Page 23 of Tell Me Softly
“What are you doing?” I asked, grabbing a chunk of cheddar and popping it into my mouth.
“I’m looking for Taylor’s immunization records.”
“You didn’t take care of that yet?”Unbelievable,I thought.
Taylor walked in and sat down, staring at her just as I was. Mom had the same brown hair and green eyes as me, and we were similar in other ways too, but she was short––Taylor and I got our height from our dad’s side. Mom was pretty, and I wondered how it was possible that she hadn’t managed to rebuild her life with a guy who was worth it. But I didn’t want to judge her. She’d been burned, didn’t trust men anymore, and now just wanted to be alone.
“Taylor, get up and help me,” she said, frustrated, opening and closing some of the still-packed boxes. I turned and kept cooking while Taylor looked around sluggishly.
“Why the hell does he need his immunization records anyway?” Mom asked, pushing a strand of hair out of her face and opening one last drawer.
Why the hell don’t you keep any of your shit in order?I thought to myself, but instead I responded coolly, “The school has to have them on file, and all athletes have to have a physical and immunizations on file in order to play.” I stirred the macaroni into the pot of cheese sauce and took a sip of the beer I’d just opened.
“Oh, thank God!” Mom said, relief filling her eyes as she squinted at the document. “You’ve got to take this to the principal’s office; don’t you dare lose it,” she said before giving Taylor a kiss on the cheek. Then, coming over to me, she said, “I’ll be back in the morning. Don’t overdo it on the beer, and don’t let your brother stay up too late playing Xbox; he’s got class tomorrow.”
“I thought you were going to have dinner with us!” I said.
“Honey, I don’t have time. I’m already running late.”
“Wait!” I stopped her, took out a plastic container, and dumped almost half the macaroni into it. “Here. Eat this on your break.”
“Thank you! I love you both!” She kissed me goodbye and ran out. My brother turned on the kitchen TV and took a beer out of the fridge for himself. He wasn’t supposed to, but we’d been drinking since we were fourteen, and Mom knew there was no point in making a rule we’d just break. So instead she made us promise we’d drink in moderation and never drive drunk. And we respected that and always obeyed her.
“You know what Harry told me?” my brother asked, settling down at the table again.
I looked up as I portioned out our two plates.
“He says Coach Klebb is quitting soon. He’s going to retire before Christmas. And apparently he’s impressed with your work. Supposedly, he mentioned you taking over for him to the principal.”
Klebb had dropped a hint about that to me too, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up. “I doubt it,” I said. “He loves his job, and I’ve only been there like five minutes…”
“Don’t bullshit me, Thiago. You’re like a basketball encyclopedia. You mapped out that last game—Klebb basically didn’t do anything—and it went exactly as you’d planned.”
“You’re exaggerating…”
“I’m not saying he’s bad. But you’re better. You’ll get the job. I know you will.” He leaned back as I set down his plate. “Fuck, this smells amazing.” He was at that age where he liked to curse a lot, I guess to show he was a grown-up. By the time he’d picked up his fork, he’d completely forgotten what we were talking about.
I started eating too, but unlike him, that conversation lingered in my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I’d like it if I really were picked to be the coach at Carsville. That was the most I could ever hope to do with basketball, the game I’d dreamed of playing professionally when I was a kid.
We watched ESPN while we ate and then cleaned up together, even though Taylor should have done it by himself since I’d cooked. While I put the plates in the dishwasher, Taylor wiped off the table and grabbed two more beers out of the fridge. I looked out the window at Kam’s place. Our kitchens faced each other, just as her bedroom and mine did, and she had just finished her dinner. I saw her laughing and holding her little brother up by the waist so he could help out washing dishes. He had on rubber gloves that reached up to his elbows, and foam covered his face and hair. She tried to look away when he splashed her with soapy water. I could tell she wanted to chew him out, but the whole thing was too funny, and her smirk gave her away, and this only made Cameron want to splash more.
“Why are you smiling?” my brother asked from behind me.
He might as well have pinched me. I jumped and then turned my attention back to the pots and pans, scrubbing away and ignoring his question. He looked outside, just as I’d done seconds before.
“She’s changed a lot, hasn’t she?” he asked. There was something peculiar in his tone. “She was pretty when she was little, but now…”
His words bothered me. Don’t ask me why––they just did.
“It’s all surface, bro. A pretty package, nothing inside,” I responded, pushing hard on the scouring pad.
My brother leaned against the counter and waited for me to look at him.
“You can’t keep blaming her for what happened, Thiago,” he said. “It wasn’t her fault that…”
“It wasn’t, huh?” I turned off the water. I wasn’t going to stand for any positivity on that subject. “Whose fault was it, then?”
“You know perfectly well that––”
