The Sweetheart Deal (9 page)

A
fter weeks of eating other people's food—I was so tired of their never-ending lasagnas—I had to cook for my family. I managed to get dressed—the Post-its were still up—and made a list and left the house. I was at the grocery store when Mary, the school secretary, called and told me I needed to come to the school and pick up Andrew. She said he'd been in a fight, but she wouldn't tell me any more on the phone. I left my cart, half full, in the aisle.

When I got to the school, Andrew was sitting on the bench outside the office with his backpack.

“Andrew, what happened?” I said. “What's going on?”

He didn't look at me. “Mrs. Donnelly wants to talk to you.”

I went into the office.

“Hi, Audrey,” Mary said. She leaned her head toward the door behind her. “She's waiting.”

Barbara Donnelly, the principal, was sitting at her desk and stood when I walked in.

“Hi,” she said. “Come in and have a seat.” She closed her door.

I folded my hands in my lap and waited. The school had sent a magnificent bouquet and a card. Barbara had sent one personally. We were parishioners, and all three boys had gone to the school starting from kindergarten. She knew me and she knew what we were going through.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I know Andrew is having a hard time, but he punched Gannon Keegan in the face at recess today, and I need you to take him home. He'll have another detention next week. Can you tell me what's going on, Audrey? I don't know how to help.”

I was so fucking tired of Gannon Keegan. Andrew was responsible, but since Leo died, Gannon had found an easy target in Andrew and pushed his buttons because he could. I had no idea why.

“Barbara, we're going through a terrible time. We're doing the best we can and the boys are coping in their own ways,” I said. “And Andrew is so angry, which is so unlike him. We talk—I try to make him talk to me. Everyone else in the class has been such a good friend to Andrew, and so kind, or given him space. I get as much out of him as I can, and he's getting some help. But Gannon is provoking him and Andrew has a breaking point. Everyone does. I'm not saying it's okay, but Gannon has pushed him to his breaking point.”

“No one else seems to be having a problem with Gannon,” Barbara said. “And today I can't fault him for Andrew's actions.”

“Andrew doesn't punch other kids,” I said. “I have three sons, Barbara—I know what they're like inside and out. Did you ask him why he did it?”

She folded her hands on her desk. “I did. He wouldn't tell me. He just said he wanted his mom.”

I refused to cry in front of her. “Well, I'll find out, he'll tell me, and then I'll get back to you.” I left her office and walked back to Andrew in the hallway.

“Come on,” I put my arm around him. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, still looking at the floor.

“Let's stop and get something at Starbucks on the way home,” I said.

He nodded again.

When we got to the café, Andrew sat at an empty table and I ordered. I brought the snacks over and sat down across from him.

“Andrew, what happened?” I said. “I know Gannon is a problem for you, but we have to figure this out. This has to stop happening.”

“I'm sorry, Mom,” he said. He didn't touch his drink or the food. He still wouldn't look at me. “I know I'm in big trouble at school and I'm sorry.”

“I know,” I said. “Just tell me what happened.”

“Well, we were playing basketball at recess,” he said. “And he did that thing he always does, again, saying I fouled and hurt him, and I didn't, and then before the teacher came over and made us stop playing he called me a bad name and then he said he was waiting for me to cry.”

“Were you playing with other kids?” I said. “What did they do?”

“Yeah, we were playing three on three, like normal,” Andrew said. “But I think they didn't want to get in the middle of it. They never do. They don't want Gannon to get on them too.”

Nice friends,
I thought. What had I just said to Barbara about how great they all were?

“What did he call you?” I said.

Andrew shook his head. “I can't say it,” he said. “It was p-u-s-s-y. He called me that and then said, ‘Don't cry, p-u-s-s-y. You don't want to cry in front of everybody.'”

“Andrew, why didn't you tell Mrs. Donnelly that? Gannon was completely out of line. You can't punch him, you just can't, but he started the whole thing and was totally inappropriate.”

“Mom,” he said. “I couldn't tell her
that
. Gannon would have lied and denied it anyway, and I'm in enough trouble at school. Who's she going to believe?” He looked down again. I wanted my youngest son to stop feeling so crushed and burdened.

“Eat something, okay?” I said. “I'm going to talk to his parents and get this to stop, but I need your help. You can't punch him every time he tries to provoke you. You have to figure that out now, Andrew. I'm sorry, but you're going to meet plenty of assholes—sorry—like him and that's not the way to solve it. Can you play without including him?”

