Chapter 4

I woke up Monday morning refreshed and ready for work and it’s a good thing. Manny picked me up and we met the crew on James Island. We started at a nursery that had supplies we’d need and worked back toward home. We’d been working hard and fast and at lunch, I found out why. Hector was down a crew and we were trying to pick up the slack. On top of that, it looked like a lot of rain by the weekend, if not before.

I called home and told Mom I’d be late. Hector dropped Manny and me off at one house and he and Emilio went to the next one. Less than an hour later, he picked us up and we leap-frogged to another two houses. At the end of the day, he thanked us for a good day and said we’d try to do the same thing tomorrow.

We kept at it, leap-frogging two homes at a time, for the next three days, and by Friday morning we were two full days ahead of schedule but we were exhausted. If the other two crews were doing the same, we’d have made up for the fourth crew. We ate while we rode to the next job, skipping our normal lunch break. We could see the sky south of us getting dark. There would be no Saturday work, that was for sure.

Hector met us at a Piggly Wiggly on Maybank Highway. Both he and Art needed to grab groceries on the way home and it was starting to sprinkle. They had a conversation I couldn’t follow and Hector handed us each an envelope and thanked us for a good week. He said the other crew would be back the following week and we should enjoy the weekend. I was ready for it.

I’d lost count of our hours but I knew it was a lot. Combined with my raise to five dollars an hour, it should be pretty good. It was better than good. I had two hundred and eighty dollars to add to my little bank of cash. The other three guys were pretty happy with it, too, but they knew the other crew and were sorry for them.

When I got home at seven, I was beat. My hands had toughened up a lot and I could put in a full day’s work. I’d put in nearly sixty hours that week and much of it was with just two of us. We didn’t have the chance to rotate through jobs. I sat down in the entryway and unlaced my boots. I tried to pull them off but they felt like they’d been welded to my feet. I was tired, my boots were stuck, I was hungry, I could hear thunder booming and I just wanted to take a little nap.

“Hey, Baby,” Kim said, and I realized I had dozed off sitting there. Holy crap, was I tired.

“Hey.”

“Let me get these,” she said and started unlacing my boots the rest of the way. I was too tired to protest. “Long week?”

“Yeah. Kind of an understatement. Almost sixty hours, but it seemed like just a few moments,” I said, trying to capture that Jacob-loved-Rachel sentiment.

“Why don’t you go run yourself a hot bath and I’ll bring you a plate,” she said.

“That’s not gonna work,” Mom hollered from the next room and we both laughed.

It was late and everyone else had eaten the Brunswick Stew Kim made. I discovered I was hungrier than I was tired and ate several bowls. Kim asked and I told her about some of the lawns and gardens we worked on. I hadn’t realized how much diversity there was until I tried to explain it. She asked what I liked best.

“I like low maintenance lawns. When the lawn doesn’t have a lot of obstructions, it’s easier to mow. Mulch or bark stops weeds, and fences that have a little clearance at the bottom make weed eating easier.”

“Good to know. Silly, boy, I was asking what you would want for our lawn.”

“Oh. That’s different. Let me think a minute.” Actually, it didn’t take long at all. “I like live oak trees for their beauty. I like Confederate Jasmine, honeysuckle, and gardenias for their scent, pyracantha for the berries that attract lots of birds and can be a pretty good barrier plant. No gum trees and no wisteria. Oh, and no Bartlett pears. They are terrible.”

“Wow. That didn’t take long. You like fragrant plants,” she said, probably realizing they didn’t have many at her house.

“Some fruit trees would be good, too. Figs are awesome. Mr. Capers has one in his backyard and he told us to help ourselves. Super sweet. Their season is so short. You have to eat them while they’re ripe.”

“I think I’ll leave our garden design to you,” Kim said.

Mom had been listening to all of it and asked, “What should we plant? Should we add something?”

“Honeysuckle. If we planted some on the side of the garage, they’d make the gym smell a lot better.”

“There’s a thought. I don’t see why not,” she said.

“Bees. They can bring a lot of bees but they don’t bother you as long as you let them work.”

“You are just learning all kinds of things, aren’t you?” Mom said. “I’m proud of you. And you like working with the guys?”

“Yeah. They’re really hard workers and they’re putting food on the table for their families, plus sending money and packages home to Mexico.”

