Far From Xanadu by Julie Anne Peters

My head snapped back.

  The catcher stood and lobbed the ball back to the mound. The pitcher was solid, like me. Only large, imposing. Brahma bull came to mind. I thought I was buff, but whew. This girl. She poised in her stance, waiting for a signal from the catcher.

  Pop.

  That sound. The ball hitting the catcher’s mitt. It was music to my ears. Forget spying. I squatted outside the dugout, balancing on one knee. Everyone was watching her.

  Pop.

  Man, I’d give anything to catch for someone who could throw that fast and hard.

  Pop.

  Pop.

  She was flat-out bringing it, no loss of speed. I could tell by the fire in her eyes she was a serious player. Something else in her eyes too. The way she held herself — her defiance, confidence. I was dying to get in there; connect with her.

  “You’re early, Mike.”

  I flinched and almost fell on my butt.

  “What’d you do, ditch school?” Coach Kinneson knuckled my head.

  “No, ma’am.” I stood upright. “I got permission to leave early. You can check with Mr. Decatur.”

  “I trust you. Our only Ms. Perfect Attendance at CHS.” She smiled and dumped her golf bag on the dirt by the dugout steps.

  Yeah, I didn’t even miss because of Dad. I was proud of that.

  She added, “Have you thought any more about camp?”

  Why was she on my back about this? I already told her it was impossible. Sighing audibly, so she’d get the message, I said, “I’d really like to go, but no one’s throwing money my way, okay?” Did that come out surly? Sorry. But drop it already.

  “Maybe you could pass your hat around after the game.” Coach elbowed me.

  If that was a joke, it died in the dust.

  “Mike.” She expelled a short breath. “I didn’t mean that.”

  I never minded living at the lower end of the social scale. It’s not like Coalton was Beverly Hills. I never felt deprived. Every once in a while, the rich farm kids would square off against us townies, but we put them in their place with attitude. What money Dad didn’t guzzle away, he put back into the business. At least, I thought he did. I thought he was putting money away for me. He never let us starve.

  Never let us want for much. Darryl and me never wanted all that much. Only for him to be around.

  If Darryl had kept up the business, we’d have money. Enough for me to play competitive.

  Stop thinking about it. You’re not going.

  Damn her. Damn Coach Kinneson. She was dredging all this up.

  “I’ve been hearing about this pitcher.” She motioned for me to come sit beside her on the bench. “Womack. Is that her name?”

  I lowered myself and perched at the edge. You can read her jersey good as me, I thought. Wow, I’d better keep my mouth shut today.

  Coach rested her elbows on her knees to watch. “Jerry said the scouts are all hyperventilating to get her signed too.”

  Womack pivoted and rifled a missile to center field.

  “You could have a future in this game, Mike —”

  I stood and grabbed my glove. “In case you haven’t heard, Szabo Plumbing is back in business.”

  Coach glanced up at me. “I meant a real future. Away from here.”

  Who said I wanted away? I loped out into the field before regrettable words spewed out of my mouth. Words that might threaten that perfect attendance record by getting me suspended. Or worse, kicked off the team.

  We got shut out. The Sharon Springs’ pitcher was too much for us. We lost our composure, lost our cool. Womack scared us. She scared me. And that’s an accomplishment.

  After the game, as we were slapping hands with the Sharon Springers — proffering insincere congratulations — Womack grabbed my wrist and held on. “Girl,” she said, peering into my eyes. She knew. Knew who, or what, I was. She was one too.

  “Devon,” someone called.

  She broke our connection and turned. “Yo.”

  I watched her lope back to her team and join in their victory whoop. Devon Womack. We’d be hearing her name again.

  “Mike, over here.” Xanadu waved from the backstop. She’d come alone; sat in a crowd on the top riser of the bleachers. I could finally let my happiness show; let it fly. She’d cheered for me every time I’d snagged a wild pitch or come up to bat. Too bad I didn’t show her my best stuff today.

  “You were totally awesome,” she said as I sauntered over.

  “Oh yeah. We kicked butt.” I rolled my eyes.

  She cocked her head. “Well, you were good. Your coach is right. You should go to that camp.”

  “Would everyone just lay off about the camp!”

  Xanadu reeled back. “God.”

  Geez. What was wrong with me? “I’m sorry.” I reached for her, withdrew my hand. It wasn’t her fault.