“Mom, please don't talk to his parents,” Andrew begged. “That will make it so much worse. He'll take it out on me.”

“We'll see about that,” I said. “Eat. It's going to be okay. You have to trust me.”

He nodded again and we took his drink and snack, untouched, home with us.

At four o'clock everyone was home, head down with homework in various rooms, Garrett working, when the doorbell rang.

Frank Keegan was standing on my porch looking like he'd raced to my house from the office.

“I need to talk to you about your son assaulting Gannon,” he said when I opened the door. “I'm not happy.”

Like that, all the boys were clustered around me.

Frank pointed at Andrew. “You're on thin ice, bud,” he said.

“Don't speak to him, Frank. I'm standing right here,” I said. “Boys, upstairs please. Finish homework.” They scattered, but slowly, and I waited for them to go.

“You're welcome to sit down,” I said.

“I'll stand,” he said.

“Well, I'm going to sit,” I said, and did. “I was planning on calling you tonight. I've talked with Andrew about what happened today. What he did isn't okay, but Gannon has been harassing Andrew. This has been going on for a while, Frank, and it's going to stop, one way or another.”

“Your kid punched mine, Audrey, not the other way around. Gannon didn't get sent home from school.”

“Gannon called Andrew a pussy, then baited him not to cry. Did he tell you that?” I said. “If I was Andrew, I would have punched him too. I've told Andrew he can't react that way, and he knows it, but I won't let this continue. If you don't deal with your son, we can start by meeting with the principal and the pastor and everyone else we need to until this stops. Andrew has enough to deal with, Frank—my whole family does.”

“Gannon doesn't use words like that,” he said.

“Well, he did today,” I said. “There's a first time for everything.”

Garrett walked into the room. He still had on the tool belt, and his safety glasses were pushed up on his head. I don't know if he heard us or if the boys told him what was happening.

He walked toward Frank and extended his hand. “I'm Garrett,” he said. “What's going on?”

Frank took Garrett's hand and shook it and narrowed his eyes.

“Andrew punched Frank's son and was sent home from school today,” I said. “Andrew knows he's in trouble, but Gannon has been provoking him. This isn't a new thing.”

“Why would your son do that? After Andrew's father just died?” Garrett asked.

Frank crossed his arms and clenched his jaw and looked back at me, dismissing Garrett with his gaze. “I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Audrey—I am so, so sorry for your loss. For your family's loss. My whole family is. But if Andrew is acting out, if he's taking out his grief on other kids, physically, then maybe he needs to get some help.”

“How dare you,” I said. “If you're so sorry, then
you
can help by getting your deviant little prick of a son to leave Andrew alone. Gannon is taking advantage of a boy who is hurting, someone who is an easy target.”

He crossed the room and stood over me, glaring. “Don't you talk about my son like that.”

I laughed in his face. “Too late, Frank,” I said.

In two steps, Garrett was next to him. “Frank, hey, Frank,” he said. “Let's go, fella.” He put his hand on Frank's shoulder and eased him to the door. Frank shook off Garrett's hand. “Outside, man.” And they walked out.

I
walked that motherfucker out of the house, off the porch, and down to the sidewalk. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” I said. “What the fuck do you think you're doing coming into her house and talking to her like that?”

“This is none of your concern,” he said.

“Yeah, it is my fucking
concern
,
” I said. “This family is my concern. And I'll say whatever I want to you after you weren't a gentleman in there just now. You deal with your own kid and Audrey will deal with hers. And maybe dig a little deep for some compassion. Whatever it is the Catholics are recommending these days.”

When I turned around I saw Audrey standing by the window watching us. She opened the door and let me in.

“I can handle him,” she said. “I'm sorry I lost my cool. I shouldn't have said any of that. That was stupid. Talk about provoking.”

“No,” I said. “I'm not going to watch someone treat you like that in your own house.”

The boys came into the living room. “Is he gone?” Andrew said.

“Yes,” Audrey said. “Guys, homework, please.”

They all groaned and left. “I'll talk to you later when you're all finished!” she called after them. “I need a drink.”

We went into the kitchen and she opened a bottle of wine. “Thank you, though,” she said. “Thanks for that. You want a glass?”

“Sure,” I said. “He's a jackass. He didn't accomplish anything by coming over here.”

