Chapter Twenty-Six
“First thing on the agenda is a special commendation to the Halikarnassus football team. Boys?”
The first town council meeting of the new year was usually a slog. Folks were still coming off of the holiday high, and voting on building permits was a surefire way to kill any remaining festive spirit.
This meeting was different.
Liam watched as several dozen boys of varying shapes and sizes—well, mostly big—lumbered up to the podium. Hal looked like he was vibrating with pride and glee.
Liam had been to a lot of town council meetings, and he’d heard Hal present a lot of official commendations—Girl Scouts, church choirs, war veterans. Once there was even one honoring a cat who dialed 9-1-1 when her owner was having a heart attack. (There was a minor scandal when it was discovered that the owner had, in fact, dialed the phone himself before losing consciousness.) This was definitely the most excited Liam had ever seen Hal when doing his civic duty.
“WHEREAS,” he began in a very Mayoral Voice. “the Halikarnassus High School football team represents the highest standards of sportsmanship, athleticism, hard work, and competition—”
“Except for girls’ lacrosse, which actually wins,” Doris only sort of whispered to Peggy, who was seated on the other side of Liam. Her granddaughter was on the lacrosse team. It was a big bone of contention.
“WHEREAS, the Halikarnassus High School football team surpassed the win record of any other HHS team in recent memory and achieved a spot in the New York State High School Football Tournament Quarterfinals—”
“Where they promptly lost,” Doris whispered.
“Hush, now,” Peggy whispered back.
“I’m just saying, this is a whole lot of proclamation for nothin’.”
“The boys worked hard.”
“That Dylan boy had a growth spurt. That’s not working hard.”
Liam just leaned back and let the two argue over him. He didn’t want to take away from the team’s achievement—the quarterfinals was a big deal considering they hadn’t been good enough to be invited to the tournament in years. But a good football team—which Halikarnassus High was not, but had the potential to become—meant the library’s funding could once again be in danger. This made the already painful annual budget process even more fraught. He didn’t want to suggest efficiencies since the library was already running on a bare enough budget. And he didn’t want to ask for an increase because he didn’t want to make Hal mad. And Hal would be mad if he thought Liam was trying to take any money away from his precious almost-good football team.
“NOW, THEREFORE, LET IT BE PROCLAIMED by the Honorable Mayor and the Town Council of the Town of Halikarnassus that today is Halikarnassus High School Football Day!”
A great, grunting cheer went up in the council hall. Liam clapped dutifully. The boys lined up to shake hands with the council, and there was more cheering and cell phones were clicking away their blurry photos to be posted on the town’s Facebook page later, the one that Liam had helped the council set up.
Bitterness was not going to win him points with anyone on the council, so he stood when everyone else stood. Not even the (alleged) 9-1-1-dialing cat got a standing ovation.
“We’re very proud of you boys,” Councilman Maguire said over the din. “I think this could mean some big changes for your facilities up there at the school, don’t you, Mayor?”
Liam looked up at the dais, where Hal was still standing, a triumphant smile on his face.
* * *
“That bad, huh?”
It was hard to feel like the situation was hopeless when Joanna’s naked body was pressed up against his, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. But he was pretty sure it was hopeless.
“Hal’s got it in for the library for some reason.”
“He’s just mad because he doesn’t read.”
“Maybe I should do some kung fu reader’s advisory on him, turn him into a reader.”
“I don’t understand half of what you just said, but I wouldn’t waste too much time trying to get Hal to change. Especially not when it involves football.”
“I don’t get it. Why can’t we have both? Why do we have to choose between sports and the library? A lot of athletes use the library.”
He felt Joanna shrug. “Hal’s always been competitive like that. He doesn’t just want to win, he wants to annihilate the competition.”
“That’s how he was in high school. You hate it when people think you’re still high school, Joanna. Maybe he’s changed.”
She propped herself up on her elbow so she was looking him in the eye. “Yes, but Hal hasn’t been getting naked with you, making him all soft.”
He tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re not all soft.”
She kissed him, sweet and gentle. Maybe she was a little soft. Not all soft. He still felt she might bolt at any time. There was still a part of her that he didn’t understand.
She put her head back on his chest and resumed her lazy circles, this time on his stomach. “What are your parents like?” she asked.
Liam felt a sudden pang of guilt, remembering that he was supposed to call his mother back. But he kept getting distracted by Joanna’s sexiness, and that really didn’t put him in the mood to talk to his mother.
“They’re, I don’t know, my parents.” That painted a nice picture for her. “They got divorced when I was in middle school, and they still pretty much hate each other. They say that they keep it polite for the kids, but, well, they don’t.”
“They fight a lot?”
