The Extinct

CHAPTER

6





The soccer field was dry and hot, the sun burning the skin on the back of Eric’s neck. He stood in front of the goal, his hands on his knees, breathing quick shallow breaths. The stands were nearly full but he could clearly see where Jason and the two girls from yesterday were sitting, getting drunk from Gatorade bottles filled with booze. They were all wearing the same clothes from the previous day.

You dirty dog.

There was a commotion ahead on the field and Eric could see number 53, a large Puerto Rican with thick black hair coming down to his shoulders rushing at him with the ball at his feet. 53 weaved past one of the New Hampshire forwards as easily as if he were running past a child. Sweat was dripping from Eric’s forehead though he’d done very little during the game. 53 had run across the field at least two dozen times and hardly seemed phased by the heat.

Eric looked over to Wendy at the sidelines; she had her hands over her face and was peeking through the cracks in her fingers. There was only thirty seconds left in the game and New Hampshire was ahead of Brooklyn College by one goal. If this goal went in it would go to sudden death and more time out in the sun.

Eric knelt down and ripped out some strands of grass. He sniffed them, the fresh scent of dirt in his nostrils, and threw them down. It was a habit he’d picked up watching his father play soccer on a semi-pro team.

53 was only a couple dozen feet away now. He was coming in from an angle and it seemed as if the rest of Eric’s team was in slow motion; like they were running through water trying to catch up.

53 bridged the gap and was close enough to the goal that Eric could hear his panting; he was human after all. He looked Eric in the eyes as he ran toward the east side of the goal post. Eric should’ve jumped to that side but he kept his eyes glued to 53’s; the feet could lie but his eyes couldn’t. 53’s eyes said he was going for the west side.

Eric took a step to the east pretending to play into his hands. 53 took a series of short steps in preparation for the kick and Eric lunged for the west side. The ball made a whizzing sound as it zipped toward him. It was going over head.

He jumped into the air and thrust out his hands and felt the sharp sting of impact against them before he hit the ground. He wasn’t sure what happened; the ball was rolling near the goal line but it could’ve bounced out after a score. It was only when he looked over to Wendy and saw her jumping up and down that he realized he’d stopped the ball.

As the crowd starting cheering he looked to 53 and winked.

Jason was on the field before the time was up. He wrapped his arms around Eric and tried to pick him up but was too small and too drunk so he just stood with his arm around his shoulders as the other players from New Hampshire started slapping Eric’s ass and giving him high fives. High voice came up and gave Eric a hug but Wendy ran over, nudging her out of the way, and gave him a fat kiss.

“I can’t wait for tonight,” she whispered in his ear.



“You comin’ out tonight?” Jason yelled over the commotion.



“Later,” Eric said, “maybe around eleven.”



Jason nodded. “I gotta go drop the girls off. Call my cell.”



Eric nodded, took Wendy’s hand, and snuck off the field as the coach called everybody back to the locker rooms. He pressed her against the wall of the exit tunnel and began kissing her until people started to come by on their way out.

They walked back to her car, a few people yelling things to Eric on his great play, and then left the stadium. Eric felt relaxed. The team would be holding a party tomorrow and he looked forward to it. Camaraderie was something he’d had little of growing up.

“Where to?” Wendy said.



“I have to have lunch with my mom but we can meet up after.”



“It’s like three o’clock.”



“I know but she said she’d wait for me. You can just drop me off at the dorms; she likes to pick me up and drive me around.”



“Mommy’s little boy, huh?”



Eric looked over to her and leaned in, nibbling on her ear and causing her to squirm a little though she didn’t resist.



Wendy dropped him off and gave him a long kiss, promising him that she had a special treat in store for him tonight. Eric left the car aroused and happy. He sat down on the curb in front of the dorms, leaning back on his hands, the cement of the sidewalk warm underneath his fingers.

The University of New Hampshire campus was beautiful during the summer months; numerous trees and shrubbery showing off lush greens and yellows. He typically spent the summers with his father in Manhattan and enjoyed the pure energy that a large city could exude, especially the sexual energy, but he always missed the crystal blue skies and trees of campus.

He’d be leaving for New York in two weeks and was looking forward to time with his father. Though his parents divorced soon after they had him, he and his father had always stayed close; spending long summers traveling to exotic locations Eric hadn’t heard of; like Belmopan or Santa Rosa. His father loved travel. Said it kept the soul awake. There was some truth in it, Eric guessed. But almost twenty now he knew that that wasn’t the sole reason his father was always gone. Too much travel could turn one into a stranger at home, which is exactly what his father wanted.

They didn’t talk much about his job as an investment banker but it was understood that it was miserable. A lot of hours in exchange for a lot of money. The type of job where one needs to trade joy for a fat paycheck. Though Eric enjoyed the fruits of his father’s job it was exactly the kind of career he wanted to stay away from.

A black sedan pulled into the parking lot and circled around until it came to where Eric was seated. He stood up and wiped at any dirt that had clung to his shorts and walked to the passenger door. He hesitated when he saw that his mother wasn’t driving; it was his step-father, Jeff.