“I never even thought of that,” Kim said. “Are they married?”

“Two of my crew are, and one isn’t. They have immediate families here but the rest are in Mexico. They’ll probably go back when work slows down at the end of summer. Hector can probably get it done with one guy per truck. Maybe two. Grass stops growing and people wait until spring to plant.”

“How do they keep going? How does Hector keep going when work slows down?” Mom asked.

“They do more hardscaping. They put in walkways and retaining walls, build flower beds and do a lot of pressure washing. He said he could keep everyone busy but I think they like to go home to family. I would. They make more here in the summer than they would in a full year in Mexico.”

They asked a few more questions and I told them what I knew. I told them how Emilio always messed with me because I got my verbs messed up. They asked and I told them we rarely spoke English but it wasn’t pure Spanish, either. They called it Spanglish because they used English words whenever it was easier or more accurate.

Dane showed up as we were clearing the table. “Sorry, I’m late. We had an emergency tracheal resection and I was free. I guess that was redundant.”

“We’ll let it slide,” Kim said and shrugged her shoulders at me. I didn’t know what was redundant about it either. “Oh, I almost forgot. Do you want to go bowling tomorrow?”

“Bowling?”

“You know, black ball, white pins, destruction. That should be right up your alley. Right up your alley, get it?”

“I get it. What have you done with my girlfriend? Bowling?”

“Bobby and Melanie asked if we wanted to go with them. More fun with four people.”

“I have no idea how to bowl. I’ve never even been to a bowling alley.”

“Perfect. None of the rest of us know how to bowl, either,” Kim said.

“Honey, I think we should go,” Dane said, then looked at Kim to see if it was okay. She nodded, enthusiastically.

“Why? You want to go bowling, too?” Mom asked.

“No, but the entertainment value should be pretty high.”

“Nice. I bet you’re a super-duper bowler,” I said.

“Nope. Never been. Christie?”

“I can’t say that I’ve ever bowled before. I watched once.”

“This is classic,” I said. “None of us has ever bowled before. Doesn’t something like half of America bowl?”

“I know it’s a lot,” Dane said. “Not sure if it’s half.”

“What do you think, has Veronica or Doctor Legare ever bowled? How about your dancer friend, Marie or Doctor Tipman?” I asked.

“I don’t know about Veronica. Maybe.”

And that’s how we ended up going bowling on a rainy Saturday with ten people who had never bowled before. Doctor Tipman had, once, on a field trip in middle school but that was it. We walked into the bowling alley as a big gaggle of laughing people and we never stopped laughing. Bobby was a little miffed because he had planned on spending time with Melanie but I managed to get him aside before we really got started.

“Pissed that there are ten of us instead of four?”

“Kind of. Does it show?”

“To me, it does. Want my advice?” I asked.

“Yeah. You’ve been right about a bunch of stuff so far.”

“Make her happy. I do stuff all the time to make Kim happy. Stuff I wouldn’t have done except for that and you know what? I’ve never regretted it. If I’m not sure about something, I can always ask myself if it will make Kim happy.”

“She’s laughing enough, that’s for sure.”

“I think she’s probably more spontaneous than you. Probably more than anyone I know.”

“No kidding. That’s going to take getting used to.”

“No doubt. I know she likes spending time with just you but she also is pretty social. She loves this big group. Let’s go knock some pins down,” I said and we were bowlers.

There is no possible way to describe the ridiculousness of it all. None of us knew what we were doing and everything anyone said was hilarious, starting with Mom asking, “How hard could it be?”

When she said that, Veronica, Kim, and I laughed because that’s the same thing she’d said about horseback riding. We set an alley record for gutter balls. It was so bad; we were applauding when someone hit two pins. None of us knew how to keep score and had to trust the machine to do it for us. After a bunch of practice, we decided to play. We had two lanes next to each other.

Veronica won the first game with a ninety-six. We had nothing to compare it to. I was pretty happy with my sixty-five until I realized the goal was three hundred. I looked up and down the alley and saw that people were frequently getting strikes and scoring around two hundred. I didn’t care and had a bit of an epiphany.

“Kim, remember when I was in PE and we were playing badminton?”

“You hated it.”

