No going back, p.13
No Going Back, page 13
I sat up and lifted my chin to talk to him straight.
But my eyes got stuck on a framed photo.
Him and his whole family beaming love
in matching Hawaiian shirts and leis around their necks.
You guys went to Hawaii? I asked.
A few years ago, Matthews said. Maui.
I reached for the frame. Held it close to my nose and wondered.
Mr. Matthews pointed.
That’s my wife, Suzette.
My son Cameron, he’s at Central, studying IT.
He’s graduating soon.
My daughter, Janelle. She’s headed to U-Dub on a soccer scholarship.
She wants to be a doctor.
The youngest is my son William. He loves comics. He plays the trumpet.
I set the photo down and I ask Matthews about
Hawaii,
other places he’s traveled,
where he met his wife,
where they got married,
how big his house is,
if he ever did stupid stuff as a kid,
and if he’s made mistakes as a dad.
Mr. Matthews answered all my questions
like they weren’t stupid questions.
Then he said,
Antonio, we need you here. Every day.
But we need you here sober.
That’s no problem, I said, because I’m never drinking,
never getting drunk, again.
The rules say I have to suspend you.
Zero tolerance when it comes to alcohol.
Please don’t call my dad.
But we’re not going to suspend you without a plan.
Please don’t call my dad.
We’re going to set you up with some help.
Great! Just don’t call my dad!
So when you come back, you’ll be prepped for success.
I’m bringing in Mrs. Lucrisia. And the social worker.
And we’ll start trying to get to the bottom of what’s going on.
That’s fantastic, Mr. Matthews. It’s great. Perfect. Awesome.
Just, whatever you do, please, please, please don’t call my dad.
How’s your mom? Is she still living with her friend?
Yes.
Feeling better?
Yes, but it never lasts.
And your dad?
Same old. You know?
I do have to call them.
Don’t, Mr. Matthews. Don’t call them.
I know it’s hard. But we have to get everyone on the same page
in order for you to—
I am here, Mr. Matthews!
On board. Whatever you say.
Name it. I will do it.
Just
DO
NOT
CALL
MY
DAD!
Mr. Matthews’s eyebrows lifted. Shoulders lifted.
Like nothing I said mattered and he was gonna call my dad.
I hopped to my feet and ran.
Out the office door, out the main entrance,
into the parking lot, south on 19th,
no stopping till Tammy’s house.
Because after his call, I could never see my dad again.
I couldn’t go home again.
I needed my mom.
I needed my mom.
I had to go live with my mom.
SUNDAY 2:25 PM
I run uphill in the drizzling rain to get out of Normandy Park. But the hill kicks my butt, and soon the best I can do is a brisk walk. By the time I finally make it into the heart of Des Moines, I’m soaked from head to toe as I look for a spot to dump my phone before I go to Gary’s.
There’s a branch of the King County Library on the corner. That’ll work.
First, I head to the CVS across the street. The front door swings itself open.
No one’s at the register. I make a beeline for office supplies. I pick up a silver Sharpie, then make my way to the front of the store.
Still no clerk at the register, but now there are two people in line.
I duck into the candy aisle. I look to my left. To my right. And slip the Sharpie into my pocket and walk on out.
I cross the street and walk into the library. I head for the bathroom. Tear the Sharpie out of its cardboard and plastic. I pull out my phone. I take off the cover. I write, Property of Diego Forlán. I snap the cover on, then head to the front desk and turn it in to the lost and found. And I walk out of there.
I went to see my dad.
I stole.
I ditched my phone. Murdock can’t reach me.
Three terms gone in one hour.
If I make it through this day…
When She Would Not Take Me In
So then I stood at Tammy’s front door,
panting from running all the way from school.
I took a sec to catch my breath,
reminding myself to stand up straight,
act polite, not drunk, not desperate.
I knocked nicely. Tak-tak-tak.
No answer.
I knocked harder. BAM-BAM-BAM!
No answer, so I shouted,
Mom! Mamá! Mami! I know you’re in there!
I need to see you! I need to be with you!
To live with you! Please, Mamá! Please!
I stumbled off the porch to peek in the window
but couldn’t see because of curtains.
I stumbled back to the door, about to pound louder.
Then a squeak and tick as the mail slot lifted and Tammy said,
You can’t see your mom when you’re like this.
You know that, Antonio. You have to go.
And come back later. But only if you’re sober.
I understood why Tammy said that.
Cuz the last time I pounded on the door,
I pounded and pounded. I slapped at the windows.
I shouted so loud, reminding my mom I was the one who fed her,
kept a washcloth steaming hot or freezing cold for her.
I was the one who read to her, who prepped her needle,
who put on a brave face to poke her in the hip with meds.
I was the one who got between her and my dad.
I pounded and pounded and slapped and shouted all that.
