Double Trouble

  “You buy used clothes?”

  “All the time.”

  “Isn’t that kind of gross? Knowing that someone else wore it first?”

  “Well, it’s been cleaned. And what’s the difference between your cousin’s hand-me-downs and someone else’s?” I held up a hand. “Wait, don’t tell me, you never got hand-me-downs.”

  He shook his head.

  “Trust me, they’re awful. Picking what you want is way better.”

  He smiled at me and I thought it was time for a break. We passed under the golden arches, which pleased him no end. “How come we never go to your place?” he asked when we were eating.

  “Bite your tongue.” I stole one of his fries. “You think I’m going to let someone with sticky fingers into my cave? Wrong-o, Calypso.”

  “I’ll bet you have cool stuff.”

  “Very cool stuff. Repent from your wicked ways and we’ll talk about it.”

  Even lab rats get the occasional piece of cheese, or at least a whiff of it, right? We went to see Tracy, who’d lined up the nickel tour of the lab just for us. They didn’t show us the really hot stuff, but it was enough to intrigue technically-inclined Jimmy. Phyllis walked him through her contract operation, talking to him as if he was a potential recruit, which thrilled him no end. She reminded me of a beta test she wanted me to help with later in the month.

  “Mind your p’s and q’s,” I told Jimmy “and I might let you help with the beta-testing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The last test of software before it’s shipped. We try to break it, to find the mistakes and weaknesses in the code.”

  “Cool!”

  “As long as you’re not the one who has to fix it. That can become a bit of a drag.” I gave him a steady glance. “I’d have to pay you, of course, but I don’t hire crooks. Nobody does.”

  He looked at me hard. “Do I get a chance to do better?”

  “There’s always a chance to do better. Hurry up, we’re late.”

  We went from there to a seminar that Lydia was helping to organize. It was part of a program associated with one of the hospitals, which did a lot of facial surgery on children. The idea was to help kids look past the deformities of other children, and thus to be less aware of their own. I guess it’s supposed to build self-esteem. Lydia had suggested that we drop in, but I really wasn’t prepared for the children.

  No. What I wasn’t prepared for was the sight of their ravaged little faces.

  It broke my heart. There is a nasty little impulse that lives on in all of us, maybe a residual of the reptile brain that’s still wired in. It makes our guts jump when we see another of our species that isn’t within bounds of tolerance of mutation. It makes us understand why sparrows will peck the sick one to death. It’s an ugly urge, all the more so because you can’t just cut it out and be rid of it.

  It’s not civilized, but it’s still there. It will probably always be there, lurking in all of us.

  I surprised at how hard it lunged for my throat. So many kids, so many anomalies. We arrived when they were taking a play break - as planned - and, like kids everywhere, they were making a heck of a racket. All the same, I had to sit down and mentally wrestle my reptile.

  Jimmy was silent.

  I watched the kids and realized that they were either freed of the ugly urge or had gotten over it. Maybe looking in the mirror every day at a cleft pallet in the process of repair or an inoperable tumor gives you greater tolerance. Maybe we could all get past it if we tried. I looked hard and saw the way they smiled as they played, the way they shouted and ran, just like all other kids, and focused on that.

  Lydia came over as soon as she saw us, wearing a great big smile. “Oh, it’s going so well,” she enthused. “Here’s my new theory - we need to be reminded once in a while that we’re not alone, in order to be better people.”

  “Works for me.” I shared my FedEx theory - well, with some editing for little ears - and she thought for a moment before she nodded.

  “I like it. It has potential.”

  Jimmy scanned the room, then looked up at me. “What are we doing here, Auntie Maralys?”

  I smiled and lied. “I thought you might want to play with some new kids.”

  He held my gaze, assessing me in a startling echo of his dad’s manner. Then he nodded and looked back at the kids. I swear he thought I thought he’d buckle, and he was determined to show me wrong.

