Far From Xanadu

by Julie Anne Peters

  “Hmm.” My eyes bulged. The crust was warm and chewy; the tangy lemon filling melted in my mouth. I scored her a ten with spread out fingers on both hands.

  Dottie beamed and patted my cheek.

  I was savoring another mouthful of lemon lusciousness when Jamie flounced into the kitchen. He hefted himself onto the counter next to me and filched the lemon bar right out of my hand. “What are we going to watch?” he said, chomping into it.

  The movies. I hadn’t gotten that far. Dottie scooped up two lemon bars onto the spatula and held them out to us. I took both and headed to the living room.

  “Stop! Thief!” Jamie jumped off the counter.

  When I saw which movies he’d picked, I groaned. “We’ve seen these a hundred times.” They were Dumb and Dumber and Titanic.

  “Only ninety-nine.” Jamie flopped on the floor and extended his legs out in front of him. “The newest thing I could find was Mean Girls, and I hate when art imitates life too closely.”

  Blockbuster hadn’t put Coalton on its regular delivery route. We could get newer than Dumb and Dumber though. Oh well. I could use a laugh tonight.

  About ten minutes into the movie, the phone rang. Jamie bounded to his feet. “BeShanebeShanebeShanebeShane,” he said. He wrenched the cordless off the wall. “Hello? What?” He covered his free ear with a hand. “Oh hi, Dad.” His voice went all monotone.

  I remoted down the surround sound on the TV.

  “Not much,” Jamie said. “It’s not like I’d ever have a date on a Saturday night. Unless you count Mike.” Jamie stuck out his tongue at me and I sneered.

  Dottie and Bill knew Jamie was gay. How could they not? They were cool. No drama when he came out. He didn’t drive, so if they disowned him Jamie wouldn’t get far. He’d probably wind up in the backyard sleeping on his tramp. No, that’d never happen. Anyone in Coalton would take Jamie in. We didn’t have homeless people here.

  Plus, if we had discrimination, I wasn’t aware of it. Jamie and I had grown up here. People knew us; they were used to us. I’m sure they gossiped, but it never got back to me. I never, for one day, felt judged or excluded or persecuted in Coalton.

  Jamie joked around with his dad on the phone for a while, then handed it off to Dottie. He resumed his spot beside me on the floor. “What’d I miss?”

  I just looked at him. A few minutes later, the phone rang again and Dottie answered it. “Jamie, it’s Shane.”

  Jamie scrabbled to his feet and lunged for the phone. “Shane, I knew you’d call.” He listened for a long moment, then held his heart. “I know,” he said. “Me too.” Jamie caressed the headset to his ear and headed to his bedroom in back.

  They must’ve talked for an hour. The movie was boring. Old jokes. Dottie came in once to ask if I’d like a sandwich, but I declined. It was after nine and she looked ready for bed.

  I yawned. So did she.

  “Where’s Jamie?” she said.

  “Still talking to Shane,” I answered in another yawn.

  She twisted her head and smiled down the hall. Her smile was so full, it was like she was pouring out a waterfall of love for Jamie. I wondered if my mom had ever smiled at me that way. If once, in her whole entire life, she had felt a drop of love for me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  She didn’t call me. I figured she was recovering from her Toto time playing cards with the McCalls. I didn’t call her. I didn’t want to know what she was doing at the McCalls with him. When I got off work at five, there was one message on the machine. Esther Duffy. I groaned. She said her water heater had rusted out and would I come over.

  I sighed long and hard. I guess I had nothing better to do, like return Xanadu’s promised call. Ask her how she planned to make it up to me.

  Only one word described Esther Duffy. Old biddy. I guess that’s two words, but they go together. I swear, that lady was born with a burr up her butt. She hated kids. Me and Darryl in particular. She’d storm down to our house and accuse us of stealing her pumpkins or letting her rabbits out of the hutch. I never stole anything from Esther Duffy, or anyone else. Her rabbits were neglected and filthy, so whoever let them out was doing them a favor. I suspected it was Darryl.

  I’d forgotten about those rabbits. And Esther Duffy. We hadn’t had any contact with her since she moved to the show homes eight or ten years ago. I wondered how she was enjoying the Tanner boys as neighbors.

