“Pop, what’s changed? We had this conversation two weeks ago. I told you, I am not ignoring them on the street.”
“Then you do what you need to do to not be on the street when they are. What’s changed is that immediately after that last conversation, you went right to your room and out the window. I’ve thought about it; I put you right back in there, but there’s no guarantee you’ll stay.”
“I didn’t go out the window. I went out the front door. You were in here congratulating yourself on another fine job of putting your foot on my neck.”
“Well, Annie, we’re down to it. My foot is on your neck. Your contact with those people, other than what needs to happen with Frankie, is finished.”
This is crazy. My fuse isn’t even lit. “And if it isn’t . . .”
“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to find another place to finish out the year.”
I smile. “You figured a way to throw me out without throwing me out. I’ll bet you’re a really good businessman.”
If this were one of those old-time cartoons, Pop would turn bright red and his head would explode. “That’s enough!”
He still hasn’t figured out that I don’t care. My head is with Walter and Wiz—and Frankie—and hopefully Sheila and maybe even Nancy. “Did Momma have anything to say about this?” I ask.
“This has nothing to do with her. This is my decision.”
“You know about the Nineteenth Amendment, right?”
“What?”
“Women’s right to vote.”
“You just can’t stop with the smart mouth, can you? Annie, what’s happened to you? Do you realize what’s at stake?”
I nod very slowly. “My self-respect. My happiness.”
“Your college education,” he says. “As it stands, I’m on the hook for that.”
I have never felt this calm in this kind of storm. “Well, I’m taking you off. You know what makes this so easy?”
He glares. In this instant it is so clear how Pop’s entire self-image depends on his capacity to be the boss.
“That you think you’re putting my future on the line. That’s a hammer no kid should live under.”
The muscle in his jaw turns into a marble.
“So, I’ll get my stuff.” I lean forward. “And by the way, poor people go to college all the time. It’s not easy, but if they really want to, they go.”
I rise to leave, and am startled to see Momma just on the other side of the paned glass door. So she was in on this, too. That breaks my heart.
I open the door to slide past her. “Stay right where you are, baby.”
Pop starts to get up.
“You stay where you are, too, baby.”
“Jane, this has nothing to do with you. This is me holding Annie responsible for her own future.”
Momma actually picks up a book from the nearest shelf and hurls it right at his head. “You arrogant son-of-a-bitch!” she yells. “What do you mean it has nothing to do with me? This is my house and my daughter and if someone’s leaving, it’s you.”
Pop is unflappable. “Jane, I know you mean well . . .”
And Momma hurls another book.
“Stop that!”
“Then shut your mouth!”
“You need to understand, this is a pivotal time in Annie’s . . .” and he’s ducking another book. The first two were paperback. This one’s a John Irving hardback.
“This is a pivotal time in your marriage,” Momma says in a low voice, reaching for another book. “A time in which the next two words out of your mouth better be ‘Yes, ma’am.’ And the three after that better be ‘I’m sorry, Annie.’”
Pop is a highly regarded business man in this town and he really doesn’t like being pushed around, and he remains true to his jock philosophy that the best defense is a powerful offense. “Jane, you’re about to get into territory that’s very hard to retreat from.”
“It’s impossible to retreat from,” Momma says, “and you will by God not see me take one step backward. I just gave you two short, easily learnable lines that could have led to a two percent chance of saving your marriage and you blew them. By the end of this day, one of us is going to be out of this house.”
The only sound is that of her retreating footsteps.
Pop is stunned, but only for a moment before going after her. He says, “Now look what you’ve done,” as he passes me.
I’m putting things into my duffel when I hear the knock.
“Hey, Marvin.”
“Somebody dropped a bomb right into the middle of my family.”
“Sorry, pal. It was me.”
“It was Mom,” he says.
“I’m sorry anyway.”
“I’m not,” Marvin says. “I was hating the idea of growing up, thinking I’d have to act like my dad to succeed.”
“You knew you wouldn’t though, right?”
He points at my heart. “Whoever said you were nothing but a jock.”
I point back. “Better not have been you. What’s going on out there?”
He smiles. “Dad’s at the bedroom door. He was hollering, now he’s pleading. I was using their bathroom when she locked him out. When I came out, she was logging onto the bank website.”
“What do you think will happen?”
He shrugs. “Whatever it is, my life will be better. If they break up, you and I live with Mom here or wherever she goes, and all of a sudden he has to be nice to me because I become a bargaining chip. If they stay together, Mom doesn’t let him expel you and he goes on living vicariously through your athletic exploits—though he won’t enjoy it as much—and treating me like the gay son he never wanted.”
I laugh. “You have to start bringing home a girlfriend.”
He sticks out his lower lip and snorts. “I don’t care if my dad thinks I’m gay. I don’t care if anyone thinks I’m gay. Some of the nicest guys I know are gay, and all of the assholes