  The kid had pluck. Jimmy marched right up to small boy, the only kid not bouncing around. The boy just sat hunched over alone in the middle of the floor. I saw the portwine birthmark that covered most of the boy’s face.

  What Jimmy saw, I realized a moment later, was that the kid had the same handheld toy that Jimmy had stolen. He was alone, not because of the mark on his face, but because he was playing that game with such concentration that it excluded everyone else in the room. I was humbled, because I had overlooked what Jimmy thought was the most intriguing quality of this kid.

  Lydia and I exchanged a glance, then sidled closer.

  “Is that one of those new ones?” Jimmy asked, then named the model.

  “Yeah,” the other kid said, not even looking up from the game. His attitude was dismissive, as if Jimmy’s presence might affect his game. “My dad bought it for me.”

  “It’s supposed to let you play interactively.”

  The kid shrugged, attention fixed on the game. “Yeah.”

  “Does it work?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anyone else who has one.”

  “Neither do I,” Jimmy said. The other kid looked up and Jimmy pulled his toy out of his jacket. “Wanna play? That is, if you feel lucky.” They grinned at each other, then the other kid sobered as he scanned Jimmy’s face.

  “So, what’s wrong with you?”

  Jimmy gave me an impish look. “I have an attitude problem.”

  “Me, too.”

  They giggled together as if this was the funniest thing in the world, then put their heads together. No doubt they had to load up the same game, then get the units to acknowledge each other. They worked diligently at it, pointing out things to each other to get it done ASAP.

  I had a humungous lump in my throat.

  In no time at all, the two forgot everything except what fun they were having. They were squared off like storm-troopers, firing away at each other. They frowned in concentration, they bit their lips, they shouted with glee when they made a hit and they laughed.

  Some of the other kids gathered around and Jimmy passed his toy to another kid when it was time for a new game. The other boy did the same, and the kids formed organically into teams, Jimmy and the first boy telling the current team captain how to play. They didn’t even look up at each other, or stare at each other’s faces.

  The game was everything, it broke down barriers and brought them all together.

  You’ve got to love technology. Those barriers were down because Jimmy marched out there and shared. I had to look away. I was so proud of him, so touched by his choice.

  He’d trumped my ace, that kid, gone one better in showing me what he was really made of. I thought my heart was going to explode it was pounding so hard.

  Lydia gave me a hug from behind and I held fast to her hands, not trusting myself to speak. “Hey, Maralys, time for a new theory.”

  “What?”

  “You’re a natural, girly.”

  I looked back at her. “A natural what?”

  “A natural mom. You reached inside that kid and -” she reached out with a fingertip “- and you touched him, Maralys. You really touched him.”

  She smiled at me and I smiled back, feeling like a great big sap. I wondered then whether I really could do this parenting thing. I wondered then whether it wasn’t a given that I’d let James and the boys down, sooner or later.

  Because that’s what I was really worried about. I had a zen moment of utter clarity there. I was afraid that I would fail them because I did
n’t know how to do kids and marriage and all that stuff.

  On the other hand, James had some experience. And he’d been pretty accommodating of my slips thus far.

  I wondered whether my worst enemy here was myself. Maybe I controlled my environment so carefully to ensure that I was never really tested. Maybe I was made sure that I never faced with a challenge that I couldn’t conquer.

  Maybe it was time I took on some new, untamed, unpredictable peaks.

  Someone called Lydia and she headed back to work with a big thumbs-up. I sat on the sidelines and watched, working through my own reactions to these children, who were just kids after all. And my heart skipped along as I wondered and thought and hoped.

  It was only with great reluctance that Jimmy eventually came back to me. He had only a couple of minutes to introduce me to his opponent, whose mom trailed behind.

  “Steve lives right near us,” Jimmy said, Steve nodding with enthusiasm. I realized that they probably hadn’t met because they went to different schools. James had kept the boys in their private school. “I know his house. Do you think he could come over?”

