Marie Sexton - Promises

I couldn’t believe how lonely I was. I tried to comfort myself with the thought that my life was now just as it had been for years before he arrived. It hadn’t seemed that bad back then. But now I felt crushed. My house felt like a graveyard. Every time the door opened in the shop, I hoped it was him, but it never was. Every evening, I hoped he would knock on the door. Even football wasn’t as much fun. The few Sundays we had spent together watching it, our perfect companionship, taunted me as I sat by myself, watching the games. Lizzy and Brian invited me over, of course, and I went once or twice, but instead of cheering me up, it only served to depress Lizzy, so I quit going.

“He’s not even happy,” she told me one day. “Brian and I saw them when we went out to dinner, and he looked miserable.”

And the worst part was that I thought she was right. The times I had seen him, he did look miserable. Even his pseudo-smile hadn’t been there.

“Why are you telling me this, Lizzy?”

“I think he misses you as much as you miss him. Why don’t you call him?”

“No.”

“Jared—”

“No!” I stopped short. Lizzy didn’t deserve for me to snap at her. She just wanted me to be happy. But if there was one thing I knew, it was that I couldn’t be the one to make the next move. He was the one who couldn’t face his feelings or what they meant. The only thing I could do was wait and hope.

“HEY, Jared? Can I ask a favor?” Ringo said one day in early October as we were unpacking cases of motor oil.

“What’s up?”

“Do you think that you could tutor me again?”

“With math?”

“Yes. I’m taking calculus now, and it’s kicking my ass.”

“Of course.” It was depressing how much I was suddenly looking forward to spending time with Ringo. Talk about a lame social life.

“And you know physics too?”

“That’s what my degree’s in. You need help with that too?”

“If it’s okay. Can I come by your house to do it? I feel bad taking up time here at the shop.”

“What about your dad?”

“I think it will be okay. I mean, he was really glad that you helped me last spring. And I told him that he needs to trust people. And he needs to trust me. I’ll be eighteen soon. I’m not a kid, and I’m not stupid.” He stopped and looked embarrassed. “Except at math and physics, I guess.”

“You’re not stupid. My house is fine.”

We arranged for him to come by the house on Tuesday and Thursday evenings.

The first week, Ringo came alone. The second week, he showed up with a girl.

“This is my girlfriend, Julie.” She was cute, a little heavy set, with dark hair and freckles she tried to cover with makeup. “Do you think you can tutor us both?”

And so I had two students that week. I ordered pizza and was glad to have the company, even if it was just two teenagers who couldn’t figure out integration.

I was surprised to find that Julie had the same bad habit that Ringo had started out with.

“Why do you want to replace the variable with numbers already?”

“That’s how you simplify.”

“Variables are easy. Numbers complicate things. Wait until the end. Here,” I pointed to the physics problem she was working on. “Look at this one. What do you know about F?”

“Force equals mass times acceleration.”

“Right. So what if we put ‘M times A’ in place of F in this equation?”

“But we’re supposed to be solving for F!”

“Yes, but what do you see on the other side of the equation?”

She was looking, and I saw the light start to come on. “M and A.” I watched her process that. And then she was furiously scratching away with her pencil, talking as she went. “I can eliminate M, and then, I have 2A, but then….” scratch, scratch, scratch “Now I have A!”

“Right. And you already had M—”

“So now I just multiply them, and I get F!”

“Exactly.”

“It’s like a puzzle!” Her eyes were bright with excitement.

“That’s one way of viewing it, yes.”

And the look of understanding and accomplishment on her face was a remarkable balm for the ache in my heart.

It didn’t stop there. The next week, they brought another girl. And then she brought her boyfriend. By the end of the month, I had ten different students who would drop by for help in math or physics on Tuesdays and Thursdays. They didn’t all come each time, but there was always at least one and usually as many as four or five. My house was turning into some kind of brainiac high school hangout.

It was only a matter of time before that caused trouble.

ANYBODY who’s grown up in Colorado can tell you that there’s one day of the year when we’re guaranteed to have bad weather: Halloween. It looked like this year would be no exception. It was damp outside and had just dropped below freezing when Brian called me the evening of October thirtieth.

