A Game Like Ours: Suncastle College Book One

by Marissa J. Gramoll

  31

  BOBBY

  NOW

  Lexie and I spend the morning making holiday treats with Charlene and Paisley. Don’t know where her parents are. Guess holiday family time with everybody isn’t their thing. Jeez, this makes me miss what holidays were like growing up at my house. We had everybody over on Christmas Eve. My grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins. Mom and dad both in the kitchen with all of us cooking all day. Not this year. Probably not ever again.

  “You alright?” Lexie notices me deep in my thoughts.

  “Yep.” I force myself back into the moment. Shit this is hard. I’m still in shock.

  After a while of trying, I’m able to focus on the here and now. Charlene helps Paisley roll out sugar cookies while Lexie and I whip up some frosting.

  “Sing time, Mommy.” Paisley pulls on Charlene’s shirt.

  “Oh, you need to show Auntie Lexie your dance, don’t you?” Charlene pulls up her phone and connects it to the kitchen speaker. “This is the cutest thing ever.” She tells us.

  “We Will Rock You” by Queen fills the kitchen.

  “Paisley is this your favorite song?” Lexie walks over to Paisley’s barstool.

  “It’s the bestest song.” Paisley drops her cookie cutter. “I gonna be rockstar!”

  “You already are a rockstar.” Lexie taps Paisley’s nose. “Well how do I do the dance moves?” She is so cute with her niece, I can’t handle it.

  “Like this, Auntie Lexie, this!” Out of sync, Paisley tries to clap and stomp to the music, almost falling off her barstool.

  “I don’t know how, Paisley. You gotta teach me.” Lexie lifts her up and sets her on a clear area of tile.

  “Clap.” Paisley shows.

  “Stomp?” Lexie demonstrates.

  “No, clap be first. Clapping the first one,” Paisley corrects.

  “Oh, okay. Yeah, show me.” Lexie pretends she doesn’t know how.

  “This!” Paisley is laughing and singing, doing her best off beat attempt. I chuckle until the song is over and Paisley begs her mom to put it on repeat.

  “We gotta finish these cookies.” Lexie puts her back on her barstool, where every few minutes Paisley stops everything to stomp and clap.

  I give her lots of extra sprinkles when it comes time to decorate.

  The cookies are for Cody’s family.

  I’m not ready to go to his place.

  The air gets heavier with each step I take from the car to their front door. I can’t hardly breathe. The yard of their trailer is unkept. Old baby playsets reek of mold. An ancient car has weeds growing around the tires like you couldn’t drive it out of there if you needed to.

  Beer bottles lay haphazardly on the corner of the rotting porch, covered in mud like they’ve been sitting there a while. The roof is dipping in the middle like it’s gonna fall down. They’ve jimmy rigged a two-by-four standing up like a column to keep the whole thing from collapsing. We have to walk around it to get to the front door.

  Looking at my shoes, I see that the wood has a lot of water damage. There’s a bunch of bricks and duct tape in the corner, like they are fixing to repair this porch. Only it’s covered in dust so you can tell that project never quite happened. Other random stuff covers the porch, like they don’t have enough room for it in the house so they put it out here.

  Lexie offers a smile, but I’m so amped up that I can’t relax, even with her support. My breath is stuck in my lungs. I can’t do this. It was a horrible idea to come.

  Cody’s face is everywhere. The shadow of the man he once was, and the ghost he now is, traipses around my mind like I’m in the Haunted Mansion.

  “Do they know we are comin’?”

  “Yeah, I texted her.” Lexie holds the plate of cookies, and I carry a box of coats she wrapped up pretty.

  How can they not afford coats?

  Judge not, Jesus said. Judge not. I sigh. If only I was good at that one.

  I wish I knew what Lexie hopes to accomplish here. I haven’t brought myself to ask.

  My throat tightens around thick saliva. What would you like me to say to them, Cody? I feel out for his tremor, that little connection I love that we share. But I’m hollow. Like he doesn’t want to be here either, even as a ghost.

  Anna Mae answers the door, TV blaring in the background.

