The Valedictorian - 4. The Interview

Last paragraphs of chapter 2:

“Normally, we’d talk about this in my ‘office,’ but I see time is – uh – getting short for you. So, when will be a good time for the interview?”

This stunning about-face from me results in two physical reactions. The first is a squeal from Sarah.

The second is a heavy pound to my upper arm from my boyfriend.

“Ouch! That hurt!” I begin to rub my arm.

“You never told me you were going to change your mind!”

“Well, I hadn’t quite decided yet. If I told you I was even leaning in that direction, you’d have never stopped pestering me. But Sarah has a deadline, and that meant I had to decide right now.” I look across at her and display my most charming smile. “Thanks for not punching me too.”

The bell rings. I get up and walk over to deposit my lunch tray. “I’ll walk with you to your next class, Sarah.”

Don yells from behind me. “What about me?”

I turn. “This is business. I’ll see you after school at my car.” I can’t resist giving him the same line he always gives me.

“So, again, when is a good time?”

“As soon as possible. Tonight, even, if you don’t have other plans.”

“I’m usually tied up after school with Don until I take him home. Then I normally drive to my house for supper. Why don’t you come with me? My mother is a great cook. We can do the interview and I’ll drive you home after, unless you have your own car. Oh, gosh! Maybe you have a boyfriend. Well, he can come too.”

She chuckles as I babble on. “No car or boyfriend at the moment. Your offer sounds great. I don’t get too many home cooked meals.”

“Perfect. I’ll call Mom and let her know we’ll have one more for supper – probably two, when Don gets wind of this and becomes jealous.”

She puts hand to mouth, stifling a big laugh as she enters her classroom. I wave goodbye and walk on to my Art class.

I’m not much of an artist, but Mrs. Ames loves my photography, which is my one true interest. For whichever concept she has us studying, I try to bring in several large prints that can be used as subjects. She lets me paint the scene I’ve captured with my camera, demonstrating perspective, shadow or whatever she wants us to play with. A few of my classmates have asked to use some of the pictures I bring in. It’s really a great class and she makes it very interesting.

Being Friday, it’s the last day for this week’s subject, which is painting how light or shadow falls on spherical or other curved objects. Luckily, last fall I was big into visiting the orchards around here and have tons of pictures of apples trees, grape vines and whatever else I could find, including many close-up shots of the fruit.

I didn’t use any of those for my painting, although most of the class did. Mine was one of six I have framed at home. Last spring, I had the urge to try out a new telephoto lens at one of David’s ball games. I didn’t expect very much, but my camera’s big lens was mounted on a tripod just off the right field bleachers. I was really trying to get a few action pictures of David to remember him. By then, I knew he would probably never return to Daleville again.

Anyway, I got lucky and captured a brilliant double play he initiated with an amazing jumping catch and before he even hit the ground again, the ball was on its way to Cory at third base to throw out a runner who was sliding back, after believing there was a hit. I had the shutter running in the sports mode, where it takes a sequence of shots as fast as it can.

Out of all those images, I selected six which followed him on his jump, twist in the air, and throw. Those now adorn a wall in my bedroom. I always had a crush on the guy and I guess, in some way, I still do. One of the shots shows the ball just before it entered his glove. The light and shadow on that sphere, together with its shadow falling across the curved surface of his glove, made a wonderful image for me to attempt to capture in my class project.

After school, Don emerges from the parking lot exit with Sarah, and they both approach my car. I brace myself for whatever he has prepared. One thing about my boyfriend is he never lets a slight, real or imagined, go unpunished. He’s never vindictive or anything, just something inside him always has to get in the last word. For example, he invariably sends the last text in a conversation – even if it’s the third “OK.”

I do worry a bit how that little habit, which is an endearing eccentricity now, might evolve into a more annoying obsession later in life, but I see no signs of that yet. He comes to my side and kisses me through the window.

“Is it alright if Sarah comes to Kory’s with us? Then we can all go to your house together.”

“Oh? You’re coming too?”

“It’s only business.”

“Now seriously, boyfriend, how can I cheat on you while you’re sitting right there?”

“If you want to cheat with Sarah, I’ll take notes. It’ll make a fascinating paper for psychology class.”

“Um, you do realize she’s standing right there, listening to us.”

Finally, Sarah pipes up. “Oh, God, I should be taking notes for the final edition.”