“I hated PE because it wasn’t competitive and no one was focused or anything.” Mom was listening. “I get it now. I just bowled a sixty-five and I don’t care.”

It was just us, huddling to the side. “No, and that’s good, I think. But if you played more than once or twice, you’d start keeping score, wouldn’t you?” she said in my ear and then leaned back to see my face.

“Yeah. Probably happen today if we keep playing long enough,” I admitted.

Kim leaned in close again. “Don’t ruin it. Not today, not when it’s just you, me, Bobby, and Melanie. It’s okay. Not everything has to be a competition.” She leaned back again.

She had nailed it. Everything was a competition. I couldn’t even play miniature golf without competing. “How do I let go of that? I want both,” I confessed.

“Watch Dane. Watch him celebrate everyone’s success. I know he’d love to bowl more than an eighty, but he’s celebrating their success. Just do that.”

“Like we’re all on the same team,” I said.

“Exactly.”

I did it. That’s exactly what I did. I celebrated everyone’s success without worrying about if they did better than me. I remembered my experiment in complimenting people and used it after every shot. Even when Kim, who was absolutely terrible at bowling, threw a ball that almost immediately went into the gutter, I complimented her. “Nice job not falling down while bowling, Baby,” I said as she fell into the seat next to me, laughing.

“Thanks, dufus. You’re not doing much better,” she said, hugging me.

“I haven’t fallen down, either.”

“Should we order bowling shirts from the pro shop?” she asked and we laughed. We laughed until our cheeks hurt and our sides were sore. Doctor Legare came close to two hundred by the end of the day but he was still joking and having fun. This was definitely something I’d have to work on.

Kim had made plans I hadn’t known anything about and I had to take my own advice and roll with it. After we finished bowling, we caravanned back to Kim’s house for dinner. The rain had stopped and there was a perfect double rainbow. I hadn’t seen one in a while. Very pretty. When we stopped at a light, Kim leaned forward and looked up at it and smiled. When we got to her house, cars and people were already there. Inside, we were able to find a bit of room in the parlor with just the four of us. We talked about bowling and how funny it had been for a while. Honestly, we were laughed out by then and needed a break from it.

Bobby asked about our plans for the future. Kim did the talking and I was happy to let her. I was pretty sure Melanie already knew all of this but since Bobby was interested, she was willing to listen a second time. Every time Kim mentioned one of our future milestones, they exchanged glances. Kim had us graduated and back in the Lowcountry when she stopped. She didn’t know about the Fort Johnson Road property and I wasn’t ready to share that. Not yet.

“That’s a lot,” Bobby said. “I mean, y’all have thought through a lot of stuff and you’re going to give up your fourth-year swimming.”

“And baseball. Third year, since I didn’t play this year.”

“You may as well have. Everyone knows you’ll be varsity next year. Hell, they know you’ll be in center field.”

“I’d like that, but even if I don’t play, the rest of the plans stay in place.” Confronted with how much Kim and I had talked about our future and planned it, Melanie, and especially Bobby, were a bit overwhelmed. Kim must have thought the same thing. She touched my shoulder and we walked out to give them the opportunity to talk.

We went to the hall and turned toward the living room when I noticed some pictures I hadn’t seen before. “Kim, who is this?” I asked as I stopped in front of a family picture. There were several other pictures on the wall but I had a hunch about one picture.

She slowed and turned back. “That’s my family. That’s my mom, dad, sister, and me. That was our only real family picture.”

It dawned on me that Kim’s last name wasn’t McTighe in the picture. “This is your mom, right? What was your dad’s name? I was born a Strzok but got Ronnie’s name when he adopted me.”

“My Dad’s name was Robert Flannagan and my mom was Heather McTighe. My sister was Carol. It sounds weird to me to call them my mom and dad. I was adopted about a year after the accident so I have my mom’s maiden name.”

“Flannagan. That’s probably Irish, isn’t it?” She nodded. “Your mom was beautiful, and it looked like your sister was going to be really pretty, too.”

“She really was. You should see Mom’s pictures from when she was young.”

“What did your dad do? Do you know?”

“Prosecutor. Attorney for Charleston.”

“Wow. Attorneys everywhere. What about your mom?”

“Teacher. She and Mel’s mom went to school together and got hired at the same time.”

