Bounce, bounce; bounce, bounce. Aim, shoot. Swish.
Balance. Life was about balance. The family had balance, they lost it, but Mom would come home and they would find it again. Although in the last week, he and Dad had fallen into a groove. In a totally dysfunctional, two-guys-home-alone kinda way. Maybe he and Dad had found their own balance. It wasn’t so bad—just the two of them. Dad didn’t hover, and he’d abandoned the open-door policy with Sammie. (Did Mom know about the condoms?)
Most amazing discovery of all, last night—when he was fooling around with Sammie—he didn’t tic. Maybe for their one-month anniversary, they could christen the condoms.
Dad let him help out more, too—with the laundry and shit, although he refolded everything. Harry could tell because the creases were all different. Tonight, they were going to watch a movie if Harry got his homework done. Death at a Funeral. The English original. Dad wasn’t big on remakes. Had huge purple bruises under his eyes. Worked every night. Did he sleep at all? He was still working when Sammie’s mom picked her up at midnight. On a Friday! Dad had lost weight. Maybe that would change now that meal deliveries were coming from Eudora. Fantastic fried chicken the other night! And she’d made hummingbird cake. Delish!
Would Eudora still bring them food when Mom came home? Would things really go back to the way they had been? Did he want them to? Harry dropped the ball, and it rolled off into the undergrowth.
Dad walked over with a hammer.
“Wanna shoot hoops?” Harry said.
“No. We have to finish this.”
Harry rocked on his feet, itching to move. “I’m bored.”
“That’s because you have the attention span of a gnat.”
“But this is super boring, Dad. Let’s do something fun.”
“I need to get this off my to-do list before your mother comes home. And could you please stop doing that?”
“Doing what?”
Dad put out a hand. “Cracking your knuckles. It’s driving me bonkers.”
“Driving! That’s it. How about a driving lesson?”
“Seriously?” Dad fiddled with his glasses.
“Seriously! I’ve got to get back on the horse. I don’t want to be one of those guys who lets fear rule. And my learner’s permit expires in three months.” Harry tried not to think about the humiliation of going through drivers ed twice. First and only time he’d ever failed a test. “I need to hit the open road. Practice!”
“Does this have something to do with Sammie?”
Yeah. “Maybe.”
Dad grinned. He didn’t smile that much, but when he did, it changed everything: his face, his mood. Hell, the mood of everyone in a ten-block radius.
“Has Sammie been giving you a hard time about not driving?”
The blush rose up Harry’s neck. Threatened to swallow his head whole. “She doesn’t give me a hard time about anything. But now we’re—”
“Facebook status changed to ‘in a relationship’?”
“Okay, yeah, we’re a thing. Which means it would be nice to be more independent.”
Dad’s smile disappeared. Serious Dad was back. “Have you taken a Ritalin pill this afternoon?”
Harry paused a second too long.
“Do you have any appreciation of how lucky you are to be able to take Ritalin?”
“I know, I know. I hit the Tourette’s jackpot because Ritalin doesn’t stimulate my tics. Lucky me.”
“Exactly. So why didn’t you take it?”
“Life’s more fun on the cutting edge.” True dat.
“Then no. We’re not going driving.”
“Dad—”
“You can’t drive wired, Harry. You need to be calm, focused, and in control.”
“’Kay.” Harry ran toward the house. “I’ll take one.”
“You’re not going to crash and kill both of us, are you?” Dad gripped the side of the car, and they hadn’t even pulled away from the curb.
“Gee, Dad. Let me consider that one.”
At least they were in Mom’s Honda CR-V. Bigger, safer; besides, she wouldn’t care about dings.