Streamline (33 page)

They were almost to Leo’s homeroom when they passed the assistant principal. Mr. Morrison reached out to shake Jason’s hand.

“Good to see you, Jason.” He looked down. “And Leo, we’re glad to have you back.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“A lot of things are clicking into place since I heard what your father did to you. Your fight with Billy Ryan, his supposed retaliation, Jason telling me you’d be out of school for a while — I wish you boys had told me the truth.”

Leo looked away.

“No wonder you moved so far away, Jason,” Mr. Morrison said, shaking his head. “And no wonder you came back.”

“Well, as you can see, I’ve done a
great
job protecting Leo.”

Mr. Morrison sighed. “It’s tough to protect yourselves from your own father. I’m wondering, should we expect a visit from him at school? I’d like to get security in place so we’re ready.”

“Anything’s possible,” Jason said, squeezing Leo’s shoulder again.

“But we heard from his CO he’s to stay away or risk returning to jail. So far he hasn’t been around. Uh, I gotta get to work, sir. I better get Leo to class.”

“Can’t you wheel yourself, Leo?” Mr. Morrison asked.

“Well, sir, my doctors don’t want me using my sprained wrist for a while. Audrey’s going to help me when we have the same classes.”

“I see. Jason, go ahead. I’ll take Leo where he needs to go.”

“Thank you.” Jason gave his brother a half-smile. “Catch ya later.”

“Thanks, Jase, for everything.”

As Mr. Morrison wheeled Leo into homeroom, the chatter of the students halted. Leaning down, he whispered, “I’ll give Audrey a hall pass so she can take you to every class. I don’t want you to be alone in this, Leo.”

Leo nodded, looking up to find thirty sets of eyes trained on him. He’d never felt more alone.

April fourteenth, exactly one month after Jason’s sentencing hearing, turned out to be a very busy day. He’d worked eight hours at the warehouse, met with his probation officer, and now headed to the after-school program for his community service.

As he drove, Jason mulled over his conversation with his PO. He’d been pleased with Jason’s stellar AA attendance but was less impressed when Jason told him he’d do anything to protect his brother. “No vigilante justice,” the PO had warned. “Call the authorities.” Jason clenched his teeth all over again. Calling Child Protective Services all those years ago had only made things worse.

When he parked in the middle school parking lot, Jason found himself eager to see the kids. Community Service was a completely different kind of CS.

Inside, he approached the program director, Connie. She peered at him over her reading glasses.

“You’re six minutes late.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll stay late to get in my three hours.” The crease in her forehead disappeared. “That’s not necessary. The boys have been waiting for you on the court — pestering me about when ‘Mr. Jason’ would get here.”

He grinned. “Better not leave ’em hanging then.”

He trotted through the building to the dilapidated outdoor basketball court. He found a group of seventh graders taking turns shooting the one worn ball in their possession.

“Yo, Jason,” one called, approaching him to exchange a choreographed handshake.

“That’s Mr. Jason to you, my little man.” Jason winked and peeled off his shirt. “C’mon, girls. Let’s get started.” After some quick negotiating and calculations, the boys formed teams, and half of them also removed their shirts. Jason noticed the most talented player, Esteban, had made sure he joined the “shirts” and kept his gray long-sleeved top on, not even rolling up the sleeves despite the humidity.

Jason had a special fondness for Esteban, a quiet boy who seemed to grow taller between every visit. Esteban had a gift for the game, but he never talked trash. He just looked down when his peers jab-bered and teased him.

Midway through the second game, Jason blocked Esteban, challenging him with tight defense. Pivoting to shoot one of his trademark fade-away jumpers, Esteban spun to his right just as Jason stepped to the left, and at their ensuing collision the boy howled in pain.

It’d been solid contact, but Jason’s internal alarm sounded when he heard the wounded cry, which was far out of proportion to the force of the impact.

After the game Jason pulled him aside as the other kids shuffled over to take a break at the side of the building. “Kind of hot out to be wearing a long-sleeve shirt,” Jason said, wiping sweat off his face.

