Swing State (6 page)

10.

D
IDN
'
T WANT TO GET THERE TOO
early. Sit around and talk to people he didn't know. But not too late either. Get a good seat. Nod to people around him. Not talk. Maybe after a big play. But that was it.

He left at six fifteen for seven. Half hour walk. If he remembered right. Didn't go down there much. Didn't like to think about it. Wasn't good at it. Tried to concentrate. Couldn't. And this was before. Wished he had done voc, like Artie. Good stuff. Jobs. But Auntie Blake said college prep. Which he hated. But she took him in so she was the boss. He said okay. Tried hard. For a long time. Two years. But never any good. Stopped trying so hard. Did about the same. Cs and Ds turned into Ds and Fs. She sighed loudly and said well, some people just aren't cut out for a better life. He remembered that. A better life. His would have been better if he did cars. Kids in classes gave him looks. Didn't even apply for school after that. Or scholarships. Said he'd work. Keep his mill job. But layoffs. So he joined up.

Walked down in the dark. Streetlights along the way. Not like the way to Schaferville. No sidewalks. Barely a shoulder. The school walk was easy. Leg doing okay. Saw other people headed there. Big paper signs under their arms.

Full parking lot. Band playing in the background.

Felt a headache coming behind his eyes.

Maybe it would be okay.

Still there, but a little less.

It would be okay.

Less.

Okay.

He looked up. Away from the people. Bugs swarming lights. Getting too cold for them. That morning he woke up to ice puddles. First all year. Winter coming. Tired of global warming. Wasn't true. Especially in his apartment. Felt cold air through the walls. Birds flying south. In packs. Flocks. Leaves mostly already gone. Saw his breath. Wasn't the first time for that, but still. First ice. Long winter. Last year in the desert. Hot all the time. Except night. Couldn't believe how cold it got. But his apartment. January would suck. February. Go to the library all day. Probably still walk.

Garages cold in the winter. Artie, his hands must freeze. Probably had a space heater. Warm them up. Go in the office. Keep customers warm. Hoped he didn't have to talk to them. Just wanted to fix stuff. Get paid. But he might like telling them. Like look at the score marks on the clutch plate. I'm glad we replaced it when we did the timing belt. He could do that. As long as it wasn't that'll be eight hundred even all the time. Money made him nervous. Math was okay. Until the really hard stuff. But being that guy, that was Artie. He was good at it. Always. Easy to hang around him. Planning. Organizing.

Bleachers were full mostly except the visitors' and the back. He didn't want to sit on the Hanley side, get looks. Hey, what are you doing over there? I thought you were one of us. If anyone even recognized him.

Packed at the bottom. Kids being stupid, probably drunk. Reminded him of himself. Before he went over. Walked up, feeling eyes roll off. Way up there was space.

Middle of an empty row, second from the back. Looked around. Kids, families. One guy with no shirt. Painted white. Kid next to him. Painted blue. Shivering.

What the fuck. Come on, Dad. Kid's cold. Even through the fat. Shoulders on him slumped. Sitting there freezing. No energy. Didn't want to be there.

The band came on. Played a song. Recognized it a little. Something new. Liked it. But he missed the old stuff. Easier to guess the next one. The ba-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-HEY song. They still played that, right?

Stands kept filling. He couldn't see spaces. Where people were going. Just not up the stairs. Which was okay. If some hot chick sat next to him, great. But there weren't any. Only wives and girlfriends. If he were a hot chick, he'd sit next to him. Be like hey.

The kid shivering. Standing now, clapping. Like his dad. The people around, their heads kept turning to them, nodding. Like yeah. How could they not see it? The kid was cold! Didn't want to be there.

National anthem. Stood. A tape. No singer. Everyone had hands over hearts. Some men saluted. He saluted. Never used to care. Before he went.

He hadn't been sure. Thought it would be okay. No loud noises. Plenty of space. Okay. So far, anyway. Headache gone. Anthem helped. Didn't think it would.

Teams came on. Band playing music he knew. Intro music. They ran. Pointed at the sky. Jumped up and down. Hit each other in the helmet.

Hanley ran on. Looked like the fat kid. No spring.

He didn't get it. Football was hard. Those kids hated it. He could tell. And he was sitting far away. If he could see, so could Armbrister High. Hanley was going to get their asses kicked.

Armbrister deferred. They kicked to the five. Good one. On the first play Hanley got stripped. A back yanked the ball from the running back. Clear even from where he sat. The crowd yelled UVVVVV. Back picked it up and ran it in. But not really ran. Twenty feet. But still. Touchdown.

Hanley slumped like they wanted it even less. The crowd cheered.

So did the fat kid. Flabby painted arms in the air. But it was show.

