The Obstacle Course

by JF Freedman

  “You don’t know his background, his people. He could have been in prison for all we know.”

  “He’s fourteen.”

  “He’s trash.”

  I could feel my balls sucking right up inside my body when I heard her say that.

  “Beatrice, that is an awful thing to say about anyone, especially a young boy who has done nothing at all to offend you.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s nothing personal, James, but he is.”

  “Why?” the admiral asked.

  “You know perfectly well why.”

  “Because he comes from Ravensburg instead of Chevy Chase?”

  I strained my ears to hear but she didn’t answer.

  “Or goes to a public school, instead of St. Alban’s or Exeter or some other place for spoiled children of privilege?”

  “He’s a little hoodlum,” she said. “Just look at him, the way he dresses, his hair—everything about him. And those are excellent schools, all our friends’ children go to them and so would have ours, if we’d had any. I was happy to have him as a party guest so poor Melanie could have company, but after that I draw the line.”

  “He’s a kid, for crying out loud!”

  They were really into it. I could hear their voices rising. Right at that moment I wanted to be anywhere but where I was.

  “He is vulgar. He has no class. It’s not a question of … background or money or anything of the sort, you know me better than that, James. He’s simply not of quality.”

  That fucking tore it. I could forget Admiral Farrington Academy and all the other good shit.

  Except Admiral Wells wasn’t buying what she was selling.

  “No,” he said forcefully. “I will not ratify that. In case you’ve forgotten, Beatrice, since you didn’t know me when I was Roy’s age, I didn’t attend those schools, either. My origins are similar to his, more than you care to acknowledge. I’m an old sea dog no matter how much spit and polish you lather over me. You’re upset about your figurine, and you’re taking it out on Roy.”

  “It’s not about that at all,” she cried. “I’m not accusing him of that. It’s about who he is … the inner man.”

  “That’s a crock of … he’s a boy, for pity’s sake. He’s still forming.”

  “I beg to differ. The die has been cast with him.”

  “Fine,” the admiral said. “Think what you will, it won’t affect my friendship with him. He’s a bright kid who wants to make it, and I for one admire that. I admire it enormously. And I’m going to help him any way I can.”

  “He’ll disappoint you,” she told him. Her voice rose. “He will disappoint you in ways you cannot begin to imagine.”

  “I doubt it. And even if he should, I’d disappoint myself more if I didn’t make the effort.”

  “James, James, James. What is the godawful hurry?”

  I could hear the demand in her voice.

  “Desire can’t wait,” the admiral answered her. “If I wait on this boy I might lose him forever. This is a chance for him, and he’s not going to have too many. That’s the hurry.”

  My face was burning.

  “What if he doesn’t get into Farrington?” she asked then. “You’re building up such expectations in him.”

  “He’ll get in.” I could hear the steel in his voice.

  “He’d better,” she said. “Otherwise he’ll crash and burn, and it will be on your conscience. Can you handle that? Can he?”

  My heart was pounding. What if she was right?

  “He’ll get in.” The way he said it, there was no room for argument.

  After a pause I heard her say, “You should have had a son, James. I should have given you one. It was selfish on my part not to.”

  “That’s water under the bridge, Beatrice. And we both agreed. I as much as you.”

  “You went along with me. Like you always do, even when it hurts.”

  They stopped talking then. I sat on the stairs, shaking like a leaf. I was grateful to Admiral Wells for sticking up for me, but hearing all that stuff from Mrs. Wells had me all shook up. The worst part was that I knew that even though she didn’t like me all that much, she didn’t hate me, either. She thought this was how I was. And the worst part was, most of it was true.

  Real carefully, so they wouldn’t hear me, I climbed back up, walked the length of the hallway on the second floor, and came down the front staircase.

  “Good morning, Roy,” Admiral Wells greeted me, looking up from the Sunday Washington Post. “Did you sleep well?” He was wearing khakis and a sports shirt, like a regular guy.