I had to process this. It started to click slowly and then all at once. “Melanie’s mom is a teacher? Where did your mom teach?”

“You’re kidding, right? Well, there’s no way you could know they both started at St. John’s but then Mrs. Middleton moved to Porter six or eight years ago.”

“Mrs. Middleton, who teaches history, is Mel’s mom?”

“How long have you been going to Porter? There’s a reason we never got a ride home from her. She was still working, grading papers and stuff. I can’t believe you didn’t know. Look at them side by side sometime. They’re like sisters.”

“Holy crap. I never put that together. You’re right, though. And your mom taught history?”

“English. You’re funny. You should see the look on your face,” she said. We’d been pretty serious but I guess I must have looked pretty clueless.

“I date a cheerleader and discover she’s secretly Frontier Woman. Then, I discover my mom was a Wallace and I’m half Irish, and then...”

“Come on, dufus, let’s see what’s cooking.”

Mr. McTighe had steaks on the grill. A lot of steaks, and he had them on a very nice grill. He looked pretty professional with his tall, white hat and grill master apron. When I got close, he clicked his tongs at me in warning. I turned around and walked away.

“Just playing with you, Jack,” he hollered at me with laughter in his voice.

“Looks like you don’t need my help.” What I really wanted was a little peace. I found it in the sunroom and sat down. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the solitude for a minute. When I opened them, Dr. Tipman was sitting quietly in one of the other seats.

When he saw my eyes open, he said, “A bit of quiet is nice.” I nodded and we sat there in silence for a while. It might have been a half hour or so before I felt refreshed enough for conversation.

“Orthopedic surgeon. You work on joints and stuff?” I asked.

“That’s one way to put it. I diagnose and treat or refer for rehab when it is appropriate and I replace a joint when that’s what’s needed.”

“The whole joint? How does that even work?”

“Depends on the joint. Shoulder and hip are a ball and socket. Knee and elbow are a hinge,” he answered quietly. It was like we were trying not to let anyone know where we were.

“Why would someone even need a new hip?”

For the next half hour, he explained what could go wrong and how a replacement could give someone back their mobility and range of motion. I asked him about engineering needs, trying to get a different perspective. I was expecting him to talk about surgical tools like Doctor Legare and Dane had but his answer was different. A lot different.

“I think there’s room for improvement in materials. There’s something of a debate about the merits of ceramic and various metal alloys. Whichever way it goes, the focus will be on increasing durability while keeping friction low. Were you thinking about a career in medicine? We could use a few more surgeons.”

“I was, but not how you think. I think I want to be a biomedical engineer.”

“Now there’s a field with a future. Lots of options.”

“Doctor Legare and Dane were telling about surgical needs but you sound like there’s more. What else is there?”

“Oh, man. You’re talking about a career field that is growing and changing like crazy. Definitely some opportunity for innovation there. Robotics has a lot of potential. I think that’s just starting. Implements like joints and the development of alloys and alloy ceramic interface have a big growth opportunity but I’ll tell you where the big growth is going to come.”

“Bigger than any of those?” This was mostly new stuff and I had no idea what he was going to suggest. Whatever it was, he was pretty excited about it.

“Software development.”

“You mean for computers and stuff.”

“Exactly and the possibilities are endless. From simple things like better data analysis to tracking patients or running simulations. Think about what it would mean to be able to simulate a knee bending a hundred thousand times, or a million. Predicting wear and potential structural failures. Or analyzing the effects of diet and exercise for improved health or longevity.” Doctor Tipman was super excited.

“And all of that requires engineering. Even software development?” He nodded.

“What does an engineer do? They invent and design, right? Obviously bridges and houses and the like, but more and more, they’re designing software and simulations and undoubtedly a lot more that I don’t know anything about.”

“Holy crap. I thought I’d narrowed it down by choosing a career in medicine but it sounds like there are a ton of options. I guess I need to do some more research.”

“What year are you in?” he asked, as Kim walked in.

“I’ll be a sophomore next year. Or else a junior. I plan to graduate in three and then go to Georgia Tech so I don’t even know if I’m a sophomore or junior. Sophomore until I prove otherwise, I guess, right?”

“High school?” he asked and I nodded. “I thought you were home from college. Everything will change by the time you get to Georgia Tech. Good school.”