Don gives me another kiss. “I’ll sit in the back seat, cuz it’s not too comfortable. Sarah can ride shotgun.” He runs around the car and folds the passenger seat to slide into the back. Pretty soon, Sarah is next to me. As we drive out of the lot, he adds, “I’m watching you guys from back here, so no funny stuff.”

Probably because it’s Friday, Don doesn’t have too much “business” to conduct at his office in Kory’s diner. Sarah and I are sitting across from each other. Martha brings my usual cheeseburger, which I never even have to order, but Sarah, like Don, only ordered a small salad.

“So, about this interview. How is it going to work? Do you have a list of questions you’re going to ask me?”

“No, not really. I may ask a question here or there, but what I’d like you to do is tell me all about your life, especially the high school years.”

“Really? Who would want to read about my life?”

“No, I’m not going to write your biography. Look, Chuck, all I know about you is what I get from Don, and that isn’t much. You’re sort of an enigma.”

“Me? Hardly.”

“Well, yes you are. I talk to lots of students, mostly seniors, but underclassmen too. Everybody knows who you are. You’re school famous. But no one knows much about you. So my idea is to get to know the real you, and then write a different kind of story about the valedictorian.”

“Can we pause right there? Look, the only thing stopping me has been your use of the title, valedictorian, before I’m even named. It just isn’t right. Can you say ‘presumed’ or ‘likely’ before the title?”

Don pops in. “Maybe ‘alleged’ or ‘charged with the crime?’”

“Thanks for the help, boyfriend!”

“It’s the least I can do.”

“You guys are too much. OK, Chuck; I can do that.”

Soon we give up on Kory’s and drive to my house.

“Oh, you live near the falls! That’s neat.”

“Yeah, it was a bit of a drag until I got my car. Bussing to school sort of limited what I could get involved in.”

Don adds his usual two cents. “The football team really missed out, not having Chuck on the defensive line.” Even I have to laugh at that.

We introduce Sarah to Mom. “Oh, the elusive interview! So, did Don finally break you down?”

“No, actually it was Sarah herself.”

All through meatloaf and mashed potatoes, Sarah carries on casual conversation with Mom. I catch Don’s look. We realize the interview has already begun. Sarah is probing to discover who this ‘enigmatic’ Chuck really is. The two of us have a difficult time not laughing each time she gently probes a little deeper.

Finally, the meal is over and the ‘official’ interview begins. I choose the living room because the chairs are more comfortable than my bedroom.

“Did you have any boyfriends before Don?”

“Whoah! You’re not going to put stuff like that in the article, are you?”

“No, no – of course not. I just wanted a little background. I mean, Don told me you guys have been a couple for almost four years! That’s unusual, no matter what your orientation. I was just curious if you were lucky enough to hit the jackpot with your first boyfriend.”

“Well, I can’t imagine how it would even matter. But no, I had a prior boyfriend earlier in my freshman year. At the end of those couple weeks we were together, he confessed he was just experimenting and decided he was straight after all.”

“That sure sounds strange.”

No way can I explain Matty’s little club and the wall-to-wall sex we had every weekend – especially with my mom listening-in from the kitchen. “Well, it wasn’t for me to judge him. He’s still a friend.” As still are all the members of Matty’s former scout-troop. We have the Eagle Badges to prove it too.

“Don told me you have a half-brother in the Navy, but you only recently found out that he existed. What’s with that?”

I am kicking myself for not having this interview in my bedroom. How can I explain it without upsetting my mother? Don picks up on this right away. “Hey, I’m going to get some juice. Do you guys want anything?”

“I’ll take a Coke. How about you, Sarah?”

“No, I’m fine.”

I wait until I hear Don starting a conversation with my mother. Then I continue, talking more quietly. “Look, Sarah, I don’t want to embarrass my mother. Why don’t we go up to my room? Don will join us after he’s done distracting her.”

Once we’re up there, she smiles and says, “Wow! You guys work together like a well-oiled machine, don’t you?”

“I guess that’s one advantage of having been together for so long. Now, to answer your question. I guess my mother had an affair with an army officer and that ended up being me. She didn’t realize he was married until he was promoted and transferred to the West Coast. He already had two sons, the last just born. So I had two half-brothers, one much older than me and the other only about a year older.”

“Why did Don tell me you had only one?”

“Because Danny was killed when I was a freshman.”

“Danny McCane?”

“Yep.”

“So the father that was killed in the car crash with him was your father too?”