  Esther met me at the door. “Who are you?” she snarled.

  Old biddy. “Mike Szabo. You called me about your water heater?”

  Her eyes raked me up and down. “Why are you wearing men’s underwear?”

  I fixed on her mean, wrinkly face. “Because I like them.”

  We had a staredown. I won. “You look like your dad,” she said.

  I didn’t have anything to say to that.

  “Come in, then.” She stepped back from the door. “It’s a mess down there.”

  Mess? It was a disaster area. Her basement had an inch of water covering the cement slab, pooling around her washer and dryer, the legs of the water heater entirely submerged. “I’m going to have to pump this first,” I thought aloud.

  “Do what you need to do.” Esther breathed down my neck on the stair behind me. She smelled like rotten meat. “Your dad installed that water heater. Obviously he did a lousy job.”

  I seethed. That had to be ten years ago. Water heaters corrode. They rust. They fall apart, like people. I almost told her, Lady, find someone else for this job. Almost. There was no one else, not in Coalton. Besides, I needed to occupy my time. My mind.

  “Excuse me, ma’am.” I turned and smiled. “I’ll need to get my equipment out of the truck.”

  She let me pass. I got to work.

  Dad’s installation was flawless by any professional standards. Standards from ten years ago, though. It wasn’t up to current code, or what I knew of it. I figured since I was here, I’d replace all the electrical, update the flex connector to the gas.

  “I’ll need to run back to the shop for the water heater,” I told Esther. She was lucky we had one in stock. Esther was glued to the TV, some home shopping show.

  She remoted down the sound. “He did it to her, you know. They did it to each other.”

  Was this a soap? It looked like QVC. “I’ll let myself out.”

  “She didn’t used to be that big, your mama. She used to be fine. Not petite, mind you. Never small. But she was a nice person. She never was all that social. Didn’t come out much. After her baby died . . .”

  We’ve all been through a lot, okay?

  Esther sighed. “She was never the same after she lost that baby. And him with his drinking.”

  Shut up. I pivoted and charged out the back. Drive, I thought. Just drive. Finish the job and get out of there.

  The water heater we had was a brand-new forty-gallon Rheem. I hated to give it to Esther, but what choice did I have? If I ordered one, it’d take time. She was an old lady; she needed hot water. I struggled to maneuver the box onto the hand dolly and up into the truck by myself. But I managed. See, Dad? Who needs you?

  Hours later, as I was cleaning up, repacking tools, running a final leak test, Esther wandered downstairs with her checkbook. “What do I owe you?” she asked.

  I hadn’t considered a charge. Five dollars didn’t cover the O-ring on a toilet these days.

  She said, “Will five hundred do it?”

  Five hundred dollars? The water heater was just sitting there, collecting dust. My labor was the only cost. I checked my watch. Nine-thirty. Had I been here that long? Four hours, on a Sunday. “Make it four hundred,” I told Esther. It still felt like too much.

  She ripped out her check and handed it to me. “Sometimes,” she said, “there are two people in the world who should never come together. That’s your ma and your pop. Alone, they might’ve made it.

  Together? With their addictions?” She shook her head. “They were a toxic combination.”

  I just looked at
her. “Yes, ma’am,” I said.

  I was feeling good when I got to school on Monday. Nothing like a job well done. Four hundred bucks in my bank account. A double circuit at the VFW this morning. I was pumped. First thing I saw when I turned the corner heading for Geometry class was Xanadu.

  Oh yeah.

  And Bailey. Crap.

  He leaned down to kiss her.

  My muscles cramped. Luckily, the girls’ room was three steps away. I barreled inside and leaned against the door. Exhale, flex, hold, hold. Control, action, focus.

  She wasn’t mine. Not now. Not yet. But someday. Some way. I’d make her love me, the way I loved her.

  I’d practically beat the bell tearing out of Miz S’s class. I just couldn’t take it — his turning around and smiling at her every ten seconds; her poking him, passing him notes. I needed sky. Needed out. We were running track this week in gym, thank God. I could sprint laps. Run it off. For an hour, just run.

