Tyler walked past him, ignoring the invite to harass another freshman. He shuffled up to the sink, still a little queasy. The nob squeaked as he turned it on, sending water splashing into the sink. He cupped his hands and wet his face. He stared into his reflection, taking notice of his blond hair sticking out past his ears and the short, soft, sandy mustache that was almost starting to look less awkward and more manly. He watched his eyes flick to the side, observing the horseplay going on behind him.
Mac was leading the pack, as usual. Instigating almost every conflict that took place in the locker room.
“You’re not part of my family until you earn it, Fresh.”
“Yeah, you have to earn it!” Tubby, Mac’s right-hand-man chimed in.
The smallest of the three, Petey, who was always playing catch up to their shenanigans added his two cents.
“To be on this team, you have to prooove that you’re family.”
“Yeah, so how about you prove it by taking a bite out of that urinal cake,” Mac challenged.
The scrawny freshman, too short for his big shorts, tried to laugh it off as if they were joking. But Mac, wearing his cut-off “300 Club” powerlifting t-shirt, grabbed him, picked him up like a loaf of bread, and shoved his face down into the dirty urinal.
“We’re not kidding, Fresh! Eat it!”
Tyler stared at them in the mirror, wrestling over his own thoughts of right vs. wrong. He shook his head, took a deep breath, and flicked the water from his hands.
His voice started softer than he wanted and ended louder than he anticipated.
“Guys, c’mon. You heard Coach. We’re a family, and families don’t treat each other like that.”
Tyler turned around and dried his hands on his shirt. He studied them, half smiling half clenching his jaw, waiting for each one to slap each other on the back, laugh it off, and walk away.
But they didn’t. Tyler’s words fell short of their shenanigans.
Instead, Mac pushed the tiny freshman’s nose down until it was nearly touching the pink urinal cake.
The poor freshman struggled to breathe above the stench of urine and spit.
“Dude, c’mon! I’m not going to eat it. That’s disgusting! Let me up!” He had ahold of each side of the urinal, pushing, fighting to keep his face from plunging further into the dirty urine and dip filled bowl.
The other linemen cheered on their buddy.
“Eat it! Eat it! Eat it!”
Tyler scowled and grit his teeth. He balled up his fists as he marched over to them. Mac looked up just as Tyler shoved him away from the urinal. The freshman caught his feet and tried to run. But he ran right into Tubby’s gut and stopped him in his tracks with a bearhug.
Tyler held up his hands, pleading with them.
“Come on, brother. We’re a family. Let’s act like it.”
Surprised by Tyler’s intervention, Mac aimed his anger at him.
“Oh, like your family? You think we didn’t hear about it? We know that you got your dad arrested. How pathetic, to snitch on your old man. Family? Get out of here with that bullshit.”
Tubby laughed and backed up his buddy.
“And trust me, we know allll about your slutty sister, too!”
Tyler’s eyes grew large with rage fueled further by the group laughing in his face.
With them all distracted for a moment, the freshman tried to pull away, again. But he was cut off at the door by Petey, who pushed him up against the wall, still chuckling and rattling like a bobblehead.
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. We didn’t tell you to leave yet. Here you go, Mac.”
Mac sneered at Tyler’s red face and strutted over to the freshman, picked him up, pinned his swatting hands, and carried him like a sack of corn towards the urinal, again.
“Get back down there and eat it, shrimp.”
Tubby’s face lit up, and he grinned. He ripped down his pants and positioned his groin in front of the freshman’s dangling head.
“No. No. Eat this instead,” he laughed.
All three linemen laughed as Mac swung his head back and forth towards Tubby’s naked waist.
Tyler squeezed his fists until his knuckles turned white.
“That’s enough! Let him go!”
Mac continued to torment the freshmen, laughing at Tyler’s strong stance beside him. But Tyler had enough of Mac’s hazing. He cocked back his fist, right in front of Petey’s wide-eyed face, and swung as hard as he could, pounding Mac in his dimpled chin. Mac stumbled back, letting loose of the freshman, who backed pedaled towards the door in shock. Mac’s legs buckled as he lumbered backward, sending him to the ground with a loud grunt.
“I said that’s enough!” Tyler’s eyes were focused, fierce, and raging mad.
The linemen with his shorts down tried to yank them up quickly, but it wasn’t fast enough. Tyler swung again and connected just below his eye, sending him sprawled out across the bathroom floor with his shorts hanging low around his waist, exposing his buttocks in a crumbled heap of muscle and testosterone.
Mac, was back on his feet rubbing his jaw.
“What the hell, man?! Are you mental, or something?”
Mac took an aggressive step towards Tyler. But Tyler was quicker than him. Tyler was more agile than him. Tyler stepped to the right and did a “swim move” that his receivers coach taught him to get off the line when the defense was in press coverage. Confused by his whiff and miss, Mac turned his head to see Tyler kick his cleats into his rear end, sending him headfirst into the wall.
Shaken and bloody, he stood up dazed and wobbly. Tyler headed towards the door and the freshman who was frozen in place.
