bluffing, that there were no buses to Saltsburg. Despite that, and in spite of my mother, Dad casually tossed me his car keys.
I’m pretty sure it was all good timing that I was leaving for a day, because for the first time in years, my parents were about to have an argument.
Chapter 16
A brick castled
“Oh.”
“Yeah. G’night Dad.”
“Good night?”
I didn’t remember taking off my tux and hanging it up so neatly before passing out in my bed, but I did. At least I think I did. I didn’t wake up until my mother barged into my bedroom around noon.
“Telephone. Your ___friend, Everett.”
She said it exactly like that, pausing where she could have said ‘boy.’ Dad had obviously had a follow-up conversation that morning as I slept off my hangover. I think my mother was more upset that I hadn’t come out to her first.
Groggy and queasy, in a T-shirt, some sweatpants over the previous night’s shorts and my itchy black socks, I followed her into the kitchen and picked up the phone.
“I’m totally grounded,” Everett growled.
“Dude,” I whispered, “is your dad gonna–”
“Him? No, don’t worry. He’s … Don’t worry about it. Dad and my mom had a big fight about something else, and I’m in trouble by extension, plus the drinking, so I can’t see you today and I gotta head back to school tonight. My dad’s got chauffeur duties, even though it’s two hours out of his way.” A bit of silence, then, “So, anyway, we had fun, yeah?”
I felt a lurch in my stomach, as if his saying ‘had fun’ meant there wouldn’t be any more.
“Yeah. Yes, we did.” And then, impulsively, I said it, attempting to sound casual. “What if I drove up to your school?”
“What?”
“Come up and visit you.”
“Oh. Um…”
“Forget it. Stupid idea.”
“No, no, it’s … Sure. This weekend’s no good. We have a home game Saturday after next. They have guest dorms, but we’ll figure something out.”
I assumed he meant that we would have to concoct some clandestine scheme to make out in private, if at all. But more than that, I couldn’t understand how he could be so casual, let alone not hung over. Would my visiting mean anything? Would it mean too much?
“You think your parents’ll be cool with it?” Everett asked.
Recalling my drunken confessions of the previous night, I snuck a peek around the hallway toward the kitchen and living room. While Mom angrily scrubbed some surface, Dad calmly read the Sunday paper.
“Fifty-fifty chance.”
“I like those odds,” he said. “Gotta go. I’ll call you with directions in a few days.”
I didn’t tell him I knew exactly where his school was –twenty-nine miles north– having looked it up on a state road map.
The next week, the Three Mile Island nuclear power plant nearly blew up on the other side of Pennsylvania. People starting talking about panicking, but nobody panicked. Gas lines got longer, then shortened. My dad held some serious discussions with some business associates most evenings about their truck drivers. The news on television and in the papers honed in on our state in a somewhat gruesome fascination with the near-disaster area that it was.
I thought about doing an extra credit paper for Biology on the potential effects of nuclear fallout on the environment, but I couldn’t muster any interest. I didn’t expect my level of apathy, nor did my parents.
“I would think you would care more, with your interest in nature,” Mom said over a humorless dinner.
“Actually, I do. It’s just, if we’re going to all die of radiation, I’d like to have one more visit with my, uh, ___friend.”
What I didn’t expect was my mom allowing my visit, but then only a day beforehand telling me she needed her car. She seemed upset about something, that something being me.
I told her that was fine, I would simply take a bus and jog the rest of the way. They didn’t know I was bluffing, that there were no buses to Saltsburg. Despite that, and in spite of my mother, Dad casually tossed me his car keys.
I’m pretty sure it was all good timing that I was leaving for a day, because for the first time in years, my parents were about to have an argument.
Chapter 16
A brick castled
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