The Big Splash (20 page)

“What the hell is going on?” she asked, diving right in.

“Nothing. Kev and I had a disagreement.”

“In the middle of a Thursday rush?”

“It's a long story.”

“Then you'd better start telling it.”

“It's kind of … complex. Like what happened tonight between you and Mr. Carling. What was that?” I caught her off-guard. She hadn't expected me to go on the offensive so soon, and to be honest, neither had I.

“That's none of your business,” she said, but she was rattled. “You're not in any position to ask questions.”

“Why, because I'm a kid, or because of what happened tonight?”

“What do you think?”

“Personally, both.”

“Oh yeah? You think if you were an adult, it would have been okay to barge into where I work and start fighting with my boss's son?”

“Maybe not, but if I were an adult, you might think I had a valid reason.”

“And what reason is that?”

“I'll tell you if you tell me what happened between you and Mr. Carling.”

“No, Matt. No bargains. We're not playing that game. I'm the mother in this relationship. Now tell me what the hell is going on!”

“Kevin and I had a fight.”

“Why?”

“Sorry. I can't tell you. I guess you'll just have to punish me.”

“Fine. You're punished,” she said, but her heart wasn't in it. Law and order was never her strong suit.

“What happened between you and Mr. Carling?”

“Matt—”

“What?” I said, louder than I expected. “Tell me I'm too young. Tell me I wouldn't understand. Go ahead. Try.”

She sighed and sat down at the edge of my bed. “You're not going to drop this until I tell you, are you?”

“Are you going to drop your questions about my fight with Kevin?”

“No.”

“Well, there you go.”

She paused. “Looks like we have some stuff we need to square up with each other.”

“Yeah, looks like it.”

We sat and looked at each other for a couple of minutes, neither one of us sure of where to start. Finally, my mom yawned.

“Not now,” she said, “I'm too tired.” She yawned again, as if to prove it.

“In the morning then.”

“In the morning. And don't spend all night thinking of a cover story. I want the truth.”

“Back atcha.”

She smiled and raised one eyebrow. “I always knew you were going to be a handful.”

“Funny,” I said, “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

“Go to sleep.” She turned and ambled off to bed.

I had no idea what I was going to tell her in the morning. I was so tired that it might have to be the truth. I wondered if she could handle knowing what was really going on at the Frank. I doubted it. My mom was pretty cool, but she had her limits. And if she blew the lid off of Vinny's whole operation, the only question would be which one of his assassins would put me in the Outs first.

snapped awake the next morning, going from restless sleep to fully alert in less than a second. The queasy feeling I had in my stomach the night before was still there to greet me. I climbed out of bed and listened for my mom. Nothing. Either she wasn't awake yet or she had already left. I walked tentatively down the hall toward the kitchen. She was seated at the table, calmly drinking her coffee. She looked at me skulking down the hallway and smiled. I felt a little foolish.

“Good morning,” she said. “Take a load off. You want something for breakfast?”

“I'll just have some cereal,” I said, and went to the cabinet to get it. I poured myself a bowl before I realized I hadn't even had my orange juice yet. I pulled the OJ from the fridge and almost poured it over my cereal.

“Whoa,” my mom said, “I'm not sure you want to do that.”

I smiled sheepishly and grabbed a glass from the cabinet. “All right. I'll do it the normal way,” I said sarcastically. “But I really think I was on to something.”

“Crunchy orange juice?”

“Tangy cereal.”

“Ohhhh.”

I sat down and started eating my cereal. In the quiet of the kitchen, it sounded like I was chewing on gravel. My mom was looking at the morning paper, but kept glancing up at me every ten seconds. I had a feeling that if I asked her what story she was reading, she'd have no idea.

She put the paper down and cut to the chase. “Was the fight with Kevin over money?”

“No.”

“Was it over drugs, or something illegal?”

“No. It wasn't about money, or drugs, or anything
illegal,” I said, and left it at that. I was sure the next question was going to be what the fight was about.

It wasn't. She threw me a curveball instead. “Okay. I guess we have to make a deal then. You keep your secret, and I'll keep mine.”

I looked at her with confusion and suspicion. Of all the things I was prepared for that morning, the deal she presented wasn't even on the list.

“You look surprised,” she said.

