I’m trying to think of the words to describe how I felt about cheating on Maria. I really didn’t feel depressed. I didn’t’ cry myself to sleep at night. Instead, I felt frightened—frightened of myself, I think. I kept wondering what else I was capable of doing to her. It was so easy to hook up with Lee Anne, Vicki, and the other girl that I was afraid that someday I’d break my promise to myself, and cheat on her again, and then have to tell her. But I knew I had my reasons for cheating on her, and I eventually forgot all about it.
When I arrived home from Virginia it was pitch black outside. I ran up the stairs, fumbling with my suitcase, trying to avoid the hunter. I hadn’t seen the hunter for a while before that night. Of course, my shadow must of been there all along; but I probably didn’t notice it. That’s all. Nevertheless, the hunter reappeared that night. I guess that for the few months prior I’d just forgotten about him.
For a moment—and I know this sounds ridiculous—I almost thought he’d caught up with me. When I reached the top step, I suddenly felt as if I was being pulled back, like I was going to topple down the staircase. It was pretty scary. But, I figured, it was just the weight of my suitcase pulling me back.
The first thing I did when I got to my room and calmed down was call Maria. As the phone rang, I glanced over at the World War II V-J Day poster on my wall. The aircraft is depicted was sleek and dark; it was the type, I thought, that I’d like to fly someday. Was it a North American T-6? A Supermarine Spitfire IX? I made mental note to ask my father what model plane it was, and to find out more about it. But before I had the chance to do so, I heard Maria’s inquisitive voice.
“What’s wrong, A.J.?” Maria repeated. I was still a bit shaken from almost falling down the stairs, and I suppose she sensed it in my voice.
“Nothing, baby,” I said.
“Okay, but you sound a bit nervous.”
“It’s nothing, really. I just really missed you. Did you miss me? You didn’t say that you missed me.”
“Of course I missed you, A.J. I was bored here without you.”
“Did you flirt with any guys while I was gone?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“What I mean is, did any guys flirt with you? I’m just curious. You didn’t cheat on me did you?”
“No! Jesus, A.J.! What’s your problem?”
“Are you sure?” I asked. She seemed a little defensive, so I became suspicious. “You didn’t talk to any boys while I was gone?”
“No!” She was getting a little pissed off. I kept wondering if she was hiding something. “You were gone for almost a week and this is all you have to say when you call?”
Ignoring her logic, I pressed on. “So,” I said, “you just sat at home all week, doing nothing?”
“I did the laundry,” she said. “Is that okay with you, sir?”
“You don’t have to be so sarcastic.”
“Well you don’t have to be so nosy and suspicious!”
“Please apologize for being sarcastic,” I said.
She hesitated for a few moments. She said, “Fine. I’m sorry. Happy?”
“Yes,” I said. “Me too. I just missed you a lot, that’s all. Did you miss me? You didn’t say you missed me.”
“Yes I did, A.J. I said it five minutes ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot. Next time say it louder.”
Maria quickly changed the subject, and began to ask me about Virginia. I told her it was nice, and that I had a good time. There really wasn’t much to say.
“Why don’t you ask me if I flirted with any girls?” I asked her.
“What?”
“You know, I was down there on the beach and all the girls wore bikinis. Weren’t you worried or something?”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“Because I trust you, that’s why!”
“Well, still, it would be nice, you know, to sometimes think that you’re a little jealous.”
“Well, you should be happy that I trust you,” she insisted.
“All right. I guess I am. But still...” And with that I trailed off. It wasn’t the best of conversations. But, then again, we hadn’t seen each other or spoken for a week, so it was a little awkward. As usual, we ended the conversation pleasantly, each with an “I love you,” and said goodbye.
After getting off the phone, I played The Long and Winding Road.
Many times I’ve been alone, it went, and many times I’ve cried. Many words you’ve never known, but many ways I’ve tried. But still they lead me back, to the long and winding road… I must have listened to it ten or twelve times as I heard rain begin to fall outside, and stared intuitively at the poster on my wall.
***
On Columbus Day weekend, Maria went to her uncle’s house Upstate. I was still so in love with her. I thought about her all the time, just like I do now, only back then I was so happy. I remember having a strong desire to write Maria a poem. Actually, it was a song.
What should I write about? I kept asking myself. It was tough to write a song, no matter what it was about. I wanted this song to be special. I wanted it to illustrate my feelings for her. Most of all, I wanted to make her cry tears of joy and love. That was my plan. As I sat down at my desk with my pen and pad, I envisioned Maria, upon hearing the song, weeping like a little girl, embracing me as she’d never embraced anyone before. She’ll love it, I thought. And I knew that after hearing it she would love me more than ever before.
