On the Line, page 6
“Really sweet ride,” Aaron said low as we headed over.
“The car’s got style. So does your father,” Tammy commented as my dad stood to his full height.
“Good game,” Dad said as we got closer.
“A win is a win. I offered Aaron and Tammy a ride home.”
Without hesitation my dad said, “No problem. Hop in, kids.”
“Hello, Mr. Ryker. I’m Aaron.” He held out his hand to shake. “And this is my baby sister, Tammy.”
Tammy glanced fast and hard at her brother before smiling up at my dad.
“Hey, Tammy. Congratulations. First female player on a boys’ team in the history of the town.”
“And the first one to score points,” I added.
“Two free throws when we’re up by more than twenty points aren’t much to celebrate,” she said.
“Yes, they are,” my father replied. “There’s always pressure coming in late, and you were proving yourself. Lots of history riding on those shots.” My dad headed to the driver’s-side door.
“Shotgun!” Junior yelled. No point in arguing. He called it, so he’d get it.
We all threw our bags in the trunk before Junior opened the door and pulled the seat forward. Aaron climbed in, followed by Tammy. I climbed in last and plopped down beside her. This was tighter than I’d thought it was going to be. Tammy’s leg was pressed against mine. I hunched my shoulders in and stuck my hands between my knees. Now I really wished I’d called shotgun.
My dad started the engine. The car rumbled, then purred.
“This car is really something,” Tammy said, leaning forward between the seats. I was grateful, as it gave us some separation.
My dad glanced at us in the rearview mirror. “Thanks. It belonged to my father.”
“And someday to Jay Bird,” Junior added.
“Jay Bird?” Tammy asked.
He hadn’t called me that in years. “Could you go back to one syllable?” I asked. “Where do you two live?”
“Sixteen Huntington Lane,” Tammy said. “Do you know where that is? I can give directions.”
“He doesn’t need them.”
My dad laughed. “I think I know every place there is to know in this town. It’s up on the hill in the Ridge Town development. Lots of nice houses up there.”
“Big houses,” Junior added. “We all call it Rich Town.”
“Jordan tells me you moved in before the start of the school year,” my dad said.
“Yeah, we moved up from the city,” Aaron replied.
“Our parents still work there,” Tammy added.
“Going from a city of three million people to a town of one hundred and fifty thousand must be quite a change,” Dad said.
“It is. It does feel smaller for sure,” Aaron agreed.
“But nice. The people are nice,” Tammy added. She had a hand on Junior’s shoulder as she continued to lean forward. Was she uncomfortable being pressed against me? Was that why she was doing that? Did I smell bad? I probably did.
“Nicest people in the world in this town,” Dad replied. “But you’ve moved at a weird time. Lots of changes coming with the plant closing down.”
“My father said we got our house cheaper because of that,” Aaron said.
“More than a little truth to that,” my dad replied.
We came to a stop at a red light. A car passing by gave my dad a honk. He waved out the window in response.
Tammy leaned back enough to share a look with Aaron. She rested her hands in her lap as her leg slid against mine.
“How fast can this car move?” Aaron asked.
“The way this one is tricked out, it could probably do close to one hundred and fifty miles per hour,” Dad answered.
“Not that any of us will ever see it,” Junior said. “Mr. R likes to keep it within the limits.”
“Safety first.”
My dad revved the engine a little as we waited for the light to change. The engine roared in response.
“No more flutter,” Junior said.
“I fixed it. A little adjustment of the carburetor.” He revved it again, longer and louder.
The light changed. My dad shifted into first and revved hard, and the car jumped off the line, pushing me back into the seat and Tammy beside me as the tires squealed. He shifted into second and the car jumped again. He took his foot off the gas, and our speed quickly dropped.
“Wow!” Junior screamed. “That was amazing!”
“A little sample of what’s hidden under the hood.” My dad turned enough so he could see me out of the corner of his eye. “No telling your mother. Tammy, Jordan told me you turned down a starter’s position on the girls’ team. That must have been hard.”
“Not really. It’s important for me to make a statement.”
My dad nodded. “There are more important things than playing time.”
I hadn’t expected that from him.
“I’m glad somebody understands,” she said. I knew she was answering my dad but speaking to her brother.
“Small towns, not small minds. Right, Tammy?” Aaron said as he crossed his arms.
“It’s important to stand up for what you believe,” Dad said, ignoring Aaron. “It’s brave. Good for you.”
We turned, passing through big gates and stone walls that marked Ridge Town. We climbed until we reached their street, stopping in front of their house. It was big even compared to the other houses in the development.
Junior got out and held the front seat forward so I could climb out first, followed by Tammy and Aaron. Tammy brushed against me as she passed. She and Aaron said thanks to my dad and goodbye to Junior and me. I climbed back in.
“Aaron can play some ball,” Dad said. “He’s not bad. Tammy did okay too.”
“She’s improved a lot, and she’s fast,” I commented, one knee pressed into the back of my dad’s seat and one into Junior’s. I leaned forward, elbows resting on my knees.
