The Shortest Way Home

by Juliette Fay

  “Was this after lunch or before?”

  “After. Alejandro Ramirez is really pissed at him for crashing into him in gym, and every time Alejandro walked by him in science, the breathing got louder. I could barely stand it!”

  “Sounds like he was worried Alejandro might clock him one.”

  “Yeah, he’s scared of, like, everything.”

  “You know,” said Sean. “Davis might be dealing with some things he can’t control.”

  “Right, like he can’t control bouncing around all the time?” Kevin scoffed. “I doubt it.”

  Sean didn’t want to use Kevin’s own idiosyncrasies against him, but he was surprised at his insensitivity. “Kev,” he said. “Everyone has stuff that’s hard for them. And sometimes it isn’t the same stuff that’s hard for everyone else. You see what I’m getting at?”

  “No,” said Kevin, petulantly.

  “What’s hard for you?” Sean watched as the point hit home. “I’m not saying you have to like him or be best pals or anything. But don’t be mean to him. Life’s hard enough.”

  * * *

  The next day it was as if the entire school decided to pay a visit to the nurse’s office. Fevers, headaches, cramps. Sean wondered if every menstruating female in the building had spontaneously gotten her period. Even the teachers needed supplies. “Where’s Penny?” one asked, eyes casting furtively around the room. When he told her Penny was at a meeting in another building, a blush rose up her cheeks. “I need a . . . a . . .” she murmured.

  “Tampon?” whispered Sean. He slipped her a couple surreptitiously, like a drug dealer.

  A sprained ankle, a case of lice, a broken tooth. Emergency forms were pulled from the file like cards from the deck in a gin game. Parents were called. Notes were written. Forms filled out. Sean was sweating by the time things slowed down a little before lunch.

  Two kids were waiting in the sick bays for parents to pick them up when Davis arrived for his Ritalin. Sean took him out to the hallway to talk privately. “You’re not taking your medicine, are you?” Davis looked away. “When you do take it, does it help?” Sean asked.

  “A little.”

  “So why not take it?”

  “It makes me feel weird. Like something’s gonna get me.”

  “It makes you anxious?”

  “More anxious,” Davis clarified. “My mother says I’m a born ­worrywart.”

  “Who prescribed the Ritalin?” Sean asked.

  Davis glanced down the hallway, which was empty. “My psychiatrist,” he murmured.

  “Does he know about the anxiety?”

  “Yeah, but he says we have to deal with the ADHD first. He says for the anxiety I should meditate.” Davis rolled his eyes. “I have an attention problem,” he said. “How’m I supposed to sit still and clear my mind? If I could do that, I wouldn’t need a psychiatrist, would I?”

  Dual diagnosis. Sean had read about this in the School Nursing article. It wasn’t uncommon for kids with ADHD to be anxiety-prone. This made it difficult to get the medication right because ADHD drugs tend to have a revving effect that can help with concentration but increase anxiety.

  Sean said, “I’ll talk to Ms. Coyne about this,” and let him leave without taking the pill. After school, when the nurse’s office cleared out, Sean broached the subject with Penny. “The kid has a point,” he said. “So I let him off the hook with the Ritalin.”

  “We can’t make those decisions, Sean.” She shook her head wearily. “In fact we could get in a lot of hot water for it. I’m handing this over to guidance.” And she typed up an e-mail on the spot, with Sean’s input. “Let’s see what they say.”

  CHAPTER 54

  On Saturday, Sean and Kevin went computer shopping.

  “That one has no speed,” the salesclerk warned them. “They stopped making that processor like six months ago and the RAM’s low. That’s why we’re selling it so cheap.”

  “We’ll take it,” said Sean.

  They looked at cell phones, but there were so many plans and models and accessories to consider, Sean got overwhelmed and anxious about the expense. This must be what Davis feels like all the time, he thought.

