Wishful Thinking (17 page)

After spending two more hours staring at the walls I decided headache or not, I was going to Ian’s party. I put on a dress shirt leaving the third button to the top undone, although, I could see a bit of chest hair and decided to button it. Then I undid my shirt, put on an under shirt and re-buttoned my dress shirt and rolled the cuffs up to my elbows. I ran my hand over my chin not much stubble so I skipped shaving.

I ran a hand through my wavy locks. Man, I needed a haircut before anyone could start teasing me about looking like a girl. Maybe next week I’d get it cut, probably not.
 

I tied up my newest blue and white DCs and jumped up to admire myself in the mirror. I grabbed the loops of my jeans and pulled them down a bit so they rode a little lower on my hips, but not low enough to be considered sagging.
 

My conversation with Claudia earlier was still bugging me. Where she get off condemning my relationship like she fucking knew everything? Telling me I’m a bad boyfriend? She wouldn’t know what a good boyfriend was if it bit her in the ass. I grabbed my leather jacket off the bed and bounded downstairs.
 

I hollered for my dad but he didn’t answer. His office door stood open. It took a lot of deep breathing to build up enough courage to stick my head in. My dad was leaned all the way back in his chair, feet kicked up on his desk. He rubbed furiously at his chin while he stared down at a piece of paper in his hand.
 

“Hey dad," I said. Even with the room back in order stepping through the doorway made me anxious, “Working hard on another case?"
 

My dad almost spilled out of his chair at the sound of my voice. Guess we both were on edge. He looked up and put a hand to his chest, "When did you learn to stop walking like an elephant?" He tossed what he’d been looking at onto his desk.
 

“They say the first thing to go is your hearing.”

My dad shook his head, "Don’t hassle me man, one day you’ll be old too."

With a shake of my head I said, “Dad, don’t. Hip doesn’t work on you.”

“I used to be cool you know."

"Used to, being the operative words,” I said, “what are you doing in here?" I asked looking over the items on his desk. In bold print on a manilla folder tab was the name Chloe Franklin. I adjusted my stance trying to see more on the folder without giving away I was looking at it.
 

"What am I always doing?" my dad asked leaning forward on his elbows conveniently covering the folder and the paper he’d been looking at a second before. I’d mumbled the name Chloe Franklin before coming to in the ambulance after the break-in, though I didn’t know why I said it. That name was invading my dreams and then yesterday when I saw the little girl she said it. And now that name was on a legal document of my dad’s. I wanted to believe it was coincidence and nothing more but I didn’t. My dad shuffled more things around his desk completely hiding the folder. Was he trying to hide it on purpose? The thought unsettled me and set me on edge.
 

“Hey,” dad said snapping me from my thoughts, “are you heading out?"

"Yeah, I’ll be home late, Ian’s having a little get together and I’m sick of these walls, no offense."

"I think I take offense." Dad collected all the papers on his desk and tucked them in a drawer then leaned his elbows on the desk, resting his chin on his clasped hands, "Is that young lady who was here the other day going with?"

“Claudia? Don’t know, she’s debating whether or not to.”

"You remember what we talked about, before—you know, with women? If you want to—" my dad was turning red and the cadence of his words were uneven, "—be with this other girl.” As entertaining as it was watching his face turn the color of radishes I did not want to have this conversation.
 

I scratched at my cheek, "Dad, its cool. I have no … Claudia’s a friend. That’s it." I stared down at my feet, at the white DC label on the side of my shoes. "Summer’s still not talking to me," I took a deep breath, "I think it’s over."

Dad shrugged, and pushed off from his desk, leaning far back in his chair and rubbing his chin. "Her loss."

His words took me by surprise. In his eyes everything was my fault, and for him to take my side was weird. Of course ever since the break-in his behavior was odd. Instead of hovering in the outer fringes of my life he was moving center stage, spotlight even. I looked up at him, “What.”

Dad was bopping his head like he was keeping rhythm with a song I couldn’t hear. “It is," he turned his chair to face me, “I admit you’re not the easiest kid to get to know and that’s partly my fault, but maybe it’s for good reason. And you used to get into trouble a lot, but that no longer seems to be the case, though I realize I never get off your ass—that’s to my benefit and eventually yours.”

"Are you serious?”

"Young man, it’s impolite to interrupt your elders, I’m old and senile and easily forget things.”

"You’re old but you’re not senile."

"Thank you. As I was saying, you look like me, which makes you handsome—though you’re a bit on the scrawny side, you’re intelligent—and maybe a bit lazy." He laid a hand on his desk.

"This is your idea of a confidence boost huh?"

Dad ignored my barb and continued, "But, you’re loyal, truthful, kind, and you would give your life to save someone else." He did pay attention. "So as I said Summer’s loss, she’s a great girl, but if she’s not the one then she’s not the one."

"Yeah, sure," I said pulling my keys from my pocket, "I’m going now."

"All right, be safe and …"

"Let’s leave it at that," I said. I don’t think I could handle another heart to heart.

He nodded with me and loosened his tie, "Good, good." Apparently, neither could he.
 

"So dad, speaking of sex when was the last time you hit it and quit it?"

My dad shook his head and pulled a stack of file folders in front of him, "Junior, I don’t even want to know what that means."

I laughed as I made my way from his office.
 

"Have fun," were my dad’s last words as I headed through the garage and out to my jeep. I felt cocky, ready to cut loose and have fun. Distractions were a good way to keep shitty, self-pitying circular thinking away. As I unlocked the driver-side door a strange sensation hit me. Somebody was watching me.
 