I remember that just as I sat down to write it, I received the Air Force Academy information packet. I read the brochures and discovered that I could probably get into the Academy if I really wanted to go. And I did want to go—badly.
As a matter of fact, I was positive that I could get in. All I needed was a recommendation from someone in the armed services that knew me well, but also wasn’t related to me. It was too bad, because I was sure you, Dad, would’ve written me a great letter. Unfortunately, you weren’t allowed to write the letter.
I was so excited that I forgot about the poem and ran downstairs and told my mother and father all about applying. Dad, you were enthusiastic about it. You really thought I could follow in your footsteps, and that was sort of like every father’s dream—to watch his son make better of himself. I remember Mom’s advice: “You’d better keep those grades up in your last year of high school. And don’t mess up with that girl.” It was just like you to express so little confidence in me like that.
But I should’ve listened to you, Mom. I was really pissed off at you that day, like I always was. I tried not to let it bother me. As usual, I tried to escape from you by thinking about jets. I remember imagining myself flying way up in the clouds, soaring in an F-15 Eagle over the Rocky Mountains. The F-15 is only 63 feet long and 42 feet wide, but it can fight like hell. It’s WEFT: high-mounted wings; two rear-mounted engines; a long, pointed fuselage; and two tail fins. Genuine American artwork.
I’d fly in one of those planes someday. My cadet uniform would command respect from all the goddamn losers in my high school if they saw me. Even you couldn’t ruin the thrill of wearing that uniform, and getting my wings. I kept thinking about how you would visit me in Colorado, and I’d take you up in a jet and I’d fly over the Grand Canyon.
With you guys, I’d be flying in the sky, but with Maria it would be heaven. I was already in heaven with her on the ground; it would be awesome to be in the sky, away from everyone, with Maria by my side. I wasn’t even sure if the Air Force would allow that sort of stuff, but I thought about it anyway.
I called Paul and told him all about it. He was pretty excited for me.
After I told him about the Air Force, I mentioned what had happened in Virginia. I always told Paul about that sort of stuff, and usually he was pretty happy for me.
“Paulie baby, how are ya?”
“Not bad. What’s up, dude?”
“Paul, my good buddy, you’ll never guess what happened in Virginia beach!”
“How many girls did you kiss, L’Enfant?”
“Hey, how’d you know?” I asked. “Did I already tell you this story?”
“No,” he said. “But a leopard doesn’t change his spots.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Never mind, L’Enfant. Just tell me what happened.”
So I told him all about Lee Anne and Vicki and the other girl. He was stiff that day, as if he didn’t care as much as he usually did. I figured he was sort of jealous, maybe, because I knew that I wanted to go into the Air Force, and he really wasn’t sure about where he was going to college. But he listened to my Virginia story, and I was happy telling it. Five minutes into the conversation, as I was describing Lee Anne’s breasts, I realized that I hadn’t told him about the Air Force application yet.
But he interrupted the thought. “Did you tell Maria yet about your little smoking habit?” I’d mentioned that Lee Anne and I first went to the stairwell to have a cigarette.
“No, I didn’t. But what does that have to do with anything?”
“Did you tell Maria about Lee Anne, and the two other girls?”
“Dude, what’s your problem? Chill out, man. You remind me of my mother, for Chrissakes!”
“All right, L’Enfant,” he said. “Forget it. I’m only joking.” But he didn’t say he was sorry or anything; he just changed the subject.
“Do you want to go play baseball today?” Paul and I played ball in a park near my house every time the weather was good. It was pretty cool, because I beat him in just more than half of the games we played, and I knew he hated that.
“Sure, dude. Play ball!” And I yelled it out just like an umpire does at the beginning of a ball game.
So we hung up and I met him at the park. He beat me five to one—he hit one grand slam and another solo shot. I got a bases-loaded triple, but I only got one run because I missed the bag on the way around first. It didn’t matter; I was so happy about the Air Force thing that I couldn’t care less about baseball.
I couldn’t wait to tell Maria about what the Air Force had sent me in the mail, and about how I wanted to take her up in a jet over the Rockies. She’d given me her aunt and uncle’s phone number, just in case I wanted to call her. I’d told her that I’d probably be busy with work that week, and that it would be hard to get in touch with her. But I only said that so she’d be all the more surprised when I finally called.
