I collapse face-first to the grass and begin to breathe in and out as quickly as I can.
“Good session today. Keep it up,” Coach Quill says, stooping down to slap me on the ass before he jogs off to the locker rooms.
I’m shattered. I feel as if I could sleep here for the night. So, I close my eyes, and just as I do, another body collapses beside me.
“Fuck me, that was torture,” Stevie groans.
“Sure was. But we’ll be a better team for it,” I say. “I think we might win a couple games this year.”
“If we can do those changeovers in games the way we did ’em today, we could win more than a couple. You were handling the ball well out there today, dude.”
“Your Mom was handling balls well out there today,” I say.
And then he slaps me on the ass. Really hard.
“Speaking of handling balls, when you gonna start turning the heat up on Decker? It’s all starting to go very cold.”
“Tomorrow,” I say.
“Really?”
“Yep. I’m gonna start coming on to her tomorrow, and before you know it, she’ll have her panties down by her ankles and she’ll be taking in a mouthful of my―”
A cough frightens me. And when I turn over on the grass, I see Dad staring down at the two of us.
“What were you saying?”
“Nothing, Dad. Promise,” I say, sitting up. And as I do, Stevie sits up beside me and begins plucking blades of grass from the field.
“Nothing, Mr. Edwards. Honestly,” he says.
“Sounds to me like you were talking about girls. If I ever hear that you’ve treated a girl badly, Brody, I swear I’ll… I’ll…”
“We weren’t talking about girls, promise, Mr. Edwards,” Stevie says. He’s so good at lying. Lies come to him as naturally as the truth does. “We were talking about the changeovers in our game next week.”
Dad stares at him, unsure, then eyeballs me. But I just look down at the white line in the grass and say nothing.
“Well listen,” Dad says, reaching into the back pocket of his trousers. “Here’s the four hundred dollars for your trip to Europe.”
“Yes!” Stevie says, and then he jumps on top of me and we both wiggle around on the grass celebrating as if we’ve just won the Superbowl.
“Dad, you’re the best,” I say after my wrestling match is over and I get to my feet to hug him.
“You’re only getting this amount because I think the trip will be good for you. It’ll help open your mind. But I want no fooling around on that trip from either of you, you hear me?”
“We’ll be on our best behavior, Mr. Edwards,” Stevie says. And then he slaps me on the back. “C’mon, man, let’s go get changed.”
I hug Dad again, then me and Stevie head for the locker room.
“We gonna do some fuckin’ damage in Europe, baby!” I say when we’re out of earshot of Dad. “Can you imagine the European pus-say? I can’t wait!”
“Well that can wait,” Stevie says, just as we step inside the locker rooms. Then he leans in to me. “Cos don’t forget, you’ve still got a lot of work to do on Decker before we go on this trip. You being straight sayin’ you’re gonna make a move on her tomorrow?”
“You betcha,” I say.
LUCY DECKER
I dig the knuckles of both index fingers into my temples while Mia slides a large glass of water in front of me.
“So what did you do all day in school if you were dying with a hangover?” she asks as she sits into the chair opposite me.
“I just assigned all the kids a writing task on Walter Fellowes while I sat at my desk staring at my watch. Three-thirty couldn’t come quick enough.”
“And you call yourself a great teacher?” she smirks.
I laugh, then pick up the glass of water and take a large swig from it.
“I am a great teacher. This is only the second time I’ve ever had a hangover in class in eleven years. And the first time I had a hangover, I blame you.”
My twin hugs her mug of coffee while she cackles from the back of her throat, remembering that she arranged her bachelorette party on a Sunday night.
“Well it’s good to see you having fun. So, tell me… how did the date go?”
“It wasn’t a date,’” I tell her. “I just felt I needed a drink, especially after the day I’d had.”
“Go on,” she says.
“Well... it’s terrible news. One of my students tried to commit suicide over the weekend. Tried to hang himself in his bedroom. He’s gay, Mia. And so afraid to come out. His parents, they’re just so old-school.”
“Oh my fuckin’ Jesus,” Mia says, her jaw dropping as she places her mug back down to the table. “This isn’t the first time this has happened to a student of yours, huh?”
“Nope. But at least this time the student wasn’t successful.”
We both sit there in silence, her picking back up her mug, me swirling my glass of water as if it was another glass of wine. Then last night hits me again, and I shiver. It was fun. Jonny is great company. And I’ve laughed my ass off both times we’ve been out together. But my life is so screwed up right now that I really shouldn’t have gone to The Shamrock last night. I’ve probably led him on by showing up. I was just... I was just so desperate not to go back to my place and be alone with my own thoughts.
“So how is the kid?” Mia asks.
“A slight neck burn, but that’s the least of his worries. He’s now faced with the task of having to come out to his parents.”
Mia shakes her head.
“In this day and age, huh? 1997 and so many people still find it impossible to just be who they want to be.”
I shrug. And then... without warning, tears start spilling from my eyes and a sob leaps from the back of my throat.
“Oh, sis,” Mia says, walking around her kitchen island to comfort me by rubbing circular patterns into my back.
“I’m so s-sorry,” I say, my shoulders shaking. “It’s just all too much for me to handle right now.”
