“No,” Les replied. His leg stilled.
“So, how was it staying at nana’s and tata’s? How’s La Jolla ?” she
asked.
Les shrugged. “Okay.”
“Did nana make her green chile?” Les didn’t respond. Lisa gave him a
prolonged glance. “Talkative today, aren’t we?” she said archly.
Les said nothing, just stared straight
out the windshield as they raced along the freeway.
As she drove, Lisa’s eyes flitted between
the road and her brother. “You’re nervous about flying by yourself, aren’t
you?”
“No I’m not,” he answered curtly.
In fact, Les was nervous about the flight to Seattle, and growing more so by
the minute. But he knew better than to admit it to his older sister. Years of
bitter experience had taught him that.
“So what’s bothering you?”
“I’m fine, Lisa. Just drop it.”
Lisa was silent for a few moments.
“Les, it’s okay,” she said, her voice assuming a softer, lulling quality that
Les knew all too well. Here it comes. The
heartfelt invitation to spill my guts. How many times have I fallen for that
one? It was her one of her most effective tactics, and it always began the
same way: she would ply him relentlessly with sincere, sisterly overtures to
confidence. He could tell her anything, she would say. She would listen to him
without judging, no matter what it was. Mom and dad would never find out. And
she sounded so authentic, so convincing, that, even though he knew she was
lying, she would still somehow persuade him into believing her. He would reveal
whatever dark, horrible secret he was hiding, or the embarrassing incident at
school, or the lamest, most stupid little thing; it didn’t seem to matter how
big or small it was. It only mattered that she could get it out of him. Well, not this time, sister.
Les leaned back, looked sideways
out the door window. The city of San
Diego sparkled in the bright blue sunshine, the towers
and skyscrapers stark and straight and proper against the ocean. Behind them, the
graceful curve of the Coronado
Bridge
“So, how’dja do in your games?” she
asked after a time.
Oh,
like I don’t know this one, Les thought. Change subjects, get me to lower my guard, and then come back in for
the kill. You’re being way too obvious, Leese. Hardly one semester away from
home, and you’re losing your touch. “We went one-and-two,” he said finally,
in answer to her question.
“Oh,” she said. “Not so good, huh?
What happened?”
Les shrugged as if it wasn’t
important.
“So what team are you on this year?
JV?”
Les nodded once. If she was set on
dragging something out of him, he was going to make her work as hard he could.
“Well, that’s good,” Lisa replied,
undeterred. “I mean, at least you’re not on that freshman team you hated so
much last year.”
Les stared down at the floorboards.
“Yeah, well, that really wasn’t an option, since I’m a sophomore now,” he said acidly.
“I know that. I just meant, well, I
mean, you made the cut, right? Plus, now you get to be on the same team with
your bestie, so life’s a beach, no?”
Les turned from the window, leveled
his eyes coldly at his sister. “Yeah, it’s a real beach.”
She looked at him, perplexed, until
she had deciphered his response. “What, Omar made Varsity?”
“Of course he did,” Les said,
“because that’s how things always work for me.” He paused, and then groaned
loudly. “No, that’s not fair,” he said. “I mean, he totally deserves it. He led
JV in scoring last year. Offensive rebounds. Steals. He was their best player,
hands down. ‘Course it didn’t hurt that he grew five inches in the last twelve
months.”
“Really?” Lisa said, evidently
surprised. “So what is he now?”
“Six-one-and-a-half,” Les said. “He
said his doctor told him he probably had four or five more inches left to
grow.”
“Omar?” Lisa said, surprised. “In
eighth grade, you two were the almost the same height.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” Les said
icily. Then, sensing an opportunity to take a shot of his own, added, “Besides,
you haven’t been around in forever. If you had, you would’ve seen him.”
“Oh, don’t you start,” she said,
and the unexpectedly sharp tone told Les his blow had landed squarely. “Look, I’m
busy,” she explained. “I took sixteen credits this semester. Plus my job.” She
shook her head, her pony-tail bobbing. “Since I moved out, I just don’t have
any time. Trust me, mom makes sure I know just how long it’s been. Every time she
calls.”