  On Sunday, Sean went to Rebecca’s to help her paint. He found an eighties radio station, and they laughed and sang along to forgotten superstars like Frankie Goes to Hollywood. Katrina and the Waves came on with “Walking on Sunshine,” and Rebecca dropped her brush into the paint can. “This was my favorite!” She began to dance around the room and Sean jumped up to join her. Rebecca knew all the words and sang them with abandon, even the part that went, “Baby I just want you back and I want you to stay!” Sean felt a little funny about that.

  When the song was over, she leaned breathless against an unpainted wall. He grinned at her. “I’m pretty positive I never saw you dance like that in high school,” he said.

  “No,” she sighed and slid to the floor. “I only did it in the privacy of my own basement. I wasn’t exactly the bouncy, wild-dancing type. People would’ve thought I was trying too hard.”

  He went and sat next to her. “So you’re a secret sunshine walker.”

  She smiled. “Still respect me?”

  He hung an arm around her. “More than ever.”

  The thought of her melodious voice and secret inner happiness reminded him of something. “Hey,” he said. “Can you make a recording of your voice on your laptop?”

  * * *

  Monday was Labor Day, and Cormac’s family was having their annual, semilegendary party to celebrate not working. Sean had gone every year in high school. “Bring the family,” Cormac had said. “Bring Rebecca, too!”

  Aunt Vivvy didn’t want to go. She was lucid enough that morning to explain that she was vexed by the possibility of embarrassing herself.

  “Mrs. McGrath would love to see you,” said Sean. “You could catch up on Garden Club news. I’ll take you home if you start getting foggy.” He could see the temptation this presented and pressed his point. “Auntie, you haven’t been out of the house in months. Aren’t you bored?”

  She sighed. “Terribly.”

  All Kevin wanted to know was would the big guy be there, and would there be pie. Sean assured him there’d be plenty of desserts, including the all-important Labor Day cake designed by Cormac himself. George made it clear that she did not want to be left home alone, barking and whining when she saw them all getting ready to leave. “Absolutely not,” Sean told Kevin.

  When they went to pick up Rebecca, she was wearing that pale pink dress with the tiny flowers. He felt a secret little gasp erupt in his chest. Aunt Vivvy glanced over at him. Perhaps not entirely secret. He got out to greet her with a peck on the cheek and opened the back door.

  She greeted everyone and said, “Hey there, George. Are you coming to the party, too?”

  “Don’t ask,” Sean grumbled.

  When they arrived at the McGraths’ there was music playing in the backyard, and voices and laughter. Cormac was the first person they saw, and he greeted them with his characteristic enthusiasm, high-fiving Kevin and beckoning his mother over to help Aunt Vivvy to a chair. “Rebecca,” he said. “Man, the years have been good to you!”

  She smiled. “I hear you kept Sean out of trouble at your bakery this summer.”

  “Actually, he was the worst cashier I ever hired.”

  “Hey!” Sean said, mock-indignantly.

  “Sure, the guy can sew a head wound,” Cormac went on, “but he doesn’t know a half-caf macchiato from his elbow, let me tell you that.”

  Cormac suggested to Kevin that he take a look at the cake, but Kevin was a little iffy about the crowd. Rebecca volunteered to go with him.

  “First get George’s bowl and fill it with water,” Sean told him. “Even with the windows down she’ll g
et hot.”

  They went off to do so, and Cormac said, “The responsible dog owner!”

  “Let’s get one thing straight: I do not own that dog.”

  “Got it.” Cormac nodded sarcastically.

  “Where’s Barb?”

  Cormac’s joviality faded, and he took a few steps away from the crowd. “Upstairs in my old bedroom,” he murmured. “Having a nervous breakdown.”

  “What? Why?”

  “My cousin Janie’s pregnant.”

  “Oh, God, buddy. I’m so sorry. Janie’s not even married to the guy, right?”

  “They will be in about a month.” Cormac shrugged. “In the end it’s a good thing. Tug’s dying for more kids, and in my personal opinion, Janie needed a kick in the ass. ‘Where will we live?’ ” he mimicked. “Who freaking cares? What a stupid thing to stop you from being with someone who’s really right for you.”

