Two Under Par (4 page)

Aunt Bonnie kept apologizing; she had heard the phone ring, but was tired of running in from the garden, wiping her feet, and racing through the house to get to the phone. “If only I'd answered that phone . . .” she said. “I'm so sorry.”

“And
I'm
sorry you had to worry, King,” Uncle Larry added. “I just assumed Wedge told you he was with us.”

“Don't apologize,” King said. Suddenly he didn't know what to do with his hands. He started jingling his keys. “I'm just glad I thought of checking here on my way home.”

Wedge felt squirmy—he hated being talked about—so he crouched as low as he could in the garden, making himself as small as possible, and began digging enthusiastically.

Aunt Bonnie got up and motioned toward the house with a graceful sweep of her arm. “Come inside and sit down, King. I'll make a pitcher of iced tea.” She led the way around the house to the back door. “I hope you like brownies!” she called.

Wedge grabbed four brownies off the tray that Aunt Bonnie had prepared. On the tray were three glasses, three spoons, three napkins, a pitcher of iced tea, sugar, lemon slices, and a plate heaped with fat brownies. There had been four glasses, four spoons, and four napkins on the tray, but Wedge had taken off one of each and set them back on the counter.

“Now, Wedge, you're
sure
you don't want to sit in the living room with us?” Aunt Bonnie asked for the second time.

“I'm sure.”

“Stuffy adults?”

“Something like that.” Wedge headed for the back door. “I'm going to mess around outside!” he yelled from the hallway. He opened and slammed the back door—making it sound as though he had gone out. He waited, silently counting to one hundred. Then he tiptoed back into the kitchen. He crept along the wall and knelt down by the sink. Craning his head around the doorframe, he kept as quiet as he knew how. He had a sneaking suspicion he was going to be talked about again. And even though he hated that thought, his curiosity won out. He stayed. And hid. And watched. And listened.

Wedge could see the backs of King's and Uncle Larry's heads. They appeared to be sinking into the deep sofa. Swallowed by its softness. Aunt Bonnie was sitting in the rocking chair. Wedge couldn't see her, but he could hear the chair creak, then moan, creak, then moan.

Iced tea was poured. Ice cubes clattered. And the talking began.

“I'm counting on your being hungry,” Wedge heard Aunt Bonnie say.

King said, “Thank you,” and “Your garden is beautiful.”

Now it was Aunt Bonnie and Uncle Larry's turn to say thank you.

They talked about Uncle Larry's being laid off from the canning plant and his part-time job at K Mart. They talked about the Blombergs' dog, Patsy, who got heatstroke. Then it got interesting.

“Where's Wedge?” King asked.

Wedge's ears perked up.

“He's outside,” Aunt Bonnie answered. Creak, then moan, creak, then moan, went the chair.

There was a silence before King said to Uncle Larry, “Sally's told me you've been like a father to Wedge. Taking him places. To ball games.”

“Oh, I guess I just try to help him out when he needs it. Fill some of the holes in his life.”

Wedge sucked in his breath. He was afraid to listen. Afraid not to.

King again: “I don't know what to do or say to Wedge. I really want him to like me—but it looks like that'll be easier said than done. And it's hard when they're not your own—you have to be so delicate. Any tips? You two seem to know him so well.”

“I think time will do it,” Aunt Bonnie said.

“Yeah,” Uncle Larry agreed. “Just hang in there, King. Wedge is a good kid. A
big
one,” he added, chuckling. “But seriously, I think he's got a big heart, too. It's just hidden under a few too many pounds of loneliness and confusion.” A pause. “I always told Bonnie I didn't envy the man who might eventually marry Sally, because he'd have his hands full with Wedge. And with the trouble he's always had dealing with not having a father.” Another pause. “You know, he scared off two men from the Big Brothers organization in record time. One afternoon was too much for both of them.”

“Larry,”
Aunt Bonnie said in a tone that meant:
Please be quiet
. Wedge could picture her disgusted look.

But Uncle Larry went on. “For a while he told the kids at school that his father was an Arctic explorer. Then it was a high-wire performer in France, or something. Last I heard, it was an oil tycoon in Dallas. You can't really blame him, though—sometimes dreaming gets you through a rough day. Or a rough night.”

Wedge had heard enough. Eavesdropping wasn't all it was cracked up to be. It was a different kind of hurt, but it was more painful than the dentist's drill. He felt dull. His head was hazy. At first he thought he'd go outside as he had pretended to. But he knew they'd just keep talking about him. And that would be just as bad as (if not worse than) hearing every uncomfortable word. Because then he'd end up imagining what they were saying.

Wedge knew one way to end their talking. He simply waltzed in on them as if nothing had happened and caught them by surprise. “I ran out of brownies,” he announced.

Aunt Bonnie turned with a start. “Oh! Wedge!”

Uncle Larry stuffed a whole brownie into his mouth, then loudly smacked his lips like a popgun going off.

And King started muttering. “Uh. The garden is
really
beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Aunt Bonnie replied. Wedge felt as if he were on “The Twilight Zone.” As if he had been here before. Mr. Saunders, his science teacher from last year, called it déjà-vu. “But we're fighting a losing battle with our weeds,” Aunt Bonnie continued. “They're definitely strong willed.”

They all laughed. Except Wedge. He was thinking of
his
losing battle.

Because Wedge was there, they only talked about polite things now—grocery prices, the weather, lawn care. And that was perfectly fine with Wedge. He hung onto the adults the way a barnacle does to a boat—never letting them out of his sight or his hearing range.

