Run, Jonah, Run

by Jonah Black

  Dec. 21, 3:30 P.M.

  I was going to do some Xmas shopping today but Honey took her Jeep and Mom took the Audi so I couldn’t get a ride to the mall, and I don’t feel like riding my bike with a whole bunch of bags and stuff. I hate shopping anyway. I never know what to get people. It’s like some object or something is supposed to symbolize how I feel about the people in my family—and there’s no way anything I could buy in the Coral Springs Mall is going to sum that up.

  I heard Honey come home around two-thirty. She went into her room and threw some bags on the floor and then the next thing I know she’s standing in my doorway with this look.

  “What?” I said.

  “You’re up to something,” she said.

  “What am I up to?”

  “That’s what I can’t figure out. But you’re definitely scheming. You wanna let me in on the caper, Melon Butt?” she asked me.

  “I don’t have any caper,” I insisted.

  “Okay, fine, forget it. If you’re going to keep it a government secret then fine,” she said.

  “I don’t have a secret!”

  “Of course you have a secret. Don’t act like I’m an idiot.”

  “Right, you’re going to Harvard, I forgot,” I said. It was about the only thing I could think of that I knew would really bug her.

  “Oh, eat me. You know I’m just trying to help you,” Honey said.

  “Help me? What do you want to help me with?” I asked her.

  “Nothing. Forget it. You’re hopeless,” she said, disgusted. “I only want to say one thing. When you finish doing whatever stupid thing it is you’re planning, and you’re feeling like a total moron because you screwed it up, whatever it is, just remember that I came to you and asked if I could help you and you said, ‘No, thank you, I prefer to be a total loser.’ Okay?”

  She started to go back to her room, but I said, “Honey?”

  And she goes, “What?”

  “Haven’t you ever had a secret?” I said.

  “Well, of course I have,” Honey said. “But we’re not talking about me.”

  “Well, maybe I want to have some secrets of my own,” I told her. “Just because I don’t want to share everything with you doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

  “Oh, my God,” she said, clutching her stomach. “Get me the ipecac syrup. I think I’m tastin’ vomit chunks!”

  “Never mind,” I said.

  “Listen, Fishbreath,” she said. “This isn’t about our widdle wuv that we share because we’re brudduh and sistah! It’s about you getting into some moronic jam. Ending up in jail. Getting thrown out of school, or something. I can’t wait to find out what you’re up to this time.”

  “How do you know I’m going to wind up in jail?” I protested. That might have been possible if I had to steal Mom’s car. But that won’t be necessary now that Thorne is driving me.

  “Jesus, kid, how blind do you think I am? I know this has something to do with this supposed college trip you’re taking on the twenty-seventh. I mean, that much is obvious. Like you’d ever go to UCF—I mean really! As if you’d ever go anywhere that doesn’t have a diving team. So you’re probably going somewhere other than Orlando. But where? And how will you get there? You can’t drive. And what about money? You only have a hundred and thirty-eight dollars and fifty-seven cents in your checking account. You’ll need more than that to pull off anything major. So I don’t know, Monkey Nuts. I can’t quite figure this out.”

  “How do you know how much money I have in my checking account?” I said, alarmed.

  “Gee, I don’t know, Lameness, maybe I’m Sherlock Holmes or something,” she said.

  “I don’t like being spied on,” I told her.

  “Well, I don’t like watching you walk into a pit of snakes with your pants down. But fine. Play it your way,” Honey said.

  She left the room, then came back a second later.

  “You know what I think? I think you’re going to Maine to see that chick from Masthead,” she said. “Soapy.”

  “Sophie,” I corrected her.

  Honey looked at me as I said her name.

  “Mmm-hmm,” Honey said. “I get it.”

  “What do you get?” I said.

  “Can I just say one thing? Take some long underwear. It’s cold in Maine,” Honey advised.

  “Okay,” I said. “If I go to Maine I’ll take some long underwear. And when I’m all snug and warm I’ll say, Thank you, Honey, for caring enough to make me toasty.”

  “Fine,” she said, and left. As she went down the hall she called out, “Remind me to leave you alone from now on.”

