This time, Jimmy sighed.
While a soft breeze sang in the blossoming trees, Billy closed his eyes and tried to quiet his mind; he tried to return to the blissful ignorance he’d spent his entire life enjoying. It was no use. He needed an answer to his dilemma. He needed to discover his passion.
Some time passed, enough time for Jimmy to settle into a peaceful nap. “What about social work?” Billy suggested, startling the dog from his slumber. “Mom’s cousin, Paula, was a social worker and she’s helped more people than you could count.” He thought about it. “I like helping people.”
Jimmy sighed again.
“All right, I get it,” Billy said. “I’ll keep working on it.”
⁕
Beneath his maroon gown and cap, Billy wore khakis—pulled up to his waist for the special occasion—a button-down shirt, high tops and dark sunglasses, just like Charlie and Mark. The unauthorized eyewear was their small display of rebellion against “the man.”
The sky was blue and, although it was a beautiful day to the eye, the sun beat down mercilessly generating an unseasonably warm temperature. Billy’s shirt collar was already saturated in sweat, stinging his neck. The fold-out chairs—a thousand in all—were packed tightly together on the lawn, allowing little room for anyone to breathe. Billy looked back at his parents and Sophie, who were already squirming in the heat. I may not have finished at the top of my class like Sophie, he thought, but at least I finished. He then turned to Mark. “There are a lot of pretty girls here today,” he whispered.
Mark grinned. “Yup, and we’ve been with most of them every single day for the last four years.”
Billy took another look around. He’s right, he thought, but somehow they look different today. He couldn’t believe how fast the years had whipped by. Not so long ago, he was being babysat by a goofy purple dinosaur named Barney and swearing that the white Power Ranger was the greatest hero of all time. And now, he was taking his final steps out of childhood.
After hearing an extended congratulations from the school principal, district superintendent and class valedictorian, groans amongst the crowd were beginning to grow in number and volume.
The keynote speaker finally approached the podium and, after thanking all the long-winded dignitaries and suffering faculty, he addressed the graduating class. “Yours is an entitled generation,” he read from his notes and looked up. “And I’m here on behalf of my generation to apologize to you and to explain that the real world is nothing like the childhoods you’re graduating from today.”
Billy looked at Charlie and Mark and snickered. “This ought to be something,” he mumbled.
“Yours is an entitled generation,” the speaker repeated, “and it’s not your fault. It’s mine.” He paused. “You see, my mom and dad made me do chores to earn an allowance. No clean dishes, no spending money. When I wasn’t hustling to make a few dollars, I played Little League. But I never made the All Star team.” He cleared his throat and shrugged. “When my kids started playing baseball, I threw a few games and let them win—something my dad never did. And today, everyone gets a trophy whether they deserve it or not.
“I swore my kids were going to have a better life—an easier time of it—and I’m pretty sure my friends, your parents, thought the same way. So we grew up, worked our way through college, got jobs and worked even harder to climb the ladder to a better job—until we could afford a down payment on a house that would take us thirty years to pay off. We got married and had kids—you guys. And we kept our promise. We gave you everything—sometimes before you even asked.”
Billy turned right to see Mark looking at him. They rolled their eyes at the same time.
“When I was a kid, Christmas was a really, really big deal,” the speaker continued. “Each year, we got a bike or some big ticket item. For my kids, it’s actually tough for me to figure out what to buy them for Christmas because they already have everything. They…”
I hope Mom put the air conditioner on for Jimmy, Billy thought. It’s hot as hell today.
“You have to learn to lose before you can win,” the man rambled on. “You have to build a work ethic. Go out into the world and experience just how terrible manual and menial jobs can be...along with the pitiful pay. Only then can you completely commit to education and truly value it.”
Billy actually chuckled aloud. I work at the Oriental Pearl, he thought. You can’t get much more manual and menial than that. And the pay…
“I learned to solve problems and face bullies all on my own. But not you,” the speaker said, “you…”
Is this guy for real? Billy thought. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t get booed off the stage. He scanned the crowd. The entire audience—all thousand sweaty people—sat completely silent. Most of them looked dazed and confused. Hypnotized by bullshit, Billy thought.
Even in the awkward silence, the speaker was determined to finish his bleak message. “So let me tell you about the real world—what you absolutely need to know as you prepare to peek your head outside of this red-bricked sanctuary you’ve spent the last four years in.
“Not everyone makes the team. And trophies…” He shook his head. “Nope, you don’t get them for just showing up. It’s a very competitive world and there’s no such thing as luck. In the real world, we never get what we wish for. We get what we work for. And that’s if we stay at it long enough.
“No one, other than your parents, will fight your battles for you. And you’ll soon discover that…”
Whoever hired this joker is probably going to hear it, Billy thought. And I doubt they’ll ever be allowed to book another speaker.
“My job as a parent,” he continued on, “my one and only real job is to prepare my children to thrive—even to survive—and because of my childhood dejections, I chose to coddle them instead. All the years they should have been building muscle and endurance to face the challenges of the world, I was…” The man’s words drifted off. “Blah, blah, blah…”
Billy couldn’t help it. Between the heat and his lack of interest, he kept zoning out. He looked around and saw that most eyes were glazed over in a zombie-like state; everyone was just trying to get through it, obviously hoping it would end soon. I wonder how many parties me and the boys will hit over the next couple weeks? Billy wondered.
