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I headed out to the truck and jumped in the cab. As I was driving back into town, I'm pretty sure that I passed Mom on
the highway. But it was dark and it could have been anybody.
I spent the next week helping out at Ty's place. If
there was something to be done, I'd do it. Or at least attempt to do it. I had to keep myself as busy as humanly possible.
The last thing I wanted was time to think. I didn't even head out to Gramma's again - I knew that if I did, I'd press her
for info on my parents and she'd tell me whatever I wanted.
There was one day when it rained and we couldn't do anything.
I climbed up into the barn and sat in the loft - and ended up thinking. I thought about everything - where I was in life
at that time, my parents, Alana, my future, my past, what my options were...
A week after I went to them for
help, my mom called and asked me for dinner. I walked into the restaurant and was kind of surprised that she was alone.
We sat in uncomfortable silence for a while, with brief spurts of small talk, until I just out and asked what the decision
was.
"Well, Matt, I have a proposition for you. Your father and I have agreed that you can live with us..."
"Really?
Cool. I can move in tomorrow."
"Can't you wait until I finish? There are some rules: no drinking, no drugs, no girls,
clean up after yourself and help pay the bills. And you have to start acting like an adult - that includes not backtalking
your father or I."
"But, mom, I'm 19. I'm barely an adult. You've got to give me some freedoms."
"It's what
your father and I decided. You may only be 19, but you are 19. At your age, your father had a steady job. Most 19 year
olds I know are working and going to school, living on their own. And here you are, asking to move back in with your parents.
We will not allow you to mooch off us and laze around all day. If you want back in, you abide by our rules.'
"Fine.
Fine. Whatever."
"But there's something else. I'm going to have a baby before the end of the year..."
"WHAT?"
I nearly fell off my chair. My mother was 45 - she'd had one kid in her 40s and here she was, willing to put herself at risk
again? Man... desperation does strange things to people.
"A baby. It's a natural result of sex, dear. But we can
talk about that later. Your father and I are stretched to the limit as it is with Alana and her daycare and with another
on the way, it's going to be tight. So we want you to move in to, in essence, be our nanny. Mother is getting older and
we can't rely on her for backup like we used to."
"Mom! Look at me! Do I look like a frumpy Englishwoman? I didn't
think so. And Gramma can hold her own with Alana. Look at how well she did with me."
"Matthew Gerald Pickert. You
asked us to take you in after abandoning us for five years. We are willing to take you back, but only on our terms. If you're
not willing to do so, then fine - you're on your own."
I looked at my mother for what might have been the first time
in years. I instantly regretted every bad thing I'd ever said, done, or thought. At least that's what I think I did. Now,
looking back, it was probably guilt at getting a pregnant lady angry.
"Ok, mom. I'll do it. But I get my evenings
for myself. If that means I go out and get drunk and stoned and sleep with every girl in the area, there's nothing you can
do about it. I just won't bring it home."
"Good. Now order me something healthy. And chocolate."
We spent
the rest of the evening talking about what the future might hold. Mom was four months pregnant with Marty and she seemed
healthy. I was concerned about her age and complications, but she just kept saying her doctor said she'd be fine. I tried
to explain to her why I wanted to be a chef - which was virtually impossible to do because I got the same blank look from
her that I get from most people when I try to explain it. We avoided the 'Dad' topic as much as we could.
As we were
leaving, she said something that I still remember to this day.
"Matt, we love you. We always have. I know you and
your father will have problems at the beginning. Try, at least for Alana and the new baby, to get along. What happened four
years ago was four years ago. Your father got help. You've both grown up since then. Don't treat him with kid gloves;
he won't treat you with them. But don't treat him like a bully either. I'd prefer it if you started over again."
So
I did. I moved in a couple of days later into my old room. The first meal we had together was tense to say the least, but
manageable. No bloodshed, no nasty words thrown around, no horrible accusations.
"Matt, come with me to the garage.
There's something I want you to look at." Dad was acting like an older brother more than a father. It was something I could
deal with.
We went out to the garage and he turned on the light. It was definitely not what I expected. My dad had
set up an entire minature railroad set in the garage. He'd cleared out all the junk that had been there when I left - all
my sports stuff, the old tools, boxes of decorations from holidays that we never used. I was stunned.
"Wow. This
is incredible. You do this all by yourself?"
"Yeah... took three years. Spent every evenign and weekend in here working
on it." Dad looked like a little kid showing off his new toy.
"Must have been expensive. What does Mom think?"
"Well,
she wasn't happy in the beginning. But she got used to it."
"So, is this like your mid-life crisis Corvette?"
"Kind
of. I'd always like these little train sets but never really got into them until... well, until you left. I had a lot of
time on my hands and I was annoying your mother just moping around. She dragged me to a hobby show one weekend and they had
a set on display. I spent the entire afternoon watching the trains go around and around. That night, we came home and I
started looking up information on the internet."
"Cool. Can you turn it on so I can see it run?"
So we spent
the next couple of hours playing with the trains. 'Playing' is the wrong term - Dad conducted the trains. It was absolutely
facinating watching the various trains go around the tracks, making stops. He'd obviously put a lot of work into it.
Mom
came out with coffee and a snack around 9pm. "You boys having a good time?"
"Oh, yeah... this is great."
"Good.
Good." I could tell she was practically bursting with happiness. Her two men were playing well together.
Slowly,
Dad and I built our relationship back to where it almost was before I left. We respected each other, but there was still
apprehension there. There probably always would be.