“Jared!” He sounded frantic. “Lizzy’s water broke. Get to the hospital! Now!”

Once I found my way to the maternity section, I paced outside the door of her room for a few minutes. I wasn’t sure if I should knock or just go in. I didn’t know if things were just starting, or if she was actually pushing. Would she have her feet up in stirrups? Would there be blood everywhere? I had exactly zero experience with childbirth and had no idea what to expect.

I eventually caught one of the nurses as she went into the room and asked her to tell Brian that I was waiting outside. It must have been all of half a second later when he came flying out of the room.

“What the hell are you doing out here? Get in there!” He was obviously freaking out. I had never seen him look so frazzled. His hair was sticking every which way, and his eyes were huge.

“Has she had the baby?”

“No! But she’s going to start pushing soon, and she wants you in there!”

“What?” I was having horrific mental images of Lizzy in stirrups, parts of her body neither of us wanted me to see, and lots of blood. “No! I can’t be in there while she’s having the baby!”

Brian grabbed the front of my shirt and got in my face like he hadn’t done since we were both teenagers. He was really shaken up. “Lizzy wants you in there. And if that’s what she wants, then that’s what she gets, even if I have to kick your ass and drag you in there by the hair to get it! Understand?”

“Okay! Brian, settle down. I’m coming.”

So Brian stood on one side and I stood on the other, holding Lizzy’s hand while she pushed. It went on for more than an hour, and poor Lizzy was a mess by the end. I had never been so happy to be male.

Finally, the doctor stuck something on the baby’s head that looked suspiciously like a funnel. Lizzy gave one last push, the doctor pulled, and the baby was free. A boy. He was bald and pink and wrinkly, his head was shaped like the funnel, and he had an angry red triangle right above the bridge of his nose. I was horrified, but Lizzy assured me all of that would pass.

“We’re naming him James Henry,” she told me proudly. James, my middle name, and Henry, my dad’s name. I kissed her on the forehead.

Brian brought him over and started to pass him to me.

“What are you doing? I can’t hold him! What if I hurt him?”

He laughed at me. “Better get used to it, little brother. Lizzy told me about the weekly date nights you promised us.”

“You mean the weekly date nights she coerced me into?”

But once he was in my arms, I saw that he really was beautiful. And precious. And the horrible tightness that had held my heart since Matt left eased just a tiny bit.

I laughed out loud. “I’m an uncle!”

THE first Tuesday in November, seven different kids were around my dining room table when there was a knock on the door. Matt was the only person who didn’t ring the doorbell, and I tried to beat back the ridiculous excitement that he was here.

But when I opened my door, it was immediately apparent that this was not a social visit. It was Matt, in full uniform, and another cop was with him. Matt was obviously extremely embarrassed. He had his hat off and was fidgeting with it. He was looking everywhere but at me. I was trying desperately not to think about the way his lips felt on my neck, his hands in my hair, his body pressing against mine—

“Sir?” It was the other cop talking, interrupting my treacherous thoughts, and I found it difficult to tear my eyes away from Matt and look at him. “We got a call that you have some kids here?”

It took me a second to process his words. “Yes.” I stepped aside so they could see the kids at the table. It seemed obvious to me what was going on: a bunch of kids, two pizza boxes, and at least a dozen open school books. The kids were all frozen, staring at the door, with pencils and floppy pieces of pizza in their hands. It looked like some crazy parody of The Last Supper. The cop—his tag said Officer Jameson—stalked past me to the table.

“What’s going on here? Which one of you is Aiden?”

Aiden turned about ten shades of red and raised his hand.

“Is this everybody?” Jameson asked. “Are there any kids back in the bedroom?”

“What?” I almost yelled, and at the same time, I heard Matt say, “Grant, don’t!” Grant just smirked at him.

The implications of what was going on were starting to catch up with me. I took a deep breath and said, “No, there’s nobody in the bedroom! How can you even ask that? I’m tutoring them.”

Jameson was opening his mouth to say something, and I could tell it was going to be something sarcastic, when Matt jumped in.