Rumble (19 page)

No! Don’t you dare blame me for that!

Blame

It’s not a game, not at all, but

suddenly I know, “You’re the reason

Lorelei divorced her husband.

He found out about you?”

Actually, he always suspected,

but chose to look the other way.

She was the one who finally

grew tired of the deception.

Do people really do that—

pretend not to see something

so hurtful? “And Mom? Has she

been looking the other way?”

He nods.
I figured she’d stop excusing

it and either boot me to the curb

or hook up with someone else. But

as far as I can tell, she’s stayed faithful.

So, basically, crap relationships

run in my family. Genetically,

I’m predisposed to lying, cheating,

and having sex for all the wrong reasons.

One Last Thing

I wouldn’t bother to repeat

it, but since I’m stressing

over how much holding on

is too much, I go ahead.

“You still haven’t told me

why you’ve stayed with

Mom, despite everything.”

He draws a long, slow breath.

First, it was because of you.

A boy needs his father, that’s

what I thought, someone to

teach him to play basketball.

Then your mother miscarried

and had a breakdown. Not sure

you knew that. I figured it had

to be mostly my fault because

I was glad she lost the baby.

Then she got pregnant with Luke,

a speck of redemption, and now

I had two sons to worry about.

After that, I found satisfaction

in my professional life. Personal

fulfillment became less important,

and maintaining my marriage

seemed easier than shredding it.

Easier

Having sex with a person

you don’t care about.

Easier.

Staying in a toxic relationship

because people might talk.

Easier.

Not having sex with someone

you do care about.

Easier.

Because if you have sex,

that might change everything.

Easier.

Easier.

Easier.

But who ever said the easiest path

is the one you should choose?

I Can’t Remember

The last time I’ve gone fifteen

hours without checking my cell.

I expect a half-dozen texts from

Hayden, wondering where I am.

What I’m up to. Why haven’t

I called? Surprise! Not even a “hey.”

There is one from Alexa, though.

THANKS FOR AN AMAZING NIGHT.

I LEFT MY JACKET THERE. ANY CHANCE

YOU COULD DROP IT OFF?
My first

reaction is, no way. My second

is, what the hell is my problem?

It’s not like she asked me to move

in, she just prefers not to freeze

to death. She didn’t even sign off

with “I love you.” But she does love

me. She said so, and there was more

emotion in her single declaration

than in all of Hayden’s halfhearted

reciprocations combined, and that

makes me angry. Why hasn’t she

texted me? What’s happened to her?

To us? Thinking back over the past

few weeks, retracing every step,

I can find only one answer. Judah.

My Personal Corner of the World

Has never been rich

with happiness. Overall, joy

has been in short supply.

It’s funny, because when

you’re a little kid, it doesn’t

take much to spark satisfaction—

you master fractions or land

a ridiculous jump on your bike.

You go looking for fun,

create it with your friends,

and in my case, sometimes

with my little brother.

Yeah, I got that my mom

and dad were a little off.

Compared to, say, Vince’s

ever-present, ever-interested

parents, mine were distant, cool.

But what did it matter? Once

Vince and I were out the door,

our playing field was level.

But my memoir was all

a single chapter then, unmarred

by major transitions. And now,

the pages are shredding,

my life disintegrating.

Luke is gone forever.

Hayden is a wild card.

Mom and Dad are melting

down completely, every vestige

of imagined stability in flux.

Will I even have a home

next week? With or without

one or both of my parents?

Everything is upheaval.

I need order.

I’m used to order.

Artificially constructed,

yes, I understand that. And easy.

That stinking word again.

Familiar pressure builds

in my chest. My breath

flutters like sparrow wings.

Inhale.

Palms up.

Exhale.

Palms down.

What will happen to me now?

Hold On

What will happen
to
me?

A thought strikes suddenly.

(Palms up. Palms down.) I’ve spent

my time here passively. Waiting

for some external stimuli to initiate

action through reaction. (Breathing

begins its return route to normal.)

Why can’t I be my own stimulus?

If I want order, I have to take charge,

and there has to be more control in

claiming the wheel, deciding where

to steer, how hard to punch the accelerator,

when to pass slower-moving vehicles,

obstacles in the path of forward motion.

And the first obstacle I need to clear

is a certain youth minister impeding

the progress of my relationship with

Hayden. Yes, that’s a great place to start.

It’s Strange

Because I’ve always

believed girls despised

male aggression.

Yet Hayden claims

to feel unappreciated

due to my lack of it.

And Alexa was totally

turned on when I tapped

into a small reservoir of it.

Is there something

to that caveman’s club?

Would Hayden love me

more if I dragged her

around by the hair?

Should I set loose

my inner Neanderthal?

What Have I Got to Lose?