Marty was born later that fall. After being responsible for
just Alana for so long, Marty was a bit of a shock. I'd never had to change diapers or feed a baby before and suddenly, I
was. Thankfully Mom was patient and Marty was a great baby. I was going to school full-time, working part-time and taking
care of the kids when I could. I had no time to myself - no social life, sporadic studying, sleep whenever I could. But
I never complained. Not once. I loved it...
That was eight and a half years ago. Since then, Marty and I had done
so much stuff together. We played Cowboys and Indians, I taught him how to fish, we read together, I helped him with his
homework. I was his 'father' when my parents were split a couple of years ago. I even taught the little guy to fight and,
not surprisingly, how to cook the perfect steak.
"Sorry, pal, you can't. You have to stay here with mom and dad and
Alana. You have to prove how brave you are to them. You can do it, pal. You're Marty - coolest kid in the world."
"But,
Matty, I don't want to go without you." Marty had started sobbing, which was breaking my heart. I loved the kid, but he
belonged with my parents for this ordeal.
"Marty, Matt has some important work to do. He's going to save the world."
Alana was the most beautiful, smartest, wonderful 12-year old on the planet. And she hated me - at least she didn't like
me a whole hell of a lot, less than spinach, I think.
When I moved back in, I had no idea who she was, and she hated
me because I was the new guy. She was all of three and a half but she was so intelligent. I caught her reading the newspaper
one day. I thought she was reading the comics like all kids do, but she was reading the Editorials page. As I walked by
the table, she asked me what a Democrat was. Shit, I was 19 - I didn't know what the hell a Democrat was. Once Marty was
born, she became the devil-child. I guess I understand why - she was the queen of the house for so long and all the sudden
two new people show up within six months of each other. Alana and I could never connect, no matter how hard I tried, at least
until recently. A few months ago, Alana was going through the typical 12-year old girl problems and needed help. Mom and
Dad were way past this age and I figured I was a guy and I might be able to help her. One night I was sitting in my den on
my computer and she messaged me.
"Matty, is that you?"
"Yeah, who else would it be?"
"Can I talk to you?"
I
hung back for a second. "Sure, muffet." Muffet was the nickname I gave her years ago after she fell off the chair while
eating her oatmeal. And I got blamed for it. Typical. She was the one bouncing around in her chair, and my parents accuse
me of pushing her.
"Can I come over?" I lived a couple of blocks away from my parents, mainly so I could still help
out with the kids.
"Did you want me to pick you up? We can go for ice cream."
"No, I'd rather just come over
to your house. You make better ice cream anyway."
"Ok, what time do you think you'll be over?" I wanted to make sure
I could watch her walk through the yards across the street. No kid is safe these days. God, I'm becoming my father.
"In
about 10 minutes. Is Jessie there?" Jessie was my girlfriend that no one, sometimes not even me, liked. I thought she was
a good person, but I guess everyone else saw somethign I didn't.
"No. She's over at her brother's tonight."
"Will
she be coming back?" Alana and Jessie had had a few major battles and I could totally understand her apprehension.
"No,
she works at 4 am. She'll likely leave right from Blake's."
"Ok. I'm leaving now. See you soon."
I watched
Alana walk through the yards across the street from my front step. "Hey, muffet. What's up?"
She looked at me and
started crying. Actually, she looked like she'd been crying all night. "Christian broke up with me!" She threw herself
at me.
"Christian? Who's Christian and where is he right now?" I wanted to go punch the little punk and make him
sorry for making my sister cry.
"He was my boyfriend and he dumped me for Jamie after school. He called me a snob
and ugly and mean." She kept crying on my shoulder.
"Come on, let's go inside and have a snack."
Over the
next couple of hours we talked like normal people do. There was no edgy nervousness for a change. I told her that there
would be lots of other guys and that Christian was a jerk. I told her about when I was 12 and how no girls would talk to
me. I told her that some time in the future, there would be someone really special and that she would know who it was when
they met for the first time. Wow, I never thought that watching all those trashy talk shows would ever pay off.
I
looked at Alana, said a silent thank you, and looked anywhere but at my family. I couldn't take the claustrophobic feeling
the auditorium had. A thousand people in a room on the most depressing day in history is not the best place to be.
An
announcement came over the PA system. "Would those who have the blue certificates please begin leaving through the south
door. Thank you."
This was it. This was the last time I would see my family. This was the last time I would hold
them and smell them.
Mom was trying not to cry. Dad took my hand, shook it firmly, and took me in a bear hug. This
was not a time to be embarrassed. I hugged him back. He turned his head and whispered into my ear. "I'm not mad at you,
son. You've done all you can. You are an amazing person and I'm proud to call you my own. Go forth and be happy. I love
you."
I stepped back from him and there were tears in his eyes. If I wanted to admit it, I would say there were some
in mine too, but I can't.
My mother came up to me and hugged me like I was 6 again and had scraped my knee. I leaned
down and kissed the top of her head and simply said, "Thank you." She stood on tiptoes and kissed me and looked as if she
were going to say something, but didn't. Or couldn't. I don't know.
I took Alana and picked her up. She put her
arms around my neck and started crying softly. "I'm going to miss you, Matt. Please remember us." God, she's 12? How could
this tall, skinny kid be only 12? I kissed her cheek and set her down. She was wearing an old college sweater of mine -
a sign that I took to mean that I had been forgiven for everything.
"Matty? Can I hug you, too?" Marty was a little
kid for 8, but strong like me. I picked him up and held him for as long as I could. He started crying and kept saying, "No.
Don't go. No. Stay." I held him close and told him that I had to go and save the world like Alana said. He leaned back
in my arms and said, "I love you, Matty."
I put him down and looked at my family. Somehow, by some twist of fate,
I was the 'lucky' one of this crew. Me, the one who screwed everything I could up, was the one who was going to go on.
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