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“Holy shit!” He just about jumps out of his skin, then pulls off his headphones and drops them on the floor. “Jesus! Are you trying to kill me?”
“Sorry. I guess you were pretty deep in the game.”
“Yeah, a little bit.” He runs a hand through his hair, and again, I tell myself he needs to get it cut. He needs to do a lot of things. He just doesn’t seem very interested in any of it.
That’s going to have to change now. “Listen. I stopped by the high school before going to the arena. I picked up paperwork to get you enrolled.”
He looks at the folder I’m holding out to him like it’s a snake about to strike. “What? Why?”
“What do you mean, why?” I drop the folder on the couch. “Because you need to go to school. There’s still a year left. Don’t you care about graduating? Meeting some people?”
“Honestly? No.”
The way he says it shouldn’t surprise me. I remember feeling the way he did. But things aren’t the same as they were. That’s what I need him to understand. “This isn’t going to be like before. You’re going to be here for the rest of the year. You won’t be bouncing back to Boston or any place else. You might actually be able to put down roots. You could even —"
He cuts a hand across his throat. “Do yourself a favor and quit all this now. Otherwise, you’re just gonna be disappointed.” He wanders to the kitchen without picking up any of his trash. He’s too busy heading for the fridge to care about cleaning up after himself.
“How would I be disappointed? What is this all about? You’re not out here to screw around all day playing games.”
“Are you sure about that?” He’s actually laughing when he pulls yet another bottle of soda from the fridge.
“Yeah, I’m sure about that. And why did you order so much soda, for fuck’s sake?” I sound like a pissed-off parent scrambling to keep up with their ignorant kid. When did that happen?
“What’s the big deal? I’m not trying to have, like, the high school experience.” He rolls his eyes and makes air quotes with his fingers. “I don’t care about making new friends. I’d rather hang out alone, anyway. I’m just gonna get my GED.”
“I’m really glad you made these decisions without talking with me about it.”
“Why do I need to talk to you about it? You’re not my dad.”
Yeah, and thank fuck for that. “No, I’m not your dad, but I’m somebody who cares what you do with the rest of your life. I’m not gonna stand by and watch you throw it down the drain.”
“So, what?” He leans against the counter and folds his arms and please, God, tell me I wasn’t like him when I was his age. It’s amazing I didn’t get my teeth knocked out. “You think I’m gonna graduate and go to college? Have you met me? I barely pass as it is. I’m not exactly college material, and we both know it. Why should we waste time lying to ourselves?”
I’m still trying to wrap my head around this when he grabs the soda and heads back to the living room. He is already sitting down again, controller in hand, when I stand in front of the TV.
“What are you gonna do with the rest of your life, then? Tell me that. Do you have anything in mind?”
“I don’t know. I figured maybe I could be your assistant or something?”
“I don’t need an assistant.”
“That’s what you think. But I could help keep you on schedule. I could, you know, handle the house and stuff.”.
“Yeah, you’re doing a really great job of that so far.” All he does is scoff and roll his eyes. “I’m sorry, dude, but I won’t let you throw your life away. Don’t you have any dreams of your own? Goals? Something you want to do for yourself?”
“No.” That’s it. One word. And he says it like it’s the answer to the stupidest thing he ever heard.
“I don’t get it. I took you in to see where I play. You met the team, you met the coaches. Those aren’t guys who floated around and did whatever they had to do to get by. The bareminimum. They’re people who worked hard, and that includes me. That didn’t… I don’t know, inspire you?”
“That’s what that visit was about? Yeah, I hate to tell you, but no.”
Don’t let him do this. My blood pressure is about to go through the roof thanks to this ignorant kid and how easy it is for him to throw my generosity in my face. He doesn’t care at all. How is that possible?
“Real talk. This isn’t Boston. There’s nobody here who even knows you besides me. You don’t have to put on the front.”
“I’m not. Do you want to know what I wanna do with my life? You’re looking at it.” He spreads his arms, leaning back against the cushions.
“Well, that’s pretty freaking sad.”
