Staying Fat for Sarah Byrnes Read online

  “Yeah. Guess I better keep my food in my Baggies until right before I eat it. Less chance of contamination.”

  “I’ll be outside at the tables,” she said. “If you get finished early, come on out.”

  “Eric,” Mautz said to me in his doorway. “Just like old times.”

  “Yeah, well, except I’m not trying to strong-arm my way into the publishing business.”

  “That’s good.”

  “It was a pretty good paper,” I said, smiling. “A little misdirected, maybe, but hey, the grammar was good, the writing concise.”

  He wasn’t amused. We got away with that paper a lot longer than he would have liked. I was surprised not to feel intimidated as badly as I used to. “Well, we’re not here to talk about misguided journalism,” he said, directing me toward a chair across from his desk. His lunch was spread neatly before him like a still life, and I opened my paper bag, extracting a sandwich. “How’s school going for you this year?”

  Look in my files, I thought. I said, “Okay.”

  “Good. Your grades going to get you into a good college?”

  I said I could go pretty much anyplace I wanted.

  “Good,” he said again. “Secondary education is important. Got to have a good education to get a good job.”

  I started to tell him it was hard to argue with that, but he went right on. “Tell me about your Contemporary American Thought class.”

  Be patient, and the rat will always come out of his hole. “Good class,” I said. “What do you want to know about it?”

  “What do you discuss in there?”

  “Current problems,” I said. “The students set up the curriculum at the beginning of the semester, and we divide it up so everyone’s issue gets covered.”

  “What kinds of issues?”

  “All kinds.”

  Mautz smiled. “Are you evading my questions, Eric?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that. I ask what you talk about in Mrs. Lemry’s class, and you beat around the bush.”

  “Why don’t you ask Ms. Lemry?”

  “Because I’m asking you.”

  This was starting to feel bad. I mean, Mautz invites me to lunch (and makes me bring my own, but who’s complaining) to ask me what’s going on in a class when all he has to do is ask the teacher? Come on, folks. “Tell you what, Mr. Mautz. You tell me what you want to know and why you want to know it, and if I can help you out, I will.”

  “You haven’t changed much, have you, Eric?”

  “Probably not much.” I looked down at myself. “Lost a little weight, but I still don’t like to be pushed around, and I still don’t like to be tricked.”

  “How are you being tricked?”

  “I would be tricked by answering questions about Ms. Lemry’s class when you could just ask her. You’re not telling me what this is about.”

  Mautz rocked in his chair, staring at me, his index finger tapping his lips lightly. “Very well,” he said finally. “Frankly, I’ve been a bit distressed by what I’ve heard about that class, and about you and your friend Steve Ellerby.”

  Wait long enough…“What have you heard?”

  Mautz was quiet again, seemingly considering how much he wanted me to know. Finally he put up his hands. “That some important Christian values are being trashed, for one, but that’s a subject for Mrs. Lemry and me. Also that you and your friend Ellerby seem to be mounting a vicious campaign to humiliate Mark Brittain.”

  Ah, Brittain. It was my turn to sit staring.

  “What do you say about that?”

  I was quiet a second longer. “Well, to tell you the truth, I haven’t spent a lot of time or brain power on humiliating Mark Brittain. He does that pretty well himself. I don’t mind telling you I don’t like him, and if he weren’t part of the swim team I wouldn’t give him the time of day.”

  “What about his girlfriend?”

  “Jody?”

  Mautz nodded. “Mark tells me you’ve been slandering him to her.”

  “First, she’s not his girlfriend, and second, I have better things to do than slander Mark Brittain. Like I said, why mess with what’s already working?”

  Mautz sat forward and memories of junior high flooded back to me. I fought hard to remember that things were different now; I had done nothing wrong. “I don’t mind telling you, Mr. Calhoune, that I believe Mark Brittain is a special kind of kid. His moral values are flawless, and he doesn’t bow to the temptations most kids bow to. You included. Now, I talked with his mother this morning, and she’s very worried. She believes he’s under a lot of stress and says he seems particularly depressed. I can’t order you to leave him alone, or I would. Instead, I’m asking you to give him a little slack.”

