Words We Don't Say Read online

  I whispered as the rain pounded down on the roof, “They had pizza for lunch and chocolate milk and pretzels that day, Andy.” I was still shaking. Sobbing.

  I texted Eli: There is no God.

  Then I hit delete.

  Texted her again: There has to be a God. For Spindini. And Andy. And…

  Hit save to draft, then got up.

  Dropped my phone back into my pocket, then kicked the side of an empty gas can and sent it flying.

  Then I shut my phone off.

  My hands were still shaking.

  I took the bullet out of the chamber, wrapped the gun back up in the rag, and put it back in its hiding place, tucked it underneath and inside the stack of bricks. Four bricks down from the top. Three over to the left.

  On my way out of the garage I was skittish and jumpy. I heard Spindini’s voice play back in my head, no man left behind…seeing your buddy die is even worse than killing someone or dying yourself…. I stumbled in the dark, tripped over a paint can, then stopped to pick up a small blue Matchbox police car that was lying on the cement near the trash bins by the garage doors and put it in my pocket to give back to Jace. It was pitch-black outside because I hadn’t flipped on the outside lights, so I lost my footing a couple of times as I staggered back to the house in the driving rain drunk with pain. I was thinking about the fact that in Driver’s Ed today when I put the car in R for reverse when I was supposed to be in D for drive to mess with Mr. Stanley again, he grabbed my arm and said, “Joel, at some point you are going to have to stop going backward and put the vehicle in drive and move forward.” He put a big emphasis on the word forward.

  And I knew he was right.

  But Andy was back there, and I didn’t know what was up ahead.

  When I stepped inside the house through the front door Jackson looked up from the TV and I managed to say, “What are you still doing up, Pop?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. I taped last week’s game in Cleveland, so I decided to watch it.”

  I took off my sneakers and he asked, “What were you doing outside in the rain at this hour?” His voice was soft, un-Jackson-like.

  I just looked at him like he was speaking a language I didn’t understand, then mumbled, “I was just checking email. There’s better cell service out in the garage.”

  Jackson sat back in his chair. It was going on 4:00 a.m. He took a swig from the beer can he was holding but didn’t bother challenging me. Instead he said, “The damn game got delayed ’cause of rain and the goddamned Yanks were up by six runs.”

  I said, “Maybe that’s just God’s way of punishing you.” And Jackson did a double take and then looked at me long and hard before he said, “Jesus, Joel. God’s got better things to do than punish me by raining out the Yankee game.”

  I looked at him.

  Then Jackson said, “I’m so sorry about Andy, son. I really am.”

  And I said, “Don’t worry, the Yanks have a good chance at the pennant this year, Dad. You’ll see.”

  And he said, “Joel…”

  And I said, “Good night, Pop.”

  And he said, “Joel.”

  And I said, “I can’t.”

  for a few days.

  He slept in the top bunk and I slept in the bottom bunk, which meant that when Jace came in because he wet his bed I had to put him in the bottom bunk and I had to go sleep on the couch ’cause I wasn’t going to change his sheets in the middle of the night or argue with him. In the morning when Jesus, Mary would come downstairs she would say, “Joel, what are you doing down here?” And I would say, “Your whole plan about ignoring the bed wetting isn’t working ’cause the only thing getting extinguished is my privacy.” And Jesus, Mary would say something like, “Oh, sorry, honey! Did Jace show up in your room again last night?”

  And I’d be thinking, What’s wrong with her? Probably Alzheimer’s or dementia or some other early stage cognitive degenerative disease.

  Then Benj and Jace would come thundering down the stairs and they would be playing What if….

  Benj would say something dumb like, “What if there was a gorilla in the kitchen and you had to get him out?” And Jacey would say, “That’s easy, I would just use Gorilla Glue to stick him to the floor and then I would hit him with my Wiffle ball bat and then he would go zonk! And then I would eat pancakes and watch TV!”

