Authors: Patricia Orvis
Spud (15 page)
“That’ll be,” I tease, rubbing my chin to stretch out my proposal, looking all professional-like,
“four thousand dollars!”
“What?” She’s gaping at me.
Yup!” I show her the proof.
“Argh! Well, you win… I can’t afford all that.”
“I’ll give you a loan,” I offer, but that’s a running joke we have in this game.
It usually ends like this, me taking all her money and us realizing we’ve been playing
for two hours.
“Nah, I’ll just cut my losses. Give you all my stuff, all my money. Again. Good,
game, Jack. Thanks for it. I needed the break,” she says, and then we officially
do the last deal where she has to give me everything she’s bought and all the cash
she’s lined up on her side of the board. Together, we count out all her money as
I take it, then the value of the properties she gives me.
My little character, that I always use, the Man with the Horse, has won again. Not
a match to Zoë’s little thimble playing piece on the board. I take that, too, as
a show of winning.
“Haha,” she teases, and she doesn’t know that I like to watch
Family Ties
when we
play, because money-obsessed Alex, played by Michael J. Fox, is a total inspiration
in this money-focused board game. A little secret. Then again, maybe she feels the
same way. I always win at this game, and if I’m losing, I try to end the game before
it’s time to declare a winner. You know, a phone call or something. Didn’t have to
this time, and besides, when we play Scrabble, it’s Zoë who always wins.
“Yeah, thanks, was fun.” We start to organize the money and fold the board to get
the game put away.
Just then, Mom pops her head in, smiling and sweet as usual. “Dinner, kids, come
on down for some,” she raises her eyes, knowing what she’ll say will please us, “tacos!
Oh, Monopoly. Who won?” She looks us both in the eyes. I think she already knows
what’s about to be said.
“Ooh, tacos! Sounds awesome,” Zoë and I agree.
“And I won!” Zoë lies. Whoever loses any game we play always claims to win when Mom
asks. Tennis, Mario, Monopoly, doesn’t matter. Loser claims victory.
“Whatever. Me. Of course. Wiped her out, Mom. Don’t let her take a career that deals
with banking. She’ll so sink.” I tease, waving a wad of fake cash at her.
“All right, well, good job anyway. So, dinner when you’re done here,” and Mom heads
back downstairs.
“Funny, Jack.” She mutters, smiling. We finish our clean up and head down to dinner.
Boy this day is turning out to be pretty decent after all. My favorite game, favorite
dinner. I hope it lasts.
I kind of overdo it on this meal, taking in a good six yummy tacos, stuffed with
hamburger, cheese, and tomatoes (no lettuce and salsa and all that for me. I like
a basic taco), but it feels good. Nice, filling meal. Now, with tonight’s World Wrestling
Federation show and a phone call from Deena, who’s doing so much better, I’m ready
to sleep like I haven’t in weeks.
I figure it’s about time to visit Spud, especially since my head’s a little clearer,
and he’s been up in this cemetery alone, well, I guess, since the whole burial. I’ve
thought so much of him and the accident, but now it’s about him, not me. I gotta
talk to him, and this is the best place, I think. So, Dad dropped me off while he
takes a ride to get an oil change and said he’ll be back in half an hour to get me.
I’m very grateful for this, as Spud’s buried in Marseilles, and there’s no other
way to get here without Dad bringing me. Too far to walk. And I’m grateful for the
privacy.
I don’t know what to say at first, as I’m kneeling on the grass in front of the headstone,
or how this is even suppose to take place, but Spud deserves my company. He was my
best buddy when some of the preps didn’t give me a chance. Was there for all those
milestones: birthdays, first drink, first kiss (though Penny Partak is not a girl
I’m proud to admit smooching). He was the one who taught me a couple strings on the
guitar. Had my back against the adults at a family party when someone left the door
open at Ned’s when the heat was on last winter. Gave me his favorite White Sox collection
of baseball cards for my birthday last year. Sat next to me on the rickety Shockwave
at Six Flags. The prized guitar pick necklace, which I’m fingering now. The memories.