  I gazed around the office, at the impeccable organization: every book in place, the top of his desk clean and shiny enough to skate on. My eyes landed on a large crucifix in the middle of his bookcase. The design at the center was identical to the one in the center of the decal in Brittain’s rear window. “Do you go to the same church as Mark?”

  “What difference does that make?”

  “Something about this conversation just made me wonder, that’s all.”

  “Well, it’s none of your concern. But I see no problem in telling you that I do.”

  I sat back, breathing out.

  “What does that have to do with anything?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Really, I just wondered. Can I go now?”

  “What about my request?”

  “About Mark? I’ll give Mark so much space he won’t even know I’m on the same planet.”

  “What about his girlfriend?”

  “If he gets one, I promise I won’t even talk to her.”

  Blood flooded into Mautz’s face, but he retained control. “I meant Jody Mueller.”

  “I’ll ask her to give him some space, too.”

  Mautz pointed his finger at me, his carotid artery swelling like a fire hose. “You’re skating on thin ice, young man.”

  “What is it you want me to do about Jody Mueller, Mr. Mautz?”

  “If you had an ounce of compassion, you’d stop seeing her. At least until things have stabilized.”

  “You mean until Mark Brittain is stabilized? My organ donor card will expire before Mark Brittain is stabilized. The guy needs help.” I stood. “I’ll leave Mark alone,” I said. “But I’m not going to stop seeing Jody Mueller.” I started for the door.

  “You know,” Mautz said, “I’ve always seen you as a bit misguided, Eric. That’s no secret. But I’ve never seen you as cruel. Not before today.”

  I was this close to telling him about his favorite choirboy’s response to Jody’s pregnancy, but that would have been a bad move for Jody, so I said, “I don’t get it, sir. How come Jody Mueller’s feelings don’t carry any weight here? You think she doesn’t have a right to say who she goes out with?”

  “I think her head is turned because you’re a clever boy,” Mautz said evenly. “That’s what I think. And I think the only reason you’re taking her out is because she used to go with Mark Brittain. And I think that’s cruel.”

  He’s an amazing man, that Mr. Mautz.

  In the pool this afternoon I didn’t taunt Brittain, didn’t set up any games with Ellerby to mess with his head; I just kicked his ass. Every time I thought about him crying to Mautz, I just turned up the heat. If he keeps messing with me, I could turn out to be a pretty good swimmer by the time Regionals roll around.

  I hung around a bit after the rest of the team hit the showers.

  “What do you need, Mobe?” Lemry asked as I followed her into her office just off the pool deck.

  I told her I thought she should watch out.

  “For what?”

  “For Mr. Mautz. He was asking me all kinds of questions about CAT class today. Like he was trying to get something on you.”

  She looked at me strangely. “Like what?”

  I said I didn’t know, but
that’s how it felt. Then I told her about Mautz’s and my conversation concerning Brittain.

  She listened carefully, looking a bit puzzled, and annoyed. “Tell you what,” she said when I finished. “You go on doing what you’re doing and don’t worry about it. I do agree with Mr. Mautz on one thing. It would be good for you guys to give Mark a little room. He doesn’t have much of a sense of humor, and that makes things doubly tough on him. Breakups are hard under any circumstances. Everybody hurts, Mobe. Remember that.”

  I said I had decided to leave him alone.

  “You might see if the Very Reverend Mr. Ellerby would join you in that decision.”

  I said I would. Then, “I might have some information about Sarah Byrnes’s mother.”

  “Really? What kind of information?”

  “Well, I talked to an old friend of hers who said her mom used to talk about going to Reno to be a card dealer and maybe learn to dance. You know, like in those shows they have.”

  “How reliable is that?”

  I told her about Dale and how he and Sarah Byrnes became friends.

  “Sounds like you believe him.”

  “He’s not the kind of guy with a reason to lie,” I said. “He doesn’t have much to lose.”

  Lemry put her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “That would have been at least fourteen years ago.”

  I nodded.

  “We’d be lucky to find her. That’s a long time to hold a job as a dealer. Or as a dancer.”

