Page 77 of The Sky in Summer
The bottle goes flying and lands firmly in David’s hand.
“She doesn’t want to go,” Tyler informs his brother.
“Why not?
Before I get a chance to give some bullshit answer, my son goes and tells the truth.
“Because she’d rather sit in the dark and be sad.”
“I do not sit in the dark! Quit exaggerating.”
That I did not deny being sad sits with them both. Their teenage faces show a concern I have never seen before. That is because I have never shown them this part of me. The deep vulnerability when faced with love lost. Now they are old enough.
“If you go, you might find out what they know. Aargon will be there, and he and Van are close. Maybe they’ve talked,” David says with confidence.
Obviously they thought about it and talked and figured out there has been no communication between Van and me. How? I guess my mood is proof enough.
“And we aren’t going to tell you,” Tyler adds.
“Why not?”
“Because it isn’t our business.”
Oh. I hear my own words said a hundred times when the boys wanted in on someone else’s private life. Now they are biting me hard on the ass.
“We don’t hang on every word Teddy’s father says. Besides, he isn’t going to talk to us about his brother. And we aren’t going to ask him,” David says.
Tyler joins in. “If you’re there the subject will come up naturally. Come on, Mom.”
How can I fight the well laid reasons my two very smart boys laid out?
“Okay. I’ll go.”
Ever since I agreed to bowling night, it has been a second-guess situation. How should I act? If Aargon starts talking, what questions will I ask? Why did I put myself in this uncomfortable position? The rhetorical question repeats every few minutes.
The sights and loud sounds of Mountain Bowl are slightly overwhelming after being inside my head almost exclusively for the last handful of days and nights. If this can’t distract me, I don’t know what can. Bells and whistles go off for strikes and winning scores. Someone broke the record for best score in a foursome. You’d have thought we were under attack.
But I made it, like I said I would. I see the Lyons in the distance. They have the lane and are bowling already. Tyler takes his size twelve shoes and heads for his friend. David stays with me.
“I’m an eight,” I say to the bored kid handing out used shoes to the customers.
“Eleven and a half.”
He grabs the two pair and hands them to us.
“Here.”
The one-word dismissal works for me. I don’t want to chitchat with you either, kid.
“Let’s pick out our balls,” I say.
Walking toward our designated lane, Aargon turns to face us. A hand lifts in greeting and a grin.
“So bowling, huh?” I say, sending a message. “I am better than you’d think.”
“That’s a direct challenge. So am I.”
“It’s on! I put my money on her,” David says, looking directly in Aargon’s eyes.