“There, there,” Mia, says, continuing to rub my back as if I’m a big baby, “you’re going through a lot.”
“I’m alone. I can’t get pregnant. My students are trying to kill themselves.”
“Please,” Mia whispers into my ear. “This is not your fault. None of those things you’ve mentioned are your fault.“
But I don’t answer her, or debate her, even though I want to. Because I’m sobbing. Hard.
Then, during the loudest of my sobs, a key turns in the door and in walks Zachary, whistling his way toward us.
I swipe my sleeve over my face.
“Please don’t tell Zachary any of this,” I whisper.
Mia shakes her head.
“What’s up, ladies?” Zachary says, kissing my twin on the lips and then staring at me.
“Y’okay Luce?” he asks.
“Fine. Fine. Ohhh…” I say. And then I get off the stool I’ve been sitting on to grab my purse. “For your big day tomorrow.”
I hand him his card and he holds out his arm for me to step under so he can embrace me in a one-handed hug.
“You’re so sweet,” he says.
“Can’t believe you’re almost fifty,” I say.
“Fuck you,” he says back to me. And then he releases me.
“Where are the kids, babe?” Zachary asks Mia.
“Up in their rooms playing.”
Zachary drops the envelope I handed to him on the kitchen island, then runs up the stairs to see his pride and joy.
“He’s such a good dad,” I say. “Shit brother-in-law, but a great dad.”
Mia laughs and then she, just as her husband did, holds out her arms so I can be engulfed in another tight squeeze. I must look like I need hugs.
“You’re being way too Lucy,” she says. “Listen, forget about saving up the ten K. It’s gonna take you over... how long did you say it would take you again?”
“Another two years,” I groan on her shoulder
.
“Yeah.. forget about that. Why don’t you just do what most other women would do in your situation. Just have sex with somebody, Lucy. Just let somebody fuck you and then... I mean you wouldn’t have to tell them. Just get pregnant and raise the baby yourself. Your plan of taking two years to save up ten grand is just nonsense. Just screw somebody. That’ll take ten minutes. You could be pregnant by next week!”
WENDY CAMPBELL
I sit beside Sally on the couch and wrap my arm around her shoulders, so I can squeeze her into me.
“What’s this one called?” I ask.
She shrugs, then stuffs her mouth with the sandwich I made her while she soaks in the cartoon she doesn’t know the name of. Then, as we both watch one of the characters getting squashed by a falling piano, she begins to giggle. And her giggling makes me giggle. Which is weird. Us two giggling while Momma is dying by our feet on a makeshift bed. I stare down at Momma’s heavy breasts, to see them moving up and down, then I squeeze my little sister tighter to me.
“Hey,” she moans, “I’m eating!”
Then the door rattles with a heavy knock.
“Shit,” I whisper to myself.
“Who that?” Sally asks.
I stare down at Momma again, to see her bulging eyes blinking back to life.
“Don’t worry Momma,” I whisper, “I’m on it.”
I walk over to our window and pull the curtain back an inch to see two strangers — a man and a woman — standing at our door, both of them with their hands on their hips. Then the man, who has his back to me, glances over his shoulder and I’m sure he sees me letting the curtain go and jumping backward.
Shit!
“Who is it?” Sally asks.
“Shhhh… I dunno,” I say.
Then the window receives a rattle of the man’s knuckles. And it frightens me.
“Hello,” a voice calls out. “I saw you in there. We’d just like a quick word.”
I try to remain calm because Sally is staring at her older sister; a sister who promised her she’d never let anybody hurt her.
“Momma,” I whisper, “what’ll I do?”
She blinks her eyes, then her head tilts to one side, as if she just wants to fall back asleep again so she doesn’t have to deal with any of this.
“Hello,” the woman’s voice calls out this time. An odd accent.
After taking a few steady breaths, I decide to walk to the door so I can inch it open.
“Oh, hi there,” her friendly face says, smiling at me. “You must be Wendy.”
I look over my shoulder at Momma, then back out through the crack in the door.
“Who’s askin’?” I say.
“Our names are Brendan and Mary Larkin. We’re Caoimhe’s parents.”
“Oh,” I say, relieved. “But I told Caoimhe not to say anything to nobody.”
“We’re only here to help,” Caoimhe’s father says, “to see what we can do.”
I look back over my shoulder at Momma again, to see her eyes closed, her breasts moving up and down. Sally looks up at me, her eyes wide, her body frozen with fear.
“It’s okay, Sally.” Then I turn around and open the door fully, inviting them both inside.
CAOIMHE LARKIN
Meric smiles awkwardly at me. Again. It’s so weird to be only able to see the bottom half of somebody’s face when they’re talking to you. I wish he’d cut that thick fringe off. If me and him were to officially become boyfriend and girlfriend, I sure as hell would be begging him to cut it.
“Here y’go,” he says, handing me one of his newspapers, hot off the printer.
“Coooool,” I exaggerate, faking my interest. I mean, that may be a little unfair. It’s just I’m not that into newspapers at the best of times even when they have lots of celebrities in them, let alone some crappy one-sheet school newsletter.