  Sean felt the zing of this comment, though he knew Cormac hadn’t meant it for him. Spoken like a man who’s never had a location problem, he thought. But his sympathy for his old friend returned a moment later. “Shouldn’t you be up there with her?” he asked.

  “No, she’s pissed at me. Not entirely sure why, of course . . .”

  “It’s the hormones,” said Sean. “And you’re the husband.”

  Cormac nodded. “So,” he said after a moment. “You neglected to mention that your girlfriend is smokin’ hot.”

  Sean laughed. “She’s pretty great, huh?”

  “It’s funny, because she doesn’t actually look that different. It’s like she’s grown into herself or something. Plus she looks happy, which she never did in high school.” He smirked at Sean. “I suppose you might be marginally responsible for that.”

  “We school nurses do have a way with the ladies.”

  Kevin and Rebecca made their way back, and Kevin was mightily impressed with the cake. “It’s this enormous flower!” he said, holding his arms wide. “With Mrs. McGrath’s face in the middle! And it says ‘The President’!”

  “Because she’s the president of the Garden Club now,” Cormac explained. “Your aunt used to be, you know.”

  Kevin grinned at Sean. “She must have graduated, because now she’s the queen.”

  Sean laughed. To Cormac, he said, “Inside joke.”

  “Spinster!” Cormac’s cousin Janie came over with her son Dylan. “How’s everything?”

  Sean introduced her to Rebecca, and Janie remembered her from high school. The women chatted as Kevin and Dylan eyed each other. Finally, Kevin said, “Wanna see my dog?” Dylan looked to his mother, who wanted to know where the dog was and how long they’d be gone, and whether the dog was friendly. “He’s only in first grade,” she murmured to Sean.

  “Kevin’s in sixth grade, and he’s a Boy Scout, so he’s pretty responsible, right Kev?” Kevin responded with a shrug-nod. “Don’t worry,” Sean told Janie. “It’s safe.”

  “ ‘Don’t worry,’ ” she said wryly. “Not sure I know that tune.”

  Sean nodded. “Yeah, just when it seems like the coast is clear, some other danger pops up.” He told them about Kevin going under the waves when they were in Ireland. “I nearly lost my mind!” They both looked at him for a moment without responding. It seemed strange to Sean, and he said, “Well, wouldn’t you?” Yes, they both nodded. Absolutely.

  There was an awkward silence. Sean said, “So, Janie, I hear you’ve got good news.”

  “Cormac told you.”

  “Yeah, I hope that’s okay.”

  “No, it’s fine,” she said. “I’m just trying to keep it on the down low until after the wedding. And I’m really hoping Cormac and Barb will have some good news of their own by then.” She told Rebecca about the pregnancy and impending wedding, and then she heard her daughter start to cry from the opposite side of the yard and hurried off.

  The boys came back and wandered around the party together. Aunt Vivvy truly was the queen, surrounded by Garden Club members who stopped to pay homage to her past leadership. Sean and Rebecca talked to the McGraths and various other party-goers. Sean always introduced her as “my friend, Rebecca,” but they stood too close for their relationship to be mistaken as platonic. Mr. McGrath and Cormac bantered at the grill.

  And Barb stayed upstairs.

  After a while, Sean asked Cormac, “How about if I take a plate up to her?”

  “Are you packing heat? You might need it.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” Sean loaded a plate and went upstairs.

  Cormac’s childhood bedroom still had a shelf full of trophies from their high school days and a poster of tennis great Boris Becker. Barb was curled into an overstuffed chair in the corner.

  “Missed you out there, picture taker,” Sean said. “Thought I’d bring the party to you.”

  “Oh, Sean, that’s so sweet of you. I keep hoping I can get calm enough to face it.”

  “Cormac told me.”

  The circles under Barb’s eyes were darker than ever. “I’m happy for them,” she said dully. Then a flash of anger: “But she wasn’t even trying! And she’s just such a smartass!”

