Family Matters

by Deborah Bedford

  She stood up and looked at him as if he were absolutely bananas.

  “Is that so crazy? Is that so wrong? It’s been so long and I…I just…” He walked over to her desk. “I needed to prove something to myself.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like…what happened between us on Saturday wasn’t just a figment of my imagination.”

  I’d give anything, she thought, for someone to tell me what’s right…what’s wrong.

  Then, I don’t want to hurt over this man anymore.

  “Jennie.”

  “No.”

  “Please.”

  “No.”

  Suddenly he smiled. “It scares you, doesn’t it?” he said very softly. “It scares you just as much as it scares me.”

  “What would I have to be scared about?” she asked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she lied.

  He went down on one knee. It was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever seen. “Go with me this afternoon. Please? I’ll win you something. I’ll get you the biggest, tackiest animal on the midway. I’ll ride all your favorite rides twice.”

  “Michael,” she reminded him. “This is my first day back at work. I’m swamped here.”

  “Is she giving you a hard time, Michael?” Art stepped out of his office.

  “Well,” said Michael, “apparently she’s loaded down with work.”

  Art surveyed her desk. “Everything already waited a long time. There’s nothing here that can’t wait one more day. Just go, Jennie. Give yourself a break.”

  Art and Michael left her no choice. Michael brought the car around and they went on their way. They walked hand in hand among what seemed like hundreds of kids and teenagers. “What shall it be first?” he asked her as they stood watching the six flags of the different countries that had once claimed Texas for their own. The flags of France, Spain, Mexico, the independent Texas flag, the Confederate flag and the United States flag all snapped and rippled in the breeze.

  She thought a minute. “The go-carts. I always liked the go-carts the best. Then the Log Flume and the Runaway Mine Train and the Spinnaker…”

  When he stopped laughing at her enthusiasm, he had to ask her. “When’s the last time you were here?”

  She narrowed her eyebrows and thought back. “I must have been a senior in high school. We came here on a senior trip.”

  “We never came together, did we?”

  “No. Remember? We were always going to bring Cody when he got old enough.” But, when Cody had finally been big enough to ride all the rides, they’d been pursuing their divorce.

  “I’m glad—” he said quietly “—we’ve found a spot on neutral ground.”

  “Neutral ground nothing,” she said, suddenly smiling mischievously. “I’ll take you on at the shooting gallery. Then you’ll figure out we’re not on neutral ground.”

  “Okay,” he said, letting her take his hand and drag him. “You show me.”

  They rode rides all afternoon. She beat him three times at the shooting gallery. He teased her incessantly because one of the rides she wanted to ride wasn’t there anymore.

  “They’ve torn it down,” he kept saying, “to make way for bigger and better things. That should make you feel old.”

  “Hush, you,” she said, waggling a finger at him. “Today’s been wonderful. It’s made me feel young instead.”

  “But they’ve torn down the Flying Jenny!”

  “It always was my favorite when I was a little girl,” she admitted, honestly saddened.

  “Probably—” he laughed “—just because it was named after you.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  They went to the Mexican section and he bought her a huge tissue-paper flower. They sat on a deck, watching twinkling lights flicker on all over the park, stuffing themselves full of enchiladas and refritos at El Chico’s. After the waiter took their plates, he dared her to ride the enormous spinning Mexican hat they’d been watching across the way.

  “After eating enchiladas?” she asked him, eyes huge. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Nope,” he said. “I can handle it. Can you?”

  “You’re a doctor,” she teased him back. “You shouldn’t let people do this to themselves.”

  They paid for their dinner and giggled all the way to the giant sombrero. And, after it was over, they both wobbled off, panting and laughing, hand in hand.

  “You look a little green,” he commented.

  “So do you.”

  He grabbed her hands again. “We’d better help each other along.”

  She said out of the blue, “We should have brought Cody here.”

