Stranger in Dadland (11 page)

“Your father’s a big boy,” Mom said on the phone later. “And he has exactly the life he created for himself. I’ve thought about it, and I want you home as planned, John.”

“I can’t leave him! He needs me.”

“
I
need you,” Mom said. “Liz and I need you.”

What did
they
need me for? I wondered.

“What am I supposed to tell Theo and Brad?”

“
Mom!
It’s just another week,” I groaned.

“And we have to figure out what to do with Ditz’s ashes. And Liz is crying all the time about Jet.”

“Liz is crying?” I asked. That was hard to imagine. “She-really broke up with him?”

“She made a bonfire of all his photos and love notes in a pan on the stove. It sent up such a cloud of fumes, we had to stay out of the house all afternoon!”

I smiled. Building a fire sounded more like Liz than crying did. I’d hate to picture my sister all weepy like Cora.

“Plus, John, a new plane ticket home would get expensive,” Mom was saying.

“I’ll pitch in, out of my savings,” I said. “Dad can’t even walk to the bathroom himself, Mom. I don’t think you get it. He
needs
me!”

“And what about all the times you needed him, Johnny? Where was he then?”

I didn’t say anything. I knew she was just missing me. And maybe she was afraid that she’d lose me—that I might choose to make Dadland my home.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said. “Do what you think is best, son.”

I went into Dad’s room. He was watching TV. I admit, I was plenty tired of the constant racket.

“Can I turn this off a second?” I asked.

Dad looked surprised, as if such a thing had never occurred to him. “You bet,” he said.

“Dad,” I began, “I can stay on longer if you want. I’d be glad to…you know, stay on another week or so to help you out.”

“That’s a mighty nice offer, Big Guy,” Dad said. “But it won’t be necessary. Really. What kind of summer vacation’s that? Hanging around here, watching your old man nod off in his chair?”

“I don’t mind,” I said.

“You’re a good kid,” Dad said. “A really excellent kid. But son, I’ll be just fine.”

“Well, then maybe you should call Cora,” I said. “Maybe you two could make up.”

“I thought you hated her,” he said.

“I don’t
hate
her,” I insisted. “Her eyebrows are weird, and I don’t see why she needs
four
cats, but other than that, she’s a nice enough lady. And anyway, she’s not
my
girlfriend.”

Dad raised his eyebrows.

“You didn’t break up with her because of me, did you?” I asked.

“Nah,” Dad said with a shrug. “It was just that she sent up a big
warning
flag at the beach. Disaster! Beware!” Dad chuckled. “So, I bewared. Or I beed-ware, whatever.”

I thought Dad’s pain pills were making him loopy. “Huh?” I said.

“At the
beach!
” he continued. “We were having a perfectly lovely time. Beautiful day. Sunshine and so on. Then suddenly, Cora said my bathing suit was too ugly to give to the poor. That may not sound like much to
you
, son, but
trust me on this one: Them’s fighting words! And as if she-hadn’t gone way too far already, do you know what she said next?”

I shook my head.

“She said to throw it away and she’d buy me a more fashionable one!”

He stared wide-eyed at me, I guess waiting for my gasp of horror. Then he added, “She was probably thinking of one of those minuscule, muscle-man, G-string Speedo things in unspeakable Day-glo colors!” Dad shuddered.

I laughed.

“You know, son,” he said, shaking a warning finger, “take it from your old man. It starts with a swimsuit, but the next thing you know, it’s lacy curtains in the kitchen!”

“Actually,” I said, “you could use something in your kitchen window. Anyone walking by can see you making eggs in your underwear.”

Dad squinted at me, scratching his chin where a beard had already started growing.

I squinted back.

Then he sighed as if defeated. “I suppose I could give my old friend Cora a call,” he said. “See if she’d like to stop by tomorrow. Maybe bring her niece to say good-bye to you. What the heck.”

“What the heck,” I agreed.

Dad smiled. “In fact, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll phone her right now. Let her yell at me awhile.” He thumped his cast. “I won’t be needing a swimsuit in the near future anyway.”

I left him alone and put my trunks on, then went outside and knocked on Beau’s door. “How about a night swim?” I asked him.

“Cool!” he said, and ducked back in to change.

The pool was lit from underneath, making our bodies look rubbery in the blue-green water. We splashed around, raced. Then we lolled on the steps at the shallow end.

