The Duet (3 page)

I cursed under my breath as Cooper took his seat beside me, and Jay settled in across the table. Jay’s eyes met mine. As usual, I couldn’t even fathom a guess as to what he might be thinking. So I shrugged and tried to concentrate on my food.

We ate in relative silence, or at least as silent as a rowdy Irish family who’s used to talking all at once, can be. Cooper’s older brothers, Shane Jr. and Tommy were not working or travelling this weekend, and his sister Michelle had driven down from San Francisco for a few days. It had been a while since the whole clan had been together on a non-holiday Sunday. If I had to guess, I’d say the homecoming was less coincidental and more of a direct order from the matriarch of the family. Evelyn O’Donnell believed that in times of need, family was essential; and if ever anyone was in need, it was her youngest son.

I had been friends with Cooper since my mom and I had moved in across the street when I was seven. My dad had just died, my mother had resolved to give me a normal childhood in the suburbs, and I was the new kid in the middle of the school year. The kids picked on me mercilessly. I was outspoken even then, and I didn’t have the tolerance for anybody who didn’t agree with me.

I had seen Cooper lots of times around the house, and we were at the bus stop together every morning. But he was a grade ahead of me and he never paid me any notice. One day, during recess, I had decided it was high time the older kids let me play kickball with them. I had watched for a long time and knew I could kick harder and run faster than anyone on that field.

I marched up to the pitcher that day, a boy named Stanley who was at least a foot taller than me and easily twice as wide. Hands on my hips, I proceeded to tell him that I wanted to play. He laughed in my face and told me to go play with the other vaginas. He must’ve just learned that word, because he thought it was the funniest thing in the world. I wanted to punch him, or at least stomp on his toe, but instead I chose to take the high road.

I told him that if I could get a home run my first try at the plate, he had to let me be on his team. He laughed again, but finally agreed, thinking he would not only be rid of my annoying presence in a few minutes, he would have something really cool to laugh about with his buddies.

I kicked off my mary janes and rolled up my sleeves. Stanley, that chubby little ingrate, threw the pitch before I even had time to set up behind the plate. I went for it anyway, my balance a little off, and I kicked that ball so hard it sailed over all the heads on the field, bounced off the building, then off some poor unsuspecting girl’s head, before rolling to a stop between left field and short stop.

I was already rounding third by then.

My feet were light and I could smell victory. I knew that not only would I get to play kickball every single day from that day on, the kids would also be talking about this moment forever. It would be the stuff of legends.

I was maybe five steps away from home plate, when my legs flew out from under me and I landed with a whoosh in the dirt, face first. I saw the red rubber ball and the hands that held it come down toward my shoulder, and I opened one eye to see the sand covered plate just inches from my head.

That fat Stanley had tripped me. He cheated and I was hopping mad.

“You’re out!” he screamed. “Now go play with dolls and wear pink or whatever you stupid vaginas do. This game is not for you.”

He turned his back to me. I rose to my hands and knees, spitting out dirt and plotting whether to take him out at the knees or go at him from the side and get in a good gut shot. But before I could stand up, Stanley was tackled to the ground by Cooper. I was so amazed, I fell back and sat down hard on my butt.

“Get off me, Cooper, you jerk!”

“You cheated,” Cooper said in a much calmer voice than his opponent. He was sitting on top of Stanley now.

Stanley was flailing his arms and crying, though Cooper hadn’t really laid a hand on him, other than knocking him over. “I did not! She’s out, fair and square. And the deal was she had to get a home run to be on my team.”

“Fine,” said Cooper, smacking Stanley on the head as he stood up. “She can be on my team then.”

And that was that. From that moment forward, Cooper and I were inseparable. And we never lost a kickball game in all the years that followed.

With Cooper, came his big wonderful family, and honestly, I don’t know how I would have survived without them. My mother worked three jobs to afford the rent on the house we lived in; but despite her efforts to give me a better life, I would have rather lived in our old dingy cheap apartment and spent time with her, than in that fancy ranch house she had to work so hard for. She was never around, so the O’Donnell’s took me in.