  “Sza-bo. Mighty Mike.” Jamie jumped on my back for a pony ride. I dropped my shoulder and slammed him into the dirt.

  Xanadu said, “We should go celebrate.”

  Jamie writhed around on the ground, faking a collapsed lung.

  “Celebrate what?” I asked, helping him up. “We sucked.”

  “So? Celebrations don’t have to be about winning. They can be about life. Living. Just being alive.”

  Jamie brushed off his shorts. “I like that. Cuz you never know when you might bite the big one.”

  My eyes sliced through him like a chain saw.

  He gulped. “Sorry. Sorry, Mike. God, what’s wrong with me?”

  Did he want a list?

  “The Mouth here is contagious.” He thumbed at Xanadu.

  She bent back his thumb until he squealed. I was beginning to like this girl. Love her.

  “We could finish what we started,” Jamie said. He meant the vodka and whiskey, since we’d only managed to drink half of each. The bottles were stashed inside a toilet tank in the back of the truck. He added,

  “Tomorrow night. I don’t have to work Fridays.”

  “I can’t tomorrow,” Xanadu said. “I’m going out with Bailey.”

  Jamie’s eyes met mine. I averted my gaze, glancing over at the scoreboard. HOME: 8. VISITORS: 0. They could clear the board anytime.

  “What about Saturday night?” Xanadu suggested.

  “I have to work till ten.” Jamie pouted. “But we could go afterward.”

  They waited for my answer. The Merc would be closed by then. I didn’t really want to go out drinking again, but what could I say? I wanted to see her, be with her. Always, forever. “Okay. Sure.”

  Xanadu smiled, that secret smile.

  Jamie made a weird face. What? Did he notice? If so, he didn’t embarrass me by being an asshole. “Same time, same station.” He punched my arm. I slugged him in the gut. He faked a vomit.

  “I better get the hearse back before dark.” Xanadu sighed. “Uncle Lee got into it with Aunt Faye about me even borrowing it.” Grabbing Jamie by his cougar emblem, she added, “Let’s go, girlfriend.” She yanked him toward the parking lot. I heard Jamie say, “Could I ride in the trunk and pretend I’m a corpse?”

  I was moving the rabbit hutches closer to the front by the rolls of chicken wire when Everett hollered, “Mike. Telephone.”

  Telephone? I’d never gotten a call here. No one would phone for me at the Merc. Unless it was an emergency. What could be an emergency? Another leaky tub?

  I hurried inside. Behind the counter, Everett handed me the phone and said, “Not too long. I’m waiting for a call from Goodland on those bedding plants. They were supposed to be here yesterday.”

  I nodded acknowledgment and put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Mike, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Your brother said you were working. How old is he? He sounds totally hot.”

  Darryl? She must’ve dialed the wrong number. “He’s twenty-four going on fifty.” If she was calling to tell me about her date last night, she’d generate more interest from Jamie. I didn’t care. I lay awake m
ost of the night not caring, wondering where they’d gone, what they were doing.

  “Are we still going out tonight?” Xanadu asked.

  “Of course.” Had she forgotten? She wouldn’t forget. Would she? I was thinking about buying a new pair of Levi’s. Dressing up for her. Standing out. Everett had marked all the jeans down this morning. He might let me pay in a couple of installments.

  Xanadu let out an audible breath. “Okay, here’s the thing. Bailey asked if I’d like to come to dinner at his house tonight. He wants me to meet his parents. Apparently they all eat together on Saturday, then sit around and play cards. How Toto is that?”

  She wasn’t coming.

  “I know we were going drinking...”

  She wasn’t coming.

  “I guess what I’m calling about is to ask if you’d be mad if I went to Bailey’s. I didn’t tell him yes. I told him I’d think about it. I probably should’ve told him I had other plans, but I couldn’t bring myself to say I’d rather go out and get wasted with you guys than play Crazy Eights with the ’rents.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  She paused. “Come on. You know Bailey.”

  I did. He and Beau were choirboys. I’d never seen either of them take a drink, not even on the hayride at Coalton Days. Everett cleared his throat in my ear. In the mirror behind the counter, I caught his dour look. Didn’t he have pig feed to inventory, dewormer to stock, pasture grass to grow?

  “What do you think?” Xanadu asked.