  “Wait,” I yelled after her. I heard her door open, but she didn’t go into her room.

  “What?” she called back. She sounded annoyed, but still interested.

  “Hey. When we were little kids. Do you remember the time we went looking for the place where Toby was buried?” I said.

  Honey was quiet for a second. Then she called back, “Yeah. I remember that. There was this whole little graveyard. We put flowers on his grave.”

  “What? No we didn’t,” I said. “We got yelled at by Dr. Boyers. She didn’t believe us when we told her what we were doing.”

  “Dr. Boyers?” Honey said. “Dr. Boyers wasn’t there. It was Dr. Moynihan. I remember picking violets with his daughter, Megan. We put violets on Toby’s grave and sang church songs.”

  “No, we didn’t,” I insisted. “We got yelled at. She chased us off the farm.”

  There was a long silence. Honey was standing in her doorway. “I remember picking violets,” she said at last, then closed her door.

  Dec. 22, 3:45 P.M.

  Today this kind of sad thing happened. School is out for break, so I got Mom to take me to the Coral Springs Mall. We got there by ten A.M. and agreed to meet back at the car at two-thirty P.M., which gave me enough time to shop for presents and maybe get some lunch. I did my Christmas shopping pretty quickly, because I really hate to shop. It always makes me feel like I’m incredibly retarded or something, like I don’t speak the language of shopping. I want to get good presents for people, something that will show I put a lot of thought into it. But I can never find anything good. I got Mom a kind of silky robe, and I got Honey the new PJ Harvey CD. Good enough, I guess, but not great.

  Then I went to the bookstore and bought Dad a book. I can’t even remember which one exactly except that I knew he’d like it because it has a submarine on the cover. I know I’m going to get a card from him soon with a check in it as a present. It always pisses me off that he can’t be bothered to get me something personal. Although the money is good, especially now that I’m going to Disney World.

  Anyway, with Mom, Dad, and Honey out of the way, I was all done with shopping, except that I wanted to buy something for Sophie. So I went into this shop called Afterthoughts that has earrings and stuff. I picked out a bunch of earrings and tried to imagine them in Sophie’s ears. Finally I got her these cool ones by somebody named Holly Yashi. They’re kind of hard to describe—kind of turquoise with these Asian-looking characters on them. I think she’ll like them because I remember her having ones like this at Masthead.

  I had them gift wrap the earrings, and then I started feeling pretty good because I realized I’m seeing Sophie in a few days, and it actually looks like it’s really going to happen. I’m pretty excited.

  Anyway, I had just left Afterthoughts when I suddenly saw Posie walking through the mall. She didn’t see me. She was carrying a big bag of stuff from the Bon Jon Surf Shop, mostly stuff for herself, I guess. I suddenly felt a little guilty for not buying Posie a present. I almost went back into Afterthoughts to get her some earrings, too, but first I thought I’d see what she was up to. I was about to go up to her and talk to her, but then I noticed this kind of weird look on Posie’s face; kind of dreamy, kind of intense. She didn’t look like herself. She stopped moving and just stood in the mall for a second, with all the people swirling around her. An
d then suddenly, she turned around and started walking off in the other direction. Wherever she was going, she looked pretty determined.

  So without even meaning to, I started to follow her, and once I started it was pretty hard to just stop, although I felt kind of creepy, like I was stalking her or something. I guess I wanted to see where she was going with that look on her face. The next thing I knew she had gone into Brookstone, and she started walking around looking at all the cool stuff in there. Finally she got this sales guy to help her out. She started looking at all the telescopes in there, and talking to him about each one, and I was thinking, Who is the telescope for? I mean it couldn’t be for her little sister, Caitlin, and it’s not the kind of thing you’d buy your mother. It’s definitely a guy present, and I pretty much ruled out her father because Mr. Hoff is about as blind as Ray Charles. I mean, no offense, but he’s definitely not the kind of guy you’d buy a telescope for. Then I suddenly remembered what Thorne had said: Everybody says she’s got some new guy, but nobody knows who.