  Wow, she’s grown up in the last several years. She’d be about sixteen now, I think. Her big brown eyes are the same and she’s still skinny. Noticeably beautiful, despite the worn out clothes she’s wearing. Awe, Cody’s old Willardson High Baseball shirt. Damn, the fabric is getting threadbare. Hand-me-downs, from years ago. Shit, does she have anything that’s just hers?

  I wonder sometimes why they had so many children when they weren’t in a position to care for them. Cody was the oldest of eight. Eight.

  I want to pull out all the cash in my wallet and give it to them. They probably don’t have gifts for Christmas. Lexie is trying to change it, and I find that beautiful. We can do more. I’m sure they could use more than just coats. The thoughts of anger mixed with the desperate desire to do something to help tumble over each other. Each thought leaves me more anxious than before. Is it too late to give them a better Christmas?

  “Is your mama here?” Lexie keeps her face bright, though I sense a bit of sadness. Maybe she wishes Anna Mae gave her a big hug or something.

  “Mama!” Anna Mae yells, but I don’t know why. The trailer isn’t even a double-wide. It’s three small rooms with old furniture and a bunch of kids and animals, all of whom don’t have enough.

  “Y’all come on in.” Anna Mae yanks the door, but it’s hard to open all the way because something is behind it. “Sorry.” She steps aside and we slip through the crack. Several big dogs come running at us.

  “Shoo, get back. Eliza, take the dogs to the bedroom.” Mama Jones comes toward us. She’s wearing her work uniform for Shakey’s. Gonna work the Christmas Eve shift. Man, these years have not been kind to her. She looks a decade older, hair that used to be blonde turning grey. Losing a child this young must age a person something awful.

  Eliza shoos the dogs away so we have a place to stand.

  “Lexie.” Mama Jones smiles. “Good to see you, sweetie.”

  I set down the box and take the plate of cookies so that Lexie can give her a proper hug. They hold each other for some time and when they let go, both of their eyes are wet. Makes me choke up, just seeing it.

  “Here, we brought you these.” Lexie passes the cookies and Mama Jones has Anna Mae take them over to the kitchen.

  “And these are the coats.” Lexie tilts her head and I give Mrs. Jones the box.

  “Oh, Lexie, thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”

  There’s no Christmas tree, so Mama Jones hands the box to Anna Mae.

  “Do you wanna sit and chat a minute?” She gestures to the living room.

  It smells horrible in here. Dust, cat pee, and other unidentifiable odors waft into my nose. I know they try to keep the place clean, but between everyone living here and the animals, there’s no hope. Five of the kids squish on the couch, old brown fabric bleached a splotchy orange from the sun.

  “Turn that off!” Mama Jones yells over the TV. It’s one of those old box TVs from long before the days of flat screens. It is a color picture, but there’s static lines running up and down in horizontal chaos.

  One of the kids gets the remote and clicks it down. Suzy? Josie? I’ve forgotten her name.

  “Go out and play in the yard; make room for our guests. You remember Lexie and Bobby. They brought some cookies.” Mama Jones point’s at the back door.

  “Cookies?” Two of the girls jump up and ram into each other running to the kitchen.

  “Ma, we was watchin’ that show.” Suzy–I think it’s Suzy–gives Mama Jones some lip.

  Mama Jones points to the big painting of Jesus on the wall, a reminder of trouble coming for disobedience.

  “Yes, Mama.” Suzy takes the remote
and turns the TV off.

  “You can watch it later, now get.” Mama Jones moves around some boxes of junk to create a walking path to the sofa. She fixes the crocheted blanket on the back of the couch. She moves a pair of muddy boots and a damp towel off the cushions. “These children.” She shakes her head. “Well have a seat, would ya?”

  I sit on the couch, hands on knees, hoping I don’t get some weird disease from what is lurking within this fabric.

  “Good to see you, Bobby.” Mama Jones forces a smile, but I know it’s gotta be hard to see me. I represent everything her son doesn’t get to have.

  “Look at you, all grown up.” Her hand opens and closes near her mouth, tears pooling in her eyes. “I’m sorry. So sorry.” She takes a moment to gather herself.

  I’ve already outlived Cody and I’m only twenty-three. Ain’t right. None of it’s right. Wish it wasn’t my fault.