“They seem like nice kids. Tammy looked cute in that getup,” my dad said.
“I’m glad somebody in your family noticed,” Junior said.
“I’m sure Jordan noticed,” Dad said. “Although it’s probably best not to get involved with a teammate.”
Junior laughed louder than the joke deserved. “Let’s talk more about Tammy and Jay over dinner.”
“Sorry, but I’m going to have to drop you off at home. Family dinner tonight.”
“What? I’m not family?” Junior asked.
“Of course you are, but it’s just immediate family tonight. The three of us. We have, um, things to talk about.” My dad shifted in his seat uncomfortably.
I didn’t have anything to talk about except today’s win, so that meant there were things I had to listen to. Suddenly I wished Junior could be there for dinner instead of me.
Nine
“Good game, man. See you tomorrow,” I said to Junior.
“You too. Don’t worry.”
I knew he was talking about the family “talk.” I took over the passenger seat as Junior gave a backward glance and disappeared inside his house. His mom, still in her scrubs, bustled to the door to wave goodbye.
Dad pulled out and switched on the radio.
I reached over and switched it off.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Jordan,” my dad said. “I told you the other night your mom and I would be talking and making some changes. I really shouldn’t say any more without her.”
He reached for the radio again and turned it back on. It was a short and uncomfortable drive. We pulled into the driveway. I was up the path and into the house before my dad had unlocked the trunk.
“Mom?” I called, heading inside. “Mom?”
I saw her through the sliding doors off the kitchen, flipping burgers on the grill outside. If my mom was barbecuing, it meant she and my dad weren’t risking a fight. My dad always wanted to man the grill, but my mom was actually better at it. That would have been enough to set one of them off lately. They must have called some kind of truce.
Mom smiled at me and Dad, although her eyes were red and swollen. Maybe some smoke from the grill had gotten into her face.
“Almost done, boys,” she said as she closed the lid.
The table was set with a big salad, a plate of buns that were not homemade—another potential cause of a fight— and most of the condiments from the fridge.
“What’s going on?” I asked again.
“Finish up, Mandy,” my dad said.
My mom nodded.
I sat at the table and shoved my plate forward.
My dad drummed his fingers on the edge of the place mat. He seemed nervous.
Mom came into the kitchen and put the plate of steaming burgers down in the middle of the table. “Let’s eat,” she said as she took a seat.
The burgers smelled great, and although I was ravenous, I said, “I’m not hungry. I want to know what’s going on.”
Mom reached across the table and gripped my dad’s fingers, stopping them from drumming.
He looked down at her hand and frowned.
“Your mom and I decided to go to counseling,” he said and pulled his hand out from under my mom’s as he sat straighter in his chair. “We began discussing how things aren’t working anymore.”
“But you’re going to fix them?” I asked.
“We’re going to try our best, but…” Mom started, then caught my dad’s eye.
“But it’s not an easy fix,” he finished. “But we’re talking again and trying not to fight.”
I looked at my mom and saw her eyes had become even more red.
“Isn’t that a good thing?” I asked.
My dad took a burger and placed it onto a bun on his plate. Then he switched plates with my mom and did the same.
“It should be, but it’s not going to feel that way,” he said. “Living together, our marriage, it’s not…I don’t know…I need space, Jordan. Your mom and I need space so we’re not so angry anymore, so we can be better parents who aren’t always fighting over stupid little stuff. There’s one more thing that will happen while we’re trying to work it out.”
“Your dad and I made a decision,” my mom said.
“Mandy, you don’t need to take the blame on this one.” He lifted the top of the burger bun and then dropped it back down. “You should really eat, Jordan.”
I ignored his advice and the burgers. “What’s the one more thing you decided?”
“If I keep living here, your mom and I will keep fighting and making everything miserable for everyone. I’ve decided… I’m…I’m moving out.”
“We thought it would make the counseling more effective.” My mom reached for my dad’s hand again. He let her take it. I stared at her, then him.
“Jordan?” my dad said.
I didn’t answer.
“I already found a place with somebody who used to work on the line. She has a space above her garage. One of her kids used to live there. It’s in the next town, but it’s not far. It’s cheap and it’ll do for now.”
“When will you move out?”
My dad looked at my mom. “I guess as soon as I can get some stuff together,” he said. “It'll be a change, but I’m hoping a good one. It’s not what any of us want.”
“Then don’t do it. Stay here and go to counseling and… and…” My words trailed off.
“It’s not about what we want but what we need,” my dad said.
“And you’re all right with this?” I asked my mom.
She hesitated for an instant. “We decided together.” I didn’t believe her.
I turned to Dad. “What if I say I want to live with you?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“You don’t want to live with me?” my mom asked. Her voice quivered, and the tears welling in her eyes finally slid down her cheeks. She didn’t wipe them away.
“I didn’t say that—I didn’t mean that. I want to live with both of you.”
“That’s not an option,” Dad said. “I have to leave and you have to stay. I need to figure this out on my own.”
“How do you think going away is going to fix it?”