And I left knowing it was cruel and stupid.
But there I was, back again,
pounding the door again,
slapping the window again.
It had to have looked and sounded bad,
but I was just so afraid of Matthews calling my dad.
I’d felt the sting of his wrath, time and again,
for so much less than being drunk in class.
I need you, Mamá!
I staggered back to slap the window again.
That’s when I saw her standing there,
holding the curtain back with one hand.
Just enough for me to see tears streaming down her face.
She took a breath like she had no strength to take another.
She looked desperate, wanting, loving, hating,
losing, lost, gone.
I willed her eyes to meet mine.
When they finally did, I said,
Mamá, I can’t go home.
I said it like she would hear me through the window.
I can’t go back, Mamá.
I’m tired. I’m scared. I can’t. Please.
I slapped the window again.
¡¡¡PLEASE, MAMÁ!!!
The look on her face said everything. The worst thing.
You are just like him.
Her eyes fell. She turned away. The curtain fell.
My heart fell. Head fell. Knees weak, I fell.
The squeak-tick of the mail slot.
I called the cops, Tammy said.
I stood up and punched my fist in the door.
I’m not him!
And I ran and I ran. I’m not him. I’m not him. I’m not him.
SUNDAY 3:35 PM
I’m dripping wet, knocking on the door at the Viking Glen Apartments.
“Tonio!” Gary says, phone in hand, beaming, smiling. “I was not expecting you!”
“I lost my phone, so I couldn’t call first.”
He raises his phone to his face and talks to the screen. “Sit tight. There’s a lug I gotta hug.” He lunges and squeezes me. “You could never stay away from Gary for long!”
I pat his back hard a couple times and pull away.
“You’re a wreck,” he says, shaking his head at me. “Just like old times.”
“I walked from Normandy Park.”
“What were you doing in Normandy Park?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s a long walk for nothing.”
I know he won’t drop it, so I tell him I was walking to get some space from my mom. “But let’s focus on tonight,” I say.
“You and your mom on the outs again,” he says, trying to stop from smiling. “That means you are here… cuz you want your money… and… you need a place to stay.”
“I don’t think—”
“I need a place too! When my parents left for Nicaragua—”
“Nicaragua?”
“They’re missionaries now. When they took off, they laid down five months’ rent for me. Your timing is perfect because the fifth month was three months ago. I’m out of notices. And my parents won’t answer my calls.”
“Jesus, Gary.”
“Not to worry. My cousin is moving in with her new Tinder boyfriend in Portugal. She swiped right cuz love at first sight.”
“Where is this story—?”
“She needs to sublet her condo on Alki Beach. It’s huge. Perfect for my film collective. Expensive as hell. Doesn’t matter, because after tonight we will be flush with cash. So you can shack up with GJ in that bomb condo while you work it out with your mom.”
There’s a voice out of nowhere. “Uh, guys, I’m still here.”
“Oh yeah!” Gary shoves his phone at my nose. “Say hi to your buddy.”
Just like that, I’m face-to-face with those ridiculous bottomless-pit dimples, that most punchable face, that goddamn Vaughn. I stare daggers at him, wishing I could jump through the screen and wrap my fingers around his neck.
“Hi, Antonio,” he says, lip quivering.
Gary juts his face between me and the phone. “The old crew together again! And we’re gonna fix past wrongs for Tonio! Right, Vonny?” Gary turns to me and mouths the words Say something nice to Vaughn.
I snatch the phone, power it off, and drop it on the sofa. “Tell me he’s still in San Diego.”
“Nope. Sea-Tac. At his Oma’s house.”
“Did he fly up because you told him what’s going on?”
“I had no idea he was coming. He cold-called me a minute ago. Crazy coincidence, huh?”
It’s not a coincidence. I close my eyes and try to catch my breath.
I can’t. All I can think about is my dad telling me how desperate Lance is. He’s in that room with Vaughn. I know it.
Nothing good will come of telling Gary. “Tell Vaughn we’re changing plans,” I say. “Tell him we’re getting the money tomorrow.”
“You mean lie to Vaughn?”
“Yes!”
“I have never lied to my bud. And I’m not starting now.”
“The two of us can dig up the money, then cut Vaughn in later.”
“I think you’re forgetting something,” he says. “I’m the only one who knows where the money is buried. So you and Vaughn are both at my tender mercy.”
Gary powers the phone up. “Hey, pal,” he says. “Bad connection. Where were we? Oh yeah.” He shoves the phone at me again.
“Antonio,” Vaughn says, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.” He wipes his snotty nose and admits he got greedy the day of the robbery. Then he got scared in juvie so he told his lawyer whatever he wanted to hear. “Those kids in there,” he says, “were so mean. And the guards. My God. You should have seen ’em, Antonio!”