  He looked at her sadly, remembering everything now that stood between them. “We should have.” He changed the subject. “I promised to win you an animal, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Come to think of it, that’s exactly what you promised me.”

  “Well, come on, then.”

  They walked to the midway, where he spent a fortune buying chances to throw balls at milk bottles and shoot darts at balloons and throw dimes in bowls. Finally he was victorious. The man behind the booth handed Jennie a fat plush pig with a flourish. “There you go, young lady.”

  Michael counted his change. “I think I just paid fifty bucks for that thing.”

  “Thank you, Michael.” She shot him a little sideways grin that made her look sixteen years old. “I love him. I’m going to name him Petunia.”

  “Him? Petunia?” He threw his head back and laughed. Really laughed. But she didn’t laugh with him. Tears welled in her eyes instead.

  “Do you know how badly I needed this?” she asked him.

  He asked, “Are you okay, Jennie? Why are you crying?”

  It was everything he could do to keep from bundling her against him again. But he wasn’t going to do it here beside the ring-toss booth while she cried over Petunia the male pig. So he told her the truth. “I knew.”

  During their afternoon at Six Flags, they’d decided Jennie would start teaching Michael some of Cody’s therapy the next day, at lunchtime. Michael parked the car, then stopped to admire one of the brightly colored paintings on the cement wall along the lot. Children staying at the hospital had done the paintings themselves, wonderful primary-color renditions of hopes and hurts.

  How long, he wondered, will it take Cody to be able to draw pictures again?

  As he boarded the elevator, Michael hated to admit he felt a little bit let down today. He’d been eager for some time to start learning Cody’s therapy. But it was hard coming here after he and Jennie had gotten away yesterday. For a few hours he had forgotten all the challenges his son was facing. He felt guilty for forgetting. Guilty and afraid, because he’d held Jennie the other afternoon and he hadn’t wanted to let her go.

  The first person he saw when he walked into Cody’s room was Jennie. Suddenly, he wasn’t just scared anymore. He was terrified.

  Their relationship had subtly changed over the past few days. He was attracted to her again.

  Father, I never intended to feel anything for her again. It didn’t matter. After Cody got well, Jennie would go back to drawing cartoons and ignoring anything that didn’t advance her career. He’d go back to long hours with his practice and the hospital, taking duty calls at all hours of the night. Despite what had happened to Cody, he and Jennie were still the same people who’d divorced each other. Nothing would ever change that.

  At the sight of her, he remembered the day four years ago, when they had faced each other in the courtroom. Jennie had sat quietly, tears and anger in her eyes.

  “Your honor,” his lawyer had said. “The grounds for this divorce are irreconcilable differences. Both Michael Stratton and Jennie Stratton have informed the court that the marriage cannot continue. There is no fault involved here, although Michael Stratton is the party who actually filed in court.”

  “Does Jennie
Stratton agree with that statement?” the judge had asked.

  Her lawyer looked at Jennie. Michael looked at Jennie. She hesitated ever so slightly, then nodded.

  “Yes, your honor,” her lawyer had said.

  And so, their marriage had ended. Michael’s heart had flooded with relief and guilt and grief. Once upon a time, maybe they had loved each other. Or maybe, they had only thought so.

  “Hi, Jennie,” he said quietly now as she turned toward the sound in the doorway. “Hello there, little guy.” He took Cody’s hand and focused all his attention on his son.

  Andy Kendall arrived, looking brisk and cheerful. “Therapy time,” she sang out. When she saw both of them standing together, she smiled at her little patient in the big hospital bed. “Ah. Today my student is a teacher. So I just get to sit and watch.” She sat down in the plastic chair and propped her feet up playfully. “Go for it, Jennie.”

  “You have to critique,” Jennie told her. “I want you to watch me and tell me everything I’m doing wrong.”

  Andy inclined her head with a knowing smile. “Oh, I will.”

  Jennie laid her notes on the bed and surveyed a page before she started. Then she began to demonstrate shyly to Michael as she spoke. “This is how you do it. As you sit and talk to him, at least three times a day, you need to work his leg muscles like this.”

