Happy Families

by Tanita S. Davis

  “Amen,” says Dad, and around the table we echo the word.

  I whisper it again. Amen. So let it be.

  Medanos Valley Senate Debate Finals last May, 2:14 p.m.

  Justin

  “Alacrity. Conciliatory. Ineffable.”

  “So, you ready for this, Justin?” Andre Wang’s white shirt and suspenders suddenly loom in front of my face, blocking my view.

  “Move.” A halfhearted shove gets him out of my way so I can continue to study my reflection in the mirror in the green room backstage of our school auditorium. I look myself in the eyes and drop my chin, trying to appear like a confident news commentator. I deepen my voice and continue to enunciate from the list of SAT vocabulary words taped to the mirror.

  “Mitigator. Penurious. Recrimination. Salvageable.”

  “I don’t know how that’s supposed to help,” Andre comments, slouching against the wall and crossing his arms. With the navy and yellow bow tie he’s wearing and his black hair all gelled into place, he looks like some weird old-school politician. “Reciting SAT vocab won’t do crap for your interpretive event. You’ve got forty minutes before you even get your topic.”

  I roll my eyes at the short junior. “Wearing that Kentucky Fried bow tie and those suspenders won’t do crap for your interpretive event, and yet, every single tournament, you show up in them.”

  “And I win,” Andre reminds me smugly, his dark eyes narrowed. “You know I do.”

  “And so do I.” I shrug. “So, don’t mess with what works, right? Lester says I should read this stuff to keep my brain focused, so I’m reading. There are six thousand two hundred and twenty-eight SAT vocabulary words, and I’m going to blow through all of them before the year is out. I’m going to ace my SAT and blow your skinny butt out of the water on the interpretive event today.”

  “Dream on,” Andre snorts. “You seen Raymond?”

  “Lee’s around,” I mutter. Unfortunately. If possible, Leland Raymond is a bigger pain in the butt than Andre. As senior class pastor and chair of the student senate, he’s kind of a big deal at Medanos. He’s nice enough on the surface, always slapping me on the back and saying he’s glad I’m on the team, but he’s basically just a big act. I’m only a freshman, and I can tell he couldn’t care less about me, but when Mr. Lester’s around, he’s my very best friend.

  He wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t so … serious. He makes a big deal out of praying before every single event, as if God could possibly care whether Medanos Valley Christian beats out Walnut Academy in a Lincoln-Douglas debate. He takes all of his stats, all of our points and stuff, way too personally. He’s not even satisfied if we win, and he’s also really quick to point out any mistakes he thinks any of us have made. Last week, he even said, “There is no I in team,” and he was wasn’t joking. Mr. Lester is always telling him to ease up, but Lee’s just not an “ease-up” kind of guy. Fortunately, neither am I. I’ve been able to keep out of his way so far.

  A moment later, Lee, along with fellow senators Missy Girma, Diane Edwards, and Elena Melgar, wander in. Diane, fluffing up her curly blond hair, has her usual can of energy drink, its caffeine-and-sugar-rich formula she claims to be the secret to her speed-talking abilities.

  “Where’s Mr. Lester?” Missy asks, straightening the scarf around her long braids.

  “Not here yet,” I say, pulling my list of words from the mirror before anyone else can comment on it. “He had to pick up his kid from day care or something.”

  “Seriously?” Diane looks tense. “Medanos is hosting; how can he not be here? We’ve got fifteen minutes before we’re on.”

  “He’ll get here.” Elena shrugs, adjusting her ponytail and looking unconcerned. “He always does.”

  “Picking up his kid.” Lee rolls his eyes. “And his wife couldn’t do that? You can see who wears the pants in that family.”

  I wince, thinking what Mom would say to that. All the girls take a breath, but Missy speaks first, her mouth twisted in scorn. “You are such a pig, Lee,” she says, her eyes narrow. “Only you could be so full of yourself.”

  “What, it’s not macho to pick up your own kid?” Elena adds, hands on her hips.

  I’m not surprised to see how fast Lee backs down. “I was just joking,” he complains. “Don’t get so uptight, people.”

  “Uptight? You’re the one complaining Lester’s not here yet,” Andre points out.