“I saw them, Vaughn.”
“I wasn’t trying to get you in trouble. I was trying to get my freedom.”
“Forget it,” I say.
“I can’t forget it. I sold you out.”
Gary punches me in the shoulder and whispers, “Forgive Vaughn.”
“Don’t forgive me,” Vaughn says. “Cuz what does forgiveness mean if you do it because someone begged you?”
Vaughn wipes his tears and snot. “I am going to earn your forgiveness, Antonio. He turns his head like he’s responding to someone hovering just off-screen. He nods at the person, then turns back to us, nervous. “That’s just my Oma. She’s trying to… pray. Can we get on with this?”
“Definitely,” Gary says. Then he whispers into the phone. “Tell me when you are clear of your Oma.”
Vaughn squints at us like trying to tap out a code. “She left. It’s okay. Say whatever you need to say.” He scrunches his eyebrows and twitches. “No one is listening.”
Vaughn’s attempts to signal us go right over Gary’s head. “Men,” he says, “we’ve waited so long. Finally, the day has come. We’ll meet up at the Des Moines Marina Pier parking gate at two AM sharp. After we get there, I’ll walk you to ground zero. And, Tonio, you are gonna appreciate the reveal.”
“The reveal?”
“Ooh, I really wanna tell you guys where the money is. But I’m not. Cuz trust issues.”
“Good,” I say. “Don’t tell us a thing. We don’t need to know.”
“Not falling for the reverse psychology, Tonio. As much as you love us and we love you, you have a very strong motive to screw us over. Especially Vaughn.” Eyes on his screen, he says, “And you, my buddy, have a proven track record of being an unreliable hot mess. Am I right?”
“I’ll own that,” Vaughn says.
“That’s okay, pal. Just means you got room to grow. Now, in regards to tonight, all you gentlemen gotta do is bring your muscles to the marina gate at two. Then leave the rest to me. Shovels, picks, bags for splitting the cash. I got all that stuff. We’ll work fast, because Tonio has to stash his dough and make it to his meeting at school.”
“I’ll have the boat,” Vaughn says.
“Oh my God, Vaughn!” Gary drops the phone and turns to me. “Vaughn being Vaughn. Just like old times.” He puts on a fake smile as he lifts the phone to his face. “What was that, buddy?”
Sweat pours down Vaughn’s forehead. “There’s so much cash, Gary. Why be greedy?”
Gary gets his face into the screen. “What are you talking about?”
“Let’s quit trying to pull one over on Antonio. We can split the money three ways, Gary, instead of two. We owe that to him, because it’s our fault he got locked up.”
I turn to Gary. “Were you really gonna—?”
“No! You always been included.”
“Antonio,” Vaughn says, “Gary said show up at two AM. The truth is, I was gonna be cruising him across Puget Sound in my twenty-foot Boston Whaler by one thirty.”
“Oh my God!” Gary says. “There you go with the Boston Whaler crap again. I suppose you’re gonna tell us Magical Charlie is gonna fly in on a jet pack?”
“I know it’s hard,” Vaughn says. “But we owe this to Antonio.”
“Am I on a prank show right now?” Gary says, smiling wild. “This is a joke, right?”
“It’s okay, Vaughn,” I say. “I’m all ears.”
“Remember how Gary used to talk about crabbing with Gary Sr. and his big brother off the north end of Vashon Island? Up by Dolphin Point. West of the ferry dock. That’s where the money is—at the bottom of the sound in a metal box in a crab pot. We were never going to Rattlesnake. It was always our plan to cut you out.”
“If it’s true we were gonna cut Antonio out,” Gary says, “why did we wait all this time to get the money? Why didn’t we just get it back then?”
Vaughn’s eyes go from side to side. He wipes his brow with the back of his hand. Takes a breath. “Because life got crazy with cops and courts and juvie. And I got sent away to California. And you were waiting for me to come back. That’s why we waited. Now here I am. And that’s why we’re getting it now.”
Gary gets in my ear. “Do not listen to Vaughn.”
“I was woozy from crashing through that glass door,” Vaughn says, “so my memory is foggy. Plus, it was dark. So I don’t know exactly where the crab pot is. Or what the buoy looks like. There are dozens of ’em up there. But Gary knows. He picked the buoy. His old man’s buoy. Right Gary?”
“I’m gonna play the game,” Gary says, winking big at me. “The money is in a metal box. In a crab pot. Off Vashon Island. At Dolphin Point. It’s tied to my dad’s buoy.”
“You got it,” Vaughn says. “I’ll have my Boston Whaler gassed up and ready to go at the end of the pier at one thirty. Just exactly like we always planned.”
“Sounds good, Vaughn,” I say.
“Come on!” Gary says. “There’s no way you have a Boston Whaler.”
“Sure he does!” I say.
