Call It What You Want

by Brigid Kemmerer

  Instead, I’m thinking about the fact that her father was the first man I saw after finding my father, and seeing him tonight brought everything back in a flash of gore-soaked memory. They teased me for calling him sir, but it wasn’t respect. It was me trapped in a memory, when my eyes didn’t want to see and my shocked brain ran on autopilot.

  I’m also thinking about the fact that I’ve got three dollars in my pocket, and according to this stupid menu, a soda is a dollar ninety-nine.

  These thoughts tangle together and go nowhere good. Some days I truly hate my father.

  I wish I’d split that forty bucks with Owen.

  As soon as I have the thought, guilt washes over me. The money we once had was stolen. It’s not like Dad gambled it away or lost it in the stock market. I’ve taken enough, and I don’t need to buy dinner at a rinky-dink Mexican restaurant on someone else’s dime. Mom will have something on the table in an hour. A soda is fine. Hell, water is fine.

  I shouldn’t regret giving Owen all of it.

  If I regret anything at all, it should be the stealing.

  But I don’t.

  The lunch lady said I should have been more judicious with my money.

  I’m still angry about that. If some kid with money came through the line and bought six orders of french fries, would she make a dig? Of course not.

  But then again, some kid with money wouldn’t have been eating free cheese sandwiches all year. I still can’t decide if that matters. That’s not Owen’s fault. It’s not like he picked his mom.

  Then again, it’s not like I picked my dad.

  I wonder if my father made justifications like this.

  “Are you okay?” Maegan says.

  I run a hand through my hair, ruffling the sweat out of it. “Yeah, no. I’m fine.” I set the menu aside and take a sip of my water. At least that’s free.

  She doesn’t stop studying me. “So, was that a yes or a no?”

  Her sister can pummel me on the field, but Maegan is the one who can pin me down with words. She’s quieter, but that just means she spends more time thinking. I dodge her gaze. “I’m all right.”

  “Dad’s buying dinner,” Samantha announces. “He gave me his credit card yesterday to fill the car up with gas, so now it’s on him.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” I can’t take money from a cop. Especially a cop who was kind to me once.

  “Oh, we’re doing it,” Samantha says. “I’m sick of being cooped up in the house with them. And I owe you for coming over to play. I’ve been dying just tossing a ball at the bounce-back.”

  “Anytime,” I say. “I know the feeling.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  Maegan nearly chokes on her water. I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I can’t tell if I want it to be a good thing or a bad thing. I’ve completely forgotten how to be around girls. There’s no challenge when most of them are throwing themselves at you. It’s a little different when none of them will give you the time of day.

  My thoughts are all over the place. Maybe I’m misreading simple courtesy for flirting. Like when she sat in the back of class, under the pretense of being fair.

  Or maybe not.

  Samantha is still waiting for an answer. As usual, I’ve been sitting here twisting my thoughts into knots for too long.

  “I can’t ditch my mom every night,” I say. “Friday?”

  “Deal.”

  “As long as your dad isn’t going to be waiting on the porch with a shotgun.”

  “I’ll check his schedule first,” says Maegan.

  That’s reassuring.

  A waiter comes to the table. He’s around our age, but I don’t know him. He looks like he’d hang with the hipster crowd, with wild orange hair and thick-rimmed glasses. His name tag reads Craig.

  “Hi, again,” he says, his eyes locked on Samantha. His voice is almost breathy.

  Wow. I may have forgotten how to act around girls, but I can at least keep from slobbering. This guy isn’t even subtle.

  I mean, I get it, but Maegan’s sister is a little too intense for me. She’s definitely too intense for him.

  Especially since she blinks at him. “Again?”

  Maegan smacks her on the shoulder. “Hi, Craig.”

  “Oh. Right.” Samantha folds her menu closed. “We want the guacamole. And the taco platter. And the flauta platter. And the fajitas. And the—”

  “Are we expecting a crowd?” Maegan says.

  “I’m hungry.” Samantha looks at me. “What do you want?”

