The Perfect Family (22 page)

Mike started to move away from the Cranes. “Give me a call, Lucas.”

Stunned by Mike’s autocratic behavior, Maggie fumed as they reached the bleachers and checked out the stands. Since they were later than usual, the seats with the team parents were taken. She noticed the Cranes headed in the opposite direction. Waving to the couples they knew, Mike and Maggie found places in the top row by themselves.

They settled in but when Mike remained maddeningly silent, Maggie couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Mike, you can’t possibly—”

“Could we please not get into this now? It’s overshadowing every single aspect of our lives. I want to enjoy Brian’s game.”

“Fine.”

Staring out at the field, Maggie calmed down by finding her son at third base. That
did
make her smile. He seemed so competent, so sure of himself out there. She glanced at the mound. Luke Crane was the pitcher. Maggie took the opportunity to study him. Melissa had said it was best to admit all her concerns at least to herself, and if she was honest, she had to admit she found it uncomfortable seeing Jamie’s boyfriend in person. Briefly, she wondered what it would be like to watch them show affection for each other. Heather and Brian held hands and sat close all the time on the family room couch, but she couldn’t picture two boys snuggling. She and Mike had only met Luke briefly at the Valentine’s Ball party, but she wanted to get to know him better now. She resolved not to anticipate problems and to deal with any issue when it came up.

“What the hell?” Mike was scowling. “Jamie’s here.” He pointed across the field. Their younger son was sitting alone in the opposite team’s section. “I thought he wasn’t coming.”

Actually what he’d said was that he wasn’t going to the game with them. She glanced back to Luke. Of course Jamie was in attendance.

“Did you know he’d be here?” Mike asked.

“No.”

She didn’t mention Luke and neither did Mike. Or the fact that Heather was nowhere to be seen. As far as Maggie knew, the girl had never missed a game. Finally the first inning started. Maggie was glad to have an excuse for the silence between her and Mike.

As the team’s strongest hitter, Brian was cleanup batter, and the three players before him got on base. Amidst loud cheering from the spectators, he strode to the plate, broad-shouldered, loose-limbed and imposing in his gray uniform. His swing was powerful and the crack of the bat resounded in the warm afternoon air. The ball arced high and fouled off to the right.

Mike cupped his hands around his mouth. “You can do it, Bri. Stand tall.”

Maggie stole a surreptitious glance at her husband. He’d played college baseball and one of her favorite pastimes then was watching him at the plate as he hit one out of the park or on the field as he reached for a ball. He always seemed invincible, like he could control the elements, thwart gravity. The nostalgic memory hurt, made her miss their closeness, which ebbed and flowed like an emotional tide. Saddened, she turned her attention to the field.

Another pitch. Another pop foul.

Mike lurched to his feet, as did much of the crowd. In times like these, Brian pulled through for the team. He was his best in a clutch.

A pitch. A swing. And a strike.

And soon, an out—which turned into a double play.

A low mumble of disappointment rippled through the crowd. She and Mike sank back onto the bleachers and Maggie touched his arm. But he didn’t lean into her like he always did to seek comfort when they were disappointed about the boys. Consequently, she couldn’t take solace from him.

Yanking on the bill of the ball cap, Mike snapped, “Damn it, Brian’s concentration’s shot. I hope he doesn’t lose out at Ithaca because of this whole thing with Jamie.”

Abruptly, Maggie stood. “I’m going to get a soda.” She didn’t ask if he wanted one. He didn’t comment.

Judy Johnson, Craig’s wife and head of the Sports Booster Club, was working behind the counter at the concession stand. She smiled at Maggie. “Hi, Maggie. I’ve been meaning to call you but I’ve been swamped.”

“Life gets busy.” She smiled back at Judy. “If it’s about the church bazaar I already signed up.”

“No, it’s not that.” After she served the coke, Judy leaned over the counter and squeezed Maggie’s hand. “Tyler told me about Jamie. I’m so sorry.”

A cheer from the stands echoed around them. Birds sang happily from the trees, which swayed with a mild breeze. The day was beautiful, and Jamie’s situation shouldn’t mar that for anyone. “Jamie’s doing fine,” she said tightly.

A frown shadowed Judy’s face.

“He’s getting straight As. The All Star Theater Program downtown accepted him into their summer workshop. And he and Mike are checking out colleges for drama.”

“You know what I mean.” She was whispering, like she was discussing some criminal activity and was afraid the other volunteers would overhear. “This is so awful.”

Without responding, Maggie walked away from her friend. Twenty yards down the blacktop, she stopped, trying to decide where to go, what to do. Judy caught up with her.

“I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I wanted to tell you that Craig and I are here for you like you were when Tyler was sick.”

Maggie whirled around. Her anger dissipated at the genuine concern on Judy’s face and suddenly Maggie realized she couldn’t afford outrage. She had to be careful about alienating people who might be able to help ease their situation. She’d beg for Jamie if she had to. “Oh, Judy, please don’t say that. Jamie’s not sick.”

The other woman cocked her head. “I…I’m sorry if I offended you. But there’s a contingent of our church that believes homosexuality is an illness.”

“And you agree with them?”

“Yes.”

“Father Pete told Mike that Jamie could change.”

“He can.”

“No, Judy, he can’t. Don’t you have any understanding of the psychology of sexual orientation? There’s no choice involved. Being gay is not a
preference
.”

Judy’s eyes were troubled, but something else reflected in them, too. Serenity. Certainty. And blind, blind conformity. “I know you’re hurting. I’m sorry. We’re praying for you every day.”

Now Maggie welcomed the anger that surfaced. “And what are you praying for, Judy?”

“That God will help Jamie do what’s right.”

“God made Jamie like he is.”

“We all have our crosses to bear.”