  “Did Lexie tell you she was comin’ over and you wanted to come along or?” Mama Jones messes with her fingers in her lap, sitting on a pile of laundry on the couch smushed against the opposite wall.

  My heart bumps hard against my chest as I wonder how to talk to her about us.

  “Yeah.” Lexie holds her hand on mine and I guess that’s enough.

  I appreciate her being the one to say something. I don’t think I could talk right now to save my life.

  “Now, Lexie, you didn’t need to go and get us new coats. Kids still fittin’ just fine in their coats from last year.”

  I glance at the couple of kids still in the room. Their coats from last week are inches up their arms and tight across the chest.

  “I can pay you for them.” Mama Jones pulls out some wrinkled one dollar bills from her pocket. “Just tell me how much.”

  “Oh, no need.” Lexie sounds so sincere it makes me fall even harder for her.

  “Sure have missed you, Lexie.” Mama Jones looks so sad. She’s always looked sad. How can a miserable life become worse? Losing a child. That’s how.

  “Sure have missed you, too.” Lexie is a picture of strength beside me. She wears this heaviness with more courage than I have in my being.

  An uneasiness rests in the air. My nerves tickle me, wondering if Cody’s dad is coming through the door and what I’d do if I saw him. I avoided him at the funeral. But I don’t know if I could hold back now.

  “Ever since Kevin went to prison, I’ve just been workin’ all the time. I thought we were already in tough shape, but man, things can always get worse.” Mama Jones looks at her scuffed up shoes for a moment. “It’ll turn up though, one of these days. You know, Cody was always dreamin’, always tellin’ us there was good times comin’. I guess we all just have to hold on to that.”

  “Mr. Jones is in prison?” I raise my eyebrows. The news brings relief. But also guilt. How can I be glad someone is in prison? But I am. Damn that monster and all he did to Cody. My hands clench. Breath hangs in my chest. Jeez, I am not over this at all.

  “Yeah, a few months ago.” Mama Jones looks at her shoes again, and I don’t press.

  Doesn’t matter what he got arrested for. Lord knows he did all kinds of things that weren’t keeping the law. I only know a little bit. But man, if Mr. Jones ain’t here, that means Cody’s mama is alone to provide for them. Looking around the trailer makes me feel awful again. Yankees salary coulda bought his mom and siblings a nice place, easy.

  I hate what I see. No one helps them. Not even all the Christians we went to church with.

  Mama Jones and Lexie make small talk, but it’s just background noise, I’m too lost in my own world.

  Cody’s kid brother, Toby, is in the corner of the room, sitting on the floor beside the Old English Sheepdog. His toy looks broken, and he looks mad about it.

  I get off the couch, gaining the attention of all the animals. I have to shoo them away before my nice pants get covered in slobber.

  I kneel beside Toby. “Can I take a look?”

  Toby jumps back, scared of me.

  “It’s alright, I used to be buddies with your brother, Cody.” I hold a smile while he’s avoiding my gaze.

  After a minute, he sets the toy in my hand and I fiddle with it. He stares at the ground.

  Toy wasn’t hard to fix. I had a dozen of these when I was a kid. The wheels like to get off kilter, but I was able to adjust them pretty good. “Here, should work now.”

  He still doesn’t look at me. Jeez, what has this kid been through? My heart hurts. How would you help him now, Cody? The kid needs his brother, someone to be there for him. But no one is here. I’m nothing more than a stranger. Cody and I hung out alone or with our group of friends. We didn’t invite his kid brother.

  Guilt smothers me like a blanket in a sauna. I could’ve been there for Toby years ago. Could’ve shown up for him every weekend. Taught him how to play ball. But I’ve just been avoiding the whole family. I haven’t been there when they needed Cody. He can’t be here, so it needs to be me stepping in for him. Selfishness pulls at my heart. I shoulda been there for all of ‘em.

  “Well, we won’t keep you. Merry Christmas.” Lexie holds Mama Jones in a hug for a long while again.

  “Glad you’re still playin’ Bobby.” Mama Jones brings me in for a hug.

