Joey Pigza Loses Control (3 page)
Read Joey Pigza Loses Control Online
Authors: Jack Gantos
I thought that was a good idea, and when the photographer said “Smile” I thought of Mom and got a big lip-curling grin on my face.
“Okay,” Dad said, slipping the photos into his top pocket, “let's hurry up âcause there are a few more important story spots I need you to see.”
“What about the bumper cars?” I asked.
“In a minute,” he said. “This next thing is important.”
We walked down to the Crooked House and right away Dad bent over to one side and began to play as if he was all crooked. “This is me before,” he said, with a wavering voice. “All crooked.” Then he straightened up like a soldier at attention. “And this is me now. Do you get it? âThere once was a crooked man, who lived in a crooked house. He had a crooked dogâ'”
When he said “dog” the breath went out of me like I had drowned on land.
“Oh my god!” I shouted, then sucked in some air. “I left Pablo in the glove box!”
“Who's Pablo?” he asked.
“My Chihuahua,” I cried out with my feet hopping
up and down. “I have to call Mom. Where's a phone?” I looked around like there might be a little crooked phone in the crooked man's house.
up and down. “I have to call Mom. Where's a phone?” I looked around like there might be a little crooked phone in the crooked man's house.
“Well, why's he in the glove box?”
“Because he got carsick on the radio,” I said, and took off running down the path to where I had seen the log-cabin bathrooms and a pay phone.
By the time Dad caught up to me I had the money envelope out of my pocket and was ripping the tape off the quarters and popping them into the phone slot. I didn't know how much money it would take so I figured putting it all in was good.
“She probably hasn't made it back yet,” Dad said as he took the phone from my hand and hung up. All the money came shooting out of the change return and went rolling across the floor.
“I have to go home!” I said as I scrambled for the coins. “What if Pablo is stuck in the glove box when Mom returns the car and Pablo is trapped in there and dies like those kids trapped in car trunks?”
“Joey,” Dad said. “Don't turn into a Humpty Dumpty on me. You have to tough it out, buddy. Everything is going to be all right. Why, I bet your mom found Pablo after a while and turned around and brought him back. I bet he's on the front porch right now waiting for you.”
“Let's go see,” I said nervously. “Let's go now.”
Dad took my hand and we went running toward
the miniature golf course. Grandma was sitting on a small brown-and-white polka-dotted mushroom seat with her golf club across her knees. “I'm just takin' a breather,” she whispered harshly.
the miniature golf course. Grandma was sitting on a small brown-and-white polka-dotted mushroom seat with her golf club across her knees. “I'm just takin' a breather,” she whispered harshly.
“We have to go home,” Dad said, and reached for her elbow to get her on her feet and going. “Joey lost his Chihuahua.”
“What Chihuahua?” she asked. “Nobody told me a fancy rat dog was part of this deal.”
Dad didn't say anything. Instead he scooped her up into his arms. I was already heading for the car and I wished I had the keys because I'd start it up and take off looking for Mom and Pablo.
All the way back to the house Granny said mean things about my “fancy Mexican rat dog.”
“He's half-Chihuahua and half-dachshund,” I said.
“Half-rat, half-wiener, you mean,” she snorted back.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and said, “You be quiet.”
“No. You be quiet,” she shot back.
“No! You be quiet,” I said again.
“No. You be quiet,” she wheezed.
We kept this up until we pulled into the driveway and I jumped out and there was Pablo on the porch shivering with the handle of his leash fastened around the front-door knob. Mom had written “Miss you already!” in lipstick on the little diamond-shaped window. I grabbed Pablo and kissed him all over his
pointy face and he kissed me back with his awful dog puke breath, but I didn't care. I loved him and he loved me, and that's all that mattered.
pointy face and he kissed me back with his awful dog puke breath, but I didn't care. I loved him and he loved me, and that's all that mattered.
“See,” Dad said, coming up from behind me, “I was right, wasn't I?”