“Yes.” I decide not to expose the cover-up story, especially to a reporter.

“Did you know Danny was your brother at the time?”

“No. David figured it all out after separate conversations with Carl and me. Carl is my older step-brother.”

“Oh, my! That sounds like a story all by itself.”

“Well, sorry, but I can’t help you with that. David never explained to me why he had the hunch and then pursued it. All I can figure is I looked too much like Danny and when he found out from me that my father was a young army officer, he went into sleuth mode. Hehe ..but I’m glad he did. Carl will be out of the Navy and working in Hartford while I’m at Yale, so it’ll give me some family nearby. He and I got along great when we met for the first time earlier this week.”

At this point Don walks in and hands me my Coke. He winks at me; Sarah smiles, then continues.

“Why did you never become an officer in the GSA?”

“Why would I? They never lacked volunteers and, like I told you, I was sort of isolated out here until I got my car last June.”

“How old are you, Chuck?”

“I’ll be eighteen next week.”

“Oh, Crap! That means I have to buy you a present!” Don, again.

“That’s David, isn’t it?” Sarah has spotted the five remaining photos on my wall.

“There are actually six pictures in the set. I’m using one in Art for a light and shadow assignment.”

She gets up and studies them more closely. “These are very good, Chuck.”

“Thanks. Photography is my passion, besides Don here.”

Now Sarah is beginning to discover my room. “Who took this one of you and Don?”

“Me. The camera was on a tripod and timer.”

“Yeah, he took about five-hundred of those suckers before he got the one he wanted. I was getting cramps!” Sarah just smirks at him.

“Who’s this? He looks something like Don.”

“That’s his younger brother Paul. He’s a freshman. That’s his sister Barbie. She’s a junior.”

“Barbie goes with that football player, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, Tom.”

“And he’s David’s brother?”

“Yep.”

“So, you guys are sort of in a tight little pack, huh?”

“Well, it’s a small town.”

After that, Sarah sits again and asked more questions about my high school years. I explain about David befriending me and changing my outlook on the social aspects of school. Also having the GSA form while I was a freshman was good for me too. The rest is kinda boring. I mean, aside from helping Don as class Vice-President for two years, I didn’t really do much beyond taking pictures around the area.

“Why did you never join the newspaper staff? We could have used a photographic talent like yours.”

“To tell you the truth, I never thought of it. Photography has always been personal to me. I never associated it with school.”

“I see how you’ve been affected by what other people have done. David gave you presence in the school and helped with your confidence. The GSA has permitted you to be yourself, without hiding, and added more to your confidence. Don and Jack have allowed you to see school government at work. Then, of course, you’ve helped yourself by studying hard and earning the best GPA in the senior class. That’s all well and good, but aren’t you a little disappointed that you haven’t done anything?”

“What?! You think all that work isn’t anything?”

“I mean for the school; for your fellow students; for Daleville. All these people who helped you have contributed in sports or served in clubs and government, but what have you done beside get good grades?”

Don comes to my defense. “Sarah, there’s over twenty-five hundred kids in our school. Everyone isn’t into student government or sports. Don’t be so harsh. Anyway, I know for a fact that Chuck has helped out a lot of kids from his little ‘office’ in the library. He’s just not the kind of guy to honk his own horn.”

Thankfully, she begins to put her notepad away. “Don’t worry Chuck. I’m not going to write anything like that. It was only a personal observation, especially when you explained how separate you kept what was personal to you from the school. Anyway, Monday at school I’ll show you what I come up with for the article.”

I can’t begin to imagine what she’ll write. I’m stung by her accusation. Before we leave the room Don turns to me. “Stay over.”

“What?”

“Tomorrow is Saturday; there’s no school. Why drive back here all alone tonight? Stay with me.”

We walk downstairs and I explain to Mom.

“I think Don’s right, Chuck. Stay in Daleville tonight.”

“You’re my mom! You’re not supposed to take his side!”

Don smirks and tells me to pack some clothes. “Toss in your swim trunks; maybe we’ll go to the lake.”

The ride to Daleville is quiet. I’m not angry, although they probably think I am. What I’m doing is thinking about what Sarah said. In fact, I’m thinking a lot about what Sarah said. We arrive at her house, but before she leaves, I get a kiss on my cheek.

“You mad at me?”

“No, not at all.”

“OK, see you Monday at school.”