  I shrugged. “All I know is what Dale said.”

  “Do you think Sarah Byrnes would talk to me?” she asked. “If I went to the hospital with you, do you think she’d trust me?”

  Boy, who knew. Sarah Byrnes is full of surprises. I can never tell when she’s going to go along with something and when she’s going to take my head off. I said that.

  “Well, find out.”

  I said I’d try, then Lemry told me to have a seat. I dropped my towel onto the cushion to keep the chair from getting wet and planted myself.

  “Listen, Mobe, Sarah Byrnes has had a big impact on you, and her name comes up so often lately that I feel I know her. Sometimes the hardest thing about being a schoolteacher is having to leave the tough cases behind so you can cater to the masses. Most good teachers hate that. This girl seems to have worked her way into the part of me that doesn’t let go. I really do want to help, and it seems as if the only help is to get her mom back here to tell the true facts. But I’m going to have to follow your lead. She trusts you if she trusts anybody. You’re going to have to make the decisions about when to tell her what. I’m willing to put some energy and even some money into helping, but she has to want that for it to make a difference. It might be that we should find her mother first, before we say anything, to see if she will have anything to do with her daughter. I don’t know.”

  I thought of all Sarah Byrnes’s and my time together, tried to picture her reactions. “I know one thing,” I said finally. “Sarah Byrnes hates not knowing worse than anything. She has to okay anything we do. And the first thing I’ll have to do is make it okay that I’ve told you everything.”

  “Get to it.”

  “You son of a bitch,” Sarah Byrnes spits through gritted teeth. “She’s a teacher, you dickhead. She has to tell Child Protection Services, at least.”

  “She said she wouldn’t do that,” I say, “and I believe her.”

  “She’s a teacher,” Sarah Byrnes says again. “There’s a fine if you don’t tell. Jail, you asshole.”

  I know Lemry wouldn’t lie. “Look, I want to bring her here. We can go out into the courtyard, and you can see for yourself.”

  Sarah Byrnes looks at me through those slits in her scarred face as if she’s going to clean my clock on the spot. “I thought I could trust you,” she spits. “Shit, Eric, you of all people.” She turns to walk away.

  But I grab her arm. She pulls away, but I don’t let go. “Look, you’re starting to piss me off. You tell me all this shit, and then expect me to stand by and let whatever happens happen. Well, bullshit. Ellerby was right. Once I know something, I can’t unknow it or pretend it isn’t so. I’m responsible for anything I know. I was careful who I told. Lemry is safe. She is. And there are no other good choices. Shit, all you do is present me with impossibilities. You can’t stay here forever, and you can’t go home. Anything else I come up with won’t work for some reason you think of….”

  She jerks hard from my grasp. “What do you know?” she screams, and the attendants look up. “What the hell do you know? You went off and got yourself okay. Lemry is a big deal hero to you because she’s your goddamn swim coach. She’s the one that helped you be okay. Well, look at me, Eric. Look at me! I’m never going to be okay! Never!”

  I could back down; would have a couple months ago, but I’ve seen Sarah Byrnes’s dad for what he is now, and I’ve seen what that might do to her, and I’m simply not willing to let it be anymore. I’m just not. If you just wait around and let things happen, then they’ll happen, and likely as not you’ll eat shit. “No, Sarah Byrnes, you’re wrong. You’re just never going to be pretty. That part’s right. But that’s old news. Since right after the day your dad burned you. But you are going to be okay. Goddamn it, you are! You were right. Being fat was a choice, even though I didn’t know it at the time. But when I did know it I was still willing to stay that way so you wouldn’t think I’d get all svelte and leave. That’s how much your friendship meant. I hated being fat, but it was worth it not to lose you. And that has to make you something, at least to me.” I stop for a breath and realize tears are streaming down both our faces. I grab her and hold her, and though she doesn’t grab me back, once again she doesn’t push away.

