Soldier Mom

by Alice Mead

  “It’s okay.”

  “You know what happened?” I tell him then. I guess because he’s really and truly been thinking about my mom, I feel I can trust him. “Bridget went into my room without asking me and took your card and went around showing it to Amy and Danielle and making fun of it. I wanted to tell you first, you know, in case you hear anything. I told her the card was one of your jokes . . .”

  “You told her that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But it wasn’t. It wasn’t a joke.”

  “Yeah, I know.” For one second, we look at each other, and my stomach lurches.

  Then it’s over. In the next flash, Shawn says, “So anyway, there was this panda who liked to eat out at restaurants a lot, but only Chinese restaurants, of course, and . . .”

  I start to laugh. He’s told me this joke before. This time I laugh because I’m happy.

  The three-way phone call from Mrs. Roberge with me and Jake on different extensions doesn’t actually solve anything, but at least Jake and I get to talk about a schedule without screaming at each other.

  Mrs. Roberge’s idea of how to solve the day-care problem is to ask the Parnells for help. If they could go pick up Andrew at four forty-five, then I could get him from their house right after practice. But I’d still be alone with him until seven, and I still couldn’t go to away games. Besides, I don’t think the Parnells could keep up with Andrew. I think Jake should change his hours. And Jake thinks I should quit being captain. No one will compromise.

  After ten minutes of this, I suggest we all hang up because Mom might be trying to call us.

  “Oh, Jasmyn, honey, I don’t think so,” Mrs. Roberge says. “Not yet, anyway. Maybe she’ll have more of a chance tomorrow.”

  After he hangs up, Jake sits down at the kitchen table and starts a list of people who could help with Andrew. So far he has me, himself, and Mrs. Roberge on it. Then he gets stuck. “Do you know the Parnells pretty well?”

  “Kind of, yeah, but there’s no way they could—I mean, they don’t have kids.”

  “Honest to God, how does your mom do this, Jas?” he mutters. “How on earth does she manage to go to work? You must know. Come on, Jas. You see her; she just zooms around here like it’s nothing.”

  “You think I know? Go look in the bathroom.”

  “Yeah. You did pretty bad in there. You better get that picked up.”

  “Are you going to help me?”

  “Yeah. I will. In a minute.”

  But with Jake, minutes are very, very long, and I am just finishing as he comes in to help.

  13

  The next morning is no easier. Andrew won’t stop crying on and off, about every fifteen minutes. I think he’s looking for Mom. He stops what he’s doing and looks around, then starts to fuss and sometimes howl. His face is red as a beet, he’s been crying so long. I try to hug him, but he pushes me away and cries harder.

  One thing that doesn’t help is having Jake dress him. Mom makes it a big game, playing with his toes and stuff, but Jake is all business, shoving his arms and legs around into the little arm- and legholes.

  “What’s wrong with him, Jas? Do you think he’s sick? His tooth has popped through. Should I call the doctor?”

  “I don’t think so. Maybe you should wait a while and see if he gets worse. Anyway, it’s after nine-thirty. You still have to pack his lunch, remember?”

  “Oh, Jesus. That’s right.”

  “He likes hard-boiled eggs. And apple slices he can chew on.”

  “Oh yeah. Do we have any apples?”

  “No.” I’m glad Andrew had a good breakfast.

  “I need a plastic container.” Jake hunts for one.

  Andrew lets out a squawk.

  “Here, Andrew. A Popsicle. Don’t drip, all right? Where’s that stupid diaper bag? Come on, Jas! Help me look, dammit!”

  “Don’t swear. Nobody’s allowed to in this house.”

  “Okay, okay. Sorry. Get me some clean overalls and a T-shirt, then. Here. Here’s the bag. Andrew, buddy, eat that Popsicle a little faster. It’s dripping all over the place.”

  “He’s supposed to have his own supply of baby wipes, too.”

  “What? Oh. Where are they?”

  “Bathroom.”

  “Come on, Jas. Can you get them?”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” I like having a little power.

  I trot down the hall to Andrew’s room, but he’s out of T-shirts. They must all be down in the dryer. I’ve lost track of the laundry situation. Oh well. I grab the wipes and run back to the kitchen.