  “I don’t see why not. But ask your dad when we get home.”

  “Okay.”

  “Maybe you guys should swap phone numbers.” Steve’s mom suggested, her smile telling me how pleased she was. She leaned closer to whisper to me. “All he does is play that game. I thought I’d never get him to play with other kids.”

  “At least they can play the game together.” I had a pencil and paper in my pocket, so the ritual was done, then Steve was called back to a seminar. His mom gave me a smile and waved as she steered Steve toward the conference rooms.

  Jimmy put his jacket back on and looked at me expectantly. “Now, what?”

  “Now, I dunno.”

  “I thought you had everything planned.”

  “I did.” I looped my arm around his shoulder and we headed for the door. “I had this great big scheme to teach you the wisdom of the ages in seven easy steps. Or at least what I know of it.” Jimmy harumphed, but I gave his shoulder a squeeze and he looked up.

  “I wanted to make you realize how lucky you are, Jimmy, but it turned out you knew a few things already. I brought you here to teach you a lesson, but instead you taught me one.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. You did a good thing there. I’m proud of you and I’m glad you made a new friend.”

  He shrugged. “I just went to play, like you said.”

  “I know. That’s what’s so great about it.”

  Jimmy gave me a skeptical look, à la Coxwell. “You feeling all right, Auntie Maralys?”

  “I feel great. Come on, Calypso, let’s return to base. Our work here is done.” We headed out of there with one last wave for Lydia, snagged a bus and worked our way back to the house.

  When we were walking up the street, about a block from home, Jimmy looked up at me. “I thought today was really going to suck, Auntie Maralys.”

  “It started out kind of rough, didn’t it?”

  He smiled. “You know it. But I had fun with Steve. I’m glad we went there.” He gave me a quick hug, embarrassed by his urge, then ran toward the house.

  “Hey!” I shouted after him. “Tell me where you got the shiner.”

  Jimmy paused on the porch, wary again. “Do I have to?”

  I climbed the steps. “No. But I’d like to know.”

  This kid could do suspicion in spades. “Are you going to tell my dad?”

  “Depends. If you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Okay, I won’t.”

  “Promise?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He sighed and looked across the street with a frown. “When we were changing for gym, Louie said that Mom left us because Dad is an asshole.”

  “Ouch.”

  “He said that everybody knows it, and that his mom heard it from my mom.” Jimmy watched me, his expression fierce. “I couldn’t let him say that about my dad. It’s not true.”

  I hunkered down in front of him. “No, it’s not true. Did your dad ask you about your black eye?”

  “Well, yeah, but I couldn’t tell him that people say he’s an asshole. Could I?”

  I smiled. “I think he’s more used to it than you think. People say that a lot about lawyers.”

  “Well, they shouldn’t. It’s not true.”

  “I think you could have told your dad what had happened. He’d probably tell you not to listen to the garbage that other people say.”

  “You think?”

  “I think you should ask him yourself. I mean, you may have noticed that not only am I not your dad, but I’m not a guy.” We grinned at each other. “Locker room politics is not my forte. There’s got to be protocol for such things, but we chicks don’t get the rulebook.”

  “What would you have done?”

  I shrugged. “Probably made a joke at Louie’s expense and stayed cool.”

  “Like - it takes one to know one.”

  “Something like that. Or, is that why your mom left?”

  “Oh yeah!” Jimmy bounced. “His parents are divorced too!”

  “I’m glad you’re all so well-adapted.”

  “Stuff happens, Auntie Maralys.” Jimmy shrugged, insouciant as ever. “You just have to deal with it and move on.”

  I stared at him. “Are you really ten-years-old? Or are you some kind of imposter? A body snatcher, an alien, who’s really 110 years old but trapped in the body of a child? That must be it! Do you have the end of a watermelon vine where your navel should be?”

  “No!”