I grab Alexa’s jacket with every

intention of dropping it off later.

But first I head straight for Hayden’s,

no forewarning call to announce

my imminent arrival. All the way

there, I summon my inner primitive

man, keep poking him with a sharp

stick.
Ugga!
I knuckle-drag the sidewalk

all the way to her front step, ring

the doorbell. Unfortunately, it’s her

father who answers, and his expression

is somewhat less than welcoming.
Yes?

Oh. It’s you. What can I do for you?

I give him my best caveman grin.

“What’s up, Mr. DeLucca? Is Hayden

here? I’d like to take her out to lunch,

if that’s okay.” No
ugga.
One point for me.

Except he’s the one keeping score.

He glances at his watch.
Lunch was

two hours ago. Anyway, she isn’t here.

That’s a double
ugga
for the man.

“Can you tell me where she is?”

My impatient toe-tapping isn’t winning

him over.
Have you tried calling

her cell? I’m not her secretary.

I don’t schedule her appointments.

Wow. What a hairy Sasquatch dick.

But rudeness won’t serve my purpose.

“I’m sorry, Mr. D., but what is it about me

you so dislike? I shower every day,

sometimes twice.” Ooh. Way too civilized.

“I’m at the top of my class, kicked tail

on my ACTs.” Kicked tail. Better. “And

I’m totally in love with your daughter.”

Oops. I think I just went too far.

His eyes narrow into slits.
Don’t you dare

toss around words like love. You are

a teenaged boy with adolescent cravings.

But beyond that, you are headed down the low

road to hell and I don’t want you dragging

my daughter in Satan’s direction with you.

As I See It

I’ve got two choices.

Play defense.

My usual position,

and in a situation like this,

doubtless the right way to go.

Attempt offense.

Survival of the fittest.

Triple
uggas
, and if I opt

for this tactic, he’ll probably

forbid Hayden to see me.

Good luck with that, Mr. D.

Better straddle the line.

“Just because I don’t go to church

or sing praise hymns doesn’t mean

I’ve been condemned to spend eternity

with some mythical pork-footed,

dual-horned demon. I’m a good

person. I treat Hayden right. I’ve

never even tried to have se—” Oh shit.

Now he thinks I’m gay. “And I’m

not queer, either. I mean, the reason

I never tried is because I respect . . .”

The Door Slams

Okay, Plan A went about as well

as I could have expected. Bet

the first primitives to develop

language enough to express

their feelings ended up spit-roasted.

Plan B. Caveman up and call, not

text, Hayden. She answers immediately,

as if expecting the communication.

She is.
What did you say to my dad?

He told me I have to break up

with you to save my eternal soul.

“Already? It’s only been, like, sixty

seconds since your front door attacked

my face. And mostly what I did was ask

why he doesn’t like me, then I listed

all my best points. Including the fact

I’m not gay, by the way. That really

seemed to impress him.” Too far?

You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t, Matt.

Guess that means too far.

But How Far Is Too Far?

Have I crossed enough lines in the past

twenty-four hours to have thrown away

everything I struggled to build and maintain

with Hayden, despite the odds? “So, does

that mean you’re breaking up with me?”

If she is, I’m certain it has little to do

with any edict from her father.
Oh,

Matt, I just don’t know. I still love

you so much, but it seems like you’ve

changed, and it makes me wonder why.

What? “You think
I’ve
changed? It isn’t

me who’s different, Hayden. It’s . . .” Stop.

Don’t do this now. “Please. Let’s talk face

to face. Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

Please don’t say no. Please don’t say no.

If she does, we’re totally through, and I’m

not ready for that. Apparently, she isn’t,

either.
I’m at Joce’s. Give me an hour.

Fifty-Nine Minutes Later

I pull to the curb in front of Jocelyn’s house,

wait the extra sixty seconds so Hayden can’t say

I tried to rush her, then give two beeps. She’s out

the door immediately. She was ready for me, and

the rare winter sun burnishes the crown of her hair,

and I fall in love all over again. I can’t lose her.

I pop out of the cab, haul around to the far side

of the truck, and open the passenger door. The closer

she gets, the more I want to kiss her. But should

I do it here? Now? Will it embarrass her? Should

I wait, or will she freak out if I do? Jesus, when did

we, she and I, become such a complex puzzle?

When she reaches me, I have no clue if I’m

doing the right thing when I hold out my hand,

a simple request that she honors. I pull her

as close as we can get without actually touching,

plunge into the smoke of her eyes. “I love you.

Damn if I can figure out if that’s enough for you,

but it’s the absolute truth. I don’t want to say

too much, or too little. I don’t want you to feel

offended if I ask if I can kiss you, because I’m

not sure what you want anymore, and it’s scaring

the hell out of me, Hayden.” I can’t read a single