  “A total smartass.” Sean nodded sympathetically. “But she’s family—what can you do?”

  “Not a damn thing,” she muttered, staring out the window.

  Cormac had warned him, but Sean was still surprised by this uncharacteristic bleakness.

  Then she turned to him. “Look,” she said, “you’ve been through a lot, and you have a right to build your life however you like. But I just want to know: would you stay if he was your biological child?”

  “Kevin?” Sean said, a vague panic dulling his comprehension skills.

  “Of course, Kevin. Who else?”

  “Um . . .” Sean hadn’t really considered the question of biology before, because there’d never been a possibility of his having any kind of child, biological or otherwise.

  “I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” she said. “How much it matters . . . whether it matters at all.”

  “I guess maybe it’s just personal preference,” he offered. “Some people care about having the same genetic makeup, some don’t.”

  “And what if you don’t get a choice?” she said quietly.

  They sat there, with the implications of her question hanging in the air around them.

  She went on staring out the window. “I’ve been so determined to have a biological child, and I really want the experience of being pregnant. But that’s over in nine months.” She turned to look at Sean. “At which point, what does it matter where the kid came from?”

  It seemed like sound logic. And yet he sensed something beyond it, something more than whether she’d decided to give up the hormone treatments and contact an adoption agency.

  Her gaze softened. “I don’t think either of us has a choice, Sean,” she said, gently. “I think you and I are both going to raise and love other people’s children.”

  She took a long slow breath and let it out with a sigh. Her shoulders, which had been stiff and ready for a fight, relaxed. Something seemed to change for her then, a perspective shift, a letting go. “It’s an honor, really,” she said, “don’t you think?”

  Without waiting for him to answer, she rose and went down to the party.

  * * *

  The rest of the day was surreal to Sean. His legs felt as if they might go out from under him at any time and he would sink into the ground and disappear without anyone noticing.

  “Have you had anything to eat?” Rebecca asked at one point. She seemed to be studying him. He turned away, pretending to see someone he knew.

  Eventually they left, and he dropped her off with a tepid peck on the cheek. At home, he helped Aunt Vivvy up to her room and told Kevin to take a shower and make
sure his backpack was ready for school tomorrow. All of this was automatic now. He did it without a thought.

  Other people’s children. Had he somehow become a parent without his consent? Had the choice been made for him?

  Later when the house was quiet, he was restless, and his shock turned to indignation. Who was Barb to make pronouncements about what choices he did or didn’t have? He hardly knew her. Cormac must have told her about their conversations at The Pal—conversations he thought were just between them.

  He paced around the kitchen, his back throbbing, which was strange because it hadn’t bothered him for a while. He threw down four ibuprofen and opened a beer, hoping it would ease his restlessness. A massage would help, he thought, or, even better, sex. Anything that would take him out of his spinning thoughts. He grabbed the car keys and went out the door, telling himself he was not going to Rebecca’s to lose himself in her body. He just wanted a change of venue. If sex happened, that would be nice, too.

  When she opened the door she was wearing pajamas, faded and stretched out, a seam popping at the shoulder. He’d never seen her in pajamas before. If she had to wear them, why couldn’t they be nice ones, at least?

  “Well?” she said.

  “Well, what? I can’t just come by?”

  She squinted at him, baffled. Then she held out her arms, indicating the room. He looked around. They had finished painting the day before. She must have moved all the furniture herself, because the room was completely set up. Or maybe she’d had help. Maybe that old boyfriend.

  “It looks great,” he said.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, fine. I just couldn’t sleep.”

  “You seemed a little . . . funny after you talked to Barb.”

  Sometimes he loved how perceptive she was. This was not one of those times.

  He lifted a shoulder dismissively and dropped onto the new couch, which was not as squishy as the old leather one. It jarred his back.

  “So,” she said, when it was clear he wasn’t starting the conversation. “The party was nice. I remember Cormac as being sort of this funny giant in high school, but he’s got a very sweet side, too, doesn’t he?”