Esteban averted his eyes. “I’m not hot. It’s only April.”

“Lift up your shirt.”

“No, man. It’s cool.” Esteban stepped backward.

“It sounded like you were injured when we collided during the game, and I want to see. Lift up your shirt.” Esteban froze, but he offered no resistance when Jason pulled up the shirt to find deep purple bruises lining his ribcage.

“I-I-I’m sorry.” Esteban yanked his shirt back down.

“Your old man did that to you?” Jason asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“It was an accident.”

Jason turned toward the building, relieved to find none of the other boys paying attention. “Hey, guys, go ahead inside without us.

We’re going to talk to Miss Connie for a second.” Jason guided Esteban to the school cafeteria.

“You don’t have to tell her,” Esteban said, his eyes pleading. “It was just an accident, I swear.”

“You did nothing wrong, kid. I have to tell her. It’ll be okay.” He led Esteban to an empty office and pointed to the chair across from the desk. “Park it.” Then he went to find Connie.

Jason shared his suspicion with her. Connie thanked him and asked him to wait outside while she spoke to Esteban. As Jason fidgeted in a chair outside the office, he remembered all the times he’d gotten in trouble as a student.

“You know, I wasn’t pleased when they assigned a thief to be a mentor for this program,” said Connie as she emerged from her office and closed the door behind her, securing Esteban inside. “But you did good, Jason. That boy is definitely being abused. I need to report this to Child Protective Services, and I was wondering if you’d like to make the call.”

Jason sat silently, unable to think of what to say.

“It’s okay to feel nervous the first time you make the call,” Connie said. “I’ll help you.”

“I’ve called them before.” He shook his head. “The first time, uh, well, it didn’t go so well, ma’am.”

Connie tilted her head, scrutinizing him. “Takes one to know one, huh?”

Jason winced. “Something like that.”

“Come on.” Connie led him to another office where he could make the call.

He did so, shaking the entire time.

“Go ahead and catch up with the other boys, Jason,” Connie said when he was done. “I’ll stay with Esteban. We’ll do our best to help him, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jason nodded, feeling a mixture of dread and optimism.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Lt. Meghan Monroe asked.

“Water? Tea?”

From his perch in her office easy chair — nothing easy about his posture as he waited for his father to arrive for their supervised visit — Leo shook his head. “No, thank you, ma’am. Is that clock right?”

“Yes.” The social worker studied him. “Somewhere you need to be?”

“No, ma’am. It’s just my father’s never late.”

“Well, he didn’t show at all for counseling last week. I paid him a home visit, but he refused to talk to me. Hopefully he’ll make it this time.”

Leo leaned back in the chair, silently disagreeing with her optimism. If CS wasn’t early to the appointment, he wouldn’t show at all.

She’ll have to figure it out for herself.
The whole thing was stupid anyway.

At least he was out of the dumb wheelchair. It had been three weeks since his discharge from the hospital, and physically he was healing well. Emotionally things weren’t quite so upbeat. During his last visit, Mr. Shale had informed him he seemed clinically depressed.

Big shock
. Mr. Shale suggested exercise as a possible help, since Leo flatly refused medication, but no one was talking about the pool.

Instead Mr. Shale or Jason took leisurely walks with him through the neighborhood. That wasn’t really exercise at all.

Per Matt’s request, Leo had been helping out on deck with the team. From the get-go Matt called him SW for “Spleenless Wonder” — a nickname that was funny the first time and
way
old by the fortieth. Jealously, Leo had watched Audrey work her way back into swimming shape.

“So, if my father doesn’t show up for counseling, what will happen?” Leo asked.

“It’s a condition of his return to work,” the lieutenant said. “He may be looking at a separation from the Navy.” Leo’s stomach flipped. He wasn’t surprised CS was AWOL from therapy, but it was shocking that he’d missed so much work. How was he surviving without the opportunity to boss people around all day?

After a few more minutes, the social worker final y sighed. “This is ridiculous. Are you up for a house call, Leo?”

“A house call, ma’am?”