  Then Benj would say, “Well, what if the Gorilla Glue didn’t work and he lifted his big gorilla arms…” and then Benj would lift his big gorilla arms and start to roar and then they would be running around the house playing Angry Gorilla and Jackson would come down the stairs and say, “What the hell is all this racket?” And Benj would say, “Potty mouth! Mr. Higgins has a potty mouth!” And Jacey would laugh and laugh. And then Jackson would come into the kitchen and say, “Tell me when we can send Benj home.” And I would say, “Not yet, Pop,” and he would say, “Okay, Joel.”

  And then, a few days later, Benj announced that he was ready to go back to his aunt’s house.

  At dinner the night after we took Benj home, Jackson said, “Hey, Joel, I didn’t want to say anything with Kutchner here but three wrecks came into the shop a few days ago.”

  Jackson told us that the insurance company was jammed up because of tornadoes in Indiana and the adjuster couldn’t come look at the cars for at least another week to do an estimate but they were totaled anyway. “Still drive, though,” he said, and I knew what he was thinking.

  We exchanged a look.

  “How about crash-car combat, Joel?”

  I smiled.

  Crash-car combat was when Jackson and me would take wrecked cars that were going to be picked up by the car-crushing company after the insurance companies had declared them totaled—or sometimes right before that—and we would bring them in the middle of the night on Jackson’s flatbed to a parking field up by the go-cart track that was owned by Hugh Jenson, the fire chief, who sometimes conducted drills with the wrecks to teach firefighters how to put out car fires. But anyway, we wrecked the cars even more. Just hauled off and crashed them into each other like a demolition derby or monster truck rally.

  “Wait, I have another idea,” I said. “You say there are three and they all drive?”

  “Yup.”

  “Can you tow them to the lot?”

  “But we’re not going to crash them?” Jackson asked, disappointed.

  Jesus, Mary said, “Jackson, you sound like Jace!”

  “Oh, I’m gonna crash them, just not with you,” I said.

  “And why is that?”

  “I want to use them to teach Eli how to parallel park.”

  “Eli? That cute little girl who sang that awful song at Family Fun Night at Shady Brook?”

  Jesus, Mary said, “She’s not so little anymore, Jackson.”

  “But she’s still pretty,” Jacey said. “I see her waiting for the bus sometimes when we pick up Joel.”

  Jacey was crashing trucks together on the dinner table right next to his plate, which he wasn’t supposed to be doing, so I said, “No trucks at the table, Jace,” and he said, “No ’lectronics at the dinner table, Joel!” I swiped my phone off the table and stuck it in my pocket and he swiped his trucks off the table and stuck them in his pocket and then I stuck my tongue out at him and he said, “You tattled first!” And Jackson said, “Do you two want to take this outside?” and Jacey said, “We’re not evenly matched. I’d take him in a second,” and Jesus, Mary said, “Eat your string beans, Jace,” and he said, “I did,” and I said, “They’re in his pocket,” and he got mad and crossed his arms in a huff and then he started to hold his breath and then I tickled him and when he was wiggling a couple of the string beans fell out of his pocket and onto the floor and he said, “I was going to eat them later!” and Jackson said, “I can’t stand this commotion. I’m taking my food in by the game.”

  Then Jacey said, “Ha-ha, Jackson, you’ll miss all the fun.”

  Jackson hated when Jacey called him by his name but
he didn’t say anything about it this time. He just smiled at Jesus, Mary and said, “I’ll take my chances on that.” But before he left he turned to me and said, “Is this driving lesson tomorrow with Eli by any chance a date?”

  And I said, “Sadly no, Pop. It’s just that Mr. Stanley said that no one else gets to drive until Eli can parallel park and it’s been two weeks and there is no chance in hell that even if we spend the rest of our lives trying to parallel park with her behind the wheel that—”

  “Got it, son. Extreme measures.”

  “Yes, sir. Extreme measures.”

  Eli asked when we were standing next to our lockers and I told her about the parking plan.

  I took her asking about my dad as a good sign because she didn’t give me an Auto No, which, when it came to girls, was sort of like an Auto F.