  Missy just freezes Lee out again with one of her ice-eyed glares.

  Mr. Lester arrives just about the time Lee’s got us all gathered for a team huddle and prayer. He throws down his briefcase and jacket and rushes over to us. I’m relieved, but I try not to show it, as I feel his hand on my back. I give him a nod. I’m ready for this.

  There’s only time for a few quick instructions and then it’s showtime. We troop into the auditorium for the first event, the team debates, for which we’ll get forty-five minutes each. Leland, Elena, and Diane are up first, and I’m half disappointed, half relieved that it isn’t Andre, Missy, and me. Sitting in the front row, my back to the packed auditorium, I can feel sweat prickling faintly in my armpits, and it’s hard to know if it’s nerves or eagerness.

  The judge, an anonymous-looking blond woman in a dark suit, introduces herself, states the topic, and sits down. Relief floods through me as I hear that the opposite team has to debate against the resolution that the federal government should change its policies toward India. Obviously, we got the easy side of this question. I study the competition for this round, two boys and a girl from Calvary Chapel High School. In their uniform of navy blazers and white tops, they look take-no-prisoners professional. Lee’s white shirt and dark tie, Elena’s red sweater and white blouse, and Diane’s black turtleneck look less put together somehow, and I have my first moments of worry. Calvary’s first speaker is actually really good, and her opening arguments are sound. I find myself taking notes along with Lee and Diane, even though I won’t be able to pass them to Elena for the rebuttal.

  Despite some of the best persuasive speaking I’ve heard, and what I thought would be an easy topic, our team loses by a single point. The girl from Calvary Chapel turns out to be not just good, but brilliant. Diane is sucking down another drink, and Lee is pale and tense, but it’s only the first event, Mr. Lester reminds us, and everyone has done well.

  “It’s up to you, Nicholas,” Lee says, cornering me during the ten-minute intermission. “Wang’s going to blow away the team event, but we need you in the individual.”

  “The individual doesn’t go for team points,” I remind him, keeping loose in spite of wishing I could clock him one. Why is he piling on the pressure?

  “You’re right, it’s not team points, but good individual stats makes Medanos look good overall. Pointwise, we can blow away Valley Jewish Day School and Calvary. Now, Diane’s got some good chops, but you’re the freshman everybody watches. We’re counting on you.”

  I just grunt, tuning out Lee’s lame attempt at a pep talk. I watch a group of event adjudicators standing together, discussing the last event and setting up for the next one. I see my sister right in the second row, scoping out the competition, her black boots propped up on the seat in front of her. She catches me watching and gives me a thumbs-up.

  Dad’s out there in the crowd somewhere. He was on a business trip, but he said he’d come straight over from the airport. Mom would have been here, but her driver called in sick this morning, so she’s one short at her catering company. The family always shows up at my events, which is more than a lot of guys can say. I know I’m lucky.

  “So, you’re ready, yeah?”

  I pull my wandering attention back. “Yeah, yeah, Lee. I’m ready.”

  “Good man.” He slaps my back and I roll my eyes.

  Lee talks up this big “go, team” thing, but it’s not about the team at all. It’s about Lee Raymond. He really wants to walk away from Medanos and be able to say he was a somebody here, a big man who got things done. Whatever
. It’s his ego-happy moment, and it doesn’t have anything to do with me.

  My eyes skate back over my SAT words and I ignore them, opting to close my eyes and focus on relaxing instead.

  I like forensics. I love the watertight logic of a good argument, the clarity of a strong rebuttal. I like to think fast and talk faster, and I can see going into law like Poppy, but I won’t be some kind of single-minded jerk about it. There’s got to be a way to be a winner and still be a decent human being. Like Dad, for instance—his new job is intense. He’s in charge of building million-dollar labs for scientists and bioengineers, and he’s on the road at least two weeks out of the month. Even though he has hundreds of people who answer to him, Dad’s not on some ego trip. I respect him for that, for making time to go running or hang with us when he can. I want to be just mellow like that.