“My dad says I should leave as planned, day after tomorrow,” I said.

“You gonna?” Beau asked.

“I guess so. I mean, I can’t exactly stay if he doesn’t want me to. And my mom wants me home.”

“What do
you
want?” Beau asked.

“
Me
?” I said stupidly.

“No, not
you.
I was asking that palm tree,” he joked.

But his question rang in my ears. What
did
I want to do? I hadn’t the foggiest idea, so I changed the subject. “Is your brother always like that?” I asked.

“Claude?”

“No.”

“Marcel?”

I shook my head. “Eric.”

“Ah! The ugly one,” Beau said. “No, he’s not always like that. Sometimes he’s worse.”

I waited for Beau to continue but he didn’t. So I said, “How can you stand it?”

He shrugged. “My dad says my uncle Jorge was always pounding on him as a kid. It’s a brother thing.”

“But you’re nice to your other brothers.”

“
I
,” Beau said, poking himself in the chest, “am an infinitely superior human being to both my brother Eric and my uncle Jorge.”

“Infinitely,” I agreed. “Are your dad and your uncle friends now?” I asked.

Beau laughed. “We only hear from Uncle Jorge when he needs money.”

When I went upstairs, Dad had the TV back on. “All is forgiven,” he said, nodding toward the phone. “The womenfolk are bringing lunch tomorrow.”

I didn’t know what to think about that. Was there any truth to the swimsuit story? I shrugged to myself. Another mystery. One among many. Like: Would Cora still be around next summer, Muzak, gum chewing, and all? What if Dad married her? Would they keep her cats? Where would that leave me? In a hotel?

I looked at Dad, propped up on his pillows, and told myself I’d worry about all that later. Or, as Jet says, “I’ll jump off that bridge when I get to it.”

We had pizza delivered and ate it on Dad’s bed. There was an old movie on and I didn’t mind watching it. The bad guy reminded me of Eric, so when the movie was over, I told Dad about Eric always beating up on Beau.

Dad rubbed his stubbly chin. “Sorry to hear that,” he said. “I never noticed.” How could he not have noticed? I wondered briefly. But I suppose that just because Beau was
paying close attention to my dad, it didn’t necessarily mean Dad was paying attention back. Then, without even meaning to, I told him about Alex.

“Edgar White,” Dad replied. “I guess everyone’s got one.”

“Huh?”

“A bully. Mine was Edgar White. I’ll never forget that name. I spent years hoping I’d run into him again so I could punch his lights out.”

I waited for him to go on.

“I vowed I’d never be picked on again. Started lifting weights and slugging away at the punching bag, pretending it was his face.” Dad smiled. “Edgar White’s what made me start working out, so I guess something good came of it. Until then I was this skinny.” He held up his finger. “Edgar White was big and beefy. Mean as sin. Had three goons who did whatever he said.” Dad shook his head. “They got me on the way home from school once. Four against one.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“Fought for my life.”

“Alex never actually touched me,” I said. “Just took my books, called me Worm. But it was for a whole school year.”

Dad shook his head again. “Hard being a kid,” he said. “I forget that.” He took the last, cold piece of pizza and chewed awhile. Then he said, “I thought bullies were a thing of the past, that kids were smarter now, more civilized and sophisticated than in my day. I see how much more articulate and thoughtful you are than I was as a boy, and I hoped life was different for your generation. Better.”

“I wish,” I said.

Dad nodded. “Well, maybe it’ll be better for
your
son,” he said. “Or your grandson.”

My son
? The idea made me laugh. But then I imagined myself as an old guy with a busted knee and my nerdy kid telling me he’s getting picked on by bullies. I guess I’d tell him about Alex. Maybe mention Edgar White too.

“Dad,” I said, “can I ask you something?”

“Fire away.”

“Remember that guy Chris who called? When I forgot to give you his message?”

Dad nodded.

“How come he didn’t know you had a son?”

Dad shrugged and looked like he was going to joke about it, but then he stopped himself and said, “I’m sorry, John. Everyone’ll know I have a son from now on.”

The next day Cora and Iris brought fried chicken, potato salad, garlic rolls, watermelon, and cherry pie. I ate like a pig. I was in no shape for swimming, but Iris insisted. She practically dragged me out the door, whispering that we should leave the two lovebirds alone.

When we got outside, she said, “Thanks for breaking your father’s leg.”