  “All his clean shirts are still in the dryer. Hey, do you think Mom will call today?”

  “Today? I doubt it.” With one hand, Jake is trying to throw some baked beans into a plastic dish to take to work. In the other hand, he’s got the diaper bag.

  “Okay. Diapers, wipes, bottle. What else? Lunch. Oh, the kid.”

  He reaches for Andrew. “I really hate this.”

  “Wait!” I yelp. “Who’s picking him up?”

  “You are. Now, come on, Jas, deal with it. I have to go.” He steps out onto the back deck. “Quit overreacting.”

  Then I snap. “You know what? You know how stressed out you feel right now? That’s exactly how I feel about basketball. That’s exactly one hundred percent how I feel!”

  I’m going to miss part of practice again! It’s over. Completely over. My sports career, my college scholar-ship, everything is ruined. I slam the door shut after him as hard as I can.

  The door opens again instantly. Jake has his finger in my face. “You listen to me, young lady. Don’t you ever, ever slam a door on me again. You got that?”

  I nod.

  “Good.” He stomps down the stairs with Andrew.

  At that same moment, I see Bridget and Amy riding their bikes down my street at full speed, and right behind them is my best friend.

  “Get your ball, Jas, so we can practice,” Bridget calls. “Oh, hi.” She waves to Jake as he backs out. “Andrew! Hi, Andrew. Look at him. He’s so cute.”

  I toss them the ball and then sit on the back steps while they warm up a little.

  Danielle hunches down next to me. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I have a headache.”

  “Hey, did your mom call yet?” Danielle asks.

  “No. She will, though.”

  “Come on.” Danielle yanks me to my feet. I go out on the street, and it’s one of those days when anger makes you perfect, and everything I touch turns to steel.

  I remember to bring to practice the tapes and my little tape deck, which I carry in my gym bag. I also have to lug the stroller. So I get there about two minutes late, and then I leave at four forty-five to go get Andrew. As I’m heading across the court, Coach jogs over to me.

  “You’re getting your baby brother, right? After you pick him up, can you stop in on your way home for a minute? I want to talk to you alone.”

  I freeze and glance at his face. His voice is completely neutral and already he’s running back to practice. Coach lives and dies for basketball. What can he want to say to me—except that I should quit being team captain?

  At day care, I shove Andrew into the stroller, grab his diaper bag, and hurry back up Main Street.

  “Hey! Williams! Wait up!” Shawn is pedaling wildly across the school parking lot. He pulls up next to me and gets off his bike. “Sorry I missed your practice. Aren’t you going home now?”

  “Coach wants to talk to me about something.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Yeah. Can’t be good.”

  The other girls are just coming out. Danielle is busy talking and barely waves to me. My heart sinks. I was counting on her to come with me.

  “I’ll wait in the hall for you,” Shawn offers. “I’ll watch Andrew.” He takes the stroller and starts racing down the hall with it. Andrew shrieks with delight. “Vrrooom. Vrooom. Hang on, Andrew, you dude. Ready, set, go!”

  Inside the gym, Coach i
s locking up the equipment closet and shutting off the lights with a special key.

  “Oh, hi, Jas. Glad you stopped by. Listen, I know there’s a lot going on at home right now. But, to tell you the truth, I didn’t know that when I appointed you captain. Here. Sit down here on the bleachers for a second.”

  I sit on the bleachers. I guess people ask you to sit down when they’re going to give you bad news, as if they’re worried that you might pass out or something.

  “You know how I make it a rule that everyone on the team gets the same treatment. For example, if you miss a practice, you don’t start the next game, even if you’re a superstar, right?” he asks.

  I nod. This is it. The big chop. The ax is about to fall. I feel two hot bright spots burn on my cheeks. I’m sitting in a hunched-up little knot.

  “One of the families complained last night . . .”

  “Bridget’s,” I say bitterly.

  “They said you’ll have to modify your schedule, with your mother away and all, and you have a lot of extra responsibilities now that the other kids don’t have . . .”

  Exactly! I yell inside my head. So don’t take this one good thing away from me!