  Michael watched her for a while, then she stepped back so he could try it. It was almost funny, being so formal with each other today. Michael moved Cody’s leg up and back, up and back, with one hand pressed firmly against the ball of his foot, the other gently bent around his knee.

  “You’re doin’ it, Dad,” Cody said. “You’re doing it just right.”

  “You sure are.” Andy nodded, too.

  “That is just right,” Jennie told him. “Perfect.”

  “Aw,” Michael said, not quite so afraid anymore. “Of course it’s perfect. I wouldn’t have it for Cody any other way.”

  “Now,” Jennie instructed him. “Next we do this…and this…and this…” The lesson went on for over half an hour, while the two of them worked side by side. By the end of the session, Andy had left, giving them her approval, and Jennie was blowing streams of iridescent bubbles through a tiny blue wand.

  “Get ’em, kid, let’s get ’em,” Michael egged Cody on, relaxed now and totally engrossed in the movements as he and Cody tried to pop as many bubbles as they could as they wafted up over Cody’s head.

  Cody was giggling then, finally, laughing, a great belly laugh as the room filled with bubbles. And just as Michael was deciding that this therapy session was almost as much fun as the day before at Six Flags, one of the biggest bubbles landed right on Jennie’s head and sat there.

  “Mom’s got a bubble on her head,” Cody cried. “Look, Dad. Mom’s got a bubble sitting right on top of her.”

  “Get it off,” Jennie said, not moving.

  She raised a hand to brush it off but Michael stopped her. “No. Don’t. It’s a sign.” He made a pass over her head with his hands. “Stand there and see how long it’ll stay.”

  “Michael, I don’t want to stand here all day with a bubble on my head!”

  All three of them just looked at each other. Cody snorted first, and pretty soon they were all laughing so hard their stomachs hurt. Jennie’s bubble had long since been exploded into oblivion. And still they laughed.

  It had been ages and ages since they’d laughed together like this. And following on the heels of the incredible despair Michael had been feeling only days ago, it felt like a miracle.

  He reached across Cody’s legs and gripped Jennie’s hand. How he hoped that she felt the miracle, too.

  “Come on, Cody,” Jennie said. “Let’s try sitting up again. Can you support yourself with this arm?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Watch this.” She showed Michael how to prop Cody’s arm against the pillow like a tent pole. “There you go. Let’s see how long you can do this. Michael, time him.”

  Michael crooked his arm up so he could read the watch on his wrist.

  I remember it now, Jennie thought. I remember why I fell in love with him. He cares so much about everything.

  And I remember why I fell out of love with him. Because he cared more about everything else than he cared about me.

  At that precise moment, Cody started to wobble.

  Jennie grabbed an arm to stop him from falling.

  Michael grabbed an arm to stop him from falling.

  Which meant they all grabbed each other. And then, even though their middles were still aching from the last onslaught, the three of them started laughing all over again.

  Mark Kendall stood in the doorway to Andy’s apartment, hands in pockets, legs crossed, leaning jauntily against the jamb. He looked like a kid ready to play a practical joke on somebody. But this felt much, much better than a joke.

  “Had to stop by,” he told Andy, straight-faced, when she opened the door. “I’ve got something for you.”

  “What is it?”

  He pulled the white legal-length envelope from his jacket and handed it to her. Andy ripped it open impatiently, tearing the paper in little accordion-folded chunks. She pulled the two tickets out and stared at them in puzzlement.

  Mark didn’t say anything. He just stood there, waiting for her to figure it out.

  “Burn tickets? For tonight’s game?”

  “Yeah.” Mark shrugged. “Just thought it was something you might want to be in on.”

  Andy hated to dampen Mark’s spirits, but she hadn’t attended a game since Buddy Draper had retired. She didn’t think she wanted to do it now. “What would I want to be in on?”

