Fireside (18 page)

The woman scowled. “I don’t have a doctor’s appointment.”

“Really? You might need one, ma’am.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You know, to do something about that stick.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. That stick. You know, the one you got stuck up your ass. You’ll be a lot happier once that’s removed. Come on, AJ. Let’s go.”

The hallway had cleared out by then. “You shouldn’t have said that,” AJ whispered.

“It was totally worth it,” Bo said, feeling the first flicker of camaraderie with him. “Did you see her face?”

At the end of the hall, by the exit, a janitor was swabbing snow and slush with a mop. It didn’t escape Bo that this was the only Hispanic person they’d seen all morning. Glancing at AJ, he guessed that the boy had noticed this, too.

He said nothing, but checked the new-student brochure. “Looks like we’ve got to pick up some school supplies for you,” he said, adding it to his list of errands. As he planned out the things they had to do before AJ started school, Bo finally had to acknowledge that his life had just gotten immeasurably more complicated. Suddenly finding himself in charge of a boy was not quite the same as rescuing a kitten or getting a goldfish. Here was somebody depending on him, twenty-four/seven. His life was not All About Bo Crutcher anymore.

People juggled work and family all the time, he reminded himself. He’d never thought about just how they did, though.

Before the phone call from Yolanda, he was happily immersed in his career. The pre-season agreement with the Yankees was the answer to every dream he’d ever had, yet he hesitated to explain to AJ exactly what it was going to mean in practical terms. A major-league career was all-consuming, and the three-ring circus was about to begin. Bo was supposed to hit the road soon, heading down to Virginia for the annual rookie development program, known as Fame School.

He didn’t relish telling AJ. The boy had already been ripped from his mother. And although Bo wasn’t any kind of father, he was all the kid had, for the moment, anyway. He suspected AJ might not warm up to the idea that Bo, too, had to go away, regardless of the reason. He kept rehearsing ways to explain the situation, but there was really no good way to say it—except to say it.

Tonight, then. At dinner, Bo would explain about the Yankees contract, and how he had to go away for the rookie development program.

Which would probably go over like a fart in church.

“Now what?” AJ asked peevishly, buckling his seat belt. He felt totally freaked out. Enrolling in school was huge. It seemed to take him even further away from his mom.

“How about we have a little fun this afternoon? Let’s head to the gym.”

“That’s your idea of fun?”

“We could always go back to the school, bug the attendance clerk some more.”

AJ knew what Bo was up to. He was trying to keep him from being homesick for his mom. It kind of worked. A little bit, sometimes.

“I know what you’re doing,” AJ said.

“I’m glad you do,” Bo said with laughter in his voice. “Because most days, I haven’t got a clue.”

“I mean, I know what you’re doing with me. You’re trying to make me like it here by doing all this fun stuff with me.”

“Oh, busted,” Bo said. “So is it working?”

“Maybe a little bit. Sometimes.”

“Nothing’s going to keep you from missing your mom, AJ. That doesn’t mean you have to suffer every second she’s away. It doesn’t help her, and she wouldn’t want you to be miserable. Agreed?”

He shrugged, looked out the window. It was weird how he was already getting used to the small town. Probably because there was so little to it—Main Street and the town square, the city park at the lakeshore, the train station.

Bo turned into the parking lot of the big barnlike building that housed the sports complex. School was out for the day, and kids were hanging around. It made AJ miss his
cholos
back home. They never went to a gym or anything. There was no money for that. AJ thought about all the flyers given out at school—
Sign up for Youth Soccer! Little League tryouts next week! Swim Team starts soon!
—that had never made it home. His mom’s reaction was always the same: “It’s a lot of money,
chico tierno…
” By second grade, he’d learned to leave the flyers in the trash.

“Here we are,” Bo announced. “The Arthur Rey Gymnasium and Aquatic Center. Sophie loaned me some of Max’s gym shorts for you. We might be able to find some swim trunks in the lost and found.”

“I’m not swimming,” AJ said, folding his arms across his middle.

“Not right away, you aren’t,” Bo said. “We’re going to have a game of one-on-one first.”

“Forget it.”

“Fine. You can sit on the bench while I find a pick-up game.”

AJ hesitated. “See? This is what I hate. I only get two choices and they both suck.”