  Home. My room. My bed. Simon and Garfunkle on my CD player, barely audible over the wind whistling through the trees and the hard flecks of snow snapping against the glass. So these are the best years of my life. I’m scared. I promised Sarah Byrnes I’d help—promised Lemry would, too—and I don’t even know what help is. I love her, but sometimes I wish I never knew her. That doesn’t make me too good a friend, but when I think of just training hard to make it to State and going out with Jody and studying the nature of the cosmos with Ellerby over a six-pack of burgers—well, that’s what I long for right now. I just want it to be simple. But it won’t be.

  CHAPTER 13

  For the past three days, Sarah Byrnes has been living in the apartment above Lemry’s garage. She bolted from the psych ward within twenty-four hours after the attendants heard her speak. I went up to the ward to tell Laurel, her counselor, that Sarah Byrnes was okay, but that there were good reasons for her not wanting anyone to know where she was.

  “It’s her father, isn’t it?” Laurel asked.

  Sarah Byrnes had told me not to tell Laurel anything about her dad because she’d be required to report to Child Protection Services. If they started questioning her dad, he’d get cranked up and come looking for her, which he’ll do anyway, but maybe with a little less zeal. I said, “I stand on the Fifth.”

  She smiled. “I’m just glad to know she’s safe, Eric. Thanks.”

  Getting Sarah Byrnes to stay at Lemry’s place was easier than I thought it would be—she left the psych ward still majorly pissed at me for telling Lemry about her dad. She kicked me out of the hospital right after she blew her cover but met me in the parking lot the next afternoon, less than half an hour after she called demanding that I get my ass down there, because she wasn’t going to take the chance of the staff getting worried about liability and telling her father she had talked. She slammed down the phone before I could tell her my mom’s car wasn’t there, so I called Ellerby, but his phone was busy. I ran the mile and a half from my house to Sacred Heart, worried Sarah Byrnes would get to the parking lot, find no one waiting, and take off in a huff.

  Sarah Byrnes had no sweat getting out—she simply stuffed her things into a bag, waited until no one was looking, and walked out a back way to the park
ing lot. I was waiting at the corner telephone booth, where I’d finally contacted Ellerby only seconds earlier. I told him to hurry.

  “Call you a cab, ma’am?” I said.

  She said, “Don’t mess with me, Eric. Just get me out of here. My dad will be here in a few minutes.”

  “Be pissed at me if you want,” I said. “I did the only thing I could do. Lemry’s still in on this, and she hasn’t called Child Protection. If you can’t trust that, then I don’t know what.”

  “She can just stay the hell away from me,” she said. “I’ve had all the help I need to last me for the next five years.”

  “Yeah, well, it ain’t all the help you’re gonna get,” I said as the Cruiser rounded the corner, Ellerby sitting low in the front seat in dark glasses and a broad-brimmed hat. He pulled up beside us, glanced stealthily both ways before leaping out to open the back door. He said, “In.”

  Sarah Byrnes looked at him like he was crazy, then back at me. I shrugged and said, “In.”

  A dark car—an older model Oldsmobile with tinted windows—approached from the direction Ellerby had come, and Sarah Byrnes glanced up in panic, jumped into the back seat, and lay flat. “Drive,” she said, and it didn’t take an astrophysicist to know the ominous form at the wheel was Virgil Byrnes. He must not have seen me, or known Ellerby’s Cruiser, because he coasted slowly, seemingly looking for a parking spot.

  Ellerby dropped into the driver’s seat as I slid into shotgun. “So where will I be dropping you, miss?” he asked. “The Sheraton? Marriott? Maybe the Hilton? Excuse me, what was I thinking of, we have no Hilton. Knock five dollars off my tip.”

  “Drive!” Sarah Byrnes said through gritted teeth.

  Ellerby pulled slowly onto the street, passing within three feet of Mr. Byrnes’s dark blue monstrosity. “That’s an ugly car,” he said, and gave a short honk as we passed. I turned my head away as Mr. Byrnes glanced up.

  “You’ll think that’s real funny,” Sarah Byrnes said, “when he finds out you drove the getaway car.”

  In the side-view mirror, I watched Mr. Byrnes walk across the parking lot toward the hospital. In a few minutes the stakes to this game would go up.