“Being gay isn’t a cross.”

Her face held pity now. “Of course it is.” She squeezed Maggie’s arm. “I know God will be with you in this.”

“I’m going to leave now, because what you’ve said upsets me. Please, try to think about this in a different light. For all our sakes.” With that, Maggie walked away. She didn’t go back to the game. She didn’t feel a part of it anymore. She didn’t feel a part of a lot things anymore.

*

Wait for me after the game
, Luke had said, making Jamie’s heart bump in his chest. It excited him and scared the shit out of him at the same time to be in a real relationship openly.

Jamie had teased him.
What? Like Kiki used to?

Instead of busting his balls, Luke’s face had gotten serious.
I told you I admired you for not doing what I did with girls, Jame.

Feeling bad, Jamie said,
I know. But you did what you had to do at the time.

Luke’s expression lightened and he socked Jamie on the arm.
And no, asshole, not like Kiki. Just wait down the hall outside the locker room.

Which was where Jamie stood now, over by the trophy case, away from the chatter of girls wearing guys’ spring letterman jackets who fawned over their boyfriends when they came out of the locker room, one by one, like heroes returning from war.

Heather wasn’t with them, though. Jamie felt bad about that, too, and had tried to talk her into taking Brian back.

It’s not your fault
, she’d said.
He cheated on me and he knew I’d never stand for that after what my father did to my mother. You and me are still friends, though, Jame. I’m on your side.

Even though Brian and Jamie’s talk the other night hadn’t ended so well, Jamie felt guilty about his role in what happened between Heather and Brian.

His back to the locker room, Jamie saw his reflection in the glass. He brushed back his hair and straightened the collar of the polo shirt he wore. God, it had been fun dressing for a boyfriend. Now Jamie knew what all the fuss was about when Brian got clothes-conscious for Heather, when girls told him about the time they spent primping for a date.

From behind, he heard, “You waiting for me?”

Jamie pivoted and was surprised Brian even approached him tonight. His brother’s hair was wet, his face grim. He’d had a rotten game. They’d hardly spoken since the night they’d played HORSE. “Sorry you had an off night.”

“Yeah, it sucks. Coach Denton was there from Ithaca.”

Without thinking, Jamie reached out for Brian’s arm. But Brian stepped back and Jamie felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. Images of his brother in the past came to him: Brian hugging him after one of the plays, wrestling with him on the floor, putting his head on Jamie’s shoulder when he drank too much.

Now his own brother didn’t even want to touch him.

“You’re not waiting for me, are you?” Brian asked.

“No.”

Without saying more, Brian turned and strode away.

Barely able to swallow, Jamie wanted to turn tail and run, too. But as Luke said, why the hell had he gone through all this shit if he couldn’t be with Luke openly, be like all the other kids? Their relationship was different, not wrong!

Jamie had calmed down by the time Luke exited the locker room. He noticed right away that Luke hadn’t showered. Jamie knew about the problems in the shower when the guys found out Luke was gay. And it bummed him out totally.

Dressed in cool jeans and a long sleeved-checked shirt rolled up at the sleeves, showing off his muscles, Luke crossed to him. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah. I don’t have a car, though.”

“I do. I’ll—”

“Lucas?”

Luke stilled. “Fuck.”

Glancing behind them, Jamie saw Luke’s parents had come into the building. He swore, too. When Luke gripped his gym bag so hard his hand turned red, Jamie said, “I’ll go on ahead. We can meet later,” and started away.

Luke held Jamie in place. “No, you won’t. Not this time.” He glanced at his parents. They remained a distance down the hall. “You don’t have to come with me to talk to them, though.”

“Like hell.”

Side by side, they covered the few yards until they reached the Cranes.

“Hi.” Luke’s tone was casual.

His mother said, “Terrific game, Lucas.”

“Thanks.”

Neither greeted Jamie.

He stood tall, though, and watched the threesome. No hug. No fuss like his family always made over one of Brian’s games. He was beginning to understand why Luke had trouble showing affection.

Dr. Crane’s jaw tightened. “I’d like you to come with us. We’re having dinner at the club.”

“Sorry, Dad. I got plans with Jamie.”

Mrs. Crane brought her hand to her heart. “Please, Lucas.”

“Please what, Mother?”

She whispered, “Don’t embarrass us. Just do as your father says.”

Luke stared at them for a minute. “Can Jamie come, too?”

“No.” One word from his father, a dictum that spoke volumes more. “We won’t have that.”

Shaking his head, Luke glared at his parents. “That’s a terrible way to feel.” He turned away and started to walk down the hall, Jamie by his side.

Neither of them spoke; they held themselves as rigid as stone. When they were near the door, almost free, Jamie heard Luke’s father call out, “This isn’t over, Lucas. Not by a long shot.”

Luke mumbled, “Didn’t think it was, Dad.” He gave Jamie that half-smile he loved. “But we did it this time, didn’t we, Jame?”

Though they hadn’t come far enough for Jamie to put his arm around Luke, or vice versa, in public, they shared that smile and leaned into each other. It was a sweet victory all the same.

*

Two days after the game, at about six p.m., Damien Kane poked his head into Maggie’s office. Today he wore a casual gray sports shirt that highlighted his eyes. “Hey, pretty lady, what are you still doing here?”

Trying to find an excuse not to go home.
“Finishing some grading.” She held up a paper. “What
was
I thinking to assign a research project to intro students this late in the year?”

“Told you.” He eased inside and sat down across from her desk. “It’s not our job to do that.”

“Then who’s going to teach the freshmen to write?”

“Their English teachers.”

An old argument. One that was still invigorating. She leaned back in her chair and gave him a flirty grin. “The English department shouldn’t be expected to teach kids to write psychology papers.”