Les didn’t really care; he had only
been trying to get under her skin the way she so easily got under his. Besides,
he expected to be doing the very same thing once he was out of high school and
in college. “Meanwhile,” he continued, “here I am, stuck at five-six. I’ll
probably end up five-seven, five-eight if I’m lucky.”
“Dad’s five-nine,” Lisa offered.
“Yeah, and dad’s the tallest one in
his family. And mom’s side’s hardly any better. And even at five-nine, I’m
screwed. Do you know how many five-nine NBA players there have been?” Playing
in the NBA had long been his secret dream. Lisa already knew about it; she had
dragged that secret out of him some time in seventh grade.
“No,” Lisa said. “Do you?”
“Yeah, I googled it. Twenty-three.”
“Well, there’s that one that dad told
you about. What’s his name again? Bud somebody? Or Dud…Stud…”
Les, who had begun chortling the
moment she said Dud, burst out
laughing. “Stud?” Les said. “Stud Webb? Yeah, that’s the guy’s name.
I bet he probably wishes that was his name. It was Spud. Spud Webb.”
“Spud? Really?” she replied,
wrinkling her nose. “Spud? That can’t be his real name. Who would name their
kid Spud?”
“A potato farmer?” Les suggested
sarcastically. “A potato-chip mogul?”
“You’re such a jerk,” she said, but
laughed anyway. Les felt a momentary sense of camaraderie between them; for all
their antagonism, it always pleased him when he could make her laugh. “Anyway,”
she said, “this Spud person wasn’t very tall, was he?”
“Five-seven,” Les said. “But I
don’t have a forty-two-inch vertical leap like he did. That guy could dunk a
basketball in high school, when he was only five-three. I can’t even touch the
rim.” Les shook his head in disbelief. “That’s just sick.”
“So? That still leaves twenty-two
others. Maybe you can be number twenty-four.”
Les gave his sister a sidelong, dubious
look, unsure if she was being genuinely encouraging, or baiting him. “I’m
almost positive none of those other players are half-white and half-Mexican. I
just need to face it. I don’t have a chance of making the NBA.” As soon as he
said it, Les regretted the admission. Her
plan is working, he thought. She’s
wearing me down. Don’t fall for it.
“Well, not with that attitude,
mister,” Lisa said, giving Les a look of mock sternness.
Les rolled his eyes and grimaced. “Gee,
thanks, mom.”
“I don’t get something,” Lisa said.
“If everything basketball-wise is so bleak and terrible, why would you want to
stay home and play during Christmas break? Why not fly to Seattle with the rest of the family? That way
you wouldn’t have to go by yourself. And you wouldn’t be all nervous and
uptight right now.”
“I’m not nervous,” Les said. “And
there’s no way I was gonna miss any games. Basketball’s not the problem,” he
said. “It’s just that the circumstances in which I exist suck.”
She looked at him and half-snorted.
“You’re so weird.”
“And you’re not?” His age-old
reply.
“Shut up.”
“No you shut up.”
It was a routine exchange, usually conducted
with perfect seriousness, sometimes in complete fury. Now, though, it felt different:
ironic, familiar, vaguely sentimental.
They drove on in silence. Les saw
the first sign for the airport, and his stomach convulsed with heightened anxiety.
Without his knowing it, his leg resumed its rapid jittering.
“So,” Lisa said, seemingly out of
nowhere, “you still have a crush on that girl from your freshman algebra
class?”
How
does she do it? Who else could go
three-for-three when it comes to sore subjects? Maybe mom. Les feigned a
blank look. “What girl?”
“Oh, you know,” she said, a sly
smile stealing over her face. “Vanessa?”
Les struggled to maintain his
expression of ignorance. His crush on Vanessa was very much alive. Her cousin
was on his team, and the knowledge that she would be there in the stands was in
no small part responsible for his decision not to miss the last three games
before Christmas.
“Come on, Les. I know you like her.
You told me all about it last year, remember?”
Of course he did. Yet another
secret she had pried out of him, although that time it was a little different,
because he had secretly wanted her to. “Oh,” he said as if finally remembering,
“Yeah, I don’t know.”