  Perfume swirled up my nose.

  I raised my head off my knees.

  “What happened to you? You took off before I could even say hello.” She curled cross-legged on the mat in front of me. Her smile faded. “Mike. What is it? Are you okay?” She reached out and touched my knee.

  “Just...zoning.” It was too windy and cold today for track. Gym was held indoors. Rope climbing, a totally wasted exercise — exorcise. My muscles didn’t even ache afterward.

  She smiled slightly, a sort of half smile, soft smile, which made my bones go rubbery. “I really need to talk to you,” she said in a lowered voice. “Alone. In private.”

  “Okay.” I perked up. “We can’t go to the roof though. It’s too windy.”

  “Not now. I have Journalism this hour. Did Jamie tell you we have to write a newspaper article for our test? Like, a feature with interviews and sidebars and everything.” She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. “I was thinking maybe later. After school?”

  I opened my mouth, then shut it.

  “You have to work.”

  “I could get off.” Which would be hard. Everett needed me to help stock for Coalton Days.

  “That’s okay,” Xanadu said. “It isn’t important. I just wanted to spend time with you.”

  My heart soared. “I don’t have to go in.”

  “Yes, you do.” She tilted her head. “I know you.”

  She did. She knew me. I wanted to cover her hand on my knee, take it, press it against my pounding heart, pass the tremors onto her. For some reason though, I was paralyzed. I couldn’t take action. Don’t let go, I prayed. Please, don’t let go.

  “Maybe we could ditch one day this week and hang out at your house?” Xanadu arched her eyebrows.

  I choked. “I don’t think so.”

  Her eyes darkened.

  “Not at my house.”

  She stood. “Okay. Whatever.”

  I scrambled to my feet. “We can ditch though. Anytime.”

  Gazing off toward the dangling ropes, she folded her arms around herself and said, “I need to talk about this and I can’t with Bailey, you know? He wouldn’t understand. I mean, he might, but I’m afraid to tell him.”

  She was afraid of him. I knew it. She’d be so much safer with me. “We could take off tomorrow,” I said. “Go someplace besides my house though.”

  She peered into my eyes, into my soul. She was wondering, I know, why I didn’t want to take her there. She ran her index finger down the length of my arm and raised goose bumps on my skin. “One of these days you’re going to tell me your secrets,” she murmured.

  I almost came.

  “Xanadu!”

  Both our heads whipped around.

  “Where have you been?” Bailey swaggered up to us. “I need my notebook for third period. Hey, Mike.” His eyes swept my body, taking in my muscle tee and boxers.

  “Bailey,” I said flatly.

  Xanadu said, “It’s in my locker.”

  “I know,” Bailey replied. “I, uh, forgot your combination again.” He forced a weak smile.

  Xanadu widened her eyes at me.

  Really, I thought. All brawn. Not much of that either. Not compared to me.

  She held my eyes for an extended moment, sending me a meaningful message. I felt confused, conflicted. One minute I was her world, the next Bailey moved in. I know she was giving me signals, but I didn’t know how to interpret them. She wasn’t like any other girl I’d known — or wanted this way. She was a mystery, a contradiction. She took off for the main hall with Bailey in tow. Last thing I saw was him looping an arm around her shoulders and her snaking one around his waist. I closed my eyes and hit my head against the brick wall.

  The Merc was a madhouse. What was going on? Darryl had gone off in the truck, so I was forced after practice to walk the half mile to work in a blinding dust storm. I was gritting dirt between my teeth as I hung up my sweatshirt on the hook in back. June saw me and rushed over. “Dad needs you up front to help cashier,” he wheezed. He added under his breath, “Hate Coalton Days.”

  They were still a month away, but Everett always got the first jump on the businesses in town with the Merc’s spring sale. I lifted my apron strap over my head and tied it twice around the middle.

  June slithered away, muttering unintelligible sounds. On the way to the register I passed Tiny juggling an armload of merchandise. She dumped it on the counter. A box of Snausages tipped over and I snagged it before it hit the floor. “Are we out of baskets?” I asked, searching the cart caddy at the entrance. There were still three available.