“See... so I print all the school updates on the front page, latest goings on and whatever. And then…” he flips the page over… “on the back we do some news about the school football team and drama classes… stuff like that.”
“You should be very proud of yourself,” I say, handing the page back to him without reading anything but the headlines.
“Oh, take that one with you. You can read it at lunchtime.”
“Eh... okay,” I say.
And so I fold the sheet up and place it carefully inside my schoolbag, sandwiching it between two of my copy books.
“Tell you what?” Meric says, sitting beside me. “Why don’t I interview you for next week’s newspaper? I can write it from the angle of a new girl at school, all the way from Ireland, and you can give me some quotes about what you think of Lebanon.”
“Oh, hell no,” I say. And as soon as I say it, I see disappointment in his face... well, the bottom half of his face, anyway. “Sorry Meric, the last thing I would want is to have my picture splashed on the front of the school newspaper. I don’t want to be noticed like that. I’m not one for attention.”
“But… but…”
“But, what?” I say.
He just shakes his fringe and mouths, “Never mind” before turning back to the printer so he can organize all of the freshly printed newspapers that are now spitting out on to the tray.
“Tell you what could be a good news story,” I say. “You know Kai... he’s in our American History class?”
“Yeah, course,” Meric says, brushing his fringe away with his fingers.
“Well, you know he tried to kill himself at the weekend?”
“What?”
“Yeah… I mean, it’s so sad.”
“I should do a story on Kai.”
“No... no. Not on Kai,” I say. “He wouldn’t want that. Meric, I don’t think people want the attention you think they want all the time. I’m just suggesting that you could do a story on mental health. On depression. Something like that.”
“Oh,” Meric says. Then he just shrugs his shoulders and sits back into his chair while we both suffer in another bout of overly long and awkward silence.
I think about poor Wendy while we’re quiet. Mam and Dad popped round to see them yesterday; said they were gonna take care of things and try to help them out. Dad didn’t say much to me when they got home — because he was still trying to figure it all out — but I think they’re gonna start contacting hospitals to try to get Mrs. Campbell a bed somewhere. I actually feel bad that this past week has made me feel really lucky; lucky to have two parents living at home with me. And two parents who happen to be healthy. I should have known that already. I shouldn’t have had to move all the way to America to realize all the good things I have.
“Hey,” I say, turning to Meric, “what’s your dad situation again?”
“Oh,” he says. “I’ve no idea who he is. Mom says he was a really good guy and really handsome, but…” Then he shrugs his shoulders.
“You haven’t tried to look for him?”
Meric sticks out his bottom lip and ever so slowly shakes his fringe from side to side again.
“Nope.”
“But what about if—”
“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he says.
“Oh... I’m sorry.”
Shit. I’m always running my mouth off. Dad says I ask too many questions. Though Mam normally argues against that, and says nobody can ever ask too many questions. I hope I didn’t offend Meric that time. So, I sit forward a little in my chair and try to stare up into his face, from underneath the heavy strands of his fringe, to see if I can catch his eyes.
“Eh.. so you got anything exciting happening this weekend?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
“Nah... not really. Prolly just go on a few bike rides around town. You?”
“Me, what?”
“You got anything interesting going on?”
I tilt my head, something I always do when I’m trying to think. And it makes me remember that daddy surprised me with a little something last night when he got back from the Campbell’s
house, only because he knew I was feeling down and thought that it would pick me back up.
“Actually,” I say, “I’ve got a psychic reading on Saturday. I guess that’s something to look forward to.”
KAI CHAYTON
Halona grips my hand as she pushes through the door and as she does, a bell chimes above our heads. Then a man with a scruffy beard pokes his head around a huge computer screen before exhaling a cloud of smoke.
“How can I help you guys?” he says.
“We’d uh…” Halona says, looking around the dank and low-lit room, “we’d like to use the internet for about an hour.”
“No problem dude and dudette,” the man says before taking in a lungful of smoke from his cigarette. “Nine dollars for one hour. Try computer number six down the back.”
He points us to the back corner of the low-lit room as he exhales another cloud and I follow Halona in the direction he is pointing, the two us still gripping each other’s fingers.
She’s been such an angel to me over these past two days. It was her who calmed Poppa down. Although I’m not sure if “calm” is the right word to describe Poppa right now. He’s still coming to terms with it all. He’ll probably be coming to terms with it the rest of his whole life. Two days ago, his worst fear was me telling him I’m gay. Today I bet he wishes that was all I had to say to him.
I sat Momma and Poppa down, with Halona by my side, and told them everything. Momma didn’t cry like I thought she would. Instead, she sat herself in between me and Halona and squeezed us both close.
“This is just a phase,” she said. “You’ll grow out of it.”
Then she kissed me on the head before telling me she was gonna give me the four hundred dollars so I could go on the school trip to Europe; probably thinking that me breathing in European air will somehow make me forget who I am. Poppa was pacing the floorboards of our living room, huffing out of his nose like an angry bull. In fact, I don’t think he has stopped huffing like an angry bull ever since. But at least he didn’t shout and roar like I told Halona he would.
In The Middle of Middle America Page 18