Kim caught the end of the conversation and called us to dinner. We waited for Doctor Tipman to leave and she gave me a pretty nice hug and kiss. The thought crossed my mind that I might just enjoy that every day for the rest of my life. Nice.

“You don’t know how romantic it is for you to talk about our future, do you?” I didn’t and shook my head. “Bobby and Mel have been talking since we left.”

“Bobby talks less than I do,” I said, wondering how that had happened. “I talk more than I do, at least for the last year.”

“I’ll let you know if you’re babbling,” she said and I laughed. And then I thought, do I?

“I don’t babble, do I?” I asked.

“Medium rare, right?” she said avoiding the question and grabbing a plate for me. “Go. Sit and I’ll fix you a plate.” There was a spot at one of the outdoor tables next to Bobby and I fell into that. Melanie was fixing a plate for him so it was just the two of us for a few moments.

“You’re a butt,” Bobby said.

“I’ve heard that before. What’s up?”

“Mel and I were doing just fine but now we’re all talking about the future and stuff. Your fault, butt.”

“Sorry. Is that a problem?”

“Mel has questions and I don’t have answers. You two took a while to figure it out, right?” I nodded. “I think she wants answers tonight. I don’t have them.”

“Yeah. It sucks not knowing. It’s kind of cool that we have it figured out. Took a while. No arguments, though and that’s good. She lets me know when I’m way off base.”

“How?” he asked.

“She calls me a dufus,” I said as Kim and Melanie sat down.

“I’m still trying to figure out how Marie danced down the lane, right to the line to release the ball and actually knock down a couple of pins,” I said and the mental image of it was funny enough for us to change the subject away from planning for the future. I was certain Bobby was grateful.

We enjoyed perfect steaks, baked potatoes, and black-eyed peas as we talked about everything but the future. I looked over at Bobby and could see he was much more relaxed. We were alike in so many ways but different in this area, that was for sure. I was sure the same held true for Kim and Mel, although it was a lot easier for me to see the differences in them.

While Kim and Melanie talked about their plans for the next week, I looked over at our three doctors. I knew they were all super intelligent and professional but I’d seen Dane and Doctor Legare in a couple of different situations. Dane was athletic and had a good, outgoing personality. Doctor Legare was probably more athletic, except perhaps for his injury, and he was really deliberate. It seemed like everything he did was intentional. Plus, there was the obvious difference of Dane being a Yankee and Doctor Legare from North of the Cooper. I couldn’t figure out where Doctor Tipman was from but it wasn’t the Lowcountry. He didn’t sound like a Yankee, either, though. He was the tallest of the three and pretty thin. He probably should have been awkward or gangly but he wasn’t. He seemed like an introvert, but when he got talking about biomedical engineering, it seemed like he could have gone on for a long time. In a crowd, he didn’t say much.

The women were just as much of a contrast. Mrs. McTighe was quietly enjoying the conversation but I knew she had a great sense of humor and could be a real cut-up. Veronica was outgoing and fun but Marie probably had her beat in that department, which was pretty remarkable. If the two of them went out on the town, I thought the police would eventually be involved and the thought of Mom bailing them out of jail made me laugh out loud. Conversation stopped in mid-sentence as Melanie looked at me. Kim knew me well enough not to ask. I’d tell her later. Bobby didn’t notice.

Bobby needed to leave early if you consider ten early. Since I’d been working, early or late had taken on new meanings. I grabbed a ride with him. We kissed our girls goodnight and drove off.

“It’s good to talk about the future but you and Mel aren’t Kim and me. You don’t have to do what we do,” I said.

“I know it. But Mel kind of looks up to Kim. It kind of ups the pressure, you know?”

“Yeah. I get it. Want me to talk to Kim about it?”

“I don’t want Mel to think we kind of went behind her back or anything,” Bobby said, concerned that it would get back to her that the two of us had talked.

“Kim’s folks are attorneys,” I said, thinking that explained everything.

“So?”

“Sorry. It means she understands privileged information. She would know how to talk to Mel without revealing that she and I had talked or we had talked. Up to you.” How was I becoming the intermediary? I needed to get out of that business or eventually, I’d piss someone off.