“I… am not my father!” Tyler mumbled as he walked away.
The freshman’s eyes darted back and forth from Tyler to the two linemen on the ground, to Petey who was in just as much shock as the freshman was. When Tyler got close enough to him, he relaxed and pat him on the back.
“Thanks. Thank you. You saved me, man. I mean… thanks for standing up for me.”
Mac groaned to his feet, blood dripping down from a gash in his forehead.
“I’m not done with you boys yet!” Mac wiped the blood from his eyes, grunted and huffed as his slow, heavy steps came at them.
Tyler stepped in front of the freshman. “Look, man. It’s done. It’s over. Let it go.” The freshman saw his moment to run and escaped through the door, yelling for Coach through the locker room.
But, by the time Coach and the freshman had made it back into the bathroom, there was blood splattered on the wall, the mirror and Tyler’s hand, and there were three moaning linemen writhing in pain on the floor.
“What in the hell…?!” Coach thundered at the sight of his bloodied defensive linemen lying on the floor.
Tyler looked his coach in the eyes and wiped his bloodied hand across his football t-shirt.
“They had it comin’, Coach.”
“Yeah, they were trying to get me to eat a urinal cake, and his… his… pecker!” The out-of-breath freshman yelled.
“Is that right?” Coach boomed with his hands on his hips, evaluating the mess on the floor. “Get your asses up and get the hell out of here!” He thundered, pointing towards the door.
The three linemen groaned and huffed as they got to their feet and staggered out of the slamming door.
“Make sure you drink plenty of fluids for all the running you’ll be doing tomorrow,” Coach yelled towards them as they left the building.
Coach looked Tyler up and down.
“What the hell did you do to the
m?”
Tyler looked at the freshman and at the other coaches and players now gathering in the doorway.
“Nothin’. I just taught them a lesson about family.”
. . . . .
“Mr. and Mrs. Handler, thank you for coming in on such short notice.” Tyler’s football coach had set up two padded folding chairs in front of his desk. Jim and Ashley sat across from his desk which was decorated with pictures and medals hanging from trophies. Centered in front of Coach was an open playbook. It was obvious that he had been busy erasing pencil marks and drawing fresh, new, directional lines, sending “X’s” and “O’s” to different spots on the white paper. Jim had earned Coach’s curious stare when he nonchalantly readjusted the trophy in the corner of his desk to make it align more properly.
“We were very worried to hear that Tyler was involved in another “incident,” Jim replied.
Coach shifted in his seat and folded his hands over the top of the playbook.
“Well, yes… yes, he was. But… I hate to say it, but this time, although I don’t necessarily agree with striking another teammate, this time, I have to admit that I agree with what he did.”
“What exactly did he do?” Ashley spoke up, her words slightly blurred together.
“Well, as I mentioned briefly on the phone, he got into a bit of a fight in the bathroom with some upperclassmen, defensive linemen. Go figure. And I’ll tell you what, that kid has some fight in him… ehh, borderline anger issues, but fight, nonetheless. With that said, I know that there is one freshman who is very thankful that Tyler stepped up and stopped the hazing that was happening behind my back.”
Jim reached over and gently placed his hand on Ashley’s. Surprised, she flinched for a second, but quickly joined the show and affectionately rubbed his hand with her other.
“Tyler knows that we don’t condone any kind of violence in the Handler house,” Jim said matter-of-factly.
Ashley’s brows scrunched before she could stop them. But she recovered with a soft smile.
“We try to teach respect and courtesy in our household.” She affirmed.
Coach missed the little hints that danced around his office between the two of them. He fell for it, just as many others had when Jim and Ashley were in public. Their family was perfect, their love-life was perfect, their character flawless, their problems nonexistent… or, at least, that was the act that they were so used to playing. Putting on a “face” for the crowd had become so routine over the years that it felt more like a double life. Although, Ashley certainly admired the moments when they could pretend that it was like “the old days,” back when their love was strong, and Jim’s hands were soft.
Jim was a master manipulator. It came naturally to him, like an instinct or reflex. He was so filthy with subconscious guilt that his mind had convinced him that his own lies of stability and homeliness were real. Regardless of his intentions, there was still some resemblance of affection in his touch. Ashley yearned for that. She lived for that.
“Now, don’t get me wrong, I think Tyler is a great kid who is discovering who he is, and I respect his hard work and dedication to the program. However, even if his reasons were justified, we can’t have our players fighting one another. It’s just too disruptive to the family attitude that we’re trying to build here. Understand?”
Jim looked at Ashley, smiled and nodded.
“Yes sir, we certainly agree with you. Tyler will absolutely be reprimanded when we get back home.”
“Look, I don’t want to kick him off the team or anything, or even let this get out of ‘the locker room.’ I simply want him to understand that there are consequences for his actions, just as there are for you… or me… or any of us. We’re all held accountable for our actions. Right?”
Jim squeezed Ashley’s hand, let go, and patted her on the thigh.
“Absolutely. There are always consequences for the decisions that we make. Quite frankly, I… we’ve… been trying to get our children to understand that, lately. I think this will become a great teaching tool.”
