Page 6 of Fractured

“I’m sorry. What do you mean?”

“I mean, is this some kind of community service?”

“What?” I laugh. “No. I volunteered to be here,” I respond, taken off guard a bit.

“You married?” he asks, continuing to toss the ball in the air. I’ve still not gotten a good look at his face.

“No.”

“You hate dogs or something?” he asks casually, turning to shoot again.

“What?”

“Ah, I got your ticket. You’re doing this to get married. You’re old, but you ain’t a complete disaster. I saw the way the ginger was checking you out. You’re using me to pick up women.”

I stand completely baffled by this conversation. “I’m not looking to get married. And if I was, what has that got to do with hating dogs?”

“Hell, you know it’d be a lot easier to meet chicks with a puppy. I figure you must really hate dogs to have to come and hang out with some punk kid you don’t know.”

I’m not sure what I was expecting from this meet and greet, but this clearly wasn’t it. If I’d known then what I know now, Ireallywould’ve been nervous. But I’m no quitter.

“Gavin, I like dogs just fine. But as I said, I’m not interested in getting married, so no need for puppies.”

“So you’re gay.”

Holy shit, this kid has balls.I cannot imagine talking to an adult like this when I was young. “No. Not gay. I just wanted to volunteer my time to see if I could support a young man who might need an older male’s help.”

Abruptly, he spins on his heels and shouts in my direction. “Listen, if you’re some kind of perv… I ain’t letting you do nothing to me. You just keep your distance, and we’ll both be good. Got it?”

Blinking slowly, I wonder how on earth this situation has gotten so out of control. “Gavin, I assure you, I’m not a perv. I like women just fine. Not into kids or anyone with a dick.” I notice this gets a lift of one corner of his mouth. “I just had a shitty first marriage and don’t plan on doing that again, but always wanted kids. I grew up without any sisters or brothers. I thought this could be a way I could give back and feel like I had a connection with someone. Chill, man,” I blurt out, hands held out as if I’m surrendering.

The teen turns his back to me and takes another shot. This time the ball hits the rim and bounces off.

“Now throw me the ball, you loser,” I jab. The ball sails in my direction without as much force as his previous lob. We continue to take turns, silently tossing the ball into the net until I get the nerve to break the calm. “So, what grade are you in?”

“Tenth.”

“You like school?”

“What do you think?” he quips.

“I don’t know. You’re a sharp kid. You only have a few years left. Any idea what you want to do when you graduate?”

“Besides getting the fuck out of here? No.”

Man, I’m going to need a sledgehammer to break through the chip on this kid’s shoulder. “Well, you need money and a job to get out of here. There’s got to be something you’re interested in.”

“What difference does it make? I’m never going to college. Hell, my mom barely makes enough to keep me in clothes. I had a growth spurt, and for months I was wearing clothes looking like I was expecting a flood. Shame you ain’t looking for a wife. I could hook you up with my mom. You’re a little classier than the dudes she usually brings home, but I bet you can afford a few pairs of pants.” I watch as he dribbles the ball a few times before sinking it in the net again.

Jesus, this kid. Was he pimping out his mom? Not sure there’s much of a relationship with her if he can talk about her this way. “So, your mom works a lot?” I ask carefully, knowing this live wire could come back with almost anything.

“She works temp jobs. Some last a while, others don’t. I don’t know what she does exactly. Then at night, she works at a bar. She says she makes good tips there, and that’s why she works more there than at the day jobs, but I don’t see much of it coming home. Hell, some nights, she doesn’t come home. I don’t care. I can fend for myself.”

“Well, there are scholarships out there. If there’s something you’re interested in, you should start looking into it soon. Ask your guidance counselor at school about it,” I encourage, hating that this young man has written off his life before it’s even begun. Quickly, I change the subject, not wanting to hear his reply to my ‘just hang in there’ dad speech. “Do you have a girlfriend?” Trying to hide his smile, I catch the change in his facial features and realize I’ve stumbled upon something positive.

“I wouldn’t call her my girlfriend. She’s hot. We talk.”

“She goes to your school?” I ask, tossing the ball toward the net and watching as it circles the rim slowly before sinking in.Yes.

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