  Now that we’re talking about food, I’m starving. It’s like the mention of guacamole turned on the food receptors in my brain. “I’m fine. Nothing. I’ll eat with my mom.”

  Samantha looks at Craig. “Two taco platters.” Then she turns to Maegan. “What do you want?”

  “I’m pretty sure there will be enough to share.”

  Craig makes a note on his pad and rushes off. But not before offering a quick smile for Samantha.

  “He is so obsessed with you,” Maegan says under her breath to her sister.

  “Oh my god. He is not.”

  “He is,” I offer.

  Both their eyes shift to me, and I almost blush. I’m still getting used to having company around me. “I’m surprised he didn’t ‘accidentally’ fall into your lap.”

  Samantha’s eyes light up, but only for a moment. Then her face falls. “Too complicated. I still don’t know what to do about David.”

  I hesitate. “The father?”

  “Yeah.” She rubs her hands over her face. “I keep wanting to call him, but he’s blocked me. Megs says I can use her phone, but … What do you think?”

  For a minute, I don’t realize she’s asking my advice. “What do I think?”

  Her hands slide down her face. “Yeah. You’re a guy. If you got a girl pregnant, then blocked her calls, and then she called you from another phone, what would you do? Is he going to hang up on me?”

  “That’s one hell of a hypothetical.”

  Her eyes don’t leave mine. “So?”

  “If I got a girl pregnant, I wouldn’t block her calls.”

  Her eyes look wounded. “You’re not helping.”

  “It’s her professor,” Maegan says softly. “And he’s married.”

  Ever since I found my father in the den, it takes a lot to shock me. This is doing it. I have no idea what expression is on my face right now, but it must not be good.

  Samantha slaps her hand on the table. “You said he knew!”

  “He knew about the baby. I didn’t give him the whole sordid story.”

  I clear my throat and straighten. “You should call.”

  Samantha snaps her head around. Her eyes are hopeful, like this is what she wanted me to say. “Really?”

  “Yeah. It’s his kid, right? And he’s not some college freshman. He can man up and take a phone call.”

  Jesus. I sound like my father. The thought makes me scowl.

  Samantha doesn’t notice. “Okay. Okay.” Her breathing accelerates. “Megs. Give me your phone.”

  Maegan slides out her cell phone. “You’re going to do it right here? Right now?”

  “I have to or I’m going to chicken out.” She starts to dial. “I’ll go outside. Come get me when the guacamole gets here.”

  “You want me to interrupt your call with David for food?”

  “Shut up. It’s ringing.” She walks away from the table.

  Leaving me and Maegan alone.

  I have to clear my throat. I pull apart my straw wrapper just for something to do with my hands. “So. Her married professor, huh?”

  “Yeah.” She hesitates, and her voice is very soft. “My parents don’t know that part.”

  I consider the way her father was angry about the fact that we were playing lacrosse. This would probably be a whole new level. “I’m guessing this David won’t be able to ‘sir’ his way out of that.”

  “No.”

 
“Is the guy, like, sixty? Because professor is making me think of someone with a white beard smoking a pipe while climbing on top of your sister.”

  Maegan chokes on her soda, then laughs. She’s so serious all the time that it feels like a reward to make her laugh. I have to smile in return.

  I completely forgot what this felt like, to sit in a restaurant and laugh.

  The thought is sobering. God, I’m such a loser.

  “No,” she says, still smiling. “But he’s in his late twenties. My parents will flip.”

  “What’s your sister going to do?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think she knows. And it’s making the house really uncomfortable.” She hesitates. “No one wants to live through the abortion debate at the dinner table. That’s why this is our second time here this week.”

  Wow. She’s considering ending it, and this douchebag won’t even take her calls. Wouldn’t he want to know? I think I would.

  Maegan grimaces. “I’m sorry. I’m sure this is the last thing you want to think about. I didn’t mean for her to force you into coming to dinner with us.”

  “You didn’t force me.” I shrug and use my straw to poke at the bottom of my water glass. “And it’s nice to fixate on something other than whether my father needs a diaper change.”

  She goes still. Her face pales a shade.