Armbrister kicked again. Pinned them back again. Crowd doing UVVVVVV. Except what was the kid's name? From the newspaper. The good one.

Did the fat kid have friends? Maybe. There was a fat kid in his class. What was his name? Funny guy. Fat kids had to be. Defend yourself. Make everyone laugh. Flip it. Like ha, I'm fat. Except the ha was fake.

Roy couldn't flip his thing. Tried. Everyone knew. From the beginning. But him. When did it start—second grade? Third? Somewhere in there. The first few times he tried. Forget it. But it was true. That was the thing. If it was yeah you're fat he could be like ha, yeah. But they knew even though he didn't all the way. Didn't understand. Not yet. Not until then. Asked Auntie Blake. She didn't answer. Said just ignore them. So he knew.

And it got worse. First it was your mom shops at Salvation Army. She did. So did Auntie Blake. But the kids with nice clothes said that. New sneakers. Sweaters. So that made it bad. It didn't bother him until he understood it was supposed to.

Then it was your mom's on food stamps. Which she was. A small kid said it to him. He punched the small kid. Went to the office. The principal saying why did you do that, Roy? Because he said my mother was on food stamps. Just ignore them, he said. And it will go away. Couldn't say I've been trying to ever since they said my mother shops at Salvation Army and it didn't go away it got worse so I got mad and hit one so now it will go away. Because the principal would never say hit people. Even if it was fair.

So it stopped for a few days. Detention. Auntie Blake shaking her head. Roy, she said, you must rise above this foolishness. Your roots.

But then it started again. And the kid was bigger. Like normal-sized. And he punched back.

It hurt. But it wasn't bad. He could get hit. And hit back. That was his first real fight. A tie. Neither of them stopped. Kept going until they were both pulled away. An art teacher. Scarves. Smelled like stuff you put in a bathroom to cover shit. You boys! What are you doing to each other? Like it had never happened before. Like she had never seen it before. Maybe she hadn't. Maybe that's why she was so scared.

Every few days was like that. A fight, detention. Stantz's office. But if he didn't fight it would be every day. He won at first. Smaller kids. And some big kids. And he lost some. The small ones stopped talking to his face. Just behind his back. At lunch, in class. He thought it would never end. It made Artie mad.

And it got worse. First it was about crack. Before he knew what it was. He fought about that.

Then after. He never thought it would be so bad. Not because he was sad. He wasn't. Which made him feel guilty. Auntie Blake saying it was okay for him to get in touch with his feelings. To let it all out. But he was. And it pissed him off. That he became a bigger target. So he fought better. Not like just enough to end it like usual. Like I am going to hurt you. Fucking break you in half. Only a few kids. New ones. After his mother died and he sent that kid to the hospital they left him alone. Pretty much. Still something said sometimes. Behind his back. Always felt it even if there was nothing to hear. Felt looks.

After the first one he won, his first fight win, the little kid got up eventually. Walked away slumped. Like the fat kid. His shoulders said fuck with me. Hit me again. Harder. Roy used to stand like that. Figured it out as the kid walked away. So he stood in front of the mirror at home. Wanted to try it right then at school but someone would have seen him doing it in the bathroom. Laugh. Another fight. Didn't want that. So he practiced. At home.

He wished he could go back and tell the kid in the mirror about Peck.

Hanley kicked. Armbrister returned it all the way to the twenty.

The guy jumped up and down. The kid pretended. Still slumped. Maybe he wanted his dad to think he liked it.

He wanted to say hey, fat kid, look. At least he's here. That was another thing. Fights, chants.
Who's Your Daddy?
A bunch of them. First it was pick out the smallest. But the big ones would come at him all at once. So it was the biggest from then on. Everyone stopped to watch. Surprised. Got his ass kicked sometimes. Stantz and detention. But not all the time. It slowed down.

He talked to her while she was in the hospital. Went in. Needed to know. Couldn't remember much from growing up with her. Mostly a lot of TV. People in and out. Which made sense. He didn't know then. He just watched TV. Reruns.
Brady Bunch
. Brothers and sisters. Mom and Dad.

He could hear the bus down the road over the TV set. Sometimes he went. His mom would wake up and say go to school. But she didn't mean it. Not like when she said do those dishes. Or stay in your room. Or clean this shit. She was saying it because she had to. Wouldn't hit him. Too tired. So he waited for her to go back to sleep and watched more TV. The bus at the trailer park entrance waiting less and less.

Then Auntie Blake. Her sisters. Dusty old house. Smelly. Different smells. Didn't know the trailer smell names until later.

Auntie Blake always meant it when she said go. He said okay and went back to sleep. Or tried to. Royal, she'd say, it's time for you to get up. And she'd yank the covers off. I am not saying this to hear myself talk.