The headstone is simple:
Daniel “Spud” Jacob Cooper
March 5, 1981 – July 14, 1995
A fun-loving country son, brother, and friend, who will be
missed always. Rest in
Peace, our love…
His mom was always really attached to the whole country thing, with the farm and
all, and I guess his dad, too, with the band and all. And Spud, I’m thinking of his
cowboy boots, guitar, and the pick. I made sure to tuck one of his in the heart pocket
of his shirt when I passed by his coffin. The one he kept with the guitar at my place.
So, kneeling on the grass in front of the memorial, on top of where I perceive his
body must be lying, I’m a little freaked, but accepting. The view is not too shabby,
oak trees to the rear of the stone, a gravel road leading far up the way to the head
of the cemetery. He’s got a prime spot. Peaceful.
It’s pretty hot again, and I’m tempted to take off my shirt, as most days have prompted
this summer, but I can’t. Wouldn’t be proper. Well, here goes.
“Spud, man, I miss you so much. I can’t believe you’re really gone. I’m so sorry
that I wasn’t right there to get you out of the water. Why, man? Why did you have
to jump again? You knew how dangerous… No, that’s not gonna make a difference.
“I miss you. I gotta thank you, though. You’ve been such a great friend. I don’t
think anyone could come close. I want to try to learn the guitar for you; I’ll read
up on it. You left yours at my place, and your pops said to just keep it there. So
maybe…
“Everyone misses you. So much. I never even realized…. What an impact. And Mike and
Deena split. Then Mike, man he did the same thing. But on purpose. It’s been a rough
ride. It’s crazy, but I feel like it’s all going to get better. It has to.
“And Deena. She’s awesome. I’ll let you know how that goes. You were always the one
who the girls just swooned over. I remember
how you always said, ‘Life’s a dance,
Jackson, lots of ‘em. Got to have lots of different dances, now, so you’ll know the
right one to pick when it matters.’
“You’d never get attached to just one girl. Always had a new fling, a new ‘dance’
to trot. Lots of energy. I don’t think I’m quite that outgoing, at least with the
girls. I’d rather have many different dances with one girl, instead of lots of girls.
But we’re young. We were young. You know what I mean. Thanks for showing me how to
act around gals, though, treat ’em right, hold the door, say nice things. You’re
a gentleman, and I hope I can be as great. A legend you were, are. Damn, this is
hard to say the right way. But Deena seems so right. I’ll keep ya posted.
“Anyway, Spud, please, I hope you’re at peace. Safe, content. I hope it didn’t hurt
too much, that you didn’t suffer, that you’re enjoying all the country music and
guitars and girls in Heaven. I don’t know what to say. I just had to stop by. Sorry
I didn’t sooner, but I couldn’t accept it, man. It was all too unreal, still is,
actually, but it’s also real. How does this happen?”
Too young! He never got to drive, to go to prom, to…
No. Stop this, Jackson. You
can’t keep backtracking with these sorts of thoughts. Move forward right now. Forward.
“Okay, you know, this is a start. I’m so sorry. I’ll try again soon, man. I love
you, Spud. Rest man, rest.”
Freezing! Cannot feel my toes, and it’s like we’re engulfed in an avalanche! Gotta
be like twenty degrees, and I can actually see my breath. It’s silly, but it’s awesome.
In the winter, we hate that it’s so cold you can see your breath, but right now it’s
so welcome! What a giddy feeling, and I am seriously thinking of moving into this
movie theater.
Dad gave me a small bit of cash to go do something to entertain myself, get out of
the house for a while, have some fun, and so I asked Deena if she’d like to catch
a film, occupy our minds for a bit, and her parents have dropped us off at the movies
in Ottawa. Personally, I was hoping to catch the highly reviewed
Apollo 13
with Tom
Hanks, but being the gentleman and putting her first, I suggested
Clueless
, if Deena
would be into it. And she was. Of course, she was. I should have known.
Absolutely
thrilled
, she had said. She
loves
Alicia Silverstone, she had gushed
.
Has been
so antsy
to see this film, she had screeched (into my poor ear on the phone).
The total
epitome
of her film seeing, she had gushed again.
Has
to see this film,
she had screeched once more. Into my ear. You get the picture
.
Girls. Typical.
So, we’re sitting in the frigid air conditioning at the Roxy Cinema waiting for
Clueless
to start. Nobody better ever say I’m not a compromiser.
In the back of the theater, I take Deena’s hand. The trailers for other films are
starting as we wait for our feature. She coughs, and I offer her a sip of the Coke
we got to share.