***
I remember the phone ringing, thinking, Maria’s gonna be home soon and I still haven’t written her song. For some reason, I had a severe case of writer’s block. I was immersed in thoughts of my future in the Air Force, lost in the clouds that I would someday fly through at Mach 1. Seeking inspiration, I gave Maria a call. There was something peculiar about her voice that day, but I couldn’t quite place my finger on what it was. She seemed hesitant and quiet.
“What’s wrong? Why are you so quiet?” I inquired, anxiously.
“I’m holding my little cousin in my arms. He’s only seven months old, and he just fell asleep.”
“Are you sure that’s all? Are you hiding something from me?”
“No,” she said, exasperated, muffling her little yell.
“Who have you been hanging out with all week?”
“Well, mostly my cousins,” she whispered. “That’s really it.”
“Are you sure you’ve been a good little girl? I hate it when you’re so terse and quiet.”
“I told you, my cousin—“
I cut her off. I was too excited about flying to bother pressing the issue. My heart was pounding.
“You’ll never guess what happened?” I said.
“What?”
“I got some information in the mail from the Air Force, and I think I’m qualified for the Academy.”
“Really? That’s great! I’m so proud of you.” That’s what I liked about Maria—she was proud of me even though I really hadn’t done anything yet. She was a lot different than some people reading this letter, or anyone else for that matter.
“I’m going to take you flying,” I said, whispering, even though the baby was in her arms and not mine, “just like I told you a few weeks ago at the beach.” I was so happy just saying that. “The only thing is that I have to get a recommendation from a military person or something, and I don’t know who to ask.”
Maria was quiet for a moment. I felt so nervous. “A.J.,” she finally said, “I think I know someone who was in the Air Force. But he doesn’t know you that well.”
I was busting at the thought. “Who?” I asked.
“My father.”
Maria had never told me that her father was in the Air Force. She wasn’t very proud of anything that he did. He’d let her down so often, I’m sure she was afraid to mention anything positive about the guy at all.
“But I barely know your father!” I’d only met him once or twice. Just hello and goodbye.
“I know, but it’s funny you should mention this, A.J., because this week I’ve been thinking about introducing you to him formally, maybe over a nice dinner. I don’t know when it’ll happen, but it’ll happen.”
“Holy shit!” I said. “That’s great! Do you think he’ll like me?”
“Don’t worry about that,” she said. “He will.”
I was shocked at the thought of having her father write me a recommendation. From the way she described him, I don’t know. He didn’t sound like a good guy. I didn’t get ahead of myself, though. I didn’t want to expect the recommendation. After all, I hadn’t really met the guy. But I have to admit, the thought of having a pilot write me the letter made me smile. I was so confident that day. Maria always seemed to make me feel that way.
“I have to go—I have to change little Anthony,” she said.
“Who’s Anthony? New boyfriend?”
She paused. “It’s my little baby cousin. He’s so cute, you should see him. He looks just like you—cute as a button.”
Shivers tickled my body when she said that; she knew just how to compliment me, and I knew that she meant it, too. I wanted to jump through the phone and hug her right then and there, and sprinkle her with kisses.
“And just like you, even when he’s cranky, I love him.”
I laughed. No, I guffawed. (That’s the first time in this letter I used an SAT word—guffaw: to laugh loudly and boisterously. “Maria, I love you so much. Thank you for—for being you.”
Maria blushed. “I really do have to go,” she said. Her heart was racing, and filled with joy. “But I’ll call you when I get home in a few days.”
“Okay, baby, I love you.”
“I love you, too, A.J.” I loved hearing her say my name. She said it like I was the coolest guy in the world.
***
And I was.
Thing is, despite her love for me, I still worried about Maria’s past every minute of every hour of every day. It was the weirdest thing. All weekend long while Maria was away Upstate, I envisioned her cheating on me. I’d sit in my dimly-lit hazy room, swallowing cigarette smoke, getting angry over something I knew wouldn’t happen. Even though I hooked up with those chicks in Virginia, I still wasn’t—I still don’t know the word—
—satisfied? Yes, that’s it. I remember being plagued with doubts that, despite Maria, I’d never be satisfied. Whether sitting in class or walking to the store or eating dinner or working in the deli, all I heard was this endless echo of hollowness in the pit of my stomach. I felt like a cave—solid on the outside, but dark and shallow within. I used to wonder if I was truly going crazy. I was so sad about the imaginary events swirling throughout my head.
Little Boy Page 18