  I guess it’s true about Posie having a new boyfriend, and I guess things have gotten very serious. I mean a telescope is a very good present for a guy, and it’s not one she’d get for this guy unless things had gone pretty far pretty fast. See, a telescope is exactly the kind of cool gift I always want to buy for people, except I can never think of things like that when I’m shopping. I always resort to books and robes and CDs.

  Anyway, I suddenly felt so sad about Posie’s new Astronaut Boyfriend, and so ashamed of myself for following her, that I had to just get out of there. So I did. I practically ran all the way back to the car, over an hour before Mom was supposed to meet me. But I didn’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone. I just wanted to disappear. The car was locked so I had to sit there on the hood like an idiot.

  As I waited, I got out Dad’s submarine book and read it. Now I remember. It’s called DEFCOM NINE. It sucks.

  Dec. 25

  It’s about three-fifteen on Xmas afternoon. We’ve opened all the presents and eaten scrambled eggs and now it’s that kind of dead lull where we’re all in our rooms kind of going over our gifts and napping and waiting for the ham to come out of the oven. Mr. Bond is here. He arrived about nine A.M., which I don’t mind, I guess, but Mom should have told us he was coming is all I can say. And he should have brought us something—I mean anything, a pack of Slim Jims, whatever—but no, he just shows up and gives Mom this package from Victoria’s Secret. And of course, it was a tiger-print panties and bra set. Gross. I can’t decide what is more disgusting, Mom wearing that, or Mr. Bond shopping for it. Sorry, I mean Robere.

  Honey really liked the PJ Harvey CD. When she opened it she said, “Nice choice,” and she didn’t add a phrase like “Monkey Nuts” or anything, like she usually does, so I could tell she was impressed. Mom said she liked her robe, but I bet she tried on Robere’s underwear first. The two of them are in her room now, and if Honey didn’t have her new CD on full blast I bet you could hear them.

  Christmas is weird. For the last few years it just depressed me because it reminded me of when Mom and Dad were still married. Everything we did, even if it was sort of fun, just reminded me of the kind of family we couldn’t be anymore.

  This year is kind of sad, too, in a way, because next year Honey is going to be at Harvard. It’s really the last year Mom and Honey and I are going to be together like this. I am definitely going to miss Honey next year, although maybe it’s only on Christmas that I’d actually admit this.

  The house smells like ham.

  I got a Game Boy from Mom, which is a nice present I guess, but it also kind of seems like the kind of gift you’d get some kid you don’t know very well. It’s fine, though, I got Scuba War, too, which is this game where you basically try to kill all these sharks before they eat you. And Honey gave me a new journal with a black cover, just like the ones I always use. I’m only about halfway through this one, but it was a pretty cool gift. She also gave me a nice pen, kind of a fake fountain pen with these little cartridges you snap in so you’re actually writing with real ink. The color is this weird blue-green called Peacock Blue, which I also like. So Honey definitely wins the present contest. Thanks, Honey!

  And Dad sent a check for a hundred dollars. It came in an envelope addressed in Tiffany’s handwriting, and the check was signed by Tiffany, too—Tiffany St. Clair Black. God, it sounds like the name of a porn star. I wonder if Dad got her some tiger panties for Xmas, too. I mean assuming she doesn’t already own some, which I bet she does. That’s probably all she wears.

  Dad hasn’t called us yet to say, Merry Christmas, did you get my check? He usually does, but maybe he’ll call later. We could call him, but he’s the one who divorced Mom. I think that means he should make the call.

  I wonder what Sophie is doing right now. I’m looking at the earrings I bought her and I can’t wait to give them to her. Two days to go! And I wonder if Posie has given that telescope to her new boyfriend. Maybe they’re looking through it, and they can see me lying here, writing in my notebook, and I look like somebody really far away.

  (Still Dec. 25, later)

  Just before we ate dinner, I was sitting around the living room watching a football game with my new best friend, Robere. He was drinking a beer, and I could tell he was thinking of offering me one, except that it would be kind of weird for him to offer me a beer in my own house.

  “Hey, Joner,” he said.