  “But a captain needs to be able to give more than a hundred percent to her team, to set an example at all times, to motivate, and so on. Right?”

  I nod.

  “Well, I didn’t think it was fair to take away your position since I just gave it to you.”

  I look up at him.

  “Also because of your talent and because you do set a great example for the kids. So what I thought I’d do, in an effort to be fair to everybody, is make two co-captains. You and Bridget. Sound good?”

  Share with Bridget? He’s got to be kidding. Co-captains? I try to smile. He means well. I guess.

  “So you and Bridget are co-captains for the Pre-season League. And then, well, we’ll take it from there.”

  I still sit like a lump of wet towel. It isn’t until Coach claps me on the shoulder that I realize he’s finished talking with me. “You get on home now. Sorry I had to keep you.”

  “Okay, Coach. No problem.”

  Out in the cool, shadowy hallway, I take Andrew and his stroller from Shawn.

  “What’d he want?” Shawn asks. I don’t feel much like talking about it. My thoughts are pretty jumbled up.

  “Oh, nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow maybe. Or the next day. Thanks for watching Andrew.”

  All the way home, I think over the conversation with Coach. Come to think of it, he sounded like Jake, abouta team captain giving more than a hundred percent. But I do give it all I have. As soon as practice starts, I put every ounce of effort and ability I have into it. Isn’t that the point? Besides, didn’t Coach warn us not to go running home to our parents to complain? Now that Bridget has done that and gotten her way, maybe she’ll be even more spoiled and obnoxious. It’s like giving her permission to treat me like dirt, while she gets to flash her little MVP T-shirt around.

  MVP. I have to smile a little. I know what Shawn would say about those initials. Most Valuable Pain. Well, there’s nothing I can do about that. If she wants to be a show-off and a dweeb, that’s her choice.

  On the other hand, maybe Jake and Coach are right. Maybe it isn’t fair to the other kids that I can’t be around all the time but still get to be captain. What’s so fair about that?

  Andrew and I pass the cemetery and the ice cream shop. As usual, Andrew twists around in his stroller and begs for ice cream. The light breeze cools my face. Walking is relaxing. It gets you thinking in a way that doesn’t happen when you’re sitting in cars. The Parnells drive by and honk. I wave back.

  I sigh. Actually, to my surprise, I feel a little relieved to have the pressure of being captain lifted off me. I’d always be worrying about making a game, especially now that I know how much Andrew needs me. I’m pretty sure Bridget will be at basketball every single minute. So if I do have to help out at home, the team will still have a captain.

  By the time Andrew and I get home, I’m feeling pretty cool. Except for the Bridget part. She still drives me nuts.

  That night, after Andrew’s bath, we’re all three of us sitting around on the floor of the living room. Jake is letting Andrew climb on his stomach and then bounce up and down on him until he falls over laughing. Then he gets up and does it again. Andrew’s such a clown.

  Jake missed the news, so he reaches over Andrew and clicks on the TV. I groan.

  “What?” Jake asks.

  “Can you turn that off? I saw it earlier.”

  He shrugs. “Okay.”

  We sit there, watching Andrew flop around. I’m arguing with myself about whether to bring up that Coach has changed me to co-captain. It’s like losing a great big argument, which Jake will think he won. And if Jake starts saying “I told you so,” I’ll have a fit.

  “Gotta give my ribs a little rest, buddy.” Still lying on his back, Jake lifts Andrew in the air and waves him around like an airplane. Looks like fun.

  In the end, I can’t help myself. Out it comes.

  “So, Jake, guess what happened at practice today. Coach made me and Bridget co-captains. We’re going to share the job in case I have to leave early once in a while, or something.”

  “Oh yeah? Hey, that sounds pretty good, sharing it, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah. I guess it’s okay.” I smile at him and shrug.

  “Well, cool.”

  “Sometime you gotta meet Bridget. She complained about me. Just meet her once. Then you’ll get the full picture.”

  I guess he’s not going to say “I told you so.” Good.

  “Oooof. Hey, Andrew! Take it easy, buddy. You’re breaking my ribs again. Here. Go push this truck around. Well, I’m glad your coach thought of that. To compromise.”