  A flash of red catches my attention, and I see my girlfriend, Callista Douglas, sitting with her people. They’ve been waiting for me to look, and now each of them holds up a piece of red construction paper and flips it over. JUSTIN NICHOLAS ROCKS!! The words are in silver ink and glitter glue. My face goes into a big, stupid grin without my permission, but I duck my head, my face burning, when I hear Andre snort. I know I’m going to be hearing about my “fan club” for the rest of the year. When I look again, Callista is laughing, and my stupid smile comes back. We’ve only been dating for a month, but so far, it’s amazing.

  “Your family’s here, right, Justin?” Missy looks over at me. “That lady in the white suit looks enough like your dad to be your aunt. She’s got the Nicholas nose and everything.”

  “She’s not a Nicholas, unless Dad has secret relatives he never told us about.” I laugh, but the lady in the back row does look familiar. I scan the crowd, frowning. “My dad’s coming. He always wants to check out my future lawyer skills.”

  Missy grins. “Better be impressive,” she warns me.

  “Always.” I raise my eyebrows and try to look confident. Missy laughs and goes back to her notes. Andre looks calm and poised, in spite of his whack tie, and though I’m the only freshman, the weakest link on the team, I know I’m more than able to do my part. I get on my game face and nod. We’ve got this.

  AFTER

  Saturday, 5:28 p.m., a year later

  Ysabel

  It’s not like Mom to want to go to the five-thirty service with us, but instead of pulling up to the yellow line on the curb, she drives the van around the oval and parks.

  As she takes the keys from the ignition, I give her a look. “Um, Mom. You know Cory Vick’s band is doing music tonight, right?”

  A ghost of her old smile appears as she straightens the collar on her sleeveless white blouse. Tugging to adjust the drape of her pale blue slacks, she says, “That boy’s drums don’t scare me, Ysabel.”

  “O-kay.” I smirk, opening my door. “But don’t say I didn’t try to warn you. Poppy said last time he was deaf for a couple of hours after.”

  “Your poppy is old,” my mother says loftily, and I have to laugh.

  “I dare you to say that to his face.”

  “No, thanks.” Mom’s expression is wry. She turns back to the car. “Come on, Justin.”

  Justin sighs heavily and doesn’t move. He and my mother exchange a long, silent look, communicating any number of things, and then she slams the driver’s side door, walks to the front of the van, and waits.

  There’s a click, then the passenger door on the far side rolls open. Long-armed, tall, and wiry, my brother, Justin, nonetheless gets out like he’s a hundred and thirty, then slams the sliding door hard enough to rock the whole van. I flinch, the sound startling new pain from the headache I already had, but Mom doesn’t move.

  How long does it take someone to walk around a car? Impatiently, I shift forward, ready to walk into the church alone, but my mother reaches for my hand, and I wait, letting her hold me in place.

  Finally Justin slouches toward us, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders hunched and his face turned toward his battered deck shoes. Mom loops her arm in his, as if his sullen silence is an invitation, and together the three of us walk into the foyer.

  It’s weird to be here. Lately if I show up to evening service at all, it’s by myself, since this isn’t Grandmama’s, Poppy’s, or Mom’s thing, and Justin hasn’t been to church now for … weeks. Since Dad’s been gone, Mom hasn’t made a big deal out of us going, but for whatever reason, today she just put her foot down. “It’s a family service,” she’d said, and dragged us all with her.

  We know why, of course. It’s because we’re going to Dad’s house in Buchannan, and Mom’s wrapping us both in an extra layer of God.

  Which we might not need—no offense to God—if she’d just let us stay home.

  My mother is the one making us spend our spring break on the other end of the state, out of touch with our friends and out of reach of anything real. I could put in so many hours at The Crucible with a week free of school, but no, she’s on this thing where she keeps saying, “A daughter needs her father.” Um, hardly. What this daughter needs is her blowtorch, thank you. Disconnected from my routine, from the steadying chaos of The Crucible, I’ll be completely out of sync with myself. In the six months since Dad’s been gone and everything’s been so weird, routine is what I need. Without it, the world is too sharp-edged, and too right up in my face, and things comes rushing toward me.

  It is all rushing toward me. We’re flying down to Dad’s tomorrow.

