“You say you are desperate. Desperate times and all of that.” We sat in silence for a long time. I pictured myself, I don’t know, going to some seedy place in town… or going on a website… It was just too… And then Anthony Jr… How would I even… No. No this was not even…
“I can’t do that,” I said, “It is just… it is wrong,” I said. But I wasn’t even really sure I thought it was wrong. I just knew I couldn’t do that.
“Well, barring that, you are right. There is only one solution,” Joanne said. I furrowed my brow.
“What do you mean?” I asked. I hadn’t suggested anything.
“You don’t work, you don’t eat,” Joanne shrugged, “Push the baby bird out of the nest. Give him no choice but to fly.” There was a hard feeling in the pit of my stomach. The thing I had always avoided thinking about.
“Hey Ms. Glenn,” a small voice said from the front lawn. Joanne and I both turned and looked. A neighborhood boy was standing there. I knew him.
“Hello, Dylan,” I said.
“Can Anthony Jr. come out and play?” he asked and I felt my heart sink into my knees. Was I doomed to hear those words for the rest of my life.
“He is out back. You guys trading cards?” I asked and Dylan nodded. He was 12. My son was friends with kids his emotional age. Dylan nodded and headed to the fence. Headed out to the backyard. Joanne watched him walk away. Then she turned to me.
“I need to go home. Carl will be home from work soon. I need to get started on dinner,” she said. I nodded.
“Thanks Joanne,” I said, “For talking.”
“Wish I could do more,” she smiled and stood up.
“Wish I could too,” I said, meaning much more than she did. I watched her walk over to her home. The door closed. A happy woman with an empty nest. I sighed.
And then I heard giggling. From the back yard. My son and his friend. Having fun as boys do. I buried my head in my hands for a moment. Just closed my eyes and tried to drown out all of my thoughts as best I could. Just trying to make a low hum in my mind. But I couldn’t I could hear them talking. My son and his friend.
I rose up from my seat, not really thinking about what I was going to do, and I took the same path Dylan had just taken. I moved around towards the back of my house. There was a small deck in the back. And, below the deck, was a patio. Anthony Jr. Took his laptop and his cards out there sometimes. I knew he was there. I knew he had his headphones on when I was talking to Joanne. Because he always did. But now he was talking to Dylan. I stopped, just at the edge of the house. I didn’t move around corner. I stopped and listened where they couldn’t see me. I don’t know why I did that.
“No way!” I heard Dylan say, “I won’t give you,” I don’t know, some card I can’t remember now, “For six of,” some other goddamned cards. Dylan laughed.
“Come on! You said you would two weeks ago, I got the card. Let’s make the trade!” Anthony Jr. whined. God, his voice might’ve sounded higher than Dylan’s.
“Well I am not doing it,” Dylan said.
“Bullshit you douche, you promised.” Anthony Jr. sniveled louder. It almost made me want to go around the back of the house and slap him. To care so much about something so dumb. To complain so pitifully about it. I ran my hands through my hair.
“We didn’t shake hands,” Dylan taunted Dylan was a little shit too, I concluded.
“Look, you came all the way out here, you want to make a trade still. What do you want? You know what I got,” Anthony Jr. pleaded. There was a pause for a minute. I think Dylan was rifling through Anthony Jr.’s card.
“You don’t have” some other fucking card, “anymore.” Dylan said, disappointed.
“I traded it to Matt last week,” Anthony Jr. said.
“For what?” Dylan asked.
“For,” Christ, you know I don’t know what card. Dylan guffawed.
“No way! That card you traded wasn’t worth that!” Dylan said, “How’d you get that out of Matt?” There was a long pause.
“I gave him other stuff too,” Anthony Jr. said.
“What else?” Dylan said flipping through the cards, “Nothing else is missing.” Anthony Jr. Sighed loudly.
“Promise you won’t tell?” he asked, childishly. I didn’t hear Dylan say anything, but it was evident that he nodded, “A pair of my mom’s panties.”
It was a gut punch. That was, without a doubt the last thing that I expected to hear. And I was disgusted by it. The invasion of privacy. The… nastiness of it. I leaned against the wall of my house. What had Anthony Jr. done? To get some sort of stupid card. My cheeks burned and my guts churned. But Dylan was laughing.
“Your mom is so fucking hot!” Dylan said.
“Shut up you dick!” I heard Anthony Jr. say.
“Your mom wants my dick,” Dylan joked. I didn’t hear Anthony Jr. say anything. “I will trade this card if you get me one of your mom’s bras.” He said.
“You guys are such pervs,” Anthony Jr. said.
“Oh come on, you know your mom is hot. You can’t pretend like she isn’t.”
“She’s my mom!” Anthony Jr. protested.
“You didn’t say she wasn’t hot,” Dylan taunted. There was a long pause. A very long pause.
“Yeah, okay, let’s make the trade. I will go to the laundry room,” Anthony Jr. said. And he went inside.