The Shortest Way Home (44 page)

“Anything super awful, or just the usual?” Sean asked.

Kevin inhaled a juicy sniffle. “My English teacher, Ms. Crosby, has this really loud high-pitched voice.”

“Do it for me,” said Sean.

Kevin screeched, “PLEASE SIT IN THE SEAT ASSIGNED TO YOU!”

“Ouch!” Sean laughed.

“And there’s this kid, Davis Dixon. He’s like a human Ping-Pong ball.”

“Bump into you?”

“Four times. The last time, I shoved him away and said, ‘Dude! Seriously!’ Then he went off and bounced into someone else.”

“Excellent strategy.”

There was no hope for the lunchroom with its constant roar of voices and hideous scrap heap of smells, but he sat with Ivan from Boy Scouts and they talked about knives, which distracted him a little. When Kevin was done off-loading his school day, they went out and jumped on the trampoline for a little while. Then Kevin returned to his room to do homework, and Sean made dinner while he waited for Rebecca to come over after work.

Aunt Vivvy walked slowly into the kitchen with George.

“What did you do today?” asked Sean.

“I was about to ask you that very question,” she said.

“I went to work in the nurse’s office at Kevin’s school. Remember how I told you I’m subbing in for a while?”

“No, I do not remember that. And that was not my question. My question was, what did
I
do today?”

CHAPTER 53

N
o amount of talking would convince Aunt Vivvy to go to a doctor. Sean went so far as to threaten to have her declared legally incompetent, to which she replied that she understood it to be an arduous process, one that would likely delay his departure for weeks, possibly months. And what if he was successful? Wouldn’t it require far greater responsibility on his part? Game, set, match. She was still sharp as a tack—when she was mentally in the building.

“Okay, well, here’s another item for the Aunt Vivvy agenda,” Sean said peevishly.

Eyes blazing, she waited for him to draw.

“Kevin needs a special ed evaluation for sensory processing issues. I’ll get the forms. As his legal guardian, you’ll sign them.”

“Agreed,” she said, smiling pleasantly. “I’ll also call my lawyer and initiate the process to have guardianship of Kevin transferred to you.”

Game, set, match.

* * *

L
ater, after Kevin and Aunt Vivvy had gone to bed, Rebecca headed home and Sean followed her in the Caprice. Her living room was full of drop-cloth-covered furniture and paint cans. One wall was painted a sage color she said was called “folklore green.”

“Folklore has a color?”

“Yes,” she said. “Apparently this is it.”

He offered to help her paint for a little while, but she slipped her arms around his waist. “You want to paint?” she said, smiling up at him. “That’s what you really want to do?”

“It’s not my first choice,” he admitted, pulling her in tight. “I’d say it’s a distant second.”

They walked up the half flight to her bedroom, and while she went to brush her teeth, he undressed and settled into her twin bed. When she came back he watched her take off her clothes, admiring her subtle musculature.
A strong, healthy female body,
he thought. He’d seen relatively few of them over the course of his life.

“Kevin seems good,” she said, snuggling into the crook of his arm.

“Yeah, Ireland really built up his confidence. He got along well with my father, too. I was thinking maybe he could go over there next summer for a couple of weeks.” Sean shifted toward her and reached up to brush a lock of hair away from her face. “I’d have to lay down some rules, though. Sometimes Da wants to talk about stuff that’s not necessarily helpful.”

“Like?”

“Like he was practically giddy to tell Kevin about the blood in black pudding.”

“Ew!”

“Yeah, and he thinks I should tell Kevin about Huntington’s. We don’t even know if he’s at risk, because we don’t know about Hugh. If you don’t have it you can’t pass it on.”

“It might be worth talking about it in general terms,” said Rebecca. “Like about your mother. Just so it’s not out of the blue when the time comes.”

“When the time comes for what?”

“To talk about getting tested.”

“Jesus, he’s just a kid—he’s not getting tested! Every major medical organization advises against it. Kids can’t handle a bad diagnosis, and it’s not like there’s anything medical science can do for him if he’s positive.”

“I’m not saying to test him
now
,” she said quietly. “But at some point when he’s older he’ll have to at least consider it.” She took a breath as if to say something else, but then didn’t.

“What?” Sean demanded.

“You’re not going to want to hear this.”