  Mom tugs on my hand questioningly, and I realize I’ve almost stopped walking. I pull away and cross my arms, suddenly angry with her all over again.

  I hate this. I want to put this off, put Dad off, and shove spring break onto a back burner. Instead, I’m hurtling a hundred miles an hour toward this blank space in my head, a place I’ve dreaded so much I can’t even imagine it. Dad’s house. Where he now lives a life I can’t even imagine.

  “Well, hey, Nicholas family! Good to see you, Justin!” Maisie Tan, our youth pastor’s wife, beams at us at the door, where she’s standing and bouncing her baby. Justin just grunts and barely acknowledges her, which doesn’t dim her sunny smile. A moment later, he jumps and twists away from my mother, looking irritated. She must have poked him in the ribs. She has this thing about greeting people at church and is not above giving us little “reminders” when we forget.

  To prevent a “reminder” of my own, I quickly wave at Maisie and enter the sanctuary while Mom slows to chat. I glance back and flinch from the compassion in Maisie’s face as she squeezes Mom’s hand and says something I don’t quite hear.

  Ugh. I turn away, rubbing my arms to erase the goose bumps. “Maisie knows,” I mutter to Justin, feeling exposed and betrayed. “I guess Pastor Max told her. So much for confidentiality.”

  My brother doesn’t look at me. “Mom told her.”

  I look back and shoot my mother an angry look. “What?! Why?”

  Justin, having used up his fund of words for the hour, ignores me. He moves into the back row and drops to the pew like his strings have been cut. I know Mom won’t let us sit back there, so I keep going, all the way up to the third row on the left, which is where we always sit.

  We’ve attended Church of the Redeemer my whole life, so I know just about everyone, not that I feel like talking to anyone today. People wave and chatter around me, and I sit and hope for invisibility.

  “Ysabel.” Sherilyn appears at the end of the pew. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

  Crap. I look up and smile vaguely, hoping she doesn’t sit down. “Hey, Sherilyn.”

  “So, how’s life?” She leans forward a bit, her expression friendly and concerned.

  “Good, good. Everything’s great.” The lie spills from my mouth and falls flat.

  For a moment, Sherilyn stands with her hands in her pockets, staring at me. My face burns, first with shame, then anger. Why can’t she just leave it alone? The awkward pause lengthens, then Sherilyn clears her thro
at. “Great. Glad everything’s okay. Guess I’d better find a seat. Good seeing you.”

  “Yeah. See you.” I wrap my arms around my middle, hoping to squeeze away the sick emptiness that threatens to overwhelm me. At least Sherilyn doesn’t know, I comfort myself.

  It’s bad enough having Pastor Max know about Dad, but I can’t believe Mom talked to Maisie, too. I thought I could be normal at church at least, and pretend like nothing had changed—everybody knows Dad travels a lot for his job, so people have gotten used to not seeing him much. Now I find myself wondering if I’ve been fooling myself. How long has Maisie known? Do both the pastors know? Do the elders? Does everyone?

  Fortunately, the panicked circling of my thoughts is disrupted by Justin and Mom arriving to shove me further along the bench. As I scoot over, Cory’s sticks tap together, Karissa, Paul, and Brianna start playing their guitars, and the music kicks off.

  The band is loud and fast and energetic, and I’m grateful for the distraction. It’s easier to be part of a force of voices, a wall of sound singing out with everyone else, than to deal with the spew in my brain. I do my best to just focus on the words of each song and sing. And when Cory starts off a pretty decent cover of Third Day’s “Sing a Song” and urges us to our feet, I’ve actually, for the moment, managed to set everything else aside. Even Justin’s tapping his fingers on the back of the pew in front of us.

  Karissa and Brianna lean in and sing harmony, totally into the music and happy, and I’m glad for them. A lot of the older members of our congregation couldn’t deal with Cory wanting his band to play for regular services. For a while, there were a lot of church board meetings and drama, and people took sides. Dad was one of the people who really pushed for the five-thirty service to be less formal and basically younger. When the band plays, I always realize how much I miss him.

  When Mom’s shoulder gently bumps mine as she turns to greet the people behind us, I don’t think anything of it, except to glance to my left to see if it’s anybody interesting.