King and Wedge stayed for dinner. Wedge was on his best behavior. Afterward, Uncle Larry brought out dusty old photo albums and they looked at Sally's and Bonnie's baby pictures. Baby pictures, Wedge thought, are the last thing I want to see.

“We better get going!” Wedge said suddenly, rising from the depths of the sofa, remembering his note. “Sally's going to call me! She told me she would! She could be trying right now!”

King put Wedge's bike in the trunk. Aunt Bonnie and Uncle Larry waved good night.

“The day turned out okay after all,” King said to Wedge in an optimistic voice.

“Says who?” Wedge whispered back. Wedge swallowed hard as he got into the car. It seemed small and dark and like a prison. He was dreading this night more than he had ever dreaded anything in his entire life.

S
ilence filled the car, barely leaving enough room for its two passengers. Wedge didn't feel like talking. King was at a loss for words. As they drove the short distance through the growing darkness, the day's events played back in Wedge's head like a broken record. Over and over. This was definitely one of his worst days. Ever. And the fact that it was almost night didn't help things.

There was something about nighttime that Wedge didn't like. He wasn't afraid of monsters hiding in the shadows or ghosts watching from around corners, anymore. But he was less sure of himself at night. His confidence faded with the light.

It was after ten o'clock. Wedge had been waiting by the upstairs extension phone ever since he and King had arrived home. All the while he waited, he held the note Sally had written him. It smelled of lilacs. Just like Sally. It was the perfume she always wore. Sometimes she sprayed it on so generously that Wedge referred to her as “The Walking Perfume Factory” or “The Human Lilac Bush,” and it made him feel queasy, especially if they were in the Volkswagen with the windows rolled up. But that night he continued to sniff the note even though the scent of lilacs had already made him feel light-headed.

The phone finally rang. Wedge answered it before the first ring was even completed.

“Sally?!”

“Will you accept a collect call from a Sally?” someone asked, sounding distant and formal.

“Yes!” Wedge cried. “Sally?!”

“Wedge! Hi, baby!” Wedge listened carefully to Sally's voice. The sound of every word. “How are you?”

Loaded question, Wedge thought. Not knowing where to start. What to say.

“Wedge? Are you there?”

“Yeah. And, uh, I wish you were here, too.” His throat tightened. “You think you might come home
early?
”

At that point King picked up the phone in the kitchen. “Sal? Is that you?”

“Hi, King,” Sally said. “Do you care if I talk to Wedge alone for a few minutes? Then Andrew and I will tell you all about our day.” Sally made a kissing sound, the phone clicked, and King was gone.

“Wedge,” Sally began, “remember our talk this morning? Let's be happy. I know everything's been a big rush, but I want to get to know the
real
Andrew and I want King to get to know the
real
you. This seemed like the best way. It really did. And you know me, Wedge, sometimes I just
do
things.”

I think I know what else you did, Wedge thought. He found himself feeling angry, too, now. Lonely and angry.

Sally continued. “It's like jumping off the high dive at the public pool. You can sit around and wait and get yourself all worked up and scared. Or you can take a deep breath, close your eyes, and
jump!
I like to jump. Do you know what I mean, honey?”

Maybe you jump too often, Wedge said in his head.

“Honey?”

Wedge hated the high dive. Whenever he climbed up the ladder to the board, he saw double and the way the board swayed when he stood on it made his ears pound with blood. But if you didn't go through with it and jump, everyone laughed at you. Wedge also hated the high dive because he hated swimming. And he hated swimming because he didn't like to wear a swimming suit. He even disliked short pants. They made him feel uncomfortable and nervous. Fatter. No matter how hot it was, long pants were the only way to go. But if given the choice, he'd rather be perched atop the high dive completely naked than be where he was at this moment.

“Wedge?
Wedge?
” Sally called, bringing his attention back to their conversation.

Wedge didn't answer, though. Words dangled in his throat, but he couldn't squeeze them out. If he wasn't able to see Sally for a week he didn't think he wanted to talk to her, either. It was too hard. It just made things worse. And anyway, what was he supposed to say?

“Wedge? Is this a bad connection?”

“It must be,” he replied, making his voice crackle and thumping the phone with his thumb. “I'll tell King to come back on.”

Wedge placed the receiver on the floor and yelled downstairs to King.

“I love you, Wedge!” Sally shouted into the phone.

Wedge stared at the receiver. He stared and stared. Against his better judgment, he decided to give eavesdropping one more try. So, instead of placing the receiver back in its cradle to give King and Sally their privacy, Wedge lay down on the floor, inching his ear up to it.

Sally was talking. “. . . and if things are that bad, I'll come home right now. I will.”

“No. Really,” King replied. “I want to do this on my own.”

“Are you sure?”

“I'm sure.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Was this a bad idea?” Sally asked, sounding apologetic.

Wedge didn't quite understand King's reply. “Well,” he said, “it was great in theory.”

Then they both laughed. A happy-sad-exhausted laugh.

Sally said that they were staying in Madison. The next day they'd be visiting the capital and the zoo. Then they'd go camping. Andrew was being a real gentleman, she told King. A real little trooper. Next, Andrew came on the line sounding like an overexcited mouse with the sniffles. Then Sally and King whispered how much they loved and missed each other.

Wedge couldn't stand to listen any longer. He left the phone on the floor and went to his room, the note still pressed in the palm of his hand. He changed into his pajamas and plopped down in bed. He didn't know what to think. He curled tightly around his pillow. Hugging with all his might. Falling asleep easily would be nearly impossible. He kept smelling lilacs and hearing Sally's words: “. . .
and if things are that bad, I'll come home right now
.”

Wedge was starting to get an idea. Working out the details would get him through the long, lonely night.