I had never missed a Sunday dinner in all the years I lived there as a child, and I hadn’t missed one since I’d been back. The rule was, if you were within an hour of the house, you showed up. But I was pretty sure Cooper was wishing he was very far away right about now.

Mr. O’Donnell sat stoically at the head of the table. Occasionally I caught him sending tentative glances at his wife, followed by a murderous gaze toward Cooper. He was likely planning to give a stern speech about Cooper and Jay’s latest brush with the law, but clearly Cooper was too hung-over to hear a word of it.

I tamped down my worry over Cooper and my discomfort around Jay, and dug in to my heaping plate. Sunday was the only day I ever ate well, and it would be a shame to let all that food go to waste.

I was piling on seconds of mashed potatoes and the most delicious sausages ever to grace any Sunday table, and readjusting my waistband on my skirt, when the chatter at the table finally began to pick up.

“I’m just saying, you should start building a portfolio. It’s never too early,” Shane Jr. was saying to Tommy. He worked in some kind of bank or investment firm – not the one I’d recently been escorted from – and he worked all the time. Tommy, his own mouth full of food, just rolled his eyes. He was not exactly the plan-ahead type. His business was selling ads in an online fitness magazine. He travelled a lot and worked strange hours. He was permanently in a state of jet lag.

“Dad, has Cooper lawyered up yet?” Michelle asked Mr. O’Donnell. “Because I work with this guy who said…”

“He doesn’t need a lawyer, Michelle. The charges are minor and whatever the sentence is, he’ll serve. I’m certainly not going to pay some asshole to try and get him out of something he clearly should be punished for.”

I saw Jay squirm in his seat across from me. He was actually in a lot more trouble than Cooper. He’d been charged with possession, intent to sell, and drunk driving, even though the car hadn’t even been running when they were caught. Cooper had only been slapped on the wrist for public drunkenness. He’d also been charged with intent to sell, though Jay continued to insist that Cooper was unaware of the drugs in the car.

Michelle’s eyes darted from her father to Jay. “Maybe my friend can help you out, Jay. Do you want him to call you?”

Jay shrugged. No one could ever accuse him of talking too much.

“He probably won’t get more than community service,” Tommy said, giving Jay a nod. “He’s never been in trouble. Now if Cooper had been the one sitting in the driver’s seat, that would have been a different story.”

Cooper’s head snapped up and I caught him wincing. “Shut the fuck up, man. Why do you have to say shit like that in front of Mom?”

“You’re the one dropping the f-bomb at Sunday dinner, you little turd.” Shane Jr. pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair, his attention shifting away from his little brother to Jay. “They may let you off light, Jay, but I have a bad feeling they may decide to make an example of you. You could be looking at mandatory rehab or more likely, a few months in the slammer.”

“You’re an asshole, Shane,” Michelle threw her napkin down and stood up, collecting plates in one hand and smacking Shane in the head on her way to the kitchen.

“I’m only being real about this,” he called after her. “You all are in denial if you think this is going to be all neat and tidy. Hell, they could throw the book at Coop too. He might be in the cell next to Jay when all is said and done.”

The noise level rose several notches as everyone started yelling at once. I think someone might have even thrown a dinner roll and possibly a carrot or two.

When Mrs. O’Donnell stood, the room fell silent. Her expression was indiscernible and everyone seemed to be holding their breath awaiting her wrath. “We will help Jay in any way we can. He’s part of this family. So if your friend is really a decent lawyer, Michelle…”

Jay cleared his throat. “I can’t let you do that, Mrs. O’Donnell, but thank you.”

She started to protest, but Mr. O’Donnell put his hand on her arm. “Just let us know if you change your mind, Jay. And be sure to tell us if there’s anything else we can do.”

Jay smiled. “As long as I’m allowed to keep eating your wife’s cooking, I think I have all I need. Thank you sir.”