  “Yeah, I guess, but it doesn’t make anybody really happy.”

  “Nope. But you know what? I bet that other girl, Bridget, I’ll bet she’s far less happy than you about sharing it.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” I have to smile. She probably thought that if she complained, Coach would throw me out altogether. “So . . . I mean . . . did you think about changing your hours at all?” I ask, hoping he won’t get mad.

  He doesn’t answer right away. Uh-oh, I’m thinking. Maybe he’s going to blow up at me again. But he’s the one who mentioned compromise. I hold my breath.

  “Yeah, of course I did. I thought about it,” he says.

  I start to feel half miserable again. I’m not asking him any more questions, that’s for sure. Maybe I’ve learned you can push Jake only so far.

  “All right, Jas. You know what? This co-captain thing makes it a little easier for me. At least I know if I need you to get Andrew, it won’t be such a big deal. I’ll call the night shift supervisor at the factory and tell him I want to switch my hours. I’ll see what he says. Deal?” He sticks out his hand.

  “Yeah. Deal.” We shake. Then he smiles.

  “But, Jas, do you have any idea how absolutely much I hate to get up early? I mean, we’re talking six o’clock here. Nobody’s up then but roosters.”

  14

  The phone rings around 6 a.m. on Wednesday. I leap out of bed, hoping it’s Mom. But it’s Jake’s supervisor from the factory.

  “Can you get Jake for me?” he asks.

  “Sure. In a minute.”

  Waking Jake up isn’t easy. He sleeps dead to the world. I bang on Mom’s bedroom door. “Phone! Jake, wake up!”

  “All right, all right. Got it.” He groans. “Hello?”

  Two minutes later, he comes staggering out of the bedroom, with his reddish hair sticking straight up like Andrew’s.

  “Hi, Spike,” I say.

  “Guess what? I got changed to the early shift. Eight to four. You happy now?”

  “Oh, wow! That is so awesome, Jake. That’s great!”

  “Yeah. Now if you’ll excuse me, you’re blocking the route to the bathroom.”

  I’m so excited I
want to call Danielle, but she doesn’t get up early. I run outside in my bare feet and pj’s. I prance around the yard in the cold, dewy grass and let the newly risen sun run up my arms. Two fishing boats are heading out to sea together. Today could be a great day.

  But by that night, Mom still hasn’t called. I sit huddled on the sofa, waiting. For nothing. Running down to do the laundry every so often. We never had so many clean socks in this house. Watching the TV news. More weapons. Troops. Charts. Fat pink generals. Saddam and his hostages. Each day looks the same.

  Five days have gone by. Mom must have reached Saudi Arabia by now. She must have. She never did call from Spain, the way she said she would, and by now she must have been in Saudi Arabia for a day or two.

  I sit there, staring out the window.

  “Why doesn’t she call?” I ask Jake for the millionth time.

  I can’t eat my supper, which is bagels on paper plates with cream cheese and tomato soup. It looks a lot like lunch did. Jake’s cooking skills are at ground zero.

  “Maybe the phone lines aren’t set up. You have to realize, Jas, they’re moving 100,000 soldiers over there as fast as they can. Your mom’s in a supply battalion. She probably hasn’t had a break since she got there.”

  “She said she’d call.”

  “Give her a chance, will ya? Now, come on and eat up.”

  Sighing, I rip off a piece of tough bagel dough and poke it in my soup. “I can’t.”

  And then the phone does ring! I leap out of my chair, knocking it over, and dash to pick it up ahead of Jake. And it’s Mom! It really is.

  “Hey! Mom, why didn’t you call us before? I was so worried.”

  “I couldn’t, Jas. I honestly couldn’t.”

  “ ’Cause you’re so busy?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been working eighteen hours a day. This place is total chaos right now. Picture this. We’ll be moving 330,000 gallons of jet fuel and 8,305,000 gallons of diesel fuel through here. And that’s just for my unit.”

  “Wow.”

  “And the plane, the way we got here, the plane was huge, Jas. Three hundred feet long. A C-5 transport. We sat on top of all the gear on little canvas straps. Seventeen hours to Saudi.”