  “Like a log,” I said, stretching and yawning, “I just this minute got up.”

  Mrs. Wells smiled at me. It was a thin smile, but still, it was a smile. She was already dressed up.

  “Good morning, Roy,” she said in a friendly-as-hell voice, like she hadn’t been putting me down one minute before. She took a sip from her coffee. “I’m on my way to church,” she told us. “You boys enjoy yourselves. I’ll say a prayer for you.”

  “You do that,” Admiral Wells said.

  She gave him a kiss on the forehead, gathered up her purse and gloves and coat that had been sitting on the side counter, and went out. A moment later I heard her Lincoln start up and roll down the driveway.

  The admiral gave me a sideways look.

  “So,” he said, “you just woke up?”

  He was trying to be casual, but I knew he was checking to see if I’d heard them arguing about me.

  “A couple minutes ago,” I lied. “Then I was in the bathroom.”

  “Good, good.” He hesitated. “Did you have a chance to look at the material I gave you?”

  “Yes, sir. It looks like a real neat place. Hard, but fair.”

  I didn’t have any idea if Farrington Academy was fair or not, but I knew people like the admiral appreciate hearing stuff like that. After what they’d been saying about me, I needed to make sure I did everything right, as much as I could.

  “It is,” he said. “That’s exactly what it is.” He paused for a minute. “So … do you think it’s worth looking into?”

  “Oh, yes, sir. Definitely.”

  “Good.” He rubbed his hands together. A big smile broke out on his face. “Here’s what we’ll do. I have an application form in my study; I had the school forward one in case you were interested, because the deadline for applications is in a few weeks. If you can take an hour or so after you eat your breakfast, we’ll fill it out together. It isn’t difficult. Then we’ll need to get a copy of your transcript from your school.”

  I guess I frowned or something when he said that, because he put his hand over mine.

  “I’ve already assumed that your marks at Ravensburg are … shall we say a bit iffy?”

  I shrugged. That was an understatement.

  “It’s okay, it’s all right. You need more of a challenge than you’re getting there, I can see that. We’ll dress them up a bit, and everything will be fine. Besides, the two most important details will be your eagerness to attend, and the recommendations you’ll be submitting. They require two: I’ll write one, of course, and Admiral Prescott will tender the other.”

  As low as I’d been ten minutes before, I was higher now. Admiral Wells and Admiral Prescott writing my recommendations! Farrington would be falling all over themselves to want me.

  Mary put a plate of fried eggs, potatoes, bacon, and toast in front of me.

  “Good morning!” she sang out.

  “Good morning!” I answered her back. The day had started out shitty, but it was definitely a good morning now.

  Admiral Wells stopped me as I was putting on my Ravensburg jacket, about to leave.

  “By the way, Roy,” he said, “we had a slight misfortune last night. One of Mrs. Wells’s silver statuettes, the ones she keeps in the drawing room, has turned up missing.”

  That froze me in my tracks. Old Mrs. Prescott. She’d been in there, all by herself with the lights out, checking
them out.

  “You weren’t in the drawing room by any chance last night, were you?” he asked.

  “No, sir.” Technically, I wasn’t lying.

  “Of course not, you would have had no reason. Nor would anyone else, for that matter, not that the room is under lock and key.”

  He frowned. Maybe they had been thinking I’d taken it. But since I hadn’t I didn’t feel guilty, not about that.

  “You didn’t by any chance happen to see anyone in the drawing room, did you?”

  Old Mrs. Prescott. I’d seen her. In the drawing room, holding some of the silver statues.

  “No. No, sir.”

  “No.” He frowned again. “It must have been misplaced by the cleaning woman. Everyone here last night is a close personal friend. Beatrice must’ve been mistaken, thinking she had seen it yesterday afternoon.”

  He was talking more to himself than to me, trying to figure out what was going on. I wanted to tell him what I’d seen, but I didn’t dare to; it would’ve been accusing old Mrs. Prescott of taking it, and I hadn’t seen her do that. She was probably just looking at them and admiring them. More likely, if anyone did take it, it would’ve been the other colored girl, the one who was helping Mary with the party. She didn’t work there full-time, she just helped out on special occasions.