Over my shoulder a familiar black charger crept by. Smoke billowed out the cracked driver-side window. I’d seen that car parked at Claudia’s and I wondered if they were associates of her dad’s. I knew everyone who lived on my street, my neighborhood even, and this car did not belong here. It also seemed that ever time it caught my attention, whoever was driving slowed to a creep. Were they trying to intimidate me? Had to be, because you didn’t drive that slow unless you wanted to be intimidating and I have to say, it was working.
 

My eyes followed the charger’s creep to the end of my street where it turned and disappeared from view.
 

My keys dropped from my hands they were shaking so badly. Why was I so on edge? Had to be bouts of insomnia mixed with a head injury, which were making me see things. That was all it was. Right?
 

"Hey," a voice called to me as I bent over to pick up my keys. When I righted myself Dean was waving at me as he crossed the street

"Hey," I said standing back up. I whirled my keys around my finger as Dean walked up the driveway trying to act casual.
 

"Did coach call you yet?" he asked once he was at my side.
 

"No. Why?"

"Decision came in yesterday and I can’t get an answer from anyone what it was."

“Come on, your mom hasn’t heard anything? Isn’t she the secretary or something for the MPA?"

Dean sighed, "She’s refusing to say a word until the official statements released." Dean leaned against the side of my jeep rubbing at his chin while he stared at the cement.

"They’re not canceling it are they? No, they can’t … can they?"

"Dude, shut-up. If they cancel the program what am I gonna do to …" he stopped his train of thought. I knew why Dean didn’t want rugby to end. He didn’t play a position, but wrote some awesome plays which lead us to victory more than once. His father reveled in our wins giving Dean a connection to his father that his grades didn’t. I’d miss rugby for other reasons. Without my outlet what could I do to release my mounting stress, my hallucinations?

Dean threw his head against the top of my jeep in frustration. "Why does
 
MPA have to be so obtuse about this? They’ve had their decision for a fucking week yet have kept their lips sealed shut. Fuck." He kicked a tire.

"Come on, we have to believe that they’re taking their time in handing down the decision to give whatever side lost an idea they didn’t make their decision lightly. In which case, it probably means Rugby will continue."

Dean rubbed his neck, "For once I hope you’re right."

"You going to Ian’s?" I asked resting my arms on the hood of my car. I couldn’t talk about rugby anymore.

"Hadn’t planned on it, you?"
 

"Yeah, after the week I’ve had I need it."

“Trouble in paradise?”

Rapping my knuckles against the cool metal I said, "I think Summer might have a right not to be speaking to me."

"What? James seeing someone else’s side," he reached up and touched my forehead, "I thought you said the doctors gave you a clean bill of health."

I ignored his jab and slapped his hand away, "I hung out with Claudia today."

"You two are pretty chummy," Dean said. I couldn’t ignore the snide tone in his voice. Was he developing a crush?

"It’s not like that at all. It’s just she’s easy to talk. She’s like talking to you, I don’t—" I averted my eyes to the hood of my jeep, "—I don’t worry what she’s thinking of me."

“You don’t worry what I think of you?” he asked pretending to sound affronted.
 

“Shut-up,” I said, “you know what I mean. You’re my friend through thick and thin, no matter what you’re there and …” I trailed off unable to finish the gushy talk. One with my father was more than enough.
 

"Damn," Dean said fixing his green eyes on me.
 

I looked at him, "What’s so funny?"

“My mother’s rubbing off on you.”

“Dude, I just,” I wanted to talk about yesterday, needed to talk about yesterday but …

“It’s not a bad thing, I’m surprised is all. I can’t believe I didn’t see it."

"See what?"
 

"That you’re, you know, in love with Summer."

"Whoa, I wouldn’t say that. Would I? No, I don’t think so. Maybe? I don’t know. Ever since the break in, I’ve been confused, second guessing every decision, finding hidden meaning in everything."

"I know what you mean."

I shook my head, "How can you possibly, you’re too figured out to question your choices."

Dean moved so he was leaning on his arm facing me. "I don’t know if I picked MIT for me, because it’s what I want or simply because I think it’s what I’m supposed to want." He started tapping on the back window with a knuckle, "I’ve had a master degree in engineering from MIT set as my future since I entered high school and I can’t remember why. Why did I choose engineering? I’m not gifted at math like you, as a matter of fact I hate math, and I didn’t pick it for my dad, he’d rather I joined the service and hope ‘they’ll make a man out of me,’" he rolled his eyes, "does learning how to hold a gun and kill someone really make you a man? Because if it does I’ll pass."

I pushed myself off the car, "Don’t say that, you can’t go all James on me now. You’re the only one in our group who’s not all screwed up, you can’t change that now.”

"Indecision does not make one screwed up, it merrily makes one confused which I am neither I am simply weighing my options more carefully is all."

"One person’s careful is another person’s screwed up."

Dean cracked a smile.

"So you coming or what?" I asked opening my door and getting in. A drink would shake off this entire day.

Dean shook his head, "Why the hell not, maybe a drink would do me good, even look good on my app
 
show that I’m well rounded or something. I’ll grab my jacket," he said pulling himself from leaning against my jeep to hurry across the street. I pulled to the end of my driveway to wait for him. Couldn’t believe it Dean Kingsly was having second thoughts.
 

I’d never admit this out loud, but Dean was my tether. Being friends with someone with a certain future, who knew exactly where his life was going and each and every step needed to get there––kept me grounded reminded me I had a future to plan. But if Mr. Squared away doubted his decisions, then where did that leave me?
 

Cars were parked end to end around the cul-de-sac on Ian’s street, but I didn’t recognize any of them as kids from our school. Ian’s house appeared empty, none of the usual signs of a party like; lights, music, people.