The man turned up the volume, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. “So I’ll tell you exactly what I’ve told my kids. On behalf of my generation, I apologize for having failed you…”
The audience shifted uneasily in their chairs, some going as far as letting out grunts of disapproval. Billy was hopeful, thinking, It looks like this self-righteous wind bag is about to wrap up.
“Just don’t be delusional and leave this auditorium thinking that your existence, up until this point, has been anything but a fantasy. The world out there is not nearly as kind or fair as what you’ve experienced thus far. You—not Mom or Dad—but you will have to work hard for everything you get from here on. You will have to take accountability for your own life. You will be the one who must…”
Billy sighed heavily and looked sideways at Charlie, who had his eyes closed.
The speaker looked up from the lectern and softened his tone for the big finish. “Some of my words may have come across as harsh, I know. But understand that my intentions are good and I don’t want a lie to be the last thing you hear in this school.” As if in prayer, he folded his hands together. “So please do me and my foolish generation a huge favor and let us off the hook. Please go out there and live the most accomplished and amazing lives any generation ever boasted. Don’t be afraid to fail, especially in pursuit of something you feel passionate about, because that’s where success can be found.” He folded his papers and stepped down from his mahogany soap box.
There was some genuine applause—coming from some of the parents—but the audience’s reaction was mixed at best
. It was like they’d gotten slapped with one hand and hugged with the other. The speech was tough love in its strangest form and the aftertaste was a bitter one.
Although Billy clapped softly, he didn’t like or appreciate the speech. He turned to Charlie. “This guy has no idea what the hell he’s talking about,” he whispered. “He’s so full of it.”
Billy looked back at his parents. Neither of them was clapping. Sophie, on the other hand, was grinning. It figures she’d appreciate that speech, he thought, chuckling to himself.
At the end of the graduation ceremony, Billy’s high school class threw their caps into the baby-blue sky and watched as they floated down like certificates of freedom. Their scrolled diplomas were their tickets out of childhood—free passes into the real world. Billy looked around and scanned many of their faces—smiles he’d known since first grade. Most are going on to college, he thought, and a few others into the military. The reality of it made him feel sad. At least we still have one last summer, he reminded himself.
In the third row, Mom, Dad and Sophie were still hanging in there—even smiling. Billy marched straight to them.
He wasn’t ten feet from them when his dad, Norman Rockwell Baker, barked out, “There he is, our high school graduate!” Billy’s dad was tall and burly, with wavy chestnut hair and a square chin. Although he was handsome, his passion for food had bloated his midsection or “dinner muscle” as he liked to call it.
Billy stepped into his mother’s embrace first. “We’re so proud of you, Billy,” she said and swayed with him amongst the sea of people like they were all alone. Margaret “Maggie” Baker had short-cropped auburn hair with a nice wave. Soft green eyes, with crow’s feet at the corners, betrayed her proud Irish ethnicity. She was well-endowed with a full midsection and a big backside that she claimed was “a gift from the pizza shop.” She wore very little makeup and although jolly was not a word often used to describe women, there was no better word to portray her. “So proud,” she repeated, kissing Billy’s cheek.
He let go of one hug and locked onto another, stepping into his father’s open arms. The large truck driver slapped Billy a few times on the back like he was trying to dislodge a chicken bone from his throat. “Your mom’s right,” his dad whispered, the man’s voice laden with emotion he fought hard to keep at bay. “We’re real proud, son. Congratulations!”
Stepping back, Billy looked into his dad’s misty eyes. They nodded at each other. It was a subtle exchange, but they both understood it meant infinitely more.
Billy turned and looked down at Sophie, his older sister. “You made it, Billy,” she teased. “In spite of yourself, you did it.” Billy laughed and they hugged. Sophie was shorter than him and cute, but her appearance was deceiving; she was as smart and intense as anyone Billy had ever known. And she was totally driven to make something of her life and become someone. “I’m proud of you, Billy,” she whispered.
He felt his chest grow warm. Coming from Sophie, those five words meant the world. She’d been his rock since he could remember. “Thanks, Sophe,” he said.
“And this is just the start for you,” Sophie added. “You’re going to do something amazing with your life, I just know it…once you stop being so lazy and grow up a little.”
“Thanks,” he repeated, feeling the sting of her backhanded compliment, “I think.”
Billy’s mom solicited the help of an elderly woman and the Baker family posed for several smiling photos. The family then stood in a circle for a while, wishing Billy “all the luck in the world” and discussing the incredible things that Sophie had predicted for him.
I hope she’s right, Billy thought. As he listened and smiled, he felt a strange release from childhood. If he didn’t know any better, he would have sworn he was now being spoken to with more respect—respect he had not yet earned. It felt awkward and a little scary.
His mom smiled. “That keynote’s speech was unexpected,” she whispered.
“And right on the mark for most of it,” his dad added at his usual volume.
Billy snickered and looked at Sophie. Although she seemed a bit distracted and not her usual attentive self, she still nodded—surprising Billy more. “I think the man made some good points, too,” she said.