  Except I’d seen that look on old Mrs. Prescott’s face. I knew that look.

  “It’ll turn up sooner or later,” he said darkly. “It better; it’s an heirloom, it’s priceless to my wife.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “I’m sure it will.”

  I wanted out of there. If I didn’t leave soon I was afraid I’d say the wrong thing. Admiral Wells handed me the hanger with my new sports coat and pants, and the box with my shirts. Mary had washed and ironed the one I’d worn last night.

  “Don’t forget these.”

  “No, sir. Thank you again.”

  We shook hands, like two men. I’d hide the clothes at the back of my closet—if my folks saw them I’d be all day explaining where I’d got them, and then they’d find out about the admiral and Farrington Academy and everything else. I’d already decided I’d spring the whole thing on them when all the pieces were in place and it was too late for anyone to stop me.

  It was pretty out, warm springlike weather carried over from last night. The cherry trees were blooming, smelling stronger than a woman’s perfume. I thought about going down to the Tidal Basin and checking them out. It’s beautiful down there when springtime comes, acres of cherry blossoms spread around the Jefferson Memorial. Maybe I’d take my mom with me, we could take the bus together, she’d love it. We never do anything together except meet in the principal’s office at school. I want to show her there’s a good part of me as well—she knows there is, she’s my mom, but she never gets to see it. It would’ve been nice if she could’ve been with me at dinner last night, seeing me with all those fancy rich people, holding my own. She might’ve been jealous, I don’t know, she definitely would’ve been nervous, she’d probably be more comfortable with Mary and the other colored servant than with the admiral and his guests, but she would’ve been proud, too.

  I thought back to last night, and to the conversation I’d just had with the admiral. I wish I could have told him about old Mrs. Prescott and the little silver statue, and I had a shitload of work to do on Mrs. Wells so she’d like me, instead of smiling to my face and then ragging on me to the admiral behind my back about how I wasn’t good enough for them. But I was doing good; I was on a roll, and I wasn’t going to let that one thing stop me from enjoying all the great changes that were starting to happen for me.

  APRIL

  NINE

  WAKING UP FIFTEEN didn’t feel any different from fourteen: I was still a whole year away from getting my driver’s license. Even so, fifteen sounded different. Fourteen’s a kid; that’s how people see you, even if you’re growing like a weed, have hair on your balls, smoke cigarettes, and jack off twice a day. Out in the grownup world, fourteen’s still a kid, no way around it. Fifteen is between being a kid, and freedom.

  Darlene had a surprise present for me. It was a surprise because I didn’t even know she knew it was my birthday. She gave it to me at recess, out on the field.

  “How’d you know it was today?” I asked.

  “A little bird told me,” she teased.

  “What did the little bird say?”

  “That I should give you this,” she said. We were standing on the side of the building, away from everybody else. She’d come up to me at lunch and told me to meet her there and make sure not to let anyone know. She pulled me up against the wall so nobody could see us, put her arms around me, and gave me a big kiss on the mouth, full tongue and everything.

  “Jesus, girl, don’t you got no shame?” I asked, teasing her back, looking around to make sure we weren’t being watched. I wouldn’t have minded someone seeing us, except for a teacher, of course, because that would’ve been detention for sure, and I was too close to the edge with that shit. But if a kid had seen us, like one of her girlfriends, the whole school would’ve known she was my girl, and that would’ve been a great birthday present.

  No one did, though. Darlene’s the kind of girl who can go crazy in private, but out in public it’s like her shit don’t stink. That’s okay with me, I don’t like a girl fawning all over a guy with people watching. It’s like they’re more showing off for their friends than being a straight-up girlfriend.

  “Here.” She pulled a little package out of her purse. It was wrapped up in tissue paper and had a pink bow tied around it.