He was. I set Pablo down and threw my arms around Dad's neck and just hugged him as tightly as I could because he was totally right and didn't turn into a busted-up Humpty Dumpty when I had.
“How did you know he'd be here?” I said.
“Hey, what are dads for?” he replied all jolly, and hoisted me up over his shoulder like a sack of flour, and we entered the house while Grandma and Pablo growled at each other. I figured they were going to have a heck of a time because neither of them ever backed down from anyone or anything.
“Hey, Dad,” I said while I had the chance. “I want to play baseball.”
“That's my boy,” he said. “A chip off the old block.” Then he kept talking and I stopped listening.
BAD GOLF
In the morning Dad came in my room. I was happy to see him because I had been awake most of the night from Grandma's coughing attacks. She would sputter and spit for a while until it sounded like she had dredged up a hair ball from deep inside. Afterward she'd clear her throat and finally settle down. Then, just as I was drifting back to sleep, she'd start up all over again. Finally I got up and turned on my tape player, but the batteries had worn out so I couldn't escape her awful sounds and spent hours chewing my fingernails down to the part of the skin that tasted like baby carrots.
“How's your patch?” Dad asked, and sat on the edge of my bed with my box of patches. “You need a change before I head out to work?”
“Yup,” I replied, and turned my book facedown on
the bedside table. “And you better leave another one with me just in case.” I was thinking that I would be alone with Grandma all day and might need some extra meds to help.
the bedside table. “And you better leave another one with me just in case.” I was thinking that I would be alone with Grandma all day and might need some extra meds to help.
“The box says one at a time,” he said. He pulled a patch out of his shirt pocket and gave it to me. “One more thing,” he added. “I need to draw your foot so I can get you the right size baseball cleats.”
He put a piece of paper on the floor and I stepped on it. “By the way,” he asked, looking up at me as he drew the outline with a pencil, “you throw left or right?”
“Left,” I replied. “Catch right.”
He smiled. “Excellent. We could use a lefty pitcher.”
He stood up and folded the paper. “Hey,” he said before slipping out the door. “I told Grandma to make you some porridge, not too hot.” He grinned. I grinned too, and then he was gone, but I still had my grin.
As soon as he left I peeled the covers all the way down and searched for Pablo. He had a bad habit of chewing a hole in the sheet and digging a burrow in the mattress. I think he was part prairie dog too. When I found him I lifted him up and we danced around. “I'm bad! I'm mad! I'm a hundred percent of Mom and Dad,” I sang. It was my favorite song and Pablo liked it too. But I couldn't swing him around too much or he'd throw up.
I got dressed and when I looked into the mirror on the back of the door to fix my hair, I saw that I was still grinning. So far, so good, I thought. He's happy, and I'm happy Then I remembered I had to spend the whole day with Grandma.
I decided, on the spot, that I was going to be nice to her. I figured it was my choice to set the mood. She was always going to be her two selvesâone nice and funny, and the other mean and scary. She wouldn't change, because she never felt that anything she did was wrong. So all the changing was up to me, and that was okay because I knew I could be wrong most of the time. So, I'd start off with my best foot forward. And if she was mean, then I'd stay nice for as long as I could until she wore me out and I'd go hide.
I put my hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath, and opened the door. When Pablo and I entered the kitchen Grandma was prying a stuck Pop-Tart out of the toaster with a butter knife.
“How'd you sleep?” she asked. Her voice was hoarse.
“You should unplug the toaster before you stick a knife in,” I said, trying to be helpful. “Once I did what you are doing and got a shock that knocked me off the counter.”
“Well, I'm already half dead,” she replied, “so a little shock will only pep me up.”
“That's why I eat vitamins,” I said.
She frowned. “Now, how many Pop-Tarts do you want? And how many does that dog eat?”
“We need to buy some dog food,” I replied. “And Dad said you were making me porridge. Like the Three Bears.”
“He's just a big talker,” she said. “Better get used to his gibber-jabber or he'll drive you nuts.”
“Can I call my mom?” I asked.