  “Hope life gets better real soon.” I try to smile. “There’s good times comin’.” I quote Cody, debating what more I can say. “Maybe one day you can have a fresh start.” I swallow, hoping I haven’t said too much. It’s not my place. I barely knew Mr. Jones. Maybe he’s a good person who just has a lot of issues. I don’t know.

  We cross the yard back to Lexie’s car. I get her door for her and look at that old trailer. My thoughts spin all the way to the country club parking lot.

  “How was it for you?” I ask Lexie, because she hasn’t said a word and that ain’t like her at all.

  “Hard.”

  “Yeah.” I swallow that thick feeling still overtaking my throat.

  “I’m glad we went.” She’s smiling, but I know that it’s work to keep happy after that.

  “I wanna do more.” It’s a whisper, barely audible, leaving my mouth.

  “Me too.” She parks the car.

  I kiss her, melting into the sadness we both feel. “I hate what they are goin’ through.”

  “I know.” She lets out a heavy breath, making me want to take all the pain away.

  “Let’s get more gifts for the kids. You think that would help?” Of course it would help. Anything would help.

  My chest tightens thinking about Toby. I can’t let go of the way he couldn’t look me in the eyes. So much fear. This kid lives in terror. His life is hell. Thank God Mr. Jones is in prison. Toby’s been through so much. I’ve gotta help them somehow. “Let’s get them Christmas gifts right after this. I’m sure the Walmart is still open.”

  “Perfect.” Her hand rubs the back of mine. “Great idea.” She kisses me, drawing me into her tender sweetness. . “Such a void of his life, bein’ gone. Not at his house when he could be helpin’ them like he always did.”

  “Such a void.” My eyes get wet. “I shoulda been there. I shoulda drivin’ him home, made sure he got back to the beach house. This is all my fault.” I squint my eyes shut, a warm tear escaping before I can stop it.

  “No.” She grabs my hand with both of hers. “No, this is not your fault.”

  “He came to my place, Lexie.” My jaw trembles.

  “What?” The shock on her face kills me. She never asked. I never offered.

  Time for the truth.

  “That night, he came to my place. It was late and it was rainin’. He was upset. I shouldn’t have let him drive home.”

  “The night of the accident?” She leans closer, hanging on my every word.

  “I swear he wasn’t drinkin’ or anythin’. I thought he was okay to drive. I coulda’ gone with him or somethin’, anythin’.” Shit, this hurts. I pull at the collar of my Christmas sweater. “It’s like I knew, Lex. I felt it. Somethin’ was wrong
and I shoulda stopped it. It should be him in this car, goin’ to your parent’s country club, not me.”

  If Cody was still here he would be able to help his family. He’d be playin’ for the Yankees, bringing home truckloads of presents on Christmas. Maybe he’d help his mom feel safe enough to leave Mr. Jones for good.

  “Hey.” She wipes my tear away with her thumb. “This is not your fault any more than it’s mine.”

  “It’s absolutely not your fault.” I shake my head, taking her hands in mine. Not an ounce of blame for her exists in my mind.

  “He and I got in a fight that night. I bet that’s why he came to your place. It’s my fault as much as it’s yours.” She starts trembling, tears coming out of her eyes.

  I can’t breathe. It’s too hard. “It’s not your fault. I promise it’s not your fault.” I bring her close and we cry together, just like we did on the day of his funeral.

  “Even if you had some feelin’ how were you supposed to save his life? Feelin’ somethin’ can mean all kinds of stuff. It was an accident.” She pulls back and we wipe each other’s tears.

  Her words sink deep into me in a way no one else’s ever have. A glimpse of healing.

  I don’t know how she hears something so horrible and still shows me compassion. How do you do it, baby? How? I force a breath, wipe away all the tears and look out the window for a while. Maybe she can handle the whole story. Please, Cody, help me know when to tell her the rest.

  32

  LEXIE

  “Glad that’s over,” I sigh. Christmas in Willardson was enough for me to know I never want to move back there. The last night we were at home, I tried to talk to Mom about our relationship. She got mad at me and I dropped it. Typical of her to avoid any hope of resolving our conflict.

  “Hey, we survived the holidays with both of our dysfunctional families.” Bobby smiles as I park in the spot outside the apartment.