When Jeff Comes Home (15 page)

Vin waved me off as if protesting out loud would be too much trouble.

"No, I want to. I can't have you paying for everything. ..." I broke off, my face growing hot. Who was I to assume that Vin's sponsorship was going to continue?

"Hey, Jeff." Vin's smile was uneasy now. "What's going on?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. Just tired, I guess." Vin nodded. "It was a great day," I added.

Vin nodded again, solemnly, but did not respond. We rode the rest of the way to the house in silence.

"Well," I said, reaching for the door handle the moment Vin stopped the truck. "I better go in now. See you, okay?"

"Wait a minute," Vin said, laughing selfconsciously. "So ... when am I going to see you again?"

I was quiet, not knowing what to say.

"I can come over for lunch pretty much every day, if you want. Until you come back to school, I mean. Or we could do something on the weekend."

Vin sounded so awkward I was able to put aside my own insecurity for the moment. "Sure, that'd be okay, I guess. Either one."

"Your dad wouldn't mind?"

I looked at him strangely. But he didn't know about Dad's matchmaking efforts. "No. No, he won't mind."

Dad arrived back from San Francisco after I was already in bed. I could hear him talking to Connie downstairs, not the words, just his tone, which was tired. I sat up, half afraid he would stop in to see me and half fearing that he wouldn't.

Ten minutes later, he appeared in the doorway. "How'd you do today?"

"Okay. Vin came over for lunch," I offered, not bothering to add that he had cut school to take me up to the snow.

Dad put a hand to the back of his neck and stretched. "Good. That's good. He knows you're going back to school?"

"Yeah. He wants to come over and have lunch here every day until then."

Dad shifted as if he couldn't wait to get away. "Great. Glad to hear it. Well ..." he said, turning to leave.

"Dad!" He turned back to me, an anxious look on his face. I leaned over to snap on the light, then sat up in bed.

"It's nothing," I said, "just, I hate to ask, but can I borrow some money? I owe Vin for lunch and things."

"I'm sorry," Dad said, coming into the room, fumbling for his wallet. "I should have thought." He pulled out two twenties. "Is this enough?"

"Thanks," I said, reaching up to take the money.

"That's really too much. I'll pay you back. I'll... I'll get a job or something."

Dad reached down and clapped me on the shoulder, pulling his hand back fast. "Don't rush yourself, Jeff. I'll give you an allowance."

"Whatever you give Charlie is fine," I said shortly. I knew he didn't want to touch me and I felt unclean.

Dad looked confused. "I don't give her money. Connie handles all that."

I didn't answer and he began to look as uncomfortable as I felt. "Well..." he said, glancing back toward the hallway.

"I want to earn money for a car," I said abruptly, then looked down. From forty dollars a car will grow. Dumb.

"A car?" Dad thought for a moment. "Well, of course. You're sixteen. Hell, you'll be seventeen in July. You don't know how to drive. ..." Dad's tone was questioning and I shook my head quickly. "All right. This weekend, I'll give you some driving lessons. We can use the junior college parking lot, maybe play some basketball afterward. Vin can come along, if you want."

He smiled at me, reassured in some way, and I smiled back at him.

Dad took to the idea of my driving lessons
with an enthusiasm I could not match. By the end of the week, I was tense with him, and shy, feeling bound to disappoint. It did not help that Brian invited himself along for my first lesson, or that Dad insisted I invite Vin.

"Jeff, I have a surprise for you," Dad said as the four of us left Wayne early Saturday morning.

"What?" I said, trying to smile, apprehensive at the excitement I heard in his voice.

"Well," Dad was grinning at me. "How would you like a new car?"

I was silent, trying to absorb his words. Vin reacted for me, leaning forward, pounding the seat.

"A new car! Wow. What kind, Mr. Hart?"

Dad glanced at me again, then back at Vin. "I know someone who knows someone with a great deal on a white Mustang convertible, only a year old."

Vin leaned back. In the mirrored visor I could see him smiling, shaking his head. "That's great, Mr. Hart. A white Mustang."

"Jeff?" Dad said, looking at me again, holding on to his grin. "What do you think?"

"You bought me a car?" I said slowly.

"No, no," Dad said, a little edgy now. "I haven't bought anything. It's an idea. Connie thought I should run it by you first."

"I don't want a car," I said tightly, folding my arms across my chest. Everyone was silent. "I mean"— I ventured a glance at him—"thanks, and everything, but..."

Dad's face was grim as he watched the road.

"I don't even know how to drive," I said, trying to laugh, to win him back.

"You're going to learn," Dad said, eager again. "It won't take long, and then you'll have this great car for school."

"We live less than a mile from Wayne High, though," I couldn't stop myself from pointing out.

"You'll use it for college then. Come on, kid, get excited."

"I am, Dad. I am. Only ... maybe we could wait on the car? Just for a while?"

"Tell you what, Jeff, I'll tell the guy we're interested. He's not in a big hurry to sell it, and if I put a deposit down ..."

"Okay, Dad." I smiled at him. "Great. Whenever. No hurry."

He frowned, and I cursed myself for saying the wrong thing again.

Vin was watching me from the backseat. I knew what he was thinking.

Your dad wants to give you a new car
,
and you don't even want it! What's wrong with you!

"Okay, guys, here's the plan," Dad said, clearing his throat. "We'll hit Redbird College first, let Jeff get some driving in, then play some basketball out there. After that we'll pick a spot for lunch. How does that sound?"

After an awkward silence, Vin said, "Sounds great, Mr. Hart."

Redbird College was just three miles outside Wayne. Whoever had designed the college had preserved the beauty and rural atmosphere of the area: the classroom buildings were constructed from redwood, and they blended into the surrounding woods almost as if they belonged there. The layout of the campus followed the hilly site where it had been built, and consequently any trip to the college involved some major climbing.