Thanksgiving one year. The first one, must've been. The only one. Some huge dude. Smoked in the house. Please extinguish your cigarette, Auntie Blake said. Tattoos. Mustache. Smelled like a garage and something else. Get me an ashtray. I will not be spoken to in that way in my own house, she said. Picked up the turkey platter and went to the kitchen. His mom went in after her. The guy smoked to the filter. Ground it out on his plate.

Kitchen yelling. Some old lady took him outside. One of the aunts. Tried to get him to play. Didn't want to. Could hear them yelling inside. Couldn't hear words.

His mom and the guy came out. Not running. But mad. Looked like she was dragging him. Big strong guy pulled by a
lady. Went right past. Didn't say anything. Wanted her to. Goodbye. Happy Thanksgiving. See you soon. But she didn't. They got into a huge loud car. Drove away.

Hanley returned it to the ten. Then a sack. UVVVVVVV except it was DOVVVVVVE. That was it. From the newspaper. Ross Dove.

Guy jumping up and down. Fat kid trying to give a shit. Did they paint for every game? He wouldn't try so hard if this was his first one. He'd be like look at me, I'm doing this. I'm painted. He slumped like he wanted to disappear.

Went to see her. His great aunt said I understand why you're going, Royal, but no good will come of it.

I just need to—

I understand. But prepare yourself. Nothing good will come of it. Believe me.

Why would she say that? He had to go.

He understood later.

Tubes in her nose. Taped to her arm. Beeps. Noises. Skeleton in a bed. She tried to breathe every time. Couldn't just breathe. Eyes closed.

Sat there. Held her hand. Waited for her to wake up. Open her eyes. Something. But she didn't. Trying to pull breaths. No one else in the room. A TV playing down the hall. Wanted to say something. Yell. Don't you know what's happening? But they did. So TVs.

He sat and waited and she never opened her eyes.

Went back a few times. Didn't tell Auntie Blake.

She was awake once. Looked at him. Didn't see him, though. Couldn't tell. He said it's me and she made a noise. That was it. He tried to think if she told him something and he couldn't
remember and should have been paying attention to what she said instead of watching TV. But he watched because he didn't want to know. Even then. The
Brady Bunch
and all the families on TV who went places and did things and sat together and ate the same food at the same time weren't the reason even though he liked to think of all that stuff. Wasn't how it was with Auntie Blake. Always sighing. Not because she was tired. She didn't like him. Felt like she had to take care of him. Charity case. And he couldn't do honors. Didn't care enough. Wanted to. Maybe she'd like him more. But he couldn't. School, work at night, sleep. So.

Kickoff again. The back ran it to midfield. The guy was happy. The kid was not. Hanley had no chance. He could go home. Or play pool. But no one went to Patterson's during games. So he had to stay. Or his apartment by himself.

A pass. Forty-something yards. The guy jumped. High-fived his kid. Who didn't care. But tried to. For his dad.

11.

T
HE GAME IS TONIGHT.
I'
M GONNA
meet up with those guys. I hope Mary is there.

* * *

Oh my God I feel sick. My head feels like it's gonna explode.

* * *

I'm gonna barf.

* * *

(gap in tape)

* * *

I left the recorder out last night. Next to the bed. Anyone could have come in and found it.

I guess this is a hangover.

It sucks.

Don was out in the living room when I got up. I musta barfed like three or four times. I thought he was gonna hit me. When I went to the kitchen I had to walk by him. He started laughing and said you have the virus, huh?

I was like I don't know what you're talking about.

He laughed again and said a girl like you never had the virus before?

I didn't get it.

He said you have a hangover. You drank too much at the game.

When I said I wasn't hungover he laughed even louder. Oh please, he said. I could smell it all the way down the hall. Whiskey and beer.

He was right. Wine, too.

He said I could tell even before you started yakking. You were something at the game.

Did I see him there?

He said you don't remember. Boy, you tied one on.

Then he said don't think you're off the hook. Your mother will be home soon. Then we'll talk.

When I asked about what, he said school. And the crowd you're running with.

I started to tell him I'm not running with a crowd but he cut me off and said you probably don't remember half of what you did last night. There are more important things than yourself, you got that?

I said like what, my brother?

He stood up and said family. Then, you need to show more respect.

I said you're not part of this family, without even thinking. It just came out of my mouth. And before I knew it I was on the floor.

Something was on my chin. I felt it.

Blood from my lip.

I wish I had taped it. I could play it for Mom. Or the cops.

He said you don't remember how you got that.

You just hit me, asshole.

He said no, you don't remember. Because you blacked out. Drank too much. One of those boys did this. Or you fell down.

I said no, this was you. You did this. And I almost got up.

He said you didn't hear me, did you?

I stayed down.

He said this family's got enough to worry about without you making an ass of yourself. Or failing out. Then he said get up.