“I am. I guess I expected you to bully me into submission.”

“How?

“With a mom's greatest weapons: guilt and punishment.”

She shrugged. “I suppose I could get you to tell me your secret if I wanted to, but how is that good for either of us?”

“Well, it'd be good for you. You'd win.”

“This isn't a contest, Matt. My mom was like that, and I—” She stopped, reconsidering what she was about to say. “I guess I see a lot of mothers act like that to their kids,” she said, backpedaling. “Their kids end up hating them, and I guess I can't say I blame them. I'm not out to
win every argument with you, Matt, because I'll lose you as a result.” She paused. “I know this isn't the way most other mothers think, but then again, I don't like most other mothers.”

I thought of Joey Renoni's mom: the way she yanked Joey around like an inexpensive handbag, not seeming to care that her screaming fits would do him more harm than good. I thought of Liz and Kevin's mom, and how she only acknowledged their existence when she needed to work out some of her frustrations. I thought of all the moms I've met since I started in this business. I could count on three fingers the kids who could go to their moms when they were really in a jam. Most kids felt like when they were home, they were behind enemy lines. So what my mom was saying made sense, but I wasn't sure I trusted it just yet. “What's your angle?” I asked.

“No angle. That's the deal.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “There are things in my life, Matt, that I'm not ready to talk about. Not with anybody, even you.”

I thought about my mom's family, and her past, of which I knew so little. I thought about my dad, and the clue the police had found in his abandoned car; the clue
that my mom denied knowing anything about, but had caused such a marked change in her behavior.

“It stings a little,” she said. “I know. But I have a feeling you're in the same boat.”

“No, Mom, I just—”

“It's okay,” she said, putting her hand out to stop me. “It's natural. It's part of growing up. Even the people you love, the people you're closest to, can't share everything with you. Some things you just have to keep to yourself.

“Look,” she continued, “I can't fix all your problems for you, and you can't expect me to. That wouldn't be doing either one of us any good.” She broke into a smile. “Plus, I have a feeling you can navigate your problems just fine without me.”

I smiled back at her. “I do all right.”

“So that's the deal. Take it or leave it.”

Before I could take it, she put her hand up. “Wait. Sorry. There is one condition.”

“Yeah?”

“If you find yourself in a jam that even
you
can't handle, come to me. We'll try to work it out together. Deal?”

“Only if you promise to do the same.”

She gave a little laugh.

“You'd be surprised at what I'm capable of,” I said.

“You're wrong. I don't think I'd be surprised at all. Deal.” She held out her hand to shake. I got up from the table, walked over and grabbed it. We shook twice, then she pulled me in for a kiss. “Love you.”

“You too, Mom.”

She looked at the clock. “Seven fifteen. Go get ready for school.”

“Yup.” I headed toward the bathroom to take a shower. “I'll see you tonight.”

“Okay. Good luck at school today,” she said.

“When you're good, you don't need luck.”

“Oh, well then definitely good luck.”

“Ouch. Get out of here. Go mother someone else.”

When I got out of the shower, she was gone. I got dressed, went downstairs to grab the evidence I still had, then headed off to school. I took my time walking. I was dreading the face-off with Liz that was waiting for me, but I tried not to think about it. It was the kind of fall morning that tourists came to New England for: crisp, cool, and sunny, and I just wanted to enjoy it. The sunlight filtered through the multicolored leaves, giving the outside
a warm, syrupy quality, like an old photograph that was slightly out of focus. Six Ellie kids ran past me, amped up with the kind of energy that only comes this time of year, with all the best holidays fast approaching. All six of them turned and gave me a raspberry. I gave one back. They ran off giggling. I smiled and made a silent wish for them:
May their lives always be as simple as they are now.
It was a foolish hope, because it just wasn't possible. When you got older, things got more complicated; that was the way the world worked. Of all the lessons I'd learned at the Frank, it was the only one I was certain of.

I got to school, I headed straight for Liz's locker. It was Friday, so kids were bouncing around the hall like Super Balls shot from a rocket launcher. Liz had just closed her locker and turned to go to class when she saw me and stopped dead in her tracks. We faced off against each other like a couple of reluctant gunslingers. Kids walked around and through our path, oblivious to what was going down. I envied them. I walked toward her, closing the gap.