“I agree. Jim, you know, as a father myself, I just pray and hope that I do enough to teach them how to make the right decisions. You know, the ones that we should have made back then.”
Coach laughed, and Jim and Ashley joined him.
“Again, just to be clear. I respect what Tyler did. Hell, I even appreciate it. He stood up to bullying, which we don’t tolerate here, and I am thankful for his courage. But, we need to learn to deal with things in a less violent manner. I want to coach… I want to teach my kids how to control their anger, their emotions. I think that’s important in life, being able to control the mechanisms that form our actions. Wouldn’t you say?”
Jim arose, “Well…” Ashley and Coach followed his lead. Jim extended his hand and Coach shook it.
“I think you’re doing a hell of a job, here, Coach. I agree with you one-hundred percent. And I’ll… weee,” he smiled and rubbed Ashley’s back, “will handle it on our end, at home. Thank you for letting us know. I appreciate it.”
“No problem, Jim. Thank you both for coming in. I look forward to seeing you both involved in the program this year. Take care, now.”
When Jim and Ashley returned home, the pizza delivery man wasn’t far behind them. Hoping to surprise him, Ally had ordered her dad’s favorite double Pepperoni and pineapple pizza.
After icing down a drink for himself, Jim took a seat in his favorite chair, while Ashley and Nikki set the table for dinner. Ashley had convinced Jim that a nice family sit-down-dinner is exactly what this family needs. Ally rushed down the stairs wearing one of his old XL flannel shirts, hopped onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I missed you, daddy. Did you miss me, too?” she asked in a high-pitched voice.
Jim shook her loose from his neck and grimaced.
“Not now, Ally. It’s been a hell of a day. Don’t you have something you could be doing?” He said more harshly than he intended.
Taken aback and disgusted, Ally pouted her way off his lap and stood defeated beside him.
“But I got you your favorite pizza, daddy.” She sounded more wounded than anything.
“Yeah. Thanks.” Jim took a sip from his old whiskey glass and unfolded the newspaper, flipping it quickly to the police reports.
Red-faced, Ally crossed her arms and stomped her foot.
“Why can’t you just love me like you used to?!”
She stormed off through the living room walkway, grabbed her phone from the stand, and texted Brian that she was on her way over. She ripped his letterman jacket from the hook on the wall, ran out to her car, and spun gravel as she pulled out of the drive.
Tyler came down the steps in his usual cut-off shirt and athletic shorts to see what the commotion was about.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
“Just another one of her fits,” Jim said without lowering the newspaper. “Pizza’s in the kitchen, let’s eat.
Jim tossed the newspaper on the stand, sighed heavy, groaned out of his chair, and followed Tyler into the kitchen. Ashley pulled out Jim’s chair at the head of the table and put her hand on his shoulder as he sat down. She loved nights like these, where the family could all co-exist.
Ashley smiled, running her hands through the back of his hair. He shut his eyes for a moment and then quickly shook her away. Satisfied with her small victory, she dug into the box of pizza and put a slice on four of the five plates.
“Ally’s not joining us?” She asked.
Jim shook his head.
“Nope.”
“Well we can still try to have a nice dinner,
can’t we?” She said as she passed around soda and a plate of pizza to each seat. Nikki ripped off four sheets of paper towels, passed them around and sat down beside her mother.
“Pizza’s cold.” Jim was starting to feel the float of whiskey in his veins.
“Oh? I can heat it up for you?” Ashley offered.
“How about you do it, Nikki?” Jim held up his plate in her direction.
Nikki, mouth half full, stopped chewing.
“Mom just said she would.” She mumbled, confused.
“I don’t care what mom said, I’d like for you to warm it up for me.”
The arrogance in his voice sent a shiver down the back of Nikki’s neck. Tyler sensed the tension rising and his father’s cocky undertones. He wanted to break his father’s attention from his younger sister to him.
“So, what did Coach have to say? Am I still on the team?”
Ashley took a sip of her wine.
“Yes. But this whole… situation is something that we need to discuss.”
Jim took a lengthy last drag from his whiskey glass and slammed it on the table, empty.
“I’m tired of you bringing unwanted attention to this family!” He roared, unexpectedly, taking everyone by surprise, and making Ashley jump, spilling her wine.
“Jim, let’s calm down. We can discuss this after dinner.” She said dapping at the small puddle of wine with her paper towel.
He stood up, nearly knocking over his chair as he noisily kicked it out of his way to refill his glass.
“I think we should talk about it now! Quite frankly, I don’t think there’s much to talk about. You’re not going to bring unwanted or negative attention to this family! I don’t need that right now!”
Tyler straightened in his chair. He could feel the heat building in the room. The refrigerator kicked on, humming in the pause of raised voices. Tyler’s senses tuned into the stillness in the air. He could hear the slow and steady drip from the faucet. He watched as the water would build around the rim until it was too heavy and then let go, thumping a splatter down onto a dirty plate still in the sink from lunch.
At Daddy’s Hands Page 12