“Do you have any classes with her
this year?”
“First-hour English,” he said.
“Have you talked to her?”
“Oh yeah, we talk,” Les replied.
Especially during one amazing week where they were part of a group assigned to research
the use of sensory detail in Of Mice and
Men.
“Uh-huh,” Lisa said, undeterred by
his hedging. “Have you asked her out?” Les didn’t answer. “Well?”
“No,” he admitted reluctantly.
“How come? If you like her, you
should ask her out. Here: Just get Omar to come along, and get this Vanessa to
bring one of her friends. You guys can go to the movies, or Balboa Park
“I know how old I am.”
“Come on. Seriously, what’s the
issue? Are you scared?”
“I’m not scared,” Les said,
bristling. “I don’t know, I’ve just been busy with basketball. You know how it
is, Leese…I just don’t have any time.”
He mimicked her tone as well as her words, exaggerating them for emphasis. It
was an admittedly desperate attempt to change the trend of the conversation. Lisa
ignored it.
“Listen,” she said, “take some
advice from your big sister. If you’re ever going to get anywhere, with a girl,
or even in life, you’re going to have to step outside your comfort zone. You
gotta put yourself out there, you know? Even if you’re scared. Look, I was
scared to move out of the house at first. That’s why I didn’t do it last year.
And I won’t lie; it was hard being on my own. But now I’ve made some great
friends, and I have the freedom to do whatever I want, and there’s all this,
all this…life going on, you know? And when I think about it, I realize that it
wasn’t worth being afraid of. If you let being afraid stop you, you’re going to
miss out.”
“I told you, I’m not scared! Why do
you keep assuming you know how I feel? You don’t know. Nobody does!” Folding his
arms over the wretched churning of his stomach, he stared straight ahead,
refusing to look at her.
Lisa watched him for a moment, then
turned back to the road. “I tried,” she said. “I guess you’ll have to figure it
out the hard way.”
“I guess so.”
They didn’t speak again until the
car had exited the freeway. “San
Diego International Airport
“I can’t go in with you,” Lisa
said. “I have to be to work by eleven.”
Les nodded and reached for the door
handle. “Pop the trunk, will you?” he said, not looking at her. “I need to get
my bag.” He started to get out, but was stopped by Lisa’s hand on his arm.
“Hey,” she said. She waited until
he met her gaze. “I’m sorry, Les. I didn’t mean to preach. God knows we get
enough of that from mom and dad.”
“Yeah,” Les said.
“You alright? You look a little
flushed.” She looked down at his arm. “And your skin feels a little clammy.”
Les pulled his arm free. “Geez
Leese, I’m fine,” he muttered.
“Alright,” she said. “Well, have a
good flight. Oh, tell mom I’ll call her at grandma’s on Christmas Eve, and tell
dad I’ll feed the dog and do all that other stuff at the house.”
Nodding absently, Les climbed out
of the seat and went to the back of the car to retrieve his bag. When he closed
the lid of the trunk, Lisa was standing there. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she
said, eyeing him skeptically.
“Peachy,” Les replied.
Lisa wrapped him in her arms with a
tight hug. “Well, I hope so,” she said, speaking into his ear, “I’d hate to
think my weird little brother is silently suffering.”
“Who, me?” Les replied. “You’ve
never accused me of being silent about anything.” Lisa laughed, and hugged him
again. Les, worried that she would feel the hard pounding of his heart, pushed
away after a few moments. “Um, thanks for giving me a ride,” he said, forcing
his mouth into a tight smile.
“Sure thing,” Lisa said.
Les stood looking at the terminal.
He didn’t want to walk away. When he glanced over, Lisa was smiling with a
mixture of concern and sympathy. It was an expression he wasn’t used to seeing
from her. “You should probably get going,” she said. “You barely have an hour
to get to the gate, and you never know how long security’s gonna take.”
Les nodded. “Yeah. Okay. See you.”
He forced himself to step onto the curb, and walk towards the glass doors of
the terminal. He knew Lisa was standing there, watching him go, but he didn’t
dare look back. I don’t even like her
that much, he thought. Why do I feel
so bad about leaving her?
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