CHAPTER EIGHT
Carole Youngblood sat worried at the kitchen table. Her dark Latina eyebrows were almost furrowed together as she thought about her family. It was Saturday evening now on the west coast. Soon she and Reggie would connect to John in Iraq on his Sunday morning. In a way, she hated talking with him through that jittery Skype signal. It was good to see him alive, even if it was virtually, but she couldn’t hug the real man. John was on his second tour with a tank brigade that often saw what the US Marine Corps called “hostile action.”
Staring at the laptop screen, she was anxious to see those dark eyes darting above the high cheekbones on his beautiful brown face, but she worried about how he and Reggie would get along. He loved his son dearly, but was often hard on him. She hoped that he wouldn’t remember to ask about Reggie’s report card.
“BA DING!” the Skype screen lit up and after a few electronic spasms, John’s face settled into a broad smile. She felt giddy seeing him there in his crisp fatigues, like the first time she saw her handsome hunk his National Guard uniform many years ago.
“Hi, Carole!”
“Hi, handsome!” she said as they both simultaneously touched their screens. Carole wanted to have some personal husband-wife time before she called Reggie to join them. “Honey. So good to see you,” she said. “I miss you so freaking much.”
“Miss you too, babes,” he responded, “It’s thinking of you that keeps me from going crazy around here.” Even through cyberspace, he could see Carole’s sensitive face twisting and worrying about him. “I haven’t been on any dicey missions lately, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“I was wondering. And good to hear,” she said, unsure if he was lying or not. He had become a good liar about these things. He even told her one time, right after his first tour, that he wouldn’t tell her if things were bad, even if they were.
“Babes, tell me about you. How are you doing?” John asked.
“Oh, I’m pretty good, I guess,” Carole sighed. “Having trouble sleeping and working a little too much, but I’m okay.”
“I’ll be home before you know it,” he said. After a deep swallow, he asked: “And how’s our big man? How’s Reggie doing?”
“Oh, you know. Fine, from what he actually tells me,” she said. Without letting John follow up with more questions about their son, Carole began talking about her new boss at The Coffee Bean, and how she’s been really flexible with her schedule. Then she talked about the new apartment and how big it felt. After they discussed finances and John’s plans to get a good job when he returned, Carole called for Reggie.
Reggie sat down next to his mom, gave the screen image a wave, and said, “Hiya, Dad.”
“Man, you’re looking big. Every time you look so big. How’s it going with you?”
“I’m okay. Not bad,” Reggie said nervously.
“How are you adjusting to the new place?” his dad asked. “Still liking your new room? Heard it’s pretty darn big, from what your mom says.”
“It’s not too bad, but I miss the mountains and the woods back home.”
“I know, me too, Reggie. I miss those woods like you wouldn’t believe. But you know that we had to sell it, as much as it killed me to do it.”
“I know,” Reggie said. “Hey, when you get home can we maybe go back and hike the Horizon Trail?”
“Definitely,” John said, his voice full of hope.
Thinking his dad is about to ask about school, Reggie jumped in, “Dad? Remember the last time we were up on Horizon Ridge when you were telling me about Grandmother Wanchuat?”
Reggie’s father looked puzzled. “Um, yeah. I guess so.”
“Didn’t you tell me her ancestors came from Baja, California?”
“That’s what she told me, yeah.”
“What was the name of her tribe?” Reggie asked a little too eagerly.
“Oh, man. I don’t remember, Reggie. That was so long ago, I was just five when I left the reservation. I’ll have to think about it, but you’re an American, so why does that matter?”
“Well,” answered Reggie, “I’ve been researching about what the ancient tribes thought of the mountain lion and I came across some stuff about the Cochimi peoples from Baja, California and—”
His dad interrupted, “It could be they migrated north and blended with the Kumeyaay tribe. They were centered in the San Diego area where the reservation was. That’s all I know, why are you reading about this?”
“I don’t know. I’m interested in it. I found out that some tribes used to believe the cougars had spiritual powers, which I thought was pretty cool.”
“So, is this mountain lion stuff part of your studies at school?”
“Sort of,” Reggie answered, “A wildlife biologist came and talked to our class and what he was talking about got me kind of pumped up, I guess. He has this really cool job of tracking down cougars in the Santa Monica Mountains and Joe told us about…”
“Whoa! Whoa!” his dad interrupted again. “I don’t get where you’re going with this and what this guy is feeding you.”
