Page 12 of Can't Get Over You
Dad: Oh yeah. Well, bring them back. Half my fence came down with that last snowstorm.
Boone: Should he wash the pus off first? Or just leave them on the kitchen counter for you?
Dad: Fair point. Keep them. I’ll get a new pair.
Ava: Decker and Jude, will you boys be home for Christmas?
Boone: One of you guys better be. We lost Snowfest for the first time last year ’cause you both fucked off.
Decker: No, got a game in Detroit.
Ava: Oh shoot. I’m sorry to hear that. We’ll miss you.
Ava: Give me an address where I can mail you something. I hate to think of you alone in a hotel room.
Boone: I don’t know what lies he’s telling you, but that’s not what life on the road is like for a football player.
Decker: Says the guy who plays circle jerk with his hotshot buddies out in the forest.
Decker: But yeah, I won’t be alone. We’ll have a team dinner. And then, family members can come over for the team snack after we do a walkthrough on Friday night.
Ava: What about you, Jude?
He’d just started to type his reply when his phone rang. He didn’t get many calls. Every now and then, one of his Marine buddies needed to talk. He’d drop everything for them. Same with his family. But that was about it. He didn’t stay anywhere long enough to make friends.
He might’ve ignored it, but the area code was Calamity. Just in case it was important, he answered. “Yeah?”
“Are you Jude?” It was a kid’s voice.
What the hell?“Who’s this?”
“It’s Cody. Will you get me a bike? Please?”
“What?” Jude wanted to hang up, but it was a kid. He could at least figure out what was going on.
“I got to go to school, or I’m gonna get in trouble, and Amy’s my friend, and she doesn’t got any other friends ’cept me, and if I’m not there, she’s sad.”
Wait a minute. Am I being pranked?“Did Boone set you up for this?” Jude pulled the phone away to check the number again. He had no idea what was going on.
“Who’s Boone?” the kid asked.
“My brother.”
“Oh. I don’t got a brother. So will you get me one?”
“Kid, you’ve got the wrong number.”
“Are you Jude?” the boy asked. “My dad’s friend?”
“Who’s your dad?”
As he crossed the patio, the roar of conversation drowned out the kid’s voice, but a familiar name snagged his attention. “Say that again.”
“My dad said to call you. You’re his friend.”
“You said Marco?Hewas your dad?”
“Yeah. My dad’s dead.”
