A Dedication by John Zaiss

Author:John Zaiss [Zaiss, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-12-11T00:00:00+00:00

So my plan to drop mom in the middle of a two-hour dinner from hell backfired. It never occurred to me that Coronado’s pricey menu would have been a deterrent to chance run-ins with any of my teachers. Damn! And I could have had lobster too.

Predictably, Mom didn’t let things slide after Mr. McCormack left the table. We had to rehash all the crap, go over the issues, relive the phone calls and analyze the meetings. Mom made sure I knew how hard she’d fought, how she’d tried every imaginable option, and what strings she’d pulled. And all the while Elizabeth just sat there, sucking up juicy tidbits like a human vacuum cleaner.

The drive home topped it off. Mom was still wailing on Mr. McCormack; how dare he come up to our table, what right did he have to talk about me with my summer school teacher, but when she vowed to write a letter to the school board—well, that’s when Dad exploded. I guess he’d heard enough and didn’t flip the safety valve in time. He told her she was not to do any such thing, that everything having to do with my school was now under control, and wasn’t the purpose of the dinner to celebrate my good grades, or had she forgotten that? And he told her to get off of her goddamned soapbox, and to get off it now.

How was the rest of the ride home? All I can say is that I still remember the distinctive blinking sound of the turn signal in Dad’s car, and how many seconds the light stayed red at the corner of Bellevue and Manor.

I didn’t wait for Dad to park the car in the garage when we pulled into the driveway, and hopped out while the automatic door was still opening. I didn’t slam the car door and I wasn’t mad; I knew I’d handled the situation with Mr. McCormack well. I just didn’t want to be ringside in case Mom and Dad decided to go a few more rounds. I was fumbling with the key to the door when the phone rang. I normally didn’t make much of an effort to answer the thing (taking messages for Elizabeth was beneath me), but it was a convenient excuse to distance myself from my family. I picked up the receiver on the fourth ring.

“Hello.” We were supposed to say “Marshall residence” when we answered, but I thought that too formal. Just like the rest of our house.

“Hi, Quinn.”

“Joe?”

A little laugh, then, “It’s me.”

“What’s up?” I was confused and a bit concerned. Joe rarely called. We used e-mail or instant messaging, and he wasn’t due back from Texas for three more days.

“Quinn, I know you like to hike, but I guess I never asked whether you’ve ever backpacked. Seems silly I wouldn’t know that.” Joe’s voice sounded different, not confident, and he was calling to find out if I backpacked? I was curious, and searching for signals.

“Yeah, sure, I backpack. Did some when I was in Scouts.

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