  “Hey, Mr. Bond.”

  He wagged his finger at me, like he was saying, naughty, naughty, and I said, “I mean Robere.”

  “Are you having a good Christmas?” he said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “It’s fine.”

  “I am. I wanted you to know that,” he said. “I’m really enjoying this Christmas.”

  “I’m glad,” I said, keeping my eyes on the TV.

  “Seriously.” I hate it when people say seriously to keep a conversation going that you’d just as soon drop. “It means a lot to have you accept me into your family. That you don’t mind having me around.”

  I decided to let him get away with this, because after all it was Christmas, and why shouldn’t I be nice to him? I mean, there’s nothing really wrong with Mr. Bond, except for the fact that he’s my history teacher, and Thorne’s homeroom teacher, and he’s sleeping with Mom, and he wants me to call him Robere.

  “Well, Robere,” I said. “I’m glad you’re around. I know Mom’s happy you’re around.”

  “She’s a pretty special lady,” Mr. Bond said, and looked back at the bedroom, where Mom was napping. “Yes indeed.”

  Gross. We watched the game for a little while. Scoreless.

  “You know, I was married before,” he said.

  This was news to me. I wasn’t sure why he was telling me this now.

  “Yeah?” I said.

  “Yes,” said Mr. Bond and sighed. “Phan Nguoc.”

  “Excuse me?” I said.

  “Phan Nguoc. That was her name,” he said. “She was Vietnamese.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Were you in Vietnam?”

  Mr. Bond shrugged. “Nah,” he said.

  He watched the game for a while, as if the conversation were over, which was weird, since he was the one who’d started it.

  “So what happened to her?” I said.

  “She had cancer, Jonah,” said Mr. Bond. “Breast cancer.” And just like that, Mr. Bond’s eyes got all watery and these two big tears slid down his cheeks. He wiped his face on the back of his shirt cuff.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “That she died.” I thought how incredibly lame it sounded to say this, but I meant it. There wasn’t any good way of putting it, I guess.

  “Me too,” he said. He drank some beer. “You know, for a long time I didn’t think I was ever going to get over it.” He paused. “Then I met your mom.” He looked back at the bedroom. “She sure is special.”

  The phone started ringing. I waited for someone
to answer it.

  “Yes,” he said, like he was in a trance. “Really special.”

  I got up and answered the phone.

  “Jonah!” said my father. “It’s your dad! Your dad, Jonah!”

  Dad always sounds like I should be incredibly grateful that he’s called. He doesn’t seem to have any clue that he’s the one who should be grateful we answer.

  “Hi, Dad,” I said.

  “Merry Christmas!” he shouted.

  “Merry Christmas to you, too, Dad. We’re all just sitting around here—” I said.

  “Good, good!” he said. “We’ve got a fire going. Tiffany and I are going over to the Cricket Club for supper. Thought we’d give you a quick check on the horn, make sure you’re full of Yuletide cheer.”

  “Oh, we’ve got cheer all over the place, Dad.” I think that’s about the strangest thing I may have ever said.

  “Is your sister there?” he said.

  “Yeah, let me get her.”

  “Wait, wait, Jonah, before you put her on—can I just ask, she’s doing okay, isn’t she?” he said.

  “She’s going to Harvard. She got in early decision,” I told him.

  “She did? Splendid! That’s outstanding!” His voice got fainter and I heard him say, “Honor Elspeth got into Harvard.” Tiffany said something back, but I couldn’t make out the words. I could tell by the tone of her voice she was standing there in one of her little dresses looking at her watch.

  “Did this just happen?” Dad asked me.

  “She found out about a month ago, I guess,” I told him.

  “Oh, shucks, I wish she’d called me and told me herself,” Dad said. “I’m so proud!”

  And I was thinking, Well, Dad, if you called more often, you would have found out.

  “And your mother, Jonah—I hope you don’t mind my asking about your mother. How is she?”

  At that moment, Mom came out of the bedroom. She looked good. She was smiling. Her hair was newly brushed. She was wearing lip gloss. I could tell she’d been fixing herself up for a while. “She’s great,” I said.