  Now it’s my turn to grimace. “Sorry. Overshare.”

  “Do you have to … do that?”

  I meant it as an offhand comment, but I wish I hadn’t said anything. I shift in the chair and keep my eyes on my glass. I don’t talk about this with anyone. Ever. “We have a nurse who comes during the day. But at night I have to help my mom.”

  There is absolute silence for a moment. The restaurant isn’t crowded, but our table seems shrouded in quiet regret. If we were in the grass and Samantha slammed into me right now, I’d shatter into a million pieces.

  Then Maegan places her fingers over mine. “Rob. I’m so sorry.”

  My throat tightens. It’s too much, after the memories her father dragged up. I take a breath and shrug. “It’s fine. It’s life. You know.”

  “I know.”

  But she doesn’t let go of my hand. It’s the first time in months someone other than my mother has voluntarily touched me. Her fingers are a warm weight over my own.

  I forgot what this felt like. My breathing goes shallow. I don’t deserve this, but I can’t bear to pull away.

  “Hey, you guys!” a girl says brightly.

  I snatch my hand away. Sniff back tears I didn’t realize sat so close. Slam the vault on all that emotion.

  A girl and a guy approach the table. I don’t know them, but I’ve seen them around school. I think the girl’s name is Rachel. She’s tall, almost as tall as I am, with spiral curls. The guy is even bigger, all muscles and gut, wearing a plaid fleece and jeans. I think he plays football, but I could be wrong. His expression is unreadable.

  Not that I’m trying too hard to read him. My brain is spinning, still trapped in the moment two minutes ago, when Maegan’s hand fell over mine.

  “Hey,” says Maegan. She sounds thrown, which is one hundred percent better than how I feel. “What are you guys doing here?”

  “I’ve been craving tacos, so I begged Drew to take me out.” Rachel drops into the chair Samantha left, leaving the guy to sit down beside me.

  “Why don’t you join us,” I say dryly. I mean it to be light, but I sound like a prick.

  Drew pulls his chair closer to the table and says, “We will. Thanks.”

  Okay, good. He sounds like a prick, too. At least I’m on a level playing field.

  A familiar tension settles over the table—or at least a tension familiar to me. It’s the same tension that rides along for every classroom interaction, every discussion with someone who might have known my father.

  Maegan must pick up on it, because she leans in and haltingly says, “Um. Rob, this is my best friend, Rachel. And her boyfriend. Drew.”

  “Hey,” I say. I can do this. I can be normal.

  Encouraged by that, Maegan says, “Drew and Rachel, this is—”

  Drew flips open a menu. “We know who he is.”

  Of course they do.

  I would give anything for my mother to call me with an emergency right now. The house burning down. My father speaking in tongues. The FBI on the front porch again. Anything.

  My phone sits silently in my pocket. Traitor.

  Rachel leans in to Maegan. She speaks softly but doesn’t do the greatest job. “Are you guys on a date? How could you not tell me?”

  “It’s not a date,” Maegan says quickly.

  Drew looks at me. “Charity?”

  Rachel pokes him, chastising him under her breath, but his gaze doesn’t leave mine.

  I’m pretty sure my eyes are sending a clear message right back.

  Maegan is scrambling. “No, Samantha wanted to run lacrosse drills, so I invited Rob over—”

  “Your sister hasn’t gone back to school yet?” says Rachel. “Is she still sick?”

  Maegan’s mouth is working but no sound is coming out. I’ve never met someone so bad at keeping secrets. She’s going to spill the beans again, and I’m guessing these people would be more of a gossip mill than I am.

  “She said it’s the first day she woke up without a fever,” I offer. “I figure I can’t catch strep from a lacrosse ball.”

  “And it’s not like you’ve got any friends left anyway, right?” says Drew.

  “Hey,” says Maegan. “Stop it.”

  A year ago, I could have played this off as a sports rivalry—the lacrosse team and the football team always have a little less-than-friendly antagonism going on. But now there’s too much history on my side, and it’s impossible to ignore. I don’t know if Drew has a specific beef with me—I don’t keep track of every lawsuit pending against my family—but I torture myself enough. I don’t need this douchebag to help out.

