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“You know my friend Gilly?” Ma said. “Her son’s about your age. He was on the verge of jailbird city. Well, this recruiter comes from the Army Reserves and signs him up. Now he’s got a few grand coming in per month, health bennies and they’ll pay for his college.”
“You want me to join the Army, Ma?”
She shrugged and stirred her coffee with a spoon. “I’m just saying the Army Reserves is only one weekend a month.”
“Things are heating up in Syria,” Paul said to his oatmeal.
Ma waved her hand. “Things blow over. They always do.”
“What if that weekend per month interferes with track?” I asked.
“Track’s not paying for your college anymore.” She pointed her spoon at me. “You still got to pay for college.” She tilted her head and half-shrugged and said in a lower voice, “And the monthly pay wouldn’t be so terrible, would it?”
“You don’t need it,” Paul said to her. He put his hand on my arm. “Keep running, Wes.”
I glanced down at his hand, smattered with dark hair and pudgy at the knuckles. A dad’s hand. It patted me, then retreated back toward oatmeal and coffee. And it wasn’t so bad.
“So tell me, Connor,” Paul said brightly. “What’s your sport? You look like a baseball man to me.”
We said our goodbyes in the parking lot. Ma took my face in her hands and smacked a kiss on my cheek.
“You did good. Not your best show, but I’m still proud of you.”
“Thanks, Ma,” I said.
She turned to hug Connor, leaving Paul and me face to face.
“Good to meet you, Weston.” He put out his hand for a shake, then grimaced. “Keep forgetting you’re bearing war wounds.”
I wouldn’t have minded shaking his hand. “Good to meet you, too,” I said, with the most honest smile I could find.
“We’ll see you soon, I hope,” Ma said. “Thanksgiving? Can you manage to haul your butt out east for Thanksgiving?”
“He’ll be there,” Connor said. “My mother is looking forward to seeing you. Felicia and Kimberly, too.” He turned to Paul, and they shook hands. “You as well, Mr. Winfield. Please come. We’d love to have you.”
“My God, is he not a treasure?” Ma took Connor’s face too, kissed his cheek. “Good bye, my angels.”
“Drive safe,” Connor called as she and Paul climbed into his sedan.
A huge sigh gusted out of me as the car drove away.
“I heard that.” Connor’s hand dropped. “I love your mother, but I’m exhausted.”
“Try living with her,” I said. “Paul must be a glutton for punishment.”
“Or he really likes her,” Connor said. “Your mom’s really likable, you know that? You’re really likable when you’re not so busy being a dickhead.” Con
nor reached to pinch my cheek and said in a high falsetto, “Weston, you sweet, handsome boy. You’d get all the girls if you just smiled more.”
I laughed and knocked his hand away. “You and your beautiful teeth can fuck off.”
He gave me a lift to the backlot where my car was parked at the stadium. Before I could get out he killed the engine and turned to look at me.
“Listen, I know you don’t want to hear this, but if you need help paying next year’s tuition—”
“Forget it.”
“My parents can help you. They would want to help you.”