After a few more photos, Billy said, “I should go congratulate my classmates. I may never see some of them again.”
“Of course,” his dad said, “go do your thing.”
“Will you be home later?” his mom asked.
“Yup,” Billy said and disappeared into the thick crowd to rejoin his friends, while his family headed home.
As Billy bounced off of people and excused himself a half dozen times, a pair of conflicting thoughts wrestled in his mind. High school’s finally over, he thought, filled with excitement and joy. And then it hit him, freezing him in place for a moment. Oh my God, high school’s over, he thought, feeling like a blanket of sorrow had just been draped over him.
He’d already shaken four hands and hugged three tearful girls when he was approached by Neil Jeronimo, a gifted stage actor and classmate since the first grade. “Where are you off to next year, Billy?” Neil asked.
“UMASS,” Billy quickly answered. “I’m going to get some core classes under my belt and then I’m leaning toward pre-med,” he fibbed.
Neil whistled. “Good for you. That’s a lot of school.” He shook his head. “You’re a better man than I, Gunga Din.” He paused in thought. “Wait a minute. I thought you hated the sight of blood. Remember that time in the fifth grade when you cut your arm in gym class and passed out.” He laughed at the memory. “Some of the girls thought you’d actually died and…”
“Yeah, I got over my fear of blood a long time ago,” Billy interrupted with a smile. “So where are you headed, Neil?” he asked, redirecting the conversation.
“Rhode Island College,” he said. “I’ll be majoring in Musical Theatre.” His eyes looked like they were on fire when he announced it.
“Then it’s off to Broadway, right?” Billy said.
Neil half shrugged. “That’s the plan, anyway.”
“You’re going to make it big, Neil,” Billy said and meant it. “I just hope you don’t forget us little people when you do.”
Neil chuckled, gratefully.
“Any chance I can score some free tickets to your first show?”
“You really think you’ll need free tickets on a doctor’s salary?” Neil teased.
Billy could feel his face blush. He quickly extended his hand. “I wish you all the best, my friend. I really do.”
Neil shook his hand. “And I wish you the same, Billy.”
As Billy walked away, although he’d never dream of musical theatre for himself, he felt envious of Neil. At least he’s excited about where he’s heading, he thought.
Billy drove home in his beat-up Honda—with its loud exhaust pipe and bumper sticker that read, Free Tibet—to find Charlie and an excited Jimmy already waiting for him at the house. There was a bouquet of flowers sitting in a vase on the living room coffee table.
“Who are these for?” Billy asked, surprised to see them.
“Me,” his mom answered, grinning. “Charlie gave them to me as a thank you.”
“A thank you?” Billy said, looking at Charlie.
“I would have never made it through high school if it wasn’t for your mom,” he answered honestly.
She smiled at Charlie, before the boys started down the hallway to Billy’s room.
“You brown noser,” Billy said under his breath. “You’re making me look bad.”
“She gave birth to you, Billy, so of course she’s always been there for you,” Charlie said, “but she’s been right there for me, too, and she never had to be.” He nodded, gratefully.
It was a nice gesture and Charlie was being sincere, so Billy let it go at that. Without any fu
rther discussion, the three—Billy, Charlie and Jimmy—proceeded straight to the dump site to play video games. After four years, the decision had become involuntary. When they weren’t muddling through homework, the boys played gaming tournaments that sometimes lasted late into the night. On many moons, while the wind tapped on the bedroom window, they stripped to their underwear and tried to beat the game before the sun peeked over the black horizon.
Billy was already into his attack when he yelled, “Mom, can you warm up some pizza bites for us? We’re starving.”
“They’re easy enough to make,” she called back from the living room. “I think you can handle it, Billy.”
“Yeah, but they don’t come out as good when I make them,” he yelled back before looking at Charlie and smiling. “Besides, we just graduated and this can be part of our gift.”
While they could hear her footsteps heading for the kitchen, Charlie grinned. “Yeah, that speaker dude was definitely full of crap.”
Billy thought about it and smirked. “Whatever.” He looked down at Jimmy. “Mom’s good to us, isn’t she, buddy?”
Jimmy nudged Billy with his nose.
“And can you bring Jimmy a snack too?” Billy screamed to his mother.
Charlie chuckled and shook his head. “Hey, I saw you talking to that crash dummy, Mr. McKee, at graduation,” he said, referring to their old English teacher.
Billy half shrugged. “Yeah, so what?”
“Well, you’re the only one in the whole school who would.”
Billy offered a full shrug. “He’s okay,” he said, never letting on that Mr. McKee was the only teacher who’d ever showed any real interest in Billy’s future or offered a single word of encouragement. Billy could still hear him: “Billy, although you do a pretty good job trying to conceal it, you’re a really smart kid who has more potential than most kids I’ve ever known…and I’ve been teaching for years. It may sound clichéd, but you can honestly do anything you want, if you go and get it.” The man smiled. “Now go and get it, Billy.” These few simple words made Billy feel good—even special—and that one feeling was all it would take to remember Mr. McKee for the rest of his life.
The Changing Season Page 4