  I ball up my napkin and toss it on the table. “You think you can get a ride home from your friends?” I say to Maegan.

  “I …” She glances uncertainly at Drew, who’s studying the menu extra hard, then at Rachel, who looks uncomfortable but obviously won’t speak out against her man. Maegan’s gaze returns to me. “Rob, wait, please—”

  “Text me next time you want to work on the project.”

  She says something in response, but I can’t hear her over the blood rushing in my ears. I knew this was a bad idea. I don’t know how I let it all go so far.

  Cold air punches me in the face when I storm out of the restaurant. My eyes burn from the wind, and I bury my hands in the pockets of my sweatshirt. It’s dark enough that no one will see me.

  Until I get to my Jeep and discover Samantha sitting on the back bumper.

  She’s sobbing into her hands.

  Shit.

  I should get Maegan. I can’t even text her, since Samantha has her phone.

  The last place I want to go is back into that restaurant.

  I’m such a jerk that I’m standing here thinking about my discomfort when Maegan’s pregnant sister is sitting alone in a cold parking lot, crying on the back of my car.

  That spurs me into motion. I stride across the gravel and stop in front of her. “I’m guessing it didn’t go well.”

  She swipes at her eyes and looks up at me. “His wife answered.”

  Whoa. All the breath leaves my lungs in a cloud of steam.

  I turn and drop onto the bumper beside her. I barely know this girl, but at least I’m not the only one with problems.

  It’s such a selfish thought that I want to kick myself.

  She brushes more tears off her cheeks. “I’m so stupid.”

  “You’re not stupid.”

  “You just met me. Trust me. I can be pretty stupid.” She swipes the last of the tears on her cheeks and points at her abdomen. “Case in point.”

  “You didn’t put it there yourself.” I sit back ag
ainst the tailgate. “What happened with the wife?”

  She looks over at me. Her eyes are still watery. “Do you really care?”

  I’m kind of morbidly curious. “I’m listening.”

  “So at first, I asked to talk to David. I almost couldn’t talk, so I sounded like a total mess. It was so quiet, for like the longest time. I pulled the phone away from my face because I actually thought she hung up. But then she demanded to know who I am, and I—I lost it. I started crying. And then—and then—she said, ‘Oh great. Another one.’ And hung up. Can you believe that? Another one.” She starts crying again, sobbing openly. “This stupid baby keeps making me cry. I hate crying.”

  “You’re really good at it.”

  She laughs through her tears, then looks up at me, her lashes shining. “Did you come out here to check on me?”

  I wish I could claim compassion. I look away. “No. I came out here to leave.”

  “Why?”

  “Some of Maegan’s friends showed up. They don’t like me much.” I kick at the gravel of the parking lot.

  “Is it Rachel and Drew? What’s their problem? They’re usually pretty nice.”

  “I’ve only known them for thirty seconds, but nice isn’t the word I’d use.”

  The front door of the restaurant bursts open, and Maegan comes out, huddled in her jacket. She spots us across the parking lot, and her steps slow for a moment.

  “You’re still here,” she says to me. But then she must notice her sister’s tear-streaked face and rushes on with, “Sam! Are you okay?”

  “I’m better. Rob made me laugh.”

  I’m not even trying to be funny. I push off the bumper and straighten. “I’ll let you guys go eat.”

  “Wait.” Maegan puts a hand on my sleeve. Her eyes shine in the darkness, and our breath forms a cloud between us. “Drew was being a jerk. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let him say that stuff.”

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  “There are like four hundred tacos. Will you come back?”

  I glance at the door to the restaurant.

  Drew’s voice is like an ice pick in my brain. Charity?

  I can’t. I shouldn’t have done this at all. I don’t belong here.

  I shake my head. “I need to go. I don’t like leaving my mom alone.”

  Maegan’s expression evens out. I’m sure she’s thinking of what I said about my dad. I’m sure she’s considering what her friends said right to my face.