“Jordan,” he said, “as much as you might not want to hear this, I need to be out of the game for a while.”
“We’ll keep going to counseling and see what type of damage we can mitigate,” Mom said with no tone or emotion considering she was crying. “It’s only temporary.”
“I don’t think we can guarantee this is temporary,” my dad said, not looking at Mom but at me. “I don’t know where we’re going to find the money for the extra rent as well as counseling.”
“We need the counseling. You agreed,” Mom said.
“Because you pushed,” Dad said. There was a long pause. “As usual.”
As my mom opened her mouth to reply, I shoved a burger between one of the buns and walked away from the table.
Both of their heads pivoted to watch me as I took a big bite and kept walking.
“Jordan, you need to stay for this discussion,” my dad said.
I could tell you the same, I thought. I knew better than to say it. “It sounds like you two have figured out what’s going to happen. Without me. I’m going to my room.”
“You need to sit back down.”
“If you get to walk away, why can’t I?”
“Sit down and eat some salad.”
“Salad?” I laughed. “Seriously? You’re checking out of our family, and I should sit down and eat a salad?”
My dad stood up and towered in the kitchen doorway as I reached the bottom of the stairs. “At least finish your burger.”
I made a point of shoving the rest of the hamburger in my mouth and turning my hands to show him it was all gone before I put one foot on the first step. I swallowed the barely chewed pieces before I said, “I’m going to my room, but I’m still going to be living here. You’re bailing.” I could see him almost grow bigger and fill out the doorframe. I wanted to say, I’m the man of the house now, and I don’t have to listen to you. But I only thought it.
“Sit back down now, Jordan!”
My mom stood up and held one of my dad’s forearms. The tears on her cheeks had dried. “Let him go, Chris,” she said quietly. He went to move to the staircase. “Jordie, up to your room. Chris, sit down.”
For a second everyone in the house seemed to hold their breath.
“Mandy,” he said. It sounded like an explosion was coming.
“I think you were right. We all need some space. I’ll help you pack,” she said. “To your room, Jordie.”
Still framed by the kitchen doorway, my dad crumpled onto a chair. I ran upstairs, three steps at a time.
I could hear them moving around in their bedroom, drawers opening, voices hushed, not much conversation. I heard the front door close, the trunk of the Camaro slam, then nothing.
My bedroom door opened and Mom was there, a silhouette. I turned my head to stare at the wall, my back to her. I didn’t really care if she knew I was ignoring her this time.
I heard her move across my bedroom floor and sit on the edge of my bed. She didn’t say anything. She gently patted me on the back.
I turned over, and she began stroking my hair.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” I mumbled.
“You didn’t. I wasn’t surprised when you said you wanted to live with your father. Hearing it though…”
“I’ve kind of blamed you for all the fighting.”
“I knew that,” she said. “Ice cream?” She picked a container with two spoons on it up off the floor. I hadn’t realized she’d brought that in.
We turned to face each other, sitting cross-legged on my bed as she opened up the container of mint–chocolate chip. My dad hated this flavor. My mom had brought it home for the two of us.
“Tonight wasn’t how I wanted things to go for any of us,” my mom said between spoonfuls. “Especially for you.”
“I didn’t think he’d just leave like that,” I said.
“This isn’t the first time we’ve separated, Jordie.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You were too young to remember,” she said.
“But the way you two recite the story of getting together is like some modern fairy tale.”
My mom swallowed some ice cream. “We’ve broken up a few times, but we separated twice after getting married. Once shortly after becoming newlyweds.”
I felt the ice cream melt on my tongue.
“He came back because I told him I couldn’t go through the pregnancy alone.”
I nodded. “He came back because of me then.”
Mom dug into the ice-cream container. “No. He came back. I lost that baby.”
“I didn’t know. I’m…sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. There was never a reason for you to know that.”
She worked at digging out a deposit of chocolate chips.
“We were both hurting, but I was destroyed. Your dad helped me put myself back together,” she said. “It was hard. He stayed when maybe he had no reason to. Then I got pregnant with you, and we ended up separating again for several months. It was before you turned one. We managed to keep it hidden.”
“Wait. Why?” I asked.
“This town can be vicious with people’s personal lives, and there’s nothing much more personal than losing a baby or having a failed marriage. It won’t be long before this is being talked about. We’re going to have to trust that this is for the best.” She paused. “At least for now.”
We sat there sharing ice cream and silence. I wasn’t sure there was anything more to say.
The ice cream and hamburger felt like they’d formed a solid mass in the bottom of my stomach. I knew she didn’t realize it, and she’d meant to comfort me, but my mom had just told me that my dad had practice at leaving me behind.
Ten
The Camaro wasn’t in the driveway when I awoke. Somehow I’d thought—or maybe hoped—he’d be back. He’d been packed up and gone before eleven the night before. Only a couple of hours between telling me he was moving out and actually moving out. It was hard to believe any of this could be real, but along with his car being gone, there was something else to confirm it—no smell of baking downstairs.
