Archives:
July 15-July 21, 2007

July 15, 2007

I set my duffel bag down in the trunk of my Oldsmobile. I slam it shut carefully, the whole exterior of the car hot under the sun.

“Your car could use a wash,” Teri says, standing with her hands in her pockets.

I nod, looking at it, covered in dirt. I can't remember the last time I did wash it. I suppose it's just laziness—it's not like I've been busy most nights, unless I'm hanging out with Valerie.

Teri hugs me. I'm still looking at the car when she does, but turn when I feel her, and laugh. I hug her back, giving her shoulders a light squeeze.

“I'm going to miss you,” she says.

“I'm going to miss you too.”

She presses her face into my chest, so when I look down, all I can see is the top of her head. She's got her hair tied back in a pony tail. It's shorter than it was the last time we got together. It's funny that I didn't really notice it until now.

“So I think the next time I can leave town is your brother's wedding,” Teri goes on.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I say. “And I guess it's still not a great idea for me to visit you.”

She hugs me a little tighter. “Dad wouldn't want you staying over night. That, and the rug rats are around all day, every day.”

“Guess it wouldn't be so romantic,” I say with a chuckle. Teri's still looking down, so I move a hand under her chin, tilting her head up to look at me. It's only then that I can see she's crying. “What's wrong?”

She shakes her head. “I'm just sad we have to go.” She runs a forearm over her face, drying it off. “But it's okay.”

“It is going to be okay,” I say, bobbing my head so she has to look at me. “It's only a month. And then school's going to start up again, and we can hang out every day.”

She nods, clutching my shirt in her hands for a second. She sniffs, then scratches her nose with the back of her hand. “I love you.”

I put a hand to the side of Teri's face. Her bottom lip trembles before I kiss it.

July 16, 2007

I make my way through the crowded hallway of the courthouse, until I spot her looking outside. “Hey.”

Valerie turns from the hallway window to face me. She runs a hand over her face, where I imagine the tears had been. She was pretty close to crying in the courtroom, before she excused herself. She forces a smile now, and says, “Hey.”

“You doing all right?”

She nods, rubbing a finger over the corner of her eye. “It can just be kind of hard to listen to that, you know?”

“Yeah.” I shift and lean back against the wall beside the window. “I can tell that you care a lot about your father. He's a great man.”

She looks down at her black Doc Martins, shiny and new looking. “He shouldn't be here. This is all wrong.”

“I know it is. I think everyone in there knows it is. And as hard as it is to have these character witnesses remind you of how great your father is, in the end, that's what's going to convince the jury that he couldn't be guilty.”

“I know all that.” She looks up at me, looking me in the eye for a just a second, before looking down again. “He just shouldn't be here.”

I put a hand on her arm, not really sure what I should do or say. A second later, she walks away.

July 17, 2007

The sun has dipped pretty low as I stand on the basketball court at the playground where I used to play ball as a kid. After bouncing the ball a couple times, I toss up a free throw. The ball bounces from square off the back iron, right back to me.

“I had a feeling I'd find you here.”

I turn to find my father, still in the day's collar shirt, though the tie, at least, is gone.

“Dad, what are you doing here?”

He smiles. “Like I said, I thought you might be here.”

I look down, bouncing the ball, and catching it with both hands. “This is where I always used to go to clear my head.”

“Looks like they haven't repainted the court since those days. Half the lines are gone.”

“Yeah. I've never really seen anyone taking care of the court here.” I bounce the ball again. “I kind of like that, though. Makes it feel more like the court doesn't belong to anyone—like I have as much of a claim to it as anyone.”

I turn and take a jump shot that goes right in the basket.

“Nice shot.”

“Thanks,” I say, jogging over to pick up the ball again.

“You know, I appreciate what you're doing—working for me this summer.”

I wave a hand. “I should be thanking you. Good resume item, and you're paying me more money than I'd make anyplace else. Besides the fact that I feel like I'm not doing anything.”

“Oh, you're doing something, Preston . Don't think I don't notice you with Valerie there. You're taking care of her.”

“I wouldn't call that work.”

Dad bobs his head a little. “It might not be hard labor. But it's an important piece of all this. You know, that's a part of what I usually do when I'm trying a big case—not just taking care of my client, but the other people who are affected.” He unbuttons one of his sleeves. “It's not something they teach you in law school, but I always felt like that was the most human part of the job.”

“Yeah, but I thought you wanted me hanging out with Valerie to get more information for the trial.”

Dad rolls up his sleeve. “That's part of it, too. You take care of people, and at worst, everyone feels a little better. At best, people are more comfortable, and they open up a little more. Then you gain some ground in court to boot.”

“I guess there's a lot more to it than meets the eye,” I say, squeezing the ball between my hands.

Behind my father, the sky is a dark shade of pink. I must have played right through sunsets like this for years. I never stopped to watch them before.

“Here, why don't you give me a shot,” Dad says, as he finishes rolling up his other sleeve. I bounce the ball to him, and he bounces it a couple times, smiling to himself. “Could use some air,” he says, eyes locked on the basket. Slowly, he dribbles to where I was at the foul line, take a shot of his own. It goes right off the backboard and through the hoop.

July 18, 2007

“Doesn't get much better than that,” Joey says, as the credits to Air Force One begin to roll on his TV screen.

“Truly a classic film,” I agree. It's a little strange sitting in the living room of Joey's house when it's just me and him. In high school, Matt and Chang would be here, too, and maybe a couple more guys. It seemed strange go a whole summer in town without hanging out with Joey. Nonetheless, things aren't the same when it's just the two of us.

“So how's your pops doing?” he asks, putting the TV on mute. “I see him in the paper every day for that trial.”

“Yeah, he's been working hard on that,” I say, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “And I've been working in his office this summer.”

“That's right, I forgot about that. So have you met the murderer?” He stops. “You know, I mean, the defendant.”

“Yeah, I have,” I say, shifting in my seat. “He's actually an old family friend. And I really don't think he did it.” Those last words kind of linger in the air, and I worry they sounded a little harsh. I decide to shift the focus a little. “I've been spending a lot of time with his daughter, Valerie.”

“Good looking girl?”

“Let's not forget that I have a girlfriend,” I say, before shrugging. “But yeah, pretty girl. But anyway, it's weird hanging out with her sometimes. I mean, this family's loaded—girl goes to school at Harvard, for Chrissake.”

Joey chuckles.

“What?”

“Ah nothing,” Joey says, stopping the DVD. “It's