“Why don't you write her a letter?” Grandma said. “A stamp is a lot cheaper than a call.”
“Mom gave me money for the phone,” I said.
“What do you want to tell her?” Grandma asked.
“That Pablo is okay and that I found him on the porch.” I gave him a little squeeze and he made a sound like bagpipes warming up.
“You don't think someone would steal that mongrel?” she said, pointing the knife at Pablo.
“Stop calling him names,” I said. “He's a Chihuahua mix. Besides, Mom saidâ”
“I don't want to hear what your mom has to say on the subject. Just call her and get it over with,” she said, then bit down on a piece of burnt Pop-Tart. But she was panting so hard from talking too mean and fast that she had to turn and spit it into the sink so she could take a deep breath off her oxygen hose, which she had hooked to the top of a skinny green tank that was on the counter.
The phone was screwed to the kitchen wall and when I picked it up Grandma began to whistle to herself like she didn't want to hear what I had to say, but I knew she would be listening to every word.
Mom was already at work so I called her there.
“Beauty and the Beast Hair Salon,” Tiffany, the receptionist, said.
“This is Joey,” I whispered with my hand wrapped around the voice piece. “Is my mom there?”
“One sec', hon,” she said, then I heard her yell, “Fran, it's your kid. Sounds like he's been kidnapped.”
I heard quick steps. “Hey,” Mom said. “Are you all right?”
“I'm fine,” I said. “And Pablo is too. I couldn't believe I forgot him.”
“Well, I wasn't a mile down the road before he began pitching a fit in the glove box, so it was no big deal to turn around.”
“We were at Storybook Land,” I said. And then she started asking so many questions about Dad and Grandma and me that I was saying “yes” and “no” and “no” and “yes” like I was playing Ping-Pong with my words.
“Well, have a good day,” she said. “It's slow here so I'm dyeing my hair red and getting a pedicure. I'm going to paint my toenails to match my hair and buy a nice pair of summer sandals. You'll hardly know me when you return.”
“Pablo will sniff you out,” I said.
“Gotta run,” she cut in. “The dye is leaking down into my eyes and it stings like the blazes.”
“One more thing,” I said, raising my voice so that Grandma could hear even if she was deaf, “Dad is real nice. We had fun and he's putting me on his baseball team. He's buying me a glove and cleats.”
“Great,” she said. “I'm happy to hear that. Now, call me later. Love you.” And she hung up.
When I turned around Grandma was leaning back against the kitchen counter with her arms folded across her front. She was eyeing me up and down while taking deep breaths off her oxygen hose.
“I'm glad to have a few hours alone with you,” she said in a voice that was like being sent to the principal. “I'd like to set you straight on some things around here before you get any big ideas. Things in this house aren't exactly the same as Carter said they are.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, and leaned over to give Pablo a piece of Pop-Tart.
“Oh, he's got a steady job but he still sneak-drinks now and again and he's got himself a girlfriend that hasn't figured out what a loose screw he is. Just know that he hasn't turned into the squeaky-clean Boy Scout he says he is, even though he's a neat freak.” She pointed to the Pop-Tart crumbs. “He'll blow his top if he finds crumbs on the floor,” she warned.
“Are you trying to scare me?” I asked as I stooped down and picked them up.
“No, I just want you to know what you're stepping into here. It's been no picnic livin' with him and every day I think I should've stuck it out with you and your mom.”
“I thought you slipped down the sewer,” I said. “I found your shoe by the grate.”
“I hopped a bus,” she said. “But I was lookin' for that shoe.” She laughed, then her laughter turned into a fit of coughing and she bent over. When she straightened up she raised one finger and held it in front of my face. “A word to the wise,” she said. “Don't blab to your mom everything that goes on around here if you want some time with your dad. 'Cause if she knew what all takes place in that man's head, she'd pick you up in the bat of an eye and you'd never see him again.”