  I snatched at him and tickled him, purportedly feeling for something that would reveal his alien status. Jimmy laughed and squirmed and we eventually made it into the house, looking flushed and rumpled. James was on his way out the door, going to take his mom to her AA meeting, my father was grousing about dinner, though they looked up at the ruckus we made.

  “Remember, Calypso, our mission was top secret,” I whispered and Jimmy nodded with satisfaction.

  “Roger, Houston. Over and out.”

  I do think everybody knew that we’d had just too much fun.

  * * *

  Subject: men!

  Dear Aunt Mary -

  So, where are all the good ones? Every guy I date is such a loser. Things start out well enough then go straight down the toilet. I’ve dated quiet ones and rowdy boys, doctors and thieves - everything from soup to NUTS. What kind of genetic mutation is this? Where can I find a keeper?

  Looking for a Hero

  –-

  Subject: men…and you

  Dear Lost Girl -

  What’s the common variable here? You. The issue may be that your behavior is showing repeatable results. Which is another way of saying - life is too short to make the same mistake twice.

  Or learn from other’s mistakes. Life’s too short to make them all yourself. Take a hard look at your own choices before you blame half the world for your woes.

  Aunt Mary

  ***

  Uncertain? Confused? Ask Aunt Mary!

  Your one stop shop for netiquette and advice:

  http://www.ask-aunt-mary.com

  Much much later, I heard James come in, the front door closing with a click that echoed through the slumbering house. I stayed right where I was, though my heart started to pound.

  I heard the deadbolt shoot home, then heard him walk down the hall to the kitchen, the hardwood floor creaking with every step he took. I closed my eyes and pictured him moving through the house, checking locks and windows, ensuring that my dad was fine.

  I smiled at his protectiveness. James wasn’t there long, but then, I knew my dad was already asleep.

  The house breathed gently of all of our presences, even as James’ careful steps creaked on the stairs. I heard him pause at each boy’s room, heard his whispered “goodnight” go unanswered. I heard him sigh as he headed toward his own room a
nd smiled to myself, knowing that he envisioned another night alone.

  I do love surprising him.

  James didn’t turn on the lights, but the blind was still up and the light from the street touched him as he moved through the room. He shed his shirt, his jeans, his socks. He folded his jeans over the only chair in the room, threw the rest into the laundry basket. He paused to look out the window before drawing the shade, and the harsh light made his features look careworn.

  Tired and burdened.

  My heart squeezed and I sat up, bracing my weight on my elbows. He spun at the unexpected sound and just about jumped through the roof when he saw me.

  I smiled. “You’re going to have to lift your game, Coxwell.”

  James smiled and drew the shade down against the night. “I thought you’d left.” His voice was low and velvety, the sudden darkness in the room making me shiver in anticipation.

  “Dad fell asleep. I couldn’t have abandoned the fort and left it undefended.”

  The mattress squeaked as he sat on the side. Even in the darkness, I could feel his gaze on me.

  “I owe you an apology,” I admitted. “I’m sorry I said what I said. I was wrong.”

  He nodded, apology accepted. “Is that the only reason you’re here?”

  “Nah. I thought I’d try out a real bed, see if it was worth the investment.”

  James half laughed, then his hand landed on mine. “Really, Maralys.”

  I sat up and reached for him. I found his shoulder, then discerned his silhouetted face. I eased closer, dropped a kiss on his shoulder and wasn’t pushed away. “I had to tell you that you were wrong.”

  “How so?”

  I heard him inhale deeply, as if he was as intoxicated by my scent as I was by his. He didn’t move though, just waited for my explanation. Any other guy would have rolled me to my back and asked questions later. Not James.

  All or nothing. I had to respect that.

  And I understood that maybe I wasn’t the only one afraid of the intensity of my feelings. I ran my fingertips down his cheek to his chin, feeling the stubble of his beard, then caressed his lips. He felt all new to me, he was new in my realization of what was between us. I could have touched him all night, explored him, gotten to know all of him.