She sighed. “I know—Christ. Neither of us did. I'll talk to the principal again, tell her what's going on and see if she'll at least be more vigilant. Maybe talk to the pastor. I'll tell Andrew to stay away from Gannon, not spoil for a fight. Even if it means he can't play basketball for a while.”

“I know how boys are,” I said. “You want me to talk to Andrew? Can I do something at school to help?”

“You want to start volunteering? You need a background check and have to take this class about pedophiles. Don't get me started.”

“Maybe,” I said. “My record's pretty clean.”

“Talk to Andrew if you want to. It might be different coming from you.” She put her head in her hands. “I don't know. I just want him to be okay. Why does he have to deal with this too?”

I put my arm around her. “Because people are assholes, sometimes at the worst possible times. What do you need to do right now?”

“Figure out dinner. Feed my family. So much for a home-cooked meal,” she said. “Put one foot in front of the other.”

“I can go get takeout,” I said.

“I can go,” she said. “I'll just go get a pizza.”

“If you want. If you're sure,” I said. “I'll see if Andrew wants to shoot some hoops.”

She hugged me. “He'd like that,” she said.

She walked to the stairs and called out, “Boys, pizza tonight—the usual?” They all whooped in response and thundered downstairs.

“I'll be back,” she said. “Thanks again.”

The boys were all there, their banishment over.

“You guys done homework?” I said.

“Almost,” they all said.

“You guys finish,” I said to Christopher and Brian. “Hey, Andrew, take a break and let's shoot for a minute.”

He looked chastened. “Come on,” I said. “Let's blow off some steam.”

We walked out to the street and he threw me the ball. “Gannon's dad is mad at me,” he said.

I threw the ball back to him. “You go,” I said. “Don't worry about Gannon's dad. He's not worried about you.”

He shot and missed. “Hey, let's sit down for a second,” I said. I crossed the street and sat on the curb. He followed like a dog with its tail between his legs.

“Listen,” I said. “People like Gannon are going to show up from time to time and make your life, or parts of your life, difficult. It's really fucking bad timing for you that you have to deal with a kid like that right now. Don't tell your mom I swore. And what sucks is his dad has blinders on about his own kid. He can't help it.”

He shrugged.

“Andrew, you're going to have to stay out of your own way with this kid. It's not going to be easy, but you can't take his bait,” I said. “And once you stop taking his bait, he's going to find someone else to bother, or he's going to get himself in trouble if he doesn't leave you alone.”

“I know,” he said. “I can't, though. I can't let him get away with it.”

“That's what I mean about getting out of your own way,” I said. “You've got to stop before you make that decision that's going to get you in a shitload of trouble, and walk away. Come home and throw stuff, you know, outside or whatever.”

He frowned. “That's what my mom said. Punch a pillow. That's not the same thing.”

“No, it's not,” I said. “I know it's pretty lame. What about your friends—you have some good friends, right? Spend less time ready and waiting for Gannon and more time with them.”

“I do, I guess,” he said. “I did. They're still acting weird, though. Like I'm going to break or something. They're all being so nice. Not normal nice, too nice.”

“It's a lot for you to deal with, right?” I said. “But your friends are taking their lead from you, you know? Is there someone you could have over and do something with? Like you used to? Try to pretend being normal even if nothing will be normal for a long time?”

“I don't know,” he said. “Maybe I shouldn't be acting normal. My dad's gone. Maybe it's too soon to pretend to be normal. Did my mom ask you to say all this?”

“No,” I said. “She didn't, but I told her I wanted to talk to you. I don't know how to be normal either. I'm working on your dad's house—that's not normal. I know that he wouldn't want you to be hurting more than you already are. He's gone and that hurts, but don't let Gannon or anyone else make that hurt worse. I think your dad would want you to do whatever you could so you're hurting less.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess.”

“If I can do anything and help out with this Gannon thing,” I said, “you let me know what and I will.”

His little shoulders drooped and he put his face in his hands. “Maybe come get me at school some days. We could shoot hoops after. That would be cool.”

I put my arm around him.
I had no idea I was in for this.

“You're right, that would be cool,” I said. “Is tomorrow good?”

His head bobbed.

“Okay, tomorrow then,” I said. “Maybe we get some friends to play too, if you want?”

“Not Gannon,” he mumbled.

“No, not Gannon,” I said. “No way in hell.”