Mrs. O’Donnell waved her hand in front of her face as if it were nothing, but I could swear I saw her eyes start to water. “Now who wants dessert?”

I helped clear the table and put on a pot of coffee while Michelle and Mrs. O’Donnell finished the dishes.

“You’re awfully quiet today, Izzy.” Mrs. O’Donnell looked at me with genuine concern. This woman was so dear to me, I wondered, not for the first time, how I had survived my most formidable years growing up without her.

“She’s having job woes,” Michelle chimed in. I gave her a withering look. Maybe I didn’t want to share that particular bit of information just yet. Michelle had no filter. We certainly had that in common.

I sighed. “It seems there’s no room for a blue-headed, outspoken pixie like me in investment banking.”

“You got fired?” Mrs. O’Donnell was outraged. “Because of your hair?”

I laughed. It really was quite ridiculous. After the initial sting of being escorted out of the building, I really began to see the humor in the whole situation. I had no business working there in the first place. Whether I had the skills to do the job or not, they were looking for mindless drones, and if there was one thing I was not, it was a mindless drone.

“Well, it may have started out because of my hair – apparently HR Gwen prefers blondes – but once I called her a cow, I think my fate was pretty much sealed.”

“Incredible.” Mrs. O’Donnell just stared into space. I knew she was genuinely concerned for me, but her mind was far away with worry over Cooper. I squeezed her shoulder to let her know I understood, and she gave me a lopsided smile.

“It’s all okay, though. I didn’t belong there anyway, and as soon as Cooper gets his act together, he’s going to ask Darden if I can sing at the club. Then I can pick up some part time work, maybe at the outlets or something, and I’ll be golden.”

Mrs. O’Donnell patted my hand. “You’ll be just fine,” she said.

“We all will be just fine, you’ll see.”

“Hey!” we heard from the other room. It was Tommy, yelling from his spot on the couch. “There’s a cop pulling in the driveway. Cooper, must be for you, buddy.”

“Oh, little brother, what did you do now?” Shane Jr. chimed in.

Michelle ran out of the kitchen, anxious to be the center of the action, and I led Mrs. O’Donnell out to the living room slowly by the hand.

The entire house fell silent at the sound of the knock on the door, and for a moment, I thought I would have to be the one to answer it. Everyone was just still. But finally Michelle bounced over and swung the door open with dramatic flair.

“Good afternoon, Officer.”

The officer, who couldn’t have been more than a year out of the academy, blushed when he saw Michelle. In his defense, she was giving him the full court press; hand on hip, chest puffed out, twirling of the hair and big, doe eyes. The poor guy.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh, sorry to bother you. I was told I may find a one James Archer at this address?”

Michelle turned slowly and all eyes were now on Jay. He looked confused, and then maybe a little annoyed. His court date had been set for next month, and he was told as long as he didn’t try to flee California, he could go about his business until then. Unless he got into some other trouble, I didn’t blame him for being peeved. And here they were tracking him to the O’Donnell’s and interrupting Sunday dinner just to mess with him.

“I’m here.” Jay stepped forward. The officer looked up at him and an entirely different look of discomfort came over his face.

Again with the clearing of the throat. “Uh, Mr. Archer. I’m gonna need you to come with me for a moment, if you don’t mind. I’m afraid we have some bad news.”

4

Jay’s father was dead.  Less than six months after losing his mother, Jay now had no living parents. Was a twenty-three year old still considered an orphan?

He sat on the swing set behind his parents’ house. The officer had dropped him off at the O’Donnell’s to pick up his car, but he hadn’t gone inside. Instead he had walked the once familiar route through the backyards of the two neighbors that separated Cooper’s house from his own. As he sit there, the darkness and the chill in the air settling around him like a thin, scratchy blanket, he wondered why there was even a swing set in the yard. They had moved into the house when Jay was already a teenager. If they took down the swings, his mother would have had more room for a garden, and his father would have had an easier time mowing the lawn.