“Don’t take it so hard. Sarah is always like that, and to everyone. I’ve been bruised, myself.” Don has moved up to the front seat.

“She’s right.”

“What?”

“I said, ‘She’s right.’”

“Jesus, I heard what you said! I can’t believe you agree with her.”

“I agree with her because she’s right. That’s what I was thinking about all the way home.”

“You were thinking about she was right?”

“No, doofus! I was trying to come up with something I could do. There’s so little time left. What can I do to make a difference?”

“Oh, God. You’re gonna be worrying this problem to death all night. There goes any chance of making love!”

“Nah, nothing like that. I’ll let my subconscious work on it tonight and see if it gives me any ideas tomorrow – a little trick David taught me. Our making love is safe. Hey, when have I ever replaced sex with thinking?”

We’re still chuckling as we enter his house only to be met by the scene of his younger brother sitting on the couch, his mother’s arms around him. Paul’s been crying – still is, a little. Don rushes over.

“Paulie! What’s wrong?”

The kid’s too upset to talk, I think, so his mom answers instead. “He just found out Shawn tried to commit suicide tonight.”

“Shawn Miller?!”

Paul looks up at his brother and nods.

“How is he? Do you know what happened, Mom?”

“Only the bare outline. He’s in critical condition. I guess his sister came home from work early and found him on the floor in a pool of blood. He had cut his wrists only moments before.”

I’m thinking – Miller, Miller, that sounds familiar. Then I remember! That’s Martha’s name; the waitress at Kory’s. I catch Don’s eye. “Martha’s brother?”

“Yeah. He’s on the JV baseball team with Paul. They’re friends.”

That’s when Paul speaks for the first time. “Friends? He’s my best friend! I almost lost my best friend tonight!”

Naturally, that changes our schedule a little. We stay downstairs to help comfort Paul. He doesn’t have too much to add because, of course, he doesn’t know much either. He keeps repeating that he can’t believe it; he was just with him in school today; he had no idea his buddy was so depressed. I can’t place a face for Shawn. Since he is a freshman, I probably never met him. They still keep the freshmen pretty much isolated to the second floor of the A-Wing. I was lucky. When I was a freshman I was accelerated in some subjects, and so was on other floors a lot.

We do eventually retire for the night. I’m here often enough that I have a toothbrush and other bathroom stuff in Don’s room. He even has a dresser drawer with whatever of my clothes his mom has washed.

Tonight he wants me to be the one who makes love to him. It’s like he’s trying to repeat everything we’ve ever done as a couple – to keep as a fresh memory. I really do love the guy. If anyone at Yale takes his place, he’s gonna have to be one hell of a special person. Don has such good qualities. I know he’s worried I’ll get snapped right up, as he puts it, but he’s the one that’s gonna get claimed. No one is ever going to miss what a fantastic person he is. For him, time is close. Because of the swimming scholarship, he’ll be flying out of here early in July.

After the sex, but before we drift off, we’re in bed with Don cuddled behind me. I ask him about Shawn Miller. “Do you have any idea what his problem might have been? You know, it had to be serious for the poor kid.”

“No. I mean, I’ve known him forever. He and Paulie were always together as young kids. The Millers don’t live too far from here. I can’t remember how they first met – probably as kids playing in a park. He was always a live-wire – a great kid. This year, when they were freshmen, he seemed a little more serious than before, but I simply chalked it up to his being at the high school. It’s hard to believe he tried to kill himself.”

“Well, who’d have guessed David would try?”

“Yeah, but he was all screwed-up with his abuse and that stupid religion and – SHIT!”

“What?”

“I might have this wrong. It’s been a long time. But remember David’s meltdown at the rink?”

“Hehe…who could forget?”

“Well, he was there because I sorta dragged him there. Anyway, we were skating and he peeled away from me and skated over to Martha, did a little circle with her and glided back to me.”

“So?”

“You see, I had never met Martha. I didn’t know she was Shawn’s sister, or even who she was at all. When I asked David about her, he only called her ‘Martha’ and said she was in the same Bible-Study he went to.”

“David was in a bible-study?”

“According to him, just once. I guess he caused some trouble for the pastor there.”

“No doubt. But so what? That crackpot religion doesn’t even exist anymore.”

“Don’t you get it? Her parents were followers of that cult. What if they still believe that kind of shit.”

I filled in the missing words. “Then Shawn could have suffered some of the same conflicts David had.”