Eric always suspected he’d married his mother because she had a decent paying job and didn’t mind if Jeff went months or even years without work. More than once Eric had caught him smoking pot in his mother’s house and even saw him at a restaurant with another woman.

“What’re you doing here?” Eric said as he climbed in and sat down.



“Your mom couldn’t drive today kid. She’s pretty f*cked up right now so I want you to take it easy on her.”



“What’d ya mean f*cked up? What happened?”



Jeff glanced out the window at a group of passing girls and then pulled away from the curb, taking a quick look in his rearview before turning out of the parking lot and onto the main road. “Your father’s dead, Eric.”

Eric’s heart felt like it slumped in his chest; his stomach churned, butterflies tingling his belly and causing nausea. He thought he would vomit.

“He died in India kid. He was there on some safari or some shit.”

Tears welled up in Eric’s eyes and his throat clinched but he fought them back and managed to look out the window, his reflection absently looking back at him. “How do you know? I mean, things can get reported wron—”

“They’re bringing back his body tomorrow for burial. What’s left of it anyway.”

Eric looked over at his step-father; his face was stern but there was a glimmer of pleasure in his eyes. He’d always felt inadequate compared to his father. Whenever they’d get in a fight Eric’s mother would say she wished she’d never got divorced from James. It would cut deep since Jeff knew it was true.

“How’d he die?” Eric said.



“You don’t want to know.”



“How Jeff?”



Jeff looked at him and then back out at the road. “He was killed by an animal.”



“What animal?”



“I don’t know. A f*ckin’ lion or somethin’.” Jeff noticed his soccer uniform. “What’d you have a game today?”



“Yeah,” Eric said absently, not looking at him.



“Look,” Jeff said, “he lived a crazy life your father. This type of thing was inevitable. The important thing now is that you take care of your mom. For whatever reason, she’s taking it pretty hard. And if she’s takin’ it hard it means she’s gonna annoy the f*ck outta me.”

Eric felt the urge to reach over and slap his face but instead he kept staring out the window, watching the passing strip malls and fast food restaurants and pool halls as they approached his mother’s house.

It was a cold thing to say, and Jeff had said it out of spite, but there was some truth to it. His father lived like a man that wanted to die, though he always said he was afraid of it.

They parked on the street in front of the house and Eric got out, choosing to walk across the lawn rather than share the sidewalk with Jeff. The lawn was thick and shaggy from months without being cut, patches of yellow beginning its takeover of the once green grass. Eric opened the front door; the inside of the house was much cleaner than the outside. Carpets freshly washed and furniture dusted, the smell of lemon polish hanging in the air.

His mother was lying on the couch, the TV turned low. Eric sat down by her feet without saying a word and she pulled her legs up to make room, not taking her eyes off the television.

“I’ll be out in the garage,” Jeff said.

Eric watched him walk out with disgust; he remembered when his father had built that garage. He did it in one summer. Eric was eight at the time and he remembered the smell of sawdust and the taste of lemonade as he helped his father, carrying tools and helping hammer nails. James had even let him use a nail gun a couple times but the sound had scared him and his father put it away, even though it increased the work that needed to be put in.

“How you doing, Mom?” She didn’t say anything. “Are they sure?” Eric said hopefully. “I mean mistakes happen. It could be someone else, right?”

His mother watched television as if she hadn’t heard him. She took a moment and then turned to him, her eyes red and puffy. “He was a good man, Eric; I don’t want you to ever be mad at him for going on those trips. They kept him alive.”

“I know,” he said. From this close he could smell the sweet aroma of peach Schnapps emanating from her. “This is the way he would’ve wanted to go,” he lied. He knew his father would’ve rather went in a comfortable bed with a beautiful woman next to him, as any man would.

“I don’t think I ever stopped loving him,” she said, turning back to the television. “I hated him too though. I loved him and hated him. He could make me feel like the most important person in the world one day and a piece of shit the next. But I still loved him, I never stopped.”

Eric rubbed her calf; it was soft; fragile. “I know, Mom. He loved you too.” Eric could see the dining table from where he was sitting and an old photo of his father in a Navy uniform, a box with his medals open next to it.”How did you find out?”

“His sister called me.”



“Kathy?”



His mother nodded.



“Where is she now?”



“Borneo I think. She’s married to some spiritual guru or some crazy shit like that. That whole family’s f*cked up.”



Eric looked at her and a flash of anger filled him and then flowed away. Leaving only pity in its place. He stood up, leaned down and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek, and went off to his bedroom.

His old room had been kept the same as when he had moved out, even though Jeff wanted to put a pool table and a bar in. But his mother refused and never explained why. Jeff eventually gave up the fight when he saw she was serious. Eric thought that deep down Jeff knew his mother didn’t need or even particularly like him. He was around for convenience and because she didn’t like being alone.

Eric collapsed on his bed and found he couldn’t hold back any longer, emotion choking him. He put his face in a pillow and began to cry.