Page 6 of Tell Me Softly
She hadn’t suffered the way my brother and I had. Her family had stayed together. They didn’t have money problems; none of them had to work some shit construction job to keep their heads above water the way I had. She hadn’t had to drop out of college her first year like me. She didn’t have any debts to pay.
I knew my father was as much to blame as anyone. But my father was an asshole and always had been. He’d cheated on my mother lots of times. I knew that. I always had. He wasn’t even careful about bringing women over. He didn’t even care if his sons were downstairs playing while it happened. The only person who wasn’t clued in was my mother; it was like she lived in a bubble. It was a lie, but at least she was happy.
That’s why I’d told Kam not to say anything. It was pointless, though. She was an idiot. She sang like a bird and ruined our entire lives.
And now we were back. My parents had divorced eight years ago. In those eight years, Dad had stopped visiting us. All we had of him was the child-support check that came every month––the bare minimum that the judge had forced out of him. That was all.
He’d abandoned us, the jerk—his two sons and the wife who had given him everything. He couldn’t stay with us after what had happened, he said. Everything reminded him of what could have been. But did that mean he had to disappear? Mom still cried for him in secret. After all these years, she couldn’t move on.
Taylor dealt with it better than I did, but I had to shoulder more of the burden. My mother never turned to him during the bad times, never even cried in front of him. Me, though…I’d had to be her life preserver. I was just twelve when I watched her andDad argue in court. I’d even had to testify that I knew about all Dad’s affairs through the years. Those revelations almost killed my mother, but we couldn’t let him get away with what he’d done. My testimony was the reason we got to hold on to the house, but it hadn’t done us much good. My mother refused to live next to the Hamiltons, and because Carsville was a small town and demand for places to live was low, we couldn’t rent it for as much as it was worth. We barely ever had a cent to spare. Our rent in Fairfax cost more than a mansion in Carsville. My mom and I fought all the time about selling it. That money could have been a lifeline, but Mom would never budge—we were keeping the house, it was hers, and she’d be damned if anyone was going to take it from her. And that was that.
Then we had to come back. Because of me.
As time passed, we each found our way of getting over what had happened—or telling ourselves we had. I tried to make sure my little brother had the best childhood we could offer him. But I lost myself in the process. I’d had to grow up fast, and I was dealing with adult problems when I was still just a boy.
The rage inside me made me fall in with the wrong people. I got bad grades and was finally expelled for fighting. I took my GED and got into college, though. I thought I was turning my life around, but all the bad things came to a head last year when my mother’s bastard boyfriend hit her one too many times. I found him on the street and punched and kicked him until he passed out. All the rage I’d built up inside was channeled into those blows.
The asshole was head of pediatrics at a hospital in Washington, DC. He knew all kinds of fancy lawyers, and he did his best to get me thrown into jail. I did the penitent act for the judge, and I was lucky enough to get out on probation. But one more mistake and I’d end up behind bars. I couldn’t let that happen.
So now we were back in Carsville. Where I was born. Where I’d been happy for twelve years until everything came crashing down. Mom’s boyfriend had lived near us in Fairfax, and a condition of my sentence was that I had to stay five hundred feet away from him at all times. He was vengeful, and we knew he’d do anything he could to make me screw up so he could land me behind bars. We couldn’t find anything decent in our price range near DC––already we’d been hanging by a thread. I told myself it would be fine, that maybe the Hamiltons had moved, but nope—already I’d seen Kam again, so I knew I wouldn’t be that lucky. Nothing had changed except that we were older and way more fucked up. Or at least I was.
Taylor had gone to the first day of school. The movers had left boxes in the entryway and the living room. I had to leave Mom alone taking care of details because soon I’d be going to the school too, starting a job as an assistant basketball coach, which was the only thing I could find in this town––and even then, I’d had to lie about my record to get it. I’d help out with some clerical tasks, and I’d watch the kids in afternoon detention. All of this for peanuts. A great opportunity, I know.
My mother wasn’t starting her nursing job at Carsville General Hospital till the next day, so I left her in charge of our things while I got on my bike and rode to the high school where I’d dreamed of being captain of the varsity team. Going back to high school is a nightmare for any twenty-year-old.
When I arrived, the lot was full of cars, but the students were all in class. I left my bike in the lot and walked to the principal’s office with my helmet under my arm and my sunglasses on my head.
There was a woman in the office not much older than me. She smiled at me kindly but wearily. The first day was always exhausting, and I imagined she’d been dealing with the students’ schedule issues as well as the teachers’ meetings and agendas.
She looked curious as she asked, “Can I help you with something?” I realized she probably thought I was a senior.
“I’m Thiago Di Bianco, I’m here…”
“Ah yes, our assistant basketball coach. You’re taking care of some other things for us too, I heard.” I was happy to see word of my legal troubles hadn’t made it here. She was pretty with blond hair and blue eyes. Probably half the guys here had a crush on her. Not me, though.
“Yeah. If you’d like, you could punch me in and out and I could just go home,” I said, sitting across from her. She blinked as I turned my head and stared into her eyes.
“Principal Harrison wants to see you, to walk you through the rules and all that,” she said, giggling. I couldn’t say whether her laughter was irritating or amusing.
“Great,” I said, grabbing the piece of paper she held out to me and getting to my feet.
“His office is over there,” she said, pointing to a door with a plaque on it that readPrincipal. “By the way, my name’s Sarah.” She stretched out her hand. I shook it. Her grip was soft and warm.
“A pleasure, Sarah,” I said a little dryly, then turned around. It was strange, being here. It took me back to when I was twelve, dreaming of finally walking into those halls as a high schooler.
I had known Principal Harrison; my mom was friends with him. I had a vague memory of him joking around at a family barbecue about what lay in store for me when I started at Carsville High. He was sitting behind his desk when I knocked, and he looked up and asked me to sit down. I did so without uttering a word. We stared at each other for a few moments. He seemed, unlike the secretary, disappointed in what he saw. I smiled, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Mr. Di Bianco, it’s a pleasure having you here,” he said with feigned goodwill. “It would have been nicer if you’d graduated college first, but, you know, I won’t complain.”
“Thank you, sir. I’m happy to be here.”
“Let me be straight with you. I brought you on as a favor to your mother. Please don’t make me regret it. You will have the following obligations: you will help Coach Klebb with the athletes. I remember seeing you on the court when you were a kid, and I saw on your application that you’d lettered on your college team your freshman year. That’s an accomplishment. I’m sure you learned some things there that could help us out. We’ll likely be calling on you to do a little substitute teaching, as we don’t have a big pool of people here to step in when teachers get sick. It’s not rocket science; we really just need a warm body. Of course, you’ll also be in the library supervising students who have detention, and we may have you work as a counselor for the senior trip.”
That last part we hadn’t discussed.
“Wait, you want me to go to a campground and watch over a bunch of teenagers?” I asked, certain I was the worst possible candidate for that job. We all know what happens at those kinds of camps, and I wasn’t the one to play police inspector trying to keep the kids from sneaking beers or sleeping together.
“That’s correct,” he said. “Now, let me spell out the three golden rules for you. First, no drugs and no drinking. Second, no relationships with any students beyond the strictly professional. That extends to your brother, Taylor; I don’t want to see him getting special treatment or favors. Third, if I find out that you’re involved in helping any students break any rules, it’ll be big problems for you. Understood?”
