if National Paper had never laid my dad off? Would that have made it easier for him to be the other kind of father?
What if Mom didn’t have to work at a department store, with people complaining all day about stuff they’d bought, or leaving piles of clothes on dressing room floors for her to pick up? Would she look so gray and tired? Would she have noticed when I stopped coming home right after school, climbing instead into Tommy’s Buick and driving off for hours?
What if Darren and Stacy got married, in a regular wedding, maybe even in a church, before April was born?
What if I had more than two friends?
What if Jason had chosen me instead of Lee?
What if everyone got another chance after making a big mistake?
Lee was waiting for me in front of Picasso’s like we’d planned, wearing her favorite blue pullover instead of Jason’s Metallica sweatshirt. A mean part of me liked to imagine Jason saying something like,
Look, can I have my sweatshirt back once in a while?
We went inside, enveloped by the perpetual darkness that was Picasso’s. I saw the outline of Tommy, leaning on the counter, chewing a plastic straw. Other than one family in a front booth, there were no customers.
“Dee Dee,” Tommy said as we got closer, “who’s your friend?”
I ignored him, but Lee said, “I’m Lee,” as if Tommy was some friend of her parents who actually deserved an introduction. I wondered if I could get by without telling her that he was Tommy;
the
Tommy. I went over to the fountain and scooped two cups of ice, filling them with root beer. Tommy watched.
“Why don’t you make us a pizza instead of standing there looking like an asshole,” I said.
Michael came out from the back, carrying a bucket of lettuce for the salad bar. “You’re here early,” he said to me. “It’s not busy enough for me to put you on yet.”
“I know. We’re just here for pizza.”
“Wow, a paying customer. Where have you been all my life?” He dumped the lettuce into the big bowl in the middle of the salad bar and mixed it around with the older brown lettuce that was already in there. Like no one was going to notice.
“I have to pay?”
“Well, half price when you’re not working. It’s better than nothing.” He stirred up the other salad bar stuff to make it look more fresh, then turned to the counter. “Tommy? A half-priced pizza for the ladies.”
Tommy grinned at Michael. “Oh, you’re eating, too?”
“Har-de-har.”
I ordered a Hawaiian special for us and we took a booth.
“This seems like a fun place to work,” Lee said.
“The key word is ‘seems’.”
There was a loud clatter from the family up front; a kid started to cry.
“That’s
it,
” the mom said, “no more soda.”
“I didn’t spill it on
purpose,
” the kid wailed. “I didn’t
mean
to spill it!”
I gestured toward the family. “Case in point. Now they’ll use about eight-hundred napkins to clean up what’s on the table while the rest soaks into the floor. Later, I’ll run a dirty mop over it, only of course I won’t be able to see what the hell I’m doing because Michael doesn’t believe in lightbulbs. Good times.”
“Still,” Lee said, “at least you have, like, a rapport with your coworkers and everything.”
“Is that what you call it?”
She studied me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I sucked soda up the straw then let it slide back down into the glass, the way I’d done when I was a kid. “You wanted my advice?”
“Ye-es,” she said slowly, “but first, are you sure you’re okay? You seem . . . kinda sketchy. Not totally you. Is it about moving out this summer? Did you tell your parents? Did they freak?”
“No. They don’t know about that. Like I said, it’s not really a plan. Just an idea.”
I should have told her then about Tommy, but he walked over with a pitcher of root beer and another chance slipped by.
“Refill?” he asked, winking at Lee.
“We
just
sat down,” I said,
What if Mom didn’t have to work at a department store, with people complaining all day about stuff they’d bought, or leaving piles of clothes on dressing room floors for her to pick up? Would she look so gray and tired? Would she have noticed when I stopped coming home right after school, climbing instead into Tommy’s Buick and driving off for hours?
What if Darren and Stacy got married, in a regular wedding, maybe even in a church, before April was born?
What if I had more than two friends?
What if Jason had chosen me instead of Lee?
What if everyone got another chance after making a big mistake?
Lee was waiting for me in front of Picasso’s like we’d planned, wearing her favorite blue pullover instead of Jason’s Metallica sweatshirt. A mean part of me liked to imagine Jason saying something like,
Look, can I have my sweatshirt back once in a while?
We went inside, enveloped by the perpetual darkness that was Picasso’s. I saw the outline of Tommy, leaning on the counter, chewing a plastic straw. Other than one family in a front booth, there were no customers.
“Dee Dee,” Tommy said as we got closer, “who’s your friend?”
I ignored him, but Lee said, “I’m Lee,” as if Tommy was some friend of her parents who actually deserved an introduction. I wondered if I could get by without telling her that he was Tommy;
the
Tommy. I went over to the fountain and scooped two cups of ice, filling them with root beer. Tommy watched.
“Why don’t you make us a pizza instead of standing there looking like an asshole,” I said.
Michael came out from the back, carrying a bucket of lettuce for the salad bar. “You’re here early,” he said to me. “It’s not busy enough for me to put you on yet.”
“I know. We’re just here for pizza.”
“Wow, a paying customer. Where have you been all my life?” He dumped the lettuce into the big bowl in the middle of the salad bar and mixed it around with the older brown lettuce that was already in there. Like no one was going to notice.
“I have to pay?”
“Well, half price when you’re not working. It’s better than nothing.” He stirred up the other salad bar stuff to make it look more fresh, then turned to the counter. “Tommy? A half-priced pizza for the ladies.”
Tommy grinned at Michael. “Oh, you’re eating, too?”
“Har-de-har.”
I ordered a Hawaiian special for us and we took a booth.
“This seems like a fun place to work,” Lee said.
“The key word is ‘seems’.”
There was a loud clatter from the family up front; a kid started to cry.
“That’s
it,
” the mom said, “no more soda.”
“I didn’t spill it on
purpose,
” the kid wailed. “I didn’t
mean
to spill it!”
I gestured toward the family. “Case in point. Now they’ll use about eight-hundred napkins to clean up what’s on the table while the rest soaks into the floor. Later, I’ll run a dirty mop over it, only of course I won’t be able to see what the hell I’m doing because Michael doesn’t believe in lightbulbs. Good times.”
“Still,” Lee said, “at least you have, like, a rapport with your coworkers and everything.”
“Is that what you call it?”
She studied me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I sucked soda up the straw then let it slide back down into the glass, the way I’d done when I was a kid. “You wanted my advice?”
“Ye-es,” she said slowly, “but first, are you sure you’re okay? You seem . . . kinda sketchy. Not totally you. Is it about moving out this summer? Did you tell your parents? Did they freak?”
“No. They don’t know about that. Like I said, it’s not really a plan. Just an idea.”
I should have told her then about Tommy, but he walked over with a pitcher of root beer and another chance slipped by.
“Refill?” he asked, winking at Lee.
“We
just
sat down,” I said,
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