“I think I need to change my patch,” I said. I grabbed Pablo off the floor and speed-walked back to my room. Maybe Dad had done some bad things in the past, I thought as I opened my shirt and reached around to the back of my shoulder and ripped off the patch. But just like me, he deserved a second chance, and I wanted to make up my own mind about him. Then I put the new patch on in a slightly different spot and rubbed it for a minute to heat it up and get it going.
“You can't hide from me all day,” Grandma called out, and rapped on the door. “I got big plans for us.”
“What?” I yelled. I didn't know where to put my old patch so I stuck it inside the book I was reading.
“Golf,” she yelled back. “Now let's get a move on.”
I opened the door and stared at her. She had rigged herself up to her oxygen tank, which was stuffed into a blue shoulder bag. The yards of clear plastic hose from the top of the tank ran underneath her shirt and out the back of her collar. It split into two separate lines that curled over her ears and joined at a nose piece that clipped onto the thin wall of flesh between the nostrils. Little jets of air whistled up her nose. The whole thing sort of looked like a costume from a science-fiction movie.
“Don't laugh,” she warned me. “Or I'll swat you with this 2-iron.”
There was nothing to laugh at. It seemed pretty awful to me because if someone turned the oxygen up she'd swell out and pop like a balloon.
“Believe it or not,” she said, “I've been looking forward to your coming. Your dad makes fun of me when I hook this thing up. He said I look like one of those life-support patients. So I don't use it and half the time when I go to do anything I'm just panting like an old hound dog.”
“What do you want to do?” I asked.
“If you are anything like your old self you need to run around for a while, so I got a plan that will suit both of us. Now grab my tank. We'll go over to the park and I'll hit a few balls to you.”
“Okay,” I said. I wasn't sure I could say no.
I followed her out to the front porch. “Help me get into my buggy,” she said, pointing to a grocery cart on the sidewalk with an old couch cushion on the bottom. I must have looked confused because she kicked a small stepladder on the porch and said, “Use this. I did have a little handcart for the oxygen but Carter said it cost too much to rent so now he just gets me the tank with the shoulder case and because it's so heavy I can't get very far.”
I put the stepladder next to the cart and steadied it with one hand and her with the other as she climbed in. I lifted her oxygen tank up over the edge and set it in her lap. I put the tin bucket of old golf balls between her feet and slid the 2-iron in by her side.
“Don't forget to fold the stepladder up and slide it underneath,” she instructed, “or I'll never get out.”
After I did that I grabbed Pablo and strapped him into the baby seat, then pushed them down the sidewalk and turned onto the road as Grandma adjusted her little sun umbrella.
“You know, I could always read your mind, Joey,” she started up. Her voice was sharp enough to cut through the rattle of the cart on the asphalt. “I could
always look into those spinnin' eyes of yours and know what you had cookin' up behind them.”
always look into those spinnin' eyes of yours and know what you had cookin' up behind them.”
“I don't know what you mean,” I said, but right away I noticed my hands were shaking and I felt a little antsy.
“I know you think you can get your mom and dad back together again. Don't tell me I'm wrong, because there's not a kid alive who doesn't think they can get their parents back together once they split up. But do yourself a favor and forget about it. Those two should be apart.”
“I only came to visit Dad,” I said.
“I hope that's true. But just the other day he said it's his dream to get a whole family together.”
My heart started pounding because Grandma said something that I had joked about with Mom. In the car Mom told me to forget about her ever liking Dad again. Ever. But now the idea that Dad secretly wanted the family together only confused me. I didn't know what to say so I changed the subject back to golf.
“How's your game?” I asked.
“Pretty good since I've been working regular on it. Your dad went and got me a starter set of clubs with all the cigarette coupons I saved up. I can't tell if he's being nice to me or if he wants me to exercise myself to the grave.”
I didn't know what to say to that either so I kept quiet.
When we reached the park I could only push the cart a few feet into the grass before the wheels stuck. I got the stepladder and helped her out over the side. Then I set the oxygen tank in the front corner of the cart so she could have a few feet of tubing to move around like an astronaut walking in space.
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