  “Open it,” she said, real jittery.

  “Pink’s for girls,” I teased.

  “Just open it, silly.”

  I pulled the paper off. It was one of those plastic photo books, the kind that accordions out. This one had about a dozen pictures in it, and they were all of Darlene. Her class picture, a picture of her in her cheerleader’s costume, all kinds of pictures. There was even one of her in a two-piece bathing suit.

  Naturally, I got a hard-on looking at her in the bathing suit. I couldn’t wait for summer, when we could go swimming together, so I could see the real thing, most of it anyway. Of course, I already had seen the whole real thing, but she didn’t know that, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her.

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s great,” I said.

  “I did it so you can always be thinking of me, even when I’m not with you.”

  “I do think of you,” I told her. “Even when you’re not around.” Like when I’m lying in bed with my tool in my hand.

  “So do I,” she said. “Think of you.”

  She kissed me again and we walked back to where everybody else was hanging around. I really felt great—anybody could look at us and tell we were going together even though we couldn’t officially, because of her mother.

  We’d had two dates, two Friday nights in a row. The first time we went to the Cheverly movies, which is where everybody goes on Friday night—there or the Ravensburg Fire House, which has a sock hop.

  We’d sat in the back row and made out like bandits. Even though it was our first official date she let me have a good feel through her bra. We made out for at least a half-hour straight, and I had my hand on her almost the whole time, even the nipple. She wouldn’t let me have bare tit, though. It was our first date and she didn’t want me to think she was a slut or anything. That was okay, I wasn’t in a hurry.

  The following Friday afternoon we took the Greyhound down to the District and saw Trapeze at the Capitol, which is a great old movie theatre. We sat way up in the balcony. It was a pretty good movie, what I saw of it. Most of the time we made out, and this time I got bare tit, although Darlene made a big deal out of trying to stop me and finally “not being able to help myself, you get me so hot, Roy.”

  Of course, that was a crock of shit. This girl was a firecracker under that goody-goody pose she put on for the public. It was just a matt
er of time before we went all the way. I knew she was a virgin, and I was glad I’d stayed one for her, even though it hadn’t been my choice.

  “I won’t be able to go out with you next week,” she’d said as we were walking up to her front door that night.

  “Because of your mother’s rule.” Her mother had a rule that Darlene couldn’t date any boy more than twice in a row—one of her many stupid rules.

  Darlene nodded. “But I want to,” she assured me.

  “Who’re you going to go with?” I asked. I was nervous, wondering who it would be.

  “I don’t know.” She giggled. “Do you think Lewis Sarkind would go out with me?”

  That about cracked me up. I could just see the two of them together.

  “You want me to fix you up?” I volunteered. That would’ve been great. There’s plenty of guys out there I wouldn’t want Darlene going out with, but Lewis was definitely safe.

  “I can get my own dates, thank you,” she told me. “Don’t worry,” she’d continued, seeing the nervous look on my face, “it won’t matter who it is. You’re the only one I care about.”

  I stayed late at school, studying in the library until closing time. When I got home, there was a birthday cake waiting for me on the kitchen table, baked by my mom—a chocolate cake with orange frosting, my favorite. My mom’s a great baker when she wants to be.

  I made a wish and blew out all the candles. My first thought about a wish had been to fuck Darlene within the month, but I changed it to getting into Farrington Academy. I knew that sooner or later Darlene would do the dirty deed with me. Getting into Farrington was more important in the big scheme of things, and it wasn’t as much a sure thing.

  “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

  My mom handed me a package. I ripped off the wrapping. It was a model, a plastic aircraft carrier.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “I hope you like it. The man at the store said it was their most popular one.”

  “Yeah,” I lied, “it’s great.”

  I gave her a big hug. She really is a good mother—she does her best, and it isn’t always easy. It’s not her fault she doesn’t know anything about models. This was the kind of model a ten-year-old kid could build. They don’t know anything about models in this hick town, but she didn’t know that. She thought she was getting me something special.