  I said, “My dad will just drop us off and then he’ll leave us there until I call him to pick us up. Which, by the way, won’t be until you can park like a valet.”

  “And you really think that you can teach me how to parallel park?”

  Eli had disbelief plastered on her face and her hand on her hip like she always did when she was thinking that I was somehow trying to pull one over on her.

  “I know I can teach you how to parallel park.”

  Which wasn’t completely true. I mean, I had my doubts because last week Mr. Stanley asked Eli what she thought the problem was after she failed to get the car anywhere near the curb or remotely parallel after more than twelve attempts and she said:

  “A. This car does not have a parking-assist feature, and,

  B. The spot you are asking me to park in is way too small.”

  Mr. Stanley said that the parking spot was plenty big enough and demonstrated that by parking the car in it himself, then he hopped out, took out a measuring tape, and calculated how far the front and rear tires were from the curb. He got back in the driver’s seat and with a look of satisfaction more appropriate for a somewhat larger accomplishment said, “Exactly three inches.” But even still Eli dug her heels in and insisted that she needed a “baggier spot.”

  Then Alex B. Renner said, “Eli’s more of a perpendicular parker than a parallel parker,” and I said, “So what? You’re more of a senior citizen than a kid,” and Benj asked, “What’s a baggy spot?” and the class was basically over.

  Eli and Mr. Stanley were at a standoff.

  I basically wanted to say that there was no spot in the world baggy enough for Eli to park a car in but ReThought that comment and didn’t say a thing and then Mr. Stanley got out of the car and Alex B. Renner announced that he got an 800 on the SAT math practice test he just took in the back seat while Eli was not parking the car and I said I’m not taking the SATs and he said you have to and I said who says and he said just about everyone. And then I said, “What happens if you sign up but don’t show up to take the SATs?” And Benj said, “Nothing. Nobody gives a shit if you show up for the SATs, Joel.” Then Eli said, “Of course you’re taking the SATs,” and I said, “No, I’m not.” And she said, “Yes, you are.” And Alex B. Renner said, “Shut up, Eli. What are you, his mother?” And Eli said, “Please, Joel.” And I said, “Okay, that would be a maybe.” And we all got out of the car as the boys’ track team ran by like a thundering herd of gazelles.

  But when we were by our lockers and I was explaining my plan to teach her how to park, Eli said, “What if I crash into one of your dad’s cars?”

  And I said, “It won’t matter.”

  “What do you mean it won’t matter?”

  “Look.” I held up my phone and showed her a picture of the three cars we would be using.

  “Wait. Those are your dad’s cars?”

  “Well, they’re not exactly his cars….”

  “What do you mean they’re not exactly his cars?”

  “It’s just a technicality.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that we can borrow them.”

  “Sort of the like the eggs and the asparagus? We sort of have permission?”

  “Exactly.”

  Eli grabbed my phone and scrutinized the pictures.

  “And if I dent one it would be hard to notice?”

  “Really hard.”

  “Which one drives?”

  “All of them. I’ll just park two of them with a big-ass baggy space in between and then you and I will get in the third car and practice.”

  “What if I can’t learn?”

  “Then we’ll just keep trying. Plus, the way I figure it, you can’t learn the Stanley way because you’re afraid you’ll dent one of the cars that you’re parking between and this way you can dent them all you want until you get the hang of it. And, Eli, you’re gonna dent them and it’s gonna be fun.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay. After Driver’s Ed tomorrow, you go home and have dinner and then I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  Eli said, “Okay. But don’t count on having any fun, Higgins,” and then she headed to class.

  But I knew Eli was dead wrong about that ’cause I was having fun already just watching her walk off.

  messed with the universe.

  Like really messed with the universe.

  On the same day that the Eli-Can’t-Parallel-Park Crash-Car-Combat Operation was scheduled for 7:00 p.m., just as we were all waiting for Mr. Stanley to pull up in the Driver’s Ed car, which this time the seniors left in the last place he would ever look—exactly where he had parked it the night before—two cop cars pulled in wicked fast right in front of us. Everyone stopped talking, the officers got out, looked around, and then quickly walked over to us. One of them, the tall one with the mustache, looked right at me and asked, “Are you Joel Higgins?”