“No problem,” I said.

We knocked on Beau’s door. Then the three of us headed down to the pool. I could tell Beau had an instant crush on Iris by the way he walked slumped over. Plus, he did some fancy dives I’d never seen him do before.

It’s harder to tell with girls, but I thought Iris might like him too, because when we played Marco Polo, she always followed Beau’s voice. I didn’t mind
too
much. I was leaving
anyway. Maybe Cora would start bringing Iris over, and she and Beau could hang out together, go to the diner, eat salt.

I was glad that Eric didn’t show up to pick on Beau in front of Iris. But after a while, Beau’s mom came out on the balcony and called down, “Beau, Sweetie! Will you take the boys for a minute? I need a shower!”

Beau didn’t grumble—not even about being called Sweetie in front of a girl. I
hated
it when my mom called me Honey or Cutie in front of
anyone.

Beau hauled himself out of the pool and ran dripping up the stairs. Then he came back down with Marcel wiggling in his arms and Claude skipping along next to him.

Iris said Beau’s brothers were adorable and she thought Beau was a terrific big brother. I could tell she liked that in a person. I guess Beau was right about the chick-magnet thing.

When we were leaving the pool, Beau pulled me aside. I figured he was going to tell me he liked Iris, but he said, “I told His Ugliness about you and Chet Carter.”

“Yeah?”

“He practically peed his pants!” Beau said, laughing. Cackling, actually, all the way back to his apartment. Claude and even baby Marcel joined in the laughter. The three of them sounded slightly insane.

Iris looked puzzled.

“It’s a long story,” I told her.

Back inside Dad’s apartment, Cora had her camera out and was taking pictures of Dad in his cast.

“Take one of me and John!” Iris said, grabbing my arm. We were both still in our bathing suits and shivery from the pool. I could feel the goose bumps on Iris’s arm.

Cora took two pictures. “I’ll send you prints,” she said, and I almost liked her. I pictured Brad and Theo green with envy.

While Iris and I had been down at the pool, Cora had helped Dad take a shower without getting his cast wet. And she’d held the mirror so he could shave sitting down. I never would’ve thought of that. Dad seemed as happy as a clam and Cora was practically purring.

When they said good-bye to each other, Iris whispered to me, “Well, see ya at the wedding, maybe.”

“Yours and Beau’s?”

Iris shoved me and shrieked, “Shut up!” She must’ve liked Beau even more than I’d thought. Then she said, “No, Scarecrow, I meant my aunt and your dad’s wedding! Then we’ll be kin. I’ll call you Cousin Kansas. How’s that?”

“Beats being called Scarecrow and Tin Man,” I said.

“Sorry, Lion.” Iris giggled, darting out the door. At least she hadn’t called me Dorothy.

Beau’s question from the night before had been brewing in my brain long enough. What did
I
want to do? By the time Iris and Cora left, I knew the answer. So, I just up and asked Dad if he’d like me to come back over my winter break. I-didn’t get all fidgety and hangdog about it. I didn’t beg or anything. I just
asked.
It wasn’t hard.

“You’d do that?” Dad asked, surprised. “You’d come twice a year?”

“Of course I would,” I answered. “Sure.”

“That would be
terrific!
” Dad said. “Absolutely terrific!” And I could tell he meant it. We grinned and grinned at each other like two goofs.

“No Rollerblading, though,” I finally said.

Dad laughed. “You’re right. We better stick to hang gliding and bungee jumping.”

I called home to tell my mom to expect me the next day as planned. Jet answered the phone.

“Jet!” I said. “You’re back!”

“Your sister sent up smoke signals summoning me,” he joked. I guess he meant her bonfire on the stove.

“I did not!” Liz squealed in the background. Then she must’ve grabbed the phone. “John?” she said.

“Yep.”

“Jet was camped out in his car in front of the house for so long, I finally took pity on the neighbors, who, needless to say, were getting a little freaked. I let him back on
probation.
”

“Glad to hear it,” I said. Then I told her I’d be home the next day.

“Good,” Liz said. “Mom’s been in a state, and I couldn’t bear another week of worry patrol on my own! How’s the Phantom’s knee?”

“The knee’s bad, but the Phantom is great,” I said. “He thinks you’re
classy
, by the way. And remind me to tell you what he said about your Barbie and Ken dolls.”