  What do I think? I think I want you to choose me.

  “Mike?”

  I had this vision. I’d make her feel guilty and she’d go with us. All night long she’d be wishing she was with Bailey, resenting me for keeping her from him. Yeah, I wanted her, but not like that. She had to want me too.

  “Go to Bailey’s,” I told her. “The booze’ll keep. It’s kept this long.”

  “God, you’re so awesome.” She sounded happy, relieved. “Thanks, Mike. I’ll make it up to you.”

  Make it good, I thought. This is killing me.

  Her door was open a crack. I could hear the rattled intake of breath. She was dead to the world, snoring.

  From the top drawer I scooped up Dad’s last two undershirts. Something in the back of the drawer drew my attention. Colors. Fabric. His suspenders. His red, white, and blue suspenders. The ones he wore for Coalton Days. I wanted them. I lifted them out and looped them over my wrist.

  Ma hadn’t stirred, so I took the time to check around again for Dad’s work shirts. The navy ones with SZABO PLUMBING AND HEATING embroidered over the breast pocket. He had a stack of them somewhere. In all my snooping I hadn’t run across even one. Where were they? Ma’s side of the dresser, maybe?

  Her first drawer was stuffed with underwear — enormous swaths of cotton and polyester. Gray, holey, ick. It reminded me of the first time — the only time — I saw her naked. I was jolted awake by her screaming.

  “Mike! Mike!”

  I threw off my quilt and tore down the hall. Their door was ajar and Ma was screeching, “Mike, wake up. The baby isn’t breathing.” She had the baby in her arms and was wheezing, “Wake up, wake up,” Shaking Camilia’s limp body. Ma’s loose skin jiggled and her rear end hung in layers, folds, and she turned to the side, in profile, and I saw her huge droopy breasts with the gigantic brown nipples and I couldn’t help staring at them. Dad lay in bed, his mouth open, snoring. Passed out.

  Ma wailed, “Mike, get up! There’s something wrong with the baby.”

  I blinked. “Mommy?”

  She whirled and saw me in the doorway. Her eyes were wild with terror. Indescribable hell. She shrilled, “Get out! Get out of here!” She charged me, a raging elephant. “Go away.”

  I realized suddenly she wasn’t calling for me, Mike. She meant Dad. Ma hit the door running and slammed it in my face. I stumbled and fell. Then skittered back to my room and shut my door, burrowing under my quilt, hugging my knees to my chest, shaking.

  The sounds of doors opening and closing and Ma screaming. Darryl’s voice. “Ma?” Dad’s voice, finally. Later, a siren. Heavy foot-steps. Shouting. I plugged my ears with my fingers and squeezed my eyes shut.

  That’s all I remember.

  After that, the empty crib. The one still sitting in the corner of Ma’s room under heaps of clothes and trash and passing years.

  Would Dad’s shirts be in the crib? No, he kept them washed and folded. He kept all his things neat and tidy.

  She didn’t. After Camilia died, Dad did everything around the house.

  I eased open the second dresser drawer. A kraft envelope lay under the cup of a huge cotton bra. I slid out the envelope and tipped it. An object fell out. It chinked on the floor at my feet. A ring. Dad’s wedding band. She didn’t need that. I slid it on my finger. Too big, of course. The drawer below was empty. All her lower drawers, empty. I knew why. She couldn’t bend to reach them.

  A sound, a feeling, made me spin around. Ma was looking at me.

  I gave a little yelp and shut the bottom drawer with my foot.

  Her beady eyes studied me. They stripped me bare.

  “I... needed some stuff.” My voice broke. I cleared my throat.

  Ma’s jaw went slack. Her eyes glassy.

  God, was she dead? “Ma?” I started toward her and she blinked back to life. She blinked again, like, Back off. Honing in on the stuff in my hands, she stared as if transfixed.

  She was creeping me out. I took a wide berth around her to the door. Pausing in the threshold, I said, “You need anything?”

  She didn’t move. Didn’t answer. Didn’t know I was alive.

  “Xanadu has cramps and doesn’t feel like celebrating,” I told Jamie on the phone.

  If he knew the truth about her going to Bailey’s house, he didn’t let on. He bitched and moaned, “I don’t want to spend another Saturday night at home with Geneviève and Hakeem.”