There were actually three parking lots, built on graduated levels. Dad parked at the very end of the highest lot, lifting his hands from the wheel with a flourish.

"It's all yours," he said. There was an awkward moment when he didn't move and I wondered if I was supposed to slide under him. But then Dad remembered, opening the door quickly and stepping out of the Jeep.

"Wait for me," he ordered, and shut the door to walk around. Sighing, I slid over.

"Jeff, something going on?" Vin asked in a low voice.

I shook my head, forcing a smile back at him over my shoulder. "Nah."

Dad opened the passenger-side door and climbed in. "All right, Jeff. Start 'er up!"

"Okay." I knew he was angry about the car. I could hear it in his voice, beneath the forced cheer. Grimacing, I turned the Jeep's key too far, grinding the gears. Dad winced, visibly collecting himself. "Sorry," I said quickly, but he waved off the apology, nodding for me to try again.

Driving was a disaster. Though the Jeep was an automatic, I couldn't seem to remember which gear to leave it in, or how to stop the vehicle without throwing everyone forward, or how to maneuver around parked cars without giving Dad fits. In the backseat, Vin and Brian took on the status of Olympic judges, and their silence at my incompetence was more telling than insults would have been.

To compensate for the near misses I'd been having, I slowed way down, driving about ten miles an hour. Finally, I felt some control over what I was doing. Concentrating on what was right in front of me, I drove slow and straight through the top parking lot, making an exaggeratedly wide turn to accommodate the short jog down to the second lot.

The second level parking lot was much narrower than the first, and I slowed down even more. I heard a small sigh of boredom escape Brian's lips, but I ignored it, putting through the lot about five miles an hour.

"Jeff," Dad said finally, breaking the silence. "You know, you can go a little faster. It's okay—it's safe."

The word hit me like a fist. "Safe?" I looked over at him, and the car followed my eyes.

"Jeff's gonna hit that guy!" Brian yelled, and I jumped on the brakes, looking up to see a thin, bearded man on a bicycle glaring back at me over his shoulder as he pedaled off.

All was quiet in the Jeep. Then Dad sighed. "Look, I know you have good intentions, but just . . . speed it up a little, all right?"

"I almost killed that guy!" I shot back, my heart still in my throat. My voice broke a little and I looked down.

God, I'm an idiot.

"You weren't anywhere near him," Vin said mildly. I glanced up to the mirror again. "You were at least six feet away. He probably just heard Brian yelling." I tightened my fingers around the steering wheel, then relaxed them, nodding once at Vin.

Thanks
.

"So," Dad said heartily, "let's try it again, hey?"

I shook my head. "I don't want to do this anymore."

"Now, Jeff," Dad said, cajoling, "once more around. Let's just get back to where we started." Disgusted with his tone of voice, I started to answer him back.

Hey, I'm not five, okay?

But I answered myself back—

Then don't act like you are. Not in front of Vin
.

I sat up, taking a deep breath, and took my foot off the brake. I made it through the second lot without further event, then down to the third and final level. Holding the steering wheel in a death grip, I motored back up to the highest lot, maintaining a speed of about five miles an hour the whole time. We had no more near misses, but Dad never stopped watching me. I pulled into our original parking spot, shut the motor off smoothly and handed the keys to him. Dad hesitated before he spoke.

"Well," he said finally. "Yes. That's enough for now. That was a good effort. Next time we'll—"

"I don't want to do this anymore," I said loudly. "I don't want to drive, I don't want a car, I don't want. .. this." I stepped out of the Jeep without waiting for his response. Looking around, I wanted to run away from him, from all of them. But where was I supposed to go? I remembered—

—
driving with Ray. Out in the desert, just after dawn. It is cold, my arms and legs covered with goose-flesh even as I savor the rare comfort of the car's plush upholstery against them. Ray takes the deserted highway at eighty, eighty-five, ninety
. . .
and I stop looking
.

He reaches out, grabbing my upper thigh high under my shorts. I tense, drawing in my breath, and Ray lifts his other hand from the wheel. He steers with his knees, laughing as we weave across both lanes of the highway and back again. We are going to crash, and, amazed, I realize I still care. I smile at Ray, relaxing into his touch
—

For one terrifying moment nothing changes. Then he smiles at me and slowly, deliberately, places both hands back on the steering wheel
.

"Jeff!" Dad stood in front of me, staring into my eyes. I shied away from him, bumping into the Jeep.

"Hey, come back!" he said, laughing awkwardly. I looked around slowly. Brian stood close by, watching me, while Vin hung back a little, trying to allow me some privacy, I felt.

"Yeah, what is it?" I barked at Dad sharply, then retreated. "Sorry. I was daydreaming, I guess."

He nodded, stepping back to give me room. Without meaning to, I sighed heavily, shaking out my arms and hands. I felt tight all over, a band of tension across my shoulders.

"I was just saying"—Dad peered at me again—"that we might as well leave the Jeep here and walk down to the courts. It's a ways down, but the walk will do us good."

The walk will do you good.

I glared at him, not understanding why I was so furious but feeling it nonetheless. "Yeah, the walk'll do us good," I repeated, horrified when I realized I was imitating him.

Dad tilted his head toward me, frowning, and I prepared myself for a real confrontation with him. With a sick feeling I understood that was what I wanted. But then I watched as the fight drained out of him, his shoulders slumping. He turned away and began walking toward the stairs that led down to the second parking level. Brian trotted after him, glancing back at me. Vin looked at me, wordless.

"I don't want to fucking be here," I said to myself, startled when Vin nodded.

"Yeah ..." Vin shuffled a little, not knowing what to say. He looked after Dad, who was disappearing down the stairs without a backward glance.