  “You should be thanking me, you know,” he said instead of answering her question. “This game sold out two weeks ago. I had to work miracles to get tickets, especially after the paper came out with Harv Siskell’s announcement.”

  “What announcement? What did Harv Siskell say?”

  “Ah,” Mark said, grinning.

  “Well?” She couldn’t help it. She almost shouted, he had her so frustrated. “What’s going on?”

  “Perhaps you should take a look at today’s paper. Or maybe you should Google the Burn to see what’s going on.”

  Andy rushed off to find the paper. Returning with it to the living room, she scattered it in sections across the sofa. “What exactly is it that I’m supposed to read?”

  “Try the sports section,” Mark suggested. “Page eight.”

  She counted through the section with her thumb then opened the page, shaking it once to dispense with the wrinkles.

  “You see it?”

  She scanned the page. “Just a minute…let me…”

  Then she saw the headline.

  Draper rejoins team, it read. Former player to coach Burn beside Harv Siskell.

  “Buddy’s back” the story began. And, really, that was all she needed to know. She stared at the dark newsprint, unable to read because her vision was blurring.

  “So,” Andy said, still leaning against the jamb. “Maybe the guy listened to you after all.”

  “Buddy had a hard time listening to anybody.”

  “You never know—” Mark pointed out “—what an impact you might have made on somebody’s life.”

  Andy threw the newspaper at her brother, trying to cover the conflicting emotions churning within her. Especially to me. Especially to a God who wanted to take charge of Buddy’s life.

  Mark fended off the paper with both hands. The sport section fluttered to the floor. “So what do you say?” he asked.

  “I say he’ll make a great coach. Coaches are good at bossing people around and not listening to a thing anybody tells them.”

  “Hey,” Mark said, grinning. “I take exception to that. I’m a coach, too, remember?”

  “Oh. Sorry. Forgot that,” she said, eyes wide, feigning innocence.

  “No, you didn’t.” As he spoke, he fashioned page eight into a giant airplane and saile
d it back at her.

  She sobered for a moment, looking down at the airplane by her feet. “I guess I should read the rest of the story.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’ll tell you on the way to the game. How do you feel about all this, Andy?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly, knowing she could never sort out everything inside her heart just now. “I’m glad for him. And sorry it took this long in coming. I feel like he lost so much.”

  “I’d say late is better than never. Tonight’s his first night back on the field. I knew you’d want to be there.”

  “Buddy! Buddy!” the lady shrieked from behind him. “Good to have you back, Buddy!”

  He turned and acknowledged her with a nod, then waved at another fan higher in the stands who was holding up a banner that read: WELCOME BACK, BUDDY.

  Harv, standing with arms crossed, leaned sideways and said, “See? I told you, didn’t I? They haven’t forgotten you. They won’t for a long time.”

  “Tell me this isn’t a marketing ploy by the front office, Siskell,” he growled. He was already perturbed by the carefully orchestrated press releases that hit the stands this morning. “Tell me you really want me standing beside you telling these poor players what to do.”

  “Hey,” Harv said. “We brought you back, and the Galaxy brought back Beckham. I’d say front offices all over this league are working at marketing ploys. But,” Harv said, grinning, “I really want you standing beside me telling these poor players what to do.”

  Buddy stared straight ahead. The Comets’ left forward kicked the ball toward the Burn’s goal. Miraculously, the keeper blocked and deflected the ball to the right side.

  Buddy crossed his arms just like Harv and concentrated on the game. He still had a lot to learn. But though he didn’t say anything to Harv, standing on the field with the huge lights above was everything he needed, whether the fans remembered him or not. The tart, earthy scent of the stadium, of fast food, of the players. The sharp surreal sounds of the whistle blowing and the crowd cheering and the glare of the lights. The players grunting with exertion and the smack of leather or leg against the spinning ball.

  Thank you so much, Father, he thought, for showing me my own pride. Thank you so much for bringing me back here.