I said I never fail out.

He said your mother hasn't seen a report card. Why not?

I didn't say anything.

You hid it. Or burned it.

He was right.

Then he said get up.

I went why, so you can hit me again?

He said maybe. Keep hanging with that crowd and you'll wind up in jail. They'll do way worse to you there.

I said no.

He kicked me and was like your mother spoils the shit out of you. That's why you're like this. You need some discipline. I know about discipline, believe me.

I couldn't breathe.

I tried to say something, but I couldn't.

He said you don't remember that, either. ‘Course, your mother won't see that one. One of your boyfriends might. Slut. You tell them you don't remember what happened. You blacked out.

It took a while before I could breathe again. When I could I stood up.

He said cut the shit, you hear me?

* * *

I don't remember all of it. But there are parts I do.

I met those guys at the Pines. Steve and Earl. Arnold and Gil and Kelly, who I guess goes out with Gil. They made out all night. And Mary.

Their cars were parked outside a house. I went in and like always Steve said what's up, Dixon? and threw me a beer.

I drank it fast. I guess I was nervous. I felt it hit me.

He said you excited for the game? I was like yeah, whatever.

Steve told everyone that Ross was my brother and they looked at me different. Mary said I heard he's going to some big school and I was like yeah, maybe.

I saw she had this look on her face like she already knew the answers but was gonna ask the questions anyway. Because it was me. I was cool with that.

She said there's always college people at practices. I said you guys go? She laughed and said yeah. Nothing else to do.

The guys all wanted me to drink flasks. I did. I thought it would make talking to Mary easier. I don't like whiskey. It warmed me up, though.

They started passing a joint. It came to me and I hit it and passed it to Mary.

Everyone was talking about school and how hard it was to find jobs. The guys said the only way to get out of town was to join up but then you might come home in a bag. I started talking about restaurant row. Gil said I should talk to some guy named Gary at the Burger Hut. Kelly was like God, that guy is gross. The guys laughed and Earl said if I really wanted work I could talk to him. I told Earl I put in a resume and everyone laughed. He said Dixon's too good for an application! Mary said I think it's smart.

The joint came around. I hit it again and when I passed it Mary started asking about English class. She moved here from Maine. She told me about concerts she went to.

So we stood there for a while talking and it felt good. It started to get dark and Steve was like ready to go? We got in two cars.
Steve was driving one and that guy Arnold was in the other. I started to get in with Arnold but Mary grabbed my hand and pulled me over to Steve's car. Earl was in the front seat. Steve lit another joint and passed it to Earl, who passed it to Mary, who passed it to me. I hit it and almost dropped it when I passed it up because Mary took my hand.

The whole ride the guys were talking up front. I was, too, to Mary. It was like watching a recording of a conversation I was in. I could feel my mouth moving but I didn't know what I was going to say next. I guess I was surprised. I thought a lot of what I said was cool. But I can't remember what I was talking about.

We got there and parked. I remember being kinda scared that Mom would be there with Don. They do Saturday afternoon games sometimes, but she works Fridays. And Don doesn't usually go by himself. But as we went to the bleachers I kept thinking about it. It was like I was stuck. What if they got off early? Would they see me? It was hard not to think like that.

I didn't know what was happening with the game. All I knew was that I had to watch out for my brother when the defense was on the field. Number fifty-four. I remember him being happy about his number because some guy named Beer Can on the Patriots used to have it. I elbowed Mary and said that. She thought it was funny. When I did the same to Earl he passed me a flask.

Ross stuck up his hand and knocked the ball down. I started clapping and yelling. People got into it. Everyone was doing ROSS! DOVE! ROSS! DOVE! After a while they were cheering for me, not for him. Steve kept yelling SHE'S ROSS DOVE'S SISTER! and people would all clap. Mary thought it was wicked funny. She said you're usually so quiet. I felt myself smile.

It was fun hanging out but I don't know what happened. I mean, I think they won, but I don't know why or how. Someone gave me a water bottle full of warm beer and I split it with Mary, and the wine they poured into plastic juice bottles, and the flask. I drank everything.

Things got fuzzy.

I remember some stuff but not in order.

I was in front of the whole bleachers, pointing at one side yelling ROSS and the other yelling DOVE and everyone was yelling with me. That was awesome.

Then we were back in cars, going to the Pines.

Mary was laughing. That was after the game.

Someone had a flashlight. We walked from the Pines to the quarry. There was more beer. And a box of wine. And a joint. Mary laughed at things I said but can't remember.

Then I was home.

I want to go to all of the games.

But I need to figure out how not to puke. I'll look at the library.

My brain feels slow. Like my thoughts need to get through a big sponge before they come out.

I hope I see Mary in school Monday.