  Eli and Benj stepped backward in unison and Benj put his hands up kind of halfway and I was thinking, What the fuck? and Maybe they’re really here for someone else, and then I managed to spit out, “Yes,” but the way it came out sounded like I wasn’t completely sure and then I started looking around as if the real Joel Higgins would pop up out of nowhere and explain that this was all a terrible mistake.

  The next thirty seconds flew by really fast as one more car—cop car that is—pulled in and the cops standing next to me looked over their shoulders and nodded to that officer and he stayed in his vehicle and then one of the cops, the tall, mustached one standing next to me, asked if I had any weapons on me. And I hesitated because I was shocked by the question but I finally said, “No,” and then he asked, “Do you have a gun at home?” and I pretty much had a heart attack.

  Like cardiac arrest.

  In the corner of my eye I saw Eli and Benj and now Alex B. Renner huddled together near the wall and then all of us turned to look as Mr. Stanley pulled up in the Driver’s Ed car, driving slowly and perfectly as he parallel parked in between the two police cruisers. He secured the vehicle at what appeared to be exactly three inches from the curb and then he stepped out of the car and locked it with the key fob before he finally turned toward us. Mr. Stanley slowly took in the situation as if he could not process what was happening and I could see his left eye going haywire, blinking out Di-di-dit dah-dah-dah di-di-dit, as he lifted his hands high over his head like he was being arrested. He called over to me, “Joel, is something wrong here?”

  Di-di-dit dah-dah-dah di-di-dit.

  Di-di-dit dah-dah-dah di-di-dit.

  Di-di-dit dah-dah-dah di-di-dit.

  Di-di-dit dah-dah-dah di-di-dit.

  And half of those dits and dahs were my left eye communicating with Stanley’s left eye ’cause now both of us were twitching like there just might be no tomorrow.

  I was thinking, How is it possible that the cops know about the gun unless Rooster got picked up and told them but he doesn’t even speak and doesn’t even know my last name? so that didn’t seem possible and then when I didn’t say anything regarding the gun question because I was trying to process
all of this the tall cop asked me again, “Do you have a gun at home, son?”

  I didn’t move or say a thing. Then the other cop said, “We’d like you to come down to the station. Your parents are already there.”

  And then it hit me like an eighteen-wheel tractor trailer full of gasoline.

  Whatever this was, it was really, really bad.

  at the police station:

  Where did you get the gun? What were you going to do with it? Do you have any other weapons? Are you angry because your friend Andy died? Do you want to kill anyone? Were you planning on killing yourself? What were you going to do with it? Why did you hide it? Was anyone else involved?

  That went on in an interrogation room with three different detectives as Jesus, Mary met with another police officer in another room and Jackson stayed with me and basically said over and over again, “Answer truthfully.” And, “Joel, is that your gun?” And, “Should he have a lawyer?” and “Joel, tell the truth.” And “Jesus, Joel, is that really your gun?” And “Joel, answer truthfully.”

  Here’s what happened:

  Jacey found the gun in the garage and brought it to kindergarten.

  He kept it in his cubby until show-and-tell at 1:45 p.m.

  After gym, but before pickup.

  Then he showed-and-telled.

  It took a long time for me to get that out of the cops.

  This is what Jackson told me:

  No one got hurt and Jacey’s okay.

  No one got hurt and Jacey’s okay.

  No one got hurt and Jacey’s okay.

  And this is what I said after Jackson told me what had happened:

  It’s my gun and I never meant for Jace to find it.

  It’s my gun and I never meant for Jace to find it.

  It’s my gun and I never meant for Jace to find it.

  This is what I repeated over and over again:

  I do not want to kill anyone.

  I do not have any other weapons.

  I am very angry that Andy died but that doesn’t make me want to kill anyone.