Just for a second, hurt flashed across Bo’s face. AJ wished he hadn’t seen it. He wished he hadn’t caused it. He wished he wasn’t starting to care whether or not Bo’s feelings were hurt. “Why do you keep trying to turn me into someone I’m not?” he lashed out.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

AJ scowled. “You want me to be athletic like you. I’m not like that. I’m not cool and I’m not athletic.”

“Let me tell you something,” Bo said. “The only thing wrong with you is your attitude. You know I’m right.” He killed the engine and turned to face AJ. “When I was in junior high, I was like every other kid in Texas. I wanted to go out for football. I would’ve made it, too. But at tryouts, the coach sent me home.”

“Why? Weren’t you any good?”

“I was okay. And sure, I could have played football. But the coach took me aside and said I even had a decent shot at a football scholarship at one of the smaller schools.”

“So why did he reject you?”

“Because he wanted more for me. And he didn’t want me getting hurt. See, playing football, I’d end up with injuries, maybe one that would end up doing permanent damage. Or keeping me from playing a sport I’m a lot better at.”

“Like baseball.”

“Uh-huh. But, man, I was humiliated. Back then, I didn’t understand what a huge favor they were doing me.”

“I still don’t want to put on gym clothes. And I really don’t want to put on swim trunks. People will think I’m a freak.”

“I’m not going to force you to put on anything.” Bo got out of the car and grabbed a gym bag from the trunk. He leaned way down into the car. “You can either follow me…or freeze. Your choice.”

AJ got out and slammed the door.

“And something else,” Bo said as they headed inside. “You wouldn’t worry so much about what people think of you if you knew how little they did.”

In the locker room, they changed into gym clothes. AJ wore a large gray T-shirt and some long shorts that were too big. He felt like a total dweeb, but nobody paid him much attention. The basketball court was busy with people who were totally focused on playing. The court was filled with the sounds of thumping basketballs and shoes squeaking on polished wood. Bo grabbed a ball and effortlessly dribbled it in a circle around himself, then passed it to AJ.

He put up his hands to protect himself, stopping the ball. “I suck at this,” he said.

“Naw, you just need some practice.” Bo got out another ball and demonstrated some dribbling techniques. “Loose,” he said. “Loose and easy. Treat the ball like it’s a dinner roll, hot out of the oven. You barely need to touch it.”

The advice worked pretty well. They practiced dribbling and passing. Bo didn’t seem too concerned about shooting hoops, which was fine with AJ since he’d probably end up missing anyway.

“Quit thinking so much,” Bo said.

“How can you tell I’m thinking?”

“It makes you slow and stiff.”

“So how do I stop?”

The ball flew straight at his face, fast and hard. He plucked it out of the air and bounce-passed it back to Bo.

“Like that,” Bo said with a grin. “You let your reflexes take over. Give your brain a rest.”

AJ didn’t understand why the technique worked, but it did. Pretty soon, he was dribbling and feinting like a real player. Weird. No one had ever bothered to show him how to play a sport before. His stepdad always used to be busy, and his mother didn’t really know any sports. Bo kind of led him into practicing shots. AJ missed more than he made, but he sank a few.

“You’re quick study,” Bo said.

AJ glanced at the clock. To his amazement, an hour had gone by. He was drenched in sweat, and so was Bo.

“One game of twenty-one,” Bo said, and explained a few simple rules. “Winner gets to pick what we do next.”

“No fair,” AJ protested.

“Life’s not fair. Deal with it.”

AJ was determined to win, but he was hopeless against Bo. That didn’t stop him from trying. He feinted and spun around, tried shot after shot and made some headway, but in the end, Bo reached a winning twenty-one long before AJ.

“Don’t take it too hard,” Bo said, tossing him the ball to put away. “Nobody beats me at games. Ever.”

“Good to know.”

Two kids had come in and were watching him. He figured they’d start snickering or whispering about him but instead, they came over when Bo waved at them.

“Hey,” one of them called. “How about a game?”

AJ checked with Bo, who nodded. “Go ahead. I’m going to get some water.”

The game with the other kids went okay. He didn’t win but he held his own. After a short while, they were all as hot and sweaty as AJ. The boys told him their names were Shane and Lehigh. They went to the middle school. And both of them knew who Bo Crutcher was. AJ wondered if that meant Bo was famous.