“I should probably deal with it myself. You and Kim aren’t always going to be around.” I thought that was a good take on it. He dropped me off.

I stood inside, just enjoying the silence for a minute. We’d been partying since ten or so, about twelve hours. I scrambled some eggs, wolfed them down and hit the sack without cracking a book open. My reading had slowed down since I’d been working and I didn’t like it.

Sunday morning, that changed. I read until ten, then called Bobby. He picked me up and we went to Porter. He had a key and we went through the gym to swim. The deal was, that he could swim whenever he wanted to as long as there was another person there. I put in two leisurely miles of freestyle then grabbed the pull buoys and hand paddles and really worked for five hundred. When my shoulders were burning, I switched to butterfly and really set them on fire. When I was done, I was done. Bobby was knocking out the laps, nice and easy and I watched for a while.

He saw me watching, made one more turn, and popped up at my end. “Done?”

“I did two miles free and probably close to another half mile fly. Yeah. I’m done. You’ve been going non-stop the whole time? Probably because backstroke is so easy.”

“That’s it, alright. Want to race?”

“Sure. You pick the stroke, butterfly, or breaststroke.” He laughed and climbed out. “You thinking about doing IM next year?” I asked, referring to the individual medley, where a swimmer had to use all four strokes in a single race.

“Thinking about it. Not sure yet.”

“You help me with backstroke and I’ll help you with fly and we both will. What do you think?”

“What makes you think I need help?” he said, laughing, as we walked to the showers. We agreed to do exactly that. The backstroke was where I needed the most help and just about everyone needs help with fly.

He dropped me off at home. I’d invited him to stay since I was working with Vince on boxing that afternoon but he had other plans. When I walked into the kitchen, Mom pointed me to a seat and served up an amazing meatball sandwich. It was huge and messy and filling. I had two. When I finished, I tried to give her a hug but for some reason she didn’t want it. Maybe it was the spaghetti sauce all over my hands and face.

“Thanks, Mom. You’re the best,” I said, walking to my room to wash up. With a clean face, I checked closely. Still no mustache! How could I be as big, strong, and athletic as I was, closing in on sixteen, and not be giving Tom Selleck a run for his money? It didn’t make any sense. I felt again. Smooth. Saves time getting ready in the morning, I told myself. Yup. That was the deal. A real time saver.

I went to the library to read while waiting for Vince to show. No idea how long I’d been asleep when Mom shook me. Vince was standing at the door.

“Wake up, champ. Didn’t you hear the bell?” He asked.

“Oh, man, I was having a great dream. I need to go back to sleep,” I mumbled.

“C’mon, Aquaman. Don’t keep him waiting,” Mom urged, jiggling my arm.

“I was in Italy and there was this giant mountain of spaghetti blocking the road and they were counting on me to move it. I was doing pretty good until you woke me up.”

“Nice,” Vince said.

“C’mon, Sport. Italians know how to eat spaghetti. They can clear the road on their own.”

“They were counting on me,” I said, standing up. “What a crazy dream. Now, I’m hungry again.”

We stepped out into an oven. It was hot, and it was humid. Welcome to summer in Charleston. In the gym, I opened all the doors and turned on the fan to get the circulation going, and pulled a couple of bottles of water out of the little fridge.

It was too hot for a heavy workout. I suggested we focus on footwork and managing space. That’s what Timex called it. You could be too far away from your opponent to either hit him or get hit and that was where most of the fight took place. But you could work in close where your short, chopping punches might wear him down. That’s where brawlers liked to be, wearing you down. One of the keys to boxing rather than brawling was managing space. Moving through that critical distance of safety, close enough to hit your opponent and inflict some damage, and then moving back out. Roberto Duran was more of a brawler and Sugar Ray Leonard was definitely a boxer. We both knew what happened when Sugar Ray failed to manage space and tried to beat a brawler at his own game. He lost.

Vince was a natural athlete and a fast learner. I had him work from outside the critical distance, hit the target pads a couple of times, and then back out before I could hit him with the pads. He was good. We’d been at it for forty-five minutes or so when Vince stopped and dropped his hands.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“You,” he answered. “You’re breathing heavy and you’re having a hard time holding your hands up. It’s not like you. What have you been doing today, before eating all the spaghetti in Italy? No. What have you been doing this week?”