“If Mohammed can’t come to the mountain…” She grinned.

“We’ll go to him. Let’s see what your father’s up to.” His butt felt nailed to the chair.

Her grin vanished. “I won’t let him hurt you.” His eyes narrowed.

“He’s your father, Leo. You have to see him some time.”

“I don’t think you know what kind of man he is, Lieutenant.”

“You might be surprised. I promise you won’t get hurt. Let’s go.” Not feeling like he had another option, Leo followed her to her car.

Leo’s anxiety reached a peak as they stood on the front porch of his home. He flinched when Lt. Monroe pounded on the door.

“Commander! Please open up, sir!”

After a tense few moments, the front door creaked open, and Leo suddenly realized what the lieutenant had been trying to tell him.

He barely recognized his father, who’d apparently ceased all efforts at personal hygiene. His hair frizzed out in an afro, and he sported an unkempt beard and moustache. He wore a stained sweatshirt and dirty jeans, and Leo wondered how long it’d been since he showered.

But the biggest change was his father’s body language. Instead of his proud, rigid posture and penetrating gaze, he slouched and averted his eyes, which were gray and dull, just like his sweatshirt.

“You were supposed to be in my office thirty minutes ago, Commander,” she said.

“Sorry.” His voice was raspy, like he hadn’t used it in some time.

“I must’ve forgotten.”

His father snuck a sidelong look at him, and Leo tried to hide his shock.

“May we come in, sir?” Lt. Monroe pressed. “You only have thirty minutes left of your time with Leo this week.” Clearing his throat, CS blocked their entrance. “It’s, uh, kind of a mess.”

“I’d like to see if you’ve made any progress toward the goals we discussed last week, sir.” She shoved him out of the way and stepped into the foyer.

Leo couldn’t believe CS allowed her to push him aside. When the lieutenant ordered him to come inside too, Leo held his breath as he brushed past his father to enter the house he hadn’t seen for a month.

His father stared at him from just inside the door as the lieutenant bulldozed around the house. “How’s your mother?” he finally asked.

“Fine, sir.”

“Tell her…tell her I…I don’t know what to tell her.” He looked down. “I don’t want her seeing me this way. I-I don’t want you here.”

“The lieutenant made me come. I don’t want to be here either.” He watched his father blanch at his words, and the shell of the man CS had become simultaneously flummoxed and saddened him. “What’s wrong with you, Dad?”

“What’s wrong with him,” the lieutenant answered as she floated down the stairs, “is he’s clinically depressed.” His father’s face flushed.

“Your father’s not taking good care of himself, Leo.” Turning to him, she chided, “Commander, this home’s even
more
of a pigsty.

You haven’t taken out the trash or cleaned the bloodstain in Leo’s room. Have you been out of this house since I visited you last week?” He hung his head. “No.”

“I have to make a report to the Family Advocacy Board, and you’re not helping your cause. Do you want to be dismissed from the Navy?”

“No!” he responded immediately.

“Then get to my office for our appointment next week. Meet with your doctor. Clean this pit up. If you don’t follow through, I’ll have no choice but to recommend a separation from the Navy.” Leo couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. CS just stood there taking it.

“Your future’s in your hands, Commander. Let’s go, Leo.”

“Yes ma’am.” Leo followed the lieutenant out the door, sneaking a final glance at his father, who hadn’t moved an inch and continued staring at the floor.

On their ride back to the base, the lieutenant tapped her fingernails on the wheel while Leo tried to make sense of the abrupt change from Cruel SOB to Crumpled Spirit.

“He’s severely depressed,” she said, speaking more to herself than to Leo. “I’m worried he’ll kill himself, and there’s not a thing I can do to stop it.”

Leo had tried out a fitness pool with an adjustable current once. The salesperson had been forced to crank it to the highest setting to prevent Leo from running into the wall. Today he just swam in the regular, non-propelled water of the high school pool, but Leo trudged along like he was swimming upstream, against the tide. This was day two back at swimming after a five-week hiatus. His surgeon, marvel-ing at his fast recovery, had allowed him to return one week early.