Reggie’s mom sensed that both of them were getting frustrated and she patted Reggie’s leg under the table, but the soldier in his dad didn’t let up: “Mountain lions and hiking are okay for a hobby, Reggie, okay? But I need you to start preparing for a profession in life. You won’t get anywhere in life sitting there listening and dreaming about lions with silly ‘injun’ superpowers.”
“But Dad,” Reggie said, “you love nature and you taught me everything I know about it. I love nature and that’s why I like Biology class so much. I got an A in it, you know.”
“That’s nice. That’s good to hear. But you’re a big kid now and have to think about what you’re going to do with your life as an adult.” Then after a pause, his dad launched the bomb. “But how did you do in Algebra?”
Reggie looked away from the screen without responding.
“How many times have we talked about this, Reggie? How many times? Without good grades in Algebra, how are you going to get into college and get an MBA?”
The bomb finally hit its target and Reggie exploded, “I don’t care about an MBA. I don’t! And you want to know about my
Algebra grade? I fucking flunked it!”
“Reggie!” his mom yelled, “You can’t talk that way!”
His dad rubbed his hands over his cheeks to try to stay calm.
Reggie’s mom jumped back in, “I know you’re both upset about the grade. And believe me, I didn’t know he was flunking that class until right now… But I just want to say that it’s been hard, John. For Reggie in the new school and me working all the time, but we’ll get a tutor if we have to. I’ll work even more to afford it.”
Reggie shook his head. There was no way he was going to let his mom work anymore than she already was. He felt terrible about exploding on his parents, and for the bad news about Algebra, but at the same time, he felt he somehow didn’t care.
His dad finally removed his hands from his cheeks and spoke. “First of all, don’t you ever speak to me that way again. You hear me?”
“Yes, sir,” he mumbled.
“Good. But you know what, Reggie, you have some serious choices to make. You either take control of your life like a man, or run away from your life like a little boy. Which are you? Are you a man, or are you a little boy?”
Carole looked over at Reggie’s reaction and saw that he was seething in that scary, teeth-grinding sort of way.
“I’m not running away from anything,” Reggie said through his clenched teeth. He was shaking, but determined not to cry. “What about you, dad? You ran away and left mom and me to fend for ourselves in this fucking shit town. And I’m so sick of that patriotic duty crap you always say. You ran away.” At that, Reggie stood up out of webcam range, but his mom put her hand on his shoulder and tried to hold him there.
“Reggie, how dare you!” His mom said. “That is so not fair and you know it.” She pushed harder on his shoulder but couldn’t get him back in the chair.
His dad licked his front teeth in anger. “You know what,
Reggie? Go ahead and leave. I don’t want to look at you right now.”
Mom let Reggie go and he bolted to his room and slammed the door.
“Carole,” John continued, “You’ve got to do something with him.”
“I’m trying John,” Carole nodded, “he was out of line, but it’s kind of tough here going to a new school, new town, work and all, you know.”
Carole watched her husband bury his head in his hands. He looked wounded by the friendly fire of his family; she felt sorry for both of them. She felt sorry for John because he was risking his life to keep his family afloat, though not together. She recalled how she had pleaded with him not to volunteer for that second tour. She thought about John’s father committing suicide and worried that both her husband and son were unstable.
“Carole! Carole!” John called to her from the monitor. “I gotta go. Tell Reggie to put his nose in his books and that we’ll talk when we get home. Seventy-two more days. That’s it.”
She nodded. “Seventy-two days. Take care of yourself, John. I love you.”
“I love you too, Carole. Oh! And thanks for the boxes of Mallomars. They lasted about five minutes. Talk to you soon.”
“Ding!” the screen went dark and Carole felt John leave her heart a second later.
Her thoughts immediately turned to Reggie. Dammit, she said to herself, just when he was starting to find something that he was excited about and wanted to share, he got shot down. Carole, grew up in a large Latino family with six brothers, had a better feel than John, for what boys went through. Now, she wondered, how can I keep Reggie from going over the deep end without alienating John?
Carole’s phone rang. It was the Coffee Bean. “Sure, I can do another night shift. Be there in ten.”