  It was preferable to my alternative. His parents were human, at least. “So message Shane and wack off together,” I said.

  Jamie clucked his tongue. “I can’t. His computer crashed. He e-mailed me from a friend’s house that it won’t be fixed until Monday. How will I live without Shane until Monday?”

  “Wack yourself.” I flipped through the three or four messages Darryl had taken off the machine. Coalton was having a rash of backed up toilets and sinks. The Redmans hadn’t called about my bid. I wanted that job; it’d pay for the Levi’s, and even the Carhartt coat. More than that. A lot more. It was the biggest job I’d ever done. Alone anyway. I could fit it in somehow. Cut back on my hours at the Merc until school was out. I’d have plenty of time this summer. Just thinking about the challenge made me drool. I wondered if I should call them.

  “Shane and I need to talk about how and when we’re going to meet.”

  I tuned into Jamie. “Are you still on that kick? Get off it.”

  Jamie said, “It’s going to happen, Mike. It’s only a matter of time.”

  A matter of time, I repeated to myself. For me and Xanadu, it was only a matter of time. I felt it in my bones. Could I wait? I’d have to.

  “Why don’t you come over and we’ll rent a movie?” Jamie cut into my thoughts. “It’ll be just like old times.”

  Meaning last month. Pre-Shane. “Okay. But no horror. I get enough of that at home.”

  “How is Our Little Miss Sveltlana and the lovely Kung Pao?”

  “I’ll be there in ten,” I said.

  Jamie’s mom met me at the door of their double-wide. Dolores, not Geneviève. Dottie to me and everyone else in town. “Mike,” she said, “you sweetie. Where’ve you been? I’ve missed you.” She almost didn’t let me through the door before crushing me in a hug. I’d missed her too. She smelled like bacon. Dottie always smelled like bacon.

  Grandma Dottie’s Gourmet Goodies was the name of Dottie’s home business. Her baked goods were in high demand in all the Suprettes around western Kansas. She packaged her goodies in
red-and-white polka-dot boxes with dotted-swiss ribbon. Dottie wasn’t a grandma — she might never be, seeing as how Jamie was an only child — and the gourmet ingredient in her cooking was supposed to be a secret. Right.

  The secret was bacon fat. You could smell it clear to River View. It might seem gross, but the truth was bacon fat added a kind of earthy flavor and moistness to Dottie’s cakes and cookies.

  The oven timer buzzed and Dottie threw up her hands. “Oops, my lemon bars are done. I think Jamie’s in his room. Jamie, hon,” she called into the back. “Mike’s here.”

  I liked Dottie. Loved her, actually. She was a regular mom, more mom to me than mine had ever been. Jamie’s dad was great too. Bill, not Hakeem. He sold hay balers to farmers and ranchers, so he was on the road a lot.

  Jamie padded out dressed in his cheerleader sweater and a pleated skirt. He stopped in the alcove separating the kitchen from the living room and twirled in a circle. “How do I look?”

  “Stupid,” I said. “Why are you wearing that?”

  “We’re selecting our uniforms for next year.” Jamie admired himself in the hallway mirror. “The pants haven’t come in yet, but I wanted to see how the reverse colors looked. Kimberleigh loaned me her skirt.” He did a modified split jump in the cramped space. “What do you think?”

  “If you show up at one of my games in a skirt, you’ll find out how accurate my arm is.”

  Dottie laughed from the kitchen.

  Jamie ignored me. Checking himself out one last time, he said, “Okay, I like it. Give me a sec to change. I picked up a couple of movies at the Suprette.” He thumbed into the living room.

  The DVDs were on top of the TV — the big-screen TV that took up half the trailer. I wandered over to see what he’d gotten. The aroma of sugar and lemon and bacon redirected my feet to the kitchen. I didn’t realize how hungry I was. I’d only had a can of SpaghettiOs for dinner.

  Dottie was sliding a cake pan into the oven. “Oh, Mike. Good. I’m trying out a new recipe for lemon bars. Don’t tell, but it’s really Emeril’s recipe that I’m enhancing with my own secret ingredient.” She winked at me. “I need a taste tester. Do the honors?”

  She had to ask?

  She sliced a hunk from a second pan that was cooling on a rack on the counter. As I bit into the lemon bar, she watched intently, index finger pressed to her chin.