  “No,” Tiny said, sounding disgusted. “I was just coming in for doggie treats, and then I seen these wind chimes and thought they’d sound pretty outside the salon. Queenie needs a new collar and leash, so I had to get that too. And a windbreaker, which I could’ve used on the way over. I had to get me a six-pack of pansies, course.” She rubbernecked around me. “You’re sending me to the poorhouse, Everett.”

  He smiled sheepishly from behind the cash register. I think he had a thing for Tiny. He was such a crusty old coot. I couldn’t see how any woman would be interested in Everett. But then, I wasn’t any woman.

  A line was already forming behind Tiny. Someone called to Everett how much were the bedding plants and I relieved him at the register. I rang Tiny up. She handed me two twenties, which reeked of permanent solution, and from the change I gave her, she separated out a five-dollar bill. “For you,” she said. “I hope you get to go.” She folded the money and dropped it into a can on the counter.

  For me? I craned my neck around the cash register. It was a coffee can with a plastic lid, a slot cut out on top. I picked it up and turned it around. A picture of me was glued to the front. It was my school picture from ninth grade. What the hell...?

  The can was covered in construction paper and decorated with glitter. Above my picture was printed, in red magic marker, “Mike’s Catch-Her-Star Can-paign.”

  “What the hell...?” I repeated aloud, grabbing the can.

  “There it is.” Mayor Ledbetter rolled his cart up to the counter. “This is a stellar idea, Mike. Ha, ha. Get it?” He dropped a couple of quarters into the slot. They didn’t hit bottom and clink. How many dollars were in there? “Nice to get the whole town involved.”

  “Whose idea was it?” I snapped.

  Mayor Ledbetter arched his eyebrows. “I thought it was yours.”

  “Mine?” My voice rose. “I wouldn’t do this.”

  Junior appeared behind me with a bag of wild bird seed flopped across his shoulder. “Save this for Renata,” he growled. “She’s stopping by later. I didn’t know your batting average was .647 last year.”

  “Good write-up in the paper,” Mayor Ledbetter said.

  “Huh? What paper?” What was this about?

  Behind the mayor, Armie dropped a pile of jeans on the counter. He flipped open his wallet and withdrew a ten. “Stick that in there, will ya?” He indicated the can.

  Mayor Ledbetter folded the bill
and wiggled it in. Armie balled a fist and bounced it off his opposite shoulder. “You go, girl.”

  “What write-up?” I was stuck on the mayor. “What paper?”

  “The Gazette.” He waved toward the newspaper rack near the cart caddy.

  “I’ll be right back.” I shoved the can at him and charged across the Merc.

  Only one copy of the Tri-County Gazette remained in the coin box.

  Through the glass window I could see my picture on page one. I dug out a dime and inserted it into the slot.

  “First time I saw her play, I thought to myself, Man, oh man, Emmanuel, this girl has got the goods. She was six and I was ... well, let’s just say awe-inspired.”

  Was this about me? No one interviewed me or anything.

  Manny Archuleta, in a phone interview from Wichita — where he’s helping his mother recover from hip replacement surgery — is speaking about our own superstar. “She was a natural, even as a kid,” Manny tells this reporter. “You knew she had the game in her blood. She had a feel for it, an instinct. She’s the best player I’ve ever coached, or had the pleasure to watch develop. She’s taught me more about the game than I’ve ever taught her.”

  The game, of course, is girls’ fastpitch softball. And the player Coach Archuleta is bragging about is Mike Szabo.

  I didn’t know Coach Archuleta felt that way about me. Who was

  “this reporter”?

  There was no byline.

  The Coalton Cougars have been on a roll since Szabo’s rookie year. For the past three seasons they’ve placed first or second in the region and continued on to the quarterfinals. Their success is due in no small measure to the infield play and leadership of Mike (Mary-Elizabeth) Szabo.

  I cringed.

  “Mike!” Everett’s voice registered dimly.

  If you’ve never attended a Cougars game (and you’d be in the minority in this town), you haven’t had the pleasure of seeing Mike play. She’s the spots and stripes of the Coalton Cougars.

  Spots and stripes? Cougars didn’t have stripes. Who wrote this? I read faster to get to the end.