Page 67 of Hell Bent
“I didn’t say you weren’t parentalenough.Just that you’re not. Like, how you drive. And you got me a tutor, but you don’t even check my homework.”
“Oh.” I considered that. “Maybe that’s why I make you wear your seatbelt. No, wait, that’s because it’s the law and it’s stupid not to protect yourself. Like playing football without a helmet. The homework? It never occurred to me, honestly. Nobody ever checked my homework. Wouldn’t have occurred to my dad. He was more of an ‘It’s your life’ guy, I guess. Or a busy guy.”
“That’s not it,” Ben said. “My mom’s busy, but she always checked that I’d done it, at least.”
“Probably Option One, then. I mean, you’re getting grades, right? You want to have some kind of future? Natural consequences. Would you rather I checked it, though?”
“No. Thomas already goes over every single thing I get wrong.”
“All right. What else? In what other way am I not parental?”
“You haven’t bought me a video game system,” he said. “Everybody has a video game system.”
“You’re right,” I said, “and I’m not going to, at least not right now. Why? Do you have one at home?”
He looked away. “No. My mom doesn’t believe in them. Which makes me the only guy without one. I have to go to my friends’ to use them, except, whoops, I don’t have any friends anymore.”
“So maybe Iamparental.”
“Also, you should probably be worrying more. About the fact that I have no friends here, for example, and I can only play video games with theoldfriendson the computer, which is lame. Or text, I guess.”
I laughed, and he said, “Hey!”
“Sorry. But, first, sometimes your life changes and you have to find new friends. I’m sure it will happen for you once we get you back in school, because you’re a likable guy. Personally, I’ve had to do it every year or two since I was eighteen. And second, I worry plenty.”
“You don’t seem like you worry. You just say, ‘OK, problem—solution—done.’ Or if it’s somebody you can’t boss around as easily, like Alix, you say, ‘problem—solution—oh, you don’t agree? Let’s fight.’”
I laughed again. “Definitely true. Are you asking me how I handle anxiety, though? I can answer that, but I won’t if it’s just going to sound like, blah, blah, blah, here’s my goodadult advice for you, you stupid teenage kid. No point in that.”
“Like you even have anxiety. You guys are playing the wild card game next weekend, and you’ve barely even mentioned it. Even though you’re in the Number Seven spot and playing the team in the Number Two spot!”
“You looked it up,” I said, taking the airport exit.
“Yeah. I can use the internet. I must be a genius.”
“I’ve had plenty of anxiety,” I said. “Right now, in my personal life, I told you, I’m anxious about this visit. Get out, though, and grab your stuff.” I pulled to the curb, hopped out, gave my name to the valet, and handed him my key fob and a twenty.
Ben said, following me, “This isn’t how normal people park at the airport.”
I said, “This is how guys who fly home at two A.M. after playing a football game do it, though,” and went through the pneumatic doors.
“It’s probably really privileged,” Ben said. “How much does it cost?”
“Forty-five dollars a day. Plus a tip on each end.”
“See? Nobody else can do that.”
“You’re right. I’m a fortunate man.”
“Just because you can kick a ball,” he said. “How is that even enough of a skill to get paid millions of dollars for it?”
“Well, if somebody else does it better, they can take my job. I’m sure there are plenty of guys trying right now. Come on.”
A quick pass through the PreCheck line, and then we were walking to the gate. Ben was silent, and I said, “Do you still want to talk about handling anxiety?”
“I was just, like, making conversation,” he said.
“Oh,” I said. “OK, then.”