“Let’s go jump in the pool,” Shane suggested.

“Yeah,” said Lehigh. “Come on, AJ.”

“I don’t have my trunks.”

“Just wear those,” Bo said, indicating his long nylon shorts. He’d been watching from the sidelines, guzzling water from a plastic bottle.

“I don’t have a towel.”

“There’s a clean one in my gym bag.”

Great. AJ followed the others to the pool. Best just to bite the bullet, he decided.

He left his shoes and socks under a bench, then peeled off his shirt one-handed. As fast as he could, he streaked through the shower and ran and dove into the deep end. He wasn’t a good swimmer, but he was fearless. Growing up in Houston, every kid had to learn to swim, or risk drowning in an apartment complex pool.

Bo joined in, doing giant cannonballs off the diving board. He made huge splashes and swam like he’d never left Texas, with long, easy strokes.

“Your dad’s cool,” said Lehigh, treading water next to AJ.

“I guess.”

“You guess? What? It’s not cool enough to have a dad on the New York Yankees? Does he beat you or something?”

“Only at basketball,” AJ said quickly. “He’s okay. He’s just…We’re new to each other,” he said, not wanting to elaborate. “I’ve never spent any time with him before.”

“Where’s your mom?” Lehigh asked.

“She’s…away. Kind of going through a bad time. So I’m staying with my—with Bo for a while.” AJ couldn’t believe he was able to talk about her without bawling like a baby.

“Heads-up,” somebody called, lobbing a water-polo ball at them.

AJ didn’t think, just snatched the ball out of the air. Bo was right about that, at least. Things were easier when you didn’t think so much.

Eleven

AJ
quit asking about his mom, because every time he asked, there was more bad news. Another delay. A report that additional documentation was needed. Another that the documentation was insufficient. A few days ago, she’d been transferred with a large group from temporary holding to something called a contract detention center. From there, she wasn’t allowed to call out, but he could leave a recorded message for her each day. Big whoop. Like that was supposed to make them both feel better. He sounded so phony, saying the same thing every time—
I’m fine, don’t worry about me, we’re getting you help. The lawyers are really good.
AJ worked hard to sound confident. Bo had not had to warn him that it did no good to complain.

Although he knew it was no use, he dialed their home phone number. He just wanted to hear her voice, even though he knew how much it would hurt. “It’s Yolanda. Leave me a message, and I’ll call you back.” It wasn’t the words, but the sound of her voice, followed by the open invitation signaled by the beep. “Mom,” he said, “Mami, where are you? I’m really scared and I want to be with you again.” He knew she wasn’t home to hear the message, but he added, “I love you, Mom.
Te quiero.
Okay, bye.”

Every time he turned off the phone, he would study the only photo he had of her, the shot taken at last year’s Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. It was just by luck that he had the picture in a pocket of his backpack. Otherwise, he’d have nothing at all.

After studying the photo, he would close his eyes and conjure memories of her, trying to bring her closer to him. Her smell and the way her hand felt, brushing the hair off his forehead. The sound of her voice when she sang along with the radio. The frown of worry that creased her brow when she didn’t think he was watching, and the way she twisted the phone cord around her finger and talked in a low voice so he couldn’t hear. He remembered the good times, too. Like in the summer, when it was so hot you almost couldn’t see straight, she’d take him to a secret place for swimming—a big holding tank called a rice well, fed by cool, clear water pumped from the ground.

“This place is special to me,
niño,
” she’d once told him.

“Why?”

A faraway look had softened her eyes. “It reminds me of a special time in my life.”

“What special time?” he persisted, but instead of answering, she’d laughed and ducked him under water. Afterward, they’d stop at the Sonic for soft ice cream cones, and AJ would find himself wishing his mother had more time off work.

Each Fourth of July, she used to take him to the bayou spillway west of town, and they would sit at the top of a steep bank, watching the fireworks, soaring in patriotic colors. He could still picture the glow on her face and the way her eyes sparkled as she lifted them to the sky and watched in wonder. “Do you see,
hijo?
Flowers blooming in the sky. Anything is possible. When I was your age, my parents used to take me to a place by the Rio Grande, to see the flowers.”