at night, wild-eyed, his father took to Daronâs neck with a shuddering reminder that, This is my house. I make the rules about who goes where, when, why, and how.
Laughter erupted from the backyard while Daron was toeing one of the squares of dead grass where The Charlies had stood, and he looked up to see his mother kicking the other. He had not heard her come out.
Those were heavy. She flexed her arms.
That explained the ruts. Daron muttered his thanks.
Does our deal still stand, Dâaron?
Yesâm.
Donât Yesâm me. Does our deal still stand?
Yeah, Mom, it does.
Okay. She pinched his cheek and it burned even more than the slap. He flinched. Trying to disfigure me?
They laughed. She kissed him.
You donât really think I forgot about your girlfriend, did you?
Sheâs not exactly my girlfriend, and she does eat meat, just not beef.
Oh. Well. Anyway, what I was going to say was I forgot to take those veggie thingamabobs out of the freezer. And who knows, after she gets to see you in your home environment that might change. Hmmm?
Daron tore the blade of grass he was holding.
His mother chucked his chin. I love you, hon.
Me too.
She went, as she always did, Thank you, honey. You know thatâs my favorite band.
W HEN HE RETURNED TO THE BACKYARD, Quint and Louis were sitting on the red beer cooler, thumb wrestling, Candice and his stripper cousinâat least he thought it was herâwere in the gazebo in deep conversation, and Charlie was talking to Daronâs father. The Davenports were big men and women. Two generations in the mill. Before that, three generations of farming, his father liked to say, Yeoman. Yo-man! His uncles would kite their arms like they were steering a bullwhip and declare, Weâre the original Georgia Crackers. But next to Charlie, his father looked puny. He never thought of Charlie as large until he saw him next to other people, or recognized the look of closeted alarm some people wore as they tried to avoid being next to him. In The City, rarely did anyone sit beside him on the subway, even during rush hour. At night, women clutched purses, crossed streets; guys steered wide. Charlie would occasionally whistle Vivaldi to reassure bystanders because, No one expects to be muggedby a dude who knows classical music. More than once he claimed he enjoyed the extra space. Daron never believed that. Today, no one behaved like that. But then again, they knew if anyone was going to gladly handle their possessions, it would be Quint. His father waved him over.
Dâaron, is there something you want to say?
Daron stuttered, giving Charlie a quizzical look.
Tell me again what Dâaron told you about us, Charlie.
Charlie looked confused.
His father laughed. Iâm just teasing you. I wouldnât want to know what you said, especially if you didnât say anything. I thought my mom was old-fashioned for scaring us off the radio, Dâaron thinks weâre old-fashioned, and your kidsâhe rested a hand on Charlieâs shoulderâwill think youâre old-fashioned.
Just a cycle, sir.
Thatâs right, sir.
They went back to talking about the playoffs, and Daron quickly excused himself. The smoke rising from the Green Egg swayed lazy in the wind, the bright coolers were lined up beside the house like Legos. Candice was now moving through the crowd, snapping pictures of everybody. Daron would have to ask her about that later. He didnât want his family to be featured in the final project, the object of academic scrutiny, their every cough subject to diagnosis by his professor and classmates. But he couldnât say, No, no he couldnât, not while she was hugging up next to his uncle and aunt, teetering, extending her arm before her to capture what she called her Paparazzi shot. Last year sheâd cut her hair short a few days after they first met. He remembered because the week after the dot party, she waved him over to her
Laughter erupted from the backyard while Daron was toeing one of the squares of dead grass where The Charlies had stood, and he looked up to see his mother kicking the other. He had not heard her come out.
Those were heavy. She flexed her arms.
That explained the ruts. Daron muttered his thanks.
Does our deal still stand, Dâaron?
Yesâm.
Donât Yesâm me. Does our deal still stand?
Yeah, Mom, it does.
Okay. She pinched his cheek and it burned even more than the slap. He flinched. Trying to disfigure me?
They laughed. She kissed him.
You donât really think I forgot about your girlfriend, did you?
Sheâs not exactly my girlfriend, and she does eat meat, just not beef.
Oh. Well. Anyway, what I was going to say was I forgot to take those veggie thingamabobs out of the freezer. And who knows, after she gets to see you in your home environment that might change. Hmmm?
Daron tore the blade of grass he was holding.
His mother chucked his chin. I love you, hon.
Me too.
She went, as she always did, Thank you, honey. You know thatâs my favorite band.
W HEN HE RETURNED TO THE BACKYARD, Quint and Louis were sitting on the red beer cooler, thumb wrestling, Candice and his stripper cousinâat least he thought it was herâwere in the gazebo in deep conversation, and Charlie was talking to Daronâs father. The Davenports were big men and women. Two generations in the mill. Before that, three generations of farming, his father liked to say, Yeoman. Yo-man! His uncles would kite their arms like they were steering a bullwhip and declare, Weâre the original Georgia Crackers. But next to Charlie, his father looked puny. He never thought of Charlie as large until he saw him next to other people, or recognized the look of closeted alarm some people wore as they tried to avoid being next to him. In The City, rarely did anyone sit beside him on the subway, even during rush hour. At night, women clutched purses, crossed streets; guys steered wide. Charlie would occasionally whistle Vivaldi to reassure bystanders because, No one expects to be muggedby a dude who knows classical music. More than once he claimed he enjoyed the extra space. Daron never believed that. Today, no one behaved like that. But then again, they knew if anyone was going to gladly handle their possessions, it would be Quint. His father waved him over.
Dâaron, is there something you want to say?
Daron stuttered, giving Charlie a quizzical look.
Tell me again what Dâaron told you about us, Charlie.
Charlie looked confused.
His father laughed. Iâm just teasing you. I wouldnât want to know what you said, especially if you didnât say anything. I thought my mom was old-fashioned for scaring us off the radio, Dâaron thinks weâre old-fashioned, and your kidsâhe rested a hand on Charlieâs shoulderâwill think youâre old-fashioned.
Just a cycle, sir.
Thatâs right, sir.
They went back to talking about the playoffs, and Daron quickly excused himself. The smoke rising from the Green Egg swayed lazy in the wind, the bright coolers were lined up beside the house like Legos. Candice was now moving through the crowd, snapping pictures of everybody. Daron would have to ask her about that later. He didnât want his family to be featured in the final project, the object of academic scrutiny, their every cough subject to diagnosis by his professor and classmates. But he couldnât say, No, no he couldnât, not while she was hugging up next to his uncle and aunt, teetering, extending her arm before her to capture what she called her Paparazzi shot. Last year sheâd cut her hair short a few days after they first met. He remembered because the week after the dot party, she waved him over to her
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