“Thanks,” she says. Takes a sip. “Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“I really am glad we’ve had each other this summer to help get through some things.
It’s been a rough one, you know?”
“Yeah. I’m so sorry, Deena, about the Mike accident. It must be the hardest thing
ever for you.”
“It is. But the same with you and Spud. It’s so unfair, but I guess we need to learn
from these things, you know? Try to find something positive or whatever in them.”
“Yeah. It’s just so awful. Nothing will really ever be the same. But you know, I
always think twice now about the choices I’m about to make, and I can’t help but
think what Spud or Mike might have gone on to become. You know, like with college
and family and careers? They’ll never get the chance.”
“I know. Really makes you think. Things can change on a dime.”
“Yeah. But hey, enough heavy talk. I’m sure we’re both cried out and have had plenty
of massive headaches and have asked so many questions that just don’t have answers.
Let’s enjoy a mindless,
Clueless
movie and try to laugh a little. What ya say?”
“I say, after all the tears and questions and sleepless nights, it’s time to laugh.
Thanks, Jack. I needed this. I mean, I know we’ll never forget Spud or Mike, ever,
but we also have to keep living, you know? We can’t quit. It’s kind of like in seventh
grade when we read
The Outsiders
. Remember? When those greasers, Johnny and Dally,
died and the narrator, Ponyboy, was in such a funk, and his brother Darry told him
it was hard on everyone, but they all had to keep moving? You can’t just quit, gotta
deal with it?”
“Wow,” I said, looking at her in amazement. “That’s the same kinda thing I had been
thinking about. I totally agree. Every July is gonna be rough, but yeah, my mission
is to accomplish things,
I guess, in memory of them, you know. Work hard, make Spud
and Mike, in your case, proud or something. We need to keep going. Remember them,
feel sad, at times, but not quit.”
“Yeah.” And she gives me a kiss on the cheek and takes my hand.
The lights have completely gone off and the theater is pretty full.
“And now our feature presentation.” Blares from the speakers as the picture is forming
on the huge screen. All right, Silverstone, make me laugh!
“That was hilarious! I gotta pee! Be right back!”
After all our laughing and slurping down three Cokes together, I could use a restroom
break, myself. I tell Deena I’ll meet her in the lobby, and we both go off to our
respective bathrooms.
Much better, and as we step outside to wait for her parents, we walk into a completely
different world, where the temperature climbs from the twenty-something theater to
the ninety something Ottawa streets. Uck. Not this again. It’s kind of like we’ve
emerged back into reality after being lost in Iceland and
Clueless
land. But that’s
okay.
Well, I should remember, it is summer. It gets hot in Illinois. I need to remember
that, because at least it’s not still the one-hundred plus heat, we have had some
rain, and we’re not in terrible danger anymore. It’s just you get nervous when it’s
so hot, thinking that it’ll get out of hand again, but we’ll be wishing for heat
when our Illinois January rolls around, and we’re covered in goose bumps and buried
under layers of clothing, trying to fight frost bite and negative twenties. And snow.
And ice. And wind. So, I’ll try not to complain anymore about summer. Right.
“Argh. I forgot, for a minute there, just how much of an oven it was out here. Oh,
there’s my dad!” Deena points to the car, a nice white convertible. A very nice white
convertible. The wind will feel good in our faces as we ride back home.
“Thanks again, Jack. That was so much fun! What part did you like the best? Mine
was when,” and she rattles on, and I agree with her, holding hands on the way to
meet her dad. It was an okay film, no
Apollo 13
, that’s for sure, but we got some
laughs. Probably would have made lots more sense if I was a girl, but I’m not. Nope.
Oh well, maybe catch
Apollo 13
with a buddy soon.
“Hi, Daddy!” she says, smiling, as we climb into the car.
“Well, you sound good. Must have enjoyed the movie?” her dad asks.
“Absolutely! Was a blast.”
“Jack, that was a great idea you had, taking my little girl to see her favorite actress.
That’s some smart thinking, kiddo.”
“Ah, thanks, but was nothing, sir. I had fun myself. Deena is great company.” I sound
like I’m living in the fifties. Like I’m some Wally Cleaver. You know, the very polite
older brother on
Leave it to Beaver
?