He wasn’t sure if his parents’ ver y communicative noncommunication could be called fighting. “More like a lot of passive-aggressive teeth gnashing. It’s pretty exhausting. Especially when the new husbands are there.”
“Husbands? Like sister wives?”
“No, no. My mom left my dad for her tennis coach—”
“Wow.”
“I know. Might as well have been the pool boy. But now they’ve been married for longer than my parents were.”
“Well, I bet that shuts the haters up, at least.”
“You obviously don’t know my family.”
“Once a cheater, always a cheater?”
That was one way of putting it. “I think she got it even harder because she was the mom, and leaving us was seen as unnatural. Even though she only moved across town. We still saw her all the time. Hell, we still took tennis lessons from Dan.”
“Dan the tennis instructor?”
“Dan the tennis instructor-husband.”
“I didn’t know you played tennis. Tap dance and tennis.”
“That’s because I suck at tennis. And I hate it.”
“There’s something deep in there.”
“You mean my subconscious hates tennis because it tore my family apart? Probably.”
She pressed a kiss over his heart. “You said husbands. So, what, your mom has another husband?”
“No, my dad. He came out when I was a senior in college.”
“Whoa.”
“Yeah. My mom was pissed.”
“Even though she had Dan?”
“I think she still thinks Dad came out to get back at her for leaving.”
“Is that how that works? I’d always wondered.” She flattened her palm on his abdomen.
“And then Dad had the nerve to also marry a guy named Dan.”
Joanna threw back her head. “Oh my God. That’s amazing.”
“The thing is, I like spending time with the Dans. It’s my parents I can’t deal with.”
“My Two Dans,” she said, giggling.
“Okay, I showed you mine. What’s your cuckoo parental story?” There must be something there, since she’d been raised by her grandmother.
He felt her stiffen. He tightened his hold on her, just a little, in case she decided to bolt.
“Mine are dead.”
“Oh.” Well, Liam was officially an asshole. He loosened his grip again. She could bolt if she wanted to.
But she didn’t.
“They dropped me off at Granny’s so they could build an orphanage in Laos.”
“That’s very . . . humanitarian?”
“They told me they were going to bring me back a baby brother or sister, or maybe both.”
“Weird.”
“Yeah, except they went with this hippie bootleg Peace Corps group who used essential oils and herbs instead of actual medicine and my parents died of malaria.”
“Oh. Geez.”
“They weren’t even religious. Just stupid.”
She sounded mad.
He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t really disagree with her assessment—I mean, there were treatments for malaria. He was no doctor, but he was pretty sure it could be cured.
“Were they out in the country? With no access to medicine?” he asked, trying to understand. There must have been some explanation, surely.
“No. I mean, yes, they were in a rural area, but there was a clinic there and UNICEF people and everything.”
“Why didn’t they go?”
“Because they eschewed modern medicine. It’s poison, they said.”
“Unlike malaria.”
“I remember how pissed they were when they found out Granny had me vaccinated. She told me that she did it when it became clear that I was going to be staying in Halikarnassus for the school year. No vaccines, no school.”
“But your parents were upset?”
“Pissed. I remember watching Granny on the phone with them. She was holding the phone away from her ear, and I could hear my mother shouting and screaming like a crazy person. I’ve never seen Granny cry so hard in her life, not even when they died.”
“God.”
“And it took months. The malaria, I mean. Granny was doing everything to try to get them back here, but she couldn’t afford to go get them herself, and they wouldn’t listen to her pleas over the phone, and then they just stopped talking to her.”
“God,” he said again, because what else could he say?
“Yeah, and Granny tried to shield me from it. I was only seven. But I knew. They chose their stupid principles over me.”
He squeezed her now, tight to him.
“So now you know where I get that from.”
It was true. She was stubborn. “But music isn’t a matter of life and death.”
“Hey now,” she said, sitting up. Her eyes still looked sad, but he knew she was done talking about it. This was Joanna. She didn’t like feelings.
And even though he knew showing any sign of pity would be a death wish, he couldn’t help but feel bad for that little girl she’d been, abandoned by her parents. Even if, in the end, it had been for the best, it still must have hurt.
No wonder she hated this town.
He wanted to tell her that he got it, that he wouldn’t hold her here if she didn’t want to stay. But he didn’t really mean that. If he could, he’d tie her down and never let her leave. But he knew if he tried, he wouldn’t have Joanna. She wasn’t compliant. She wasn’t meant to be tied down. And that was why he loved her.
He wanted to tell her, but he couldn’t. If he told her, he’d lose her. So he just pulled her head down closer to his and kissed her. He rolled them so he was on top of her. He couldn’t tell her, but he could show her.