“Say it anyway.”

“If you’re going to be his legal guardian . . .” It was her soothing voice, he realized. “. . . you might want to consider getting tested yourself.”

“Christ, where is this coming from? I told you I’m almost sure I don’t have it. My mother was ten years younger than I am now when she first had symptoms.”

“Sean.” She put her hand on his chest, and he could feel his heart revving just beneath it. “It’s less likely as you get older, but it
is
possible to have a late-onset case. When you’re responsible for another person, that could be important to know.”

“Someone’s been doing research,” he muttered. He felt her body receive the gibe. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just stuff I don’t like to think about.”

“I’m on your side, Sean.”

“It sure didn’t feel like it, for a minute there.”

“Being on your side doesn’t mean I won’t ever talk about things you don’t want to talk about. It just means I’m with you.”

With me.
It sounded nice the way she said it, but there was a downside, wasn’t there? It wasn’t all hot sex and witty banter. They lay there quietly, and when his pounding heart decided it wasn’t actually under attack after all, he turned and kissed her. And she kissed him back.

* * *

K
evin was already up and dressed when Sean’s alarm went off at 6:20. He threw on shorts and went to have breakfast with Kevin, though he could have used a few more winks of sleep. Being in his own bed for a mere four hours was no easy way to start the day.

School woke him up pretty fast, however. Fifteen minutes into first block, two boys came in from phys ed. They had collided playing kickball and it soon became apparent that Alejandro with the split lip laid the blame squarely on Davis, who had a growing lump on his forehead.

By the time Sean had cleaned up the lip and given Alejandro an ice pack, Davis was breathing fast, and when Sean applied ice to his head, he burst into tears.

“Maricón,”
Alejandro muttered at him.

“Hey,” said Sean. “None of that!”

Penny looked up from the desk. Sean mouthed the translation,
faggot
,
behind the boys’ heads.

“Alejandro,” said Penny. “Do you need to spend a little time with Mr. Girardi? I’m sure he’d be very interested to know what you just said.”

“No, Ms. Coyne.”

Alejandro left with his ice pack, but Penny told Davis to stay for a moment. “You didn’t come in for your Ritalin yesterday,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“Yes, I did!” he said quickly.

“No, Davis, you didn’t. What’s the deal?”

“I just forgot. I’ll come in today, I promise.”

When he left, Penny explained that Davis had attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder—“emphasis on hyperactivity”—and was supposed to take a dose of Ritalin every four hours. “Judging by his behavior, I don’t think his mom made him take it this morning.”

“I don’t think she made him take it yesterday, either.” Sean told her about Kevin’s account of Davis bouncing into people.

“She may have ADHD herself—it runs in families,” Penny said. “By the way, you speak Spanish?”

Sean shrugged. “Not fluently. At least not anymore.”

The reference to unfortunate family inheritances had reminded him of his late-night talk with Rebecca. But then three girls came in, two leading one in the middle. “She has a migraine—it really hurts—she might throw up—” They talked over each other, faces grave, competing to show the most concern. And Sean was back in work mode.

Around lunchtime, Davis came back. Penny was at a meeting, so Sean pulled his meds. Davis took the pill and turned to leave. Sean held out a paper cup. “Here’s some water.”

“I can take it in the cafeteria.”

“How about you just take it here?”

“I don’t like water.” Davis’s eyes darted from the cup to Sean and back to the cup. “I have a Coke in my lunch.”

Amber came in, pale blond hair spread like a silken shawl around her shoulders. Davis stared at her, and she silently rebuked him with a look of disgust. His gaze dropped to the floor.

“Mr. Doran, I don’t feel that good,” she said.

As soon as Sean turned to her, Davis slipped out the door. Sean sighed. “What’s up, Amber?” He went through a slightly shorter round of questions this time, none of which she answered with any actual information, and she went to lie down on the same vinyl cot as before.

* * *

A
fter school, Sean waited on the porch for Kevin, reading an article on ADHD in
The Journal of School Nursing
. Kevin walked directly past him, and Sean let him be for a few minutes while he finished the article. Kevin’s face was red and damp when Sean went up to his room, but he wasn’t crying anymore. The bus was loud and the lunchroom disgusting, he said. But the worst part of the day was science. “I had to be lab partners with Davis Dixon! And he just kept
breathing
—like he was running a race or something! It was so loud and annoying.”

“Was this after lunch or before?”

“After. Alejandro Ramirez is really pissed at him for crashing into him in gym, and every time Alejandro walked by him in science, the breathing got louder. I could barely stand it!”

“Sounds like he was worried Alejandro might clock him one.”

“Yeah, he’s scared of, like,
everything
.”

“You know,” said Sean. “Davis might be dealing with some things he can’t control.”

“Right, like he can’t control bouncing around all the time?” Kevin scoffed. “I doubt it.”

Sean didn’t want to use Kevin’s own idiosyncrasies against him, but he was surprised at his insensitivity. “Kev,” he said. “
Everyone
has stuff that’s hard for them. And sometimes it isn’t the same stuff that’s hard for everyone else. You see what I’m getting at?”

“No,” said Kevin, petulantly.

“What’s hard for
you
?” Sean watched as the point hit home. “I’m not saying you have to like him or be best pals or anything. But don’t be mean to him. Life’s hard enough.”

* * *

T
he next day it was as if the entire school decided to pay a visit to the nurse’s office. Fevers, headaches, cramps. Sean wondered if every menstruating female in the building had spontaneously gotten her period. Even the teachers needed supplies. “Where’s Penny?” one asked, eyes casting furtively around the room. When he told her Penny was at a meeting in another building, a blush rose up her cheeks. “I need a . . . a . . .” she murmured.

“Tampon?” whispered Sean. He slipped her a couple surreptitiously, like a drug dealer.

A sprained ankle, a case of lice, a broken tooth. Emergency forms were pulled from the file like cards from the deck in a gin game. Parents were called. Notes were written. Forms filled out. Sean was sweating by the time things slowed down a little before lunch.

Two kids were waiting in the sick bays for parents to pick them up when Davis arrived for his Ritalin. Sean took him out to the hallway to talk privately. “You’re not taking your medicine, are you?” Davis looked away. “When you do take it, does it help?” Sean asked.

“A little.”

“So why not take it?”

“It makes me feel weird. Like something’s gonna get me.”

“It makes you anxious?”

“More anxious,” Davis clarified. “My mother says I’m a born worrywart.”

“Who prescribed the Ritalin?” Sean asked.

Davis glanced down the hallway, which was empty. “My psychiatrist,” he murmured.

“Does he know about the anxiety?”

“Yeah, but he says we have to deal with the ADHD first. He says for the anxiety I should
meditate
.” Davis rolled his eyes. “I have an
attention
problem,” he said. “How’m I supposed to sit still and clear my mind? If I could do that, I wouldn’t need a psychiatrist, would I?”

Dual diagnosis. Sean had read about this in the
School Nursing
article. It wasn’t uncommon for kids with ADHD to be anxiety-prone. This made it difficult to get the medication right because ADHD drugs tend to have a revving effect that can help with concentration but increase anxiety.

Sean said, “I’ll talk to Ms. Coyne about this,” and let him leave without taking the pill. After school, when the nurse’s office cleared out, Sean broached the subject with Penny. “The kid has a point,” he said. “So I let him off the hook with the Ritalin.”

“We can’t make those decisions, Sean.” She shook her head wearily. “In fact we could get in a lot of hot water for it. I’m handing this over to guidance.” And she typed up an e-mail on the spot, with Sean’s input. “Let’s see what they say.”

CHAPTER 54

O
n Saturday, Sean and Kevin went computer shopping.

“That one has no speed,” the salesclerk warned them. “They stopped making that processor like six months ago and the RAM’s low. That’s why we’re selling it so cheap.”

“We’ll take it,” said Sean.

They looked at cell phones, but there were so many plans and models and accessories to consider, Sean got overwhelmed and anxious about the expense.
This must be what Davis feels like all the time,
he thought.

On Sunday, Sean went to Rebecca’s to help her paint. He found an eighties radio station, and they laughed and sang along to forgotten superstars like Frankie Goes to Hollywood. Katrina and the Waves came on with “Walking on Sunshine,” and Rebecca dropped her brush into the paint can. “This was my favorite!” She began to dance around the room and Sean jumped up to join her. Rebecca knew all the words and sang them with abandon, even the part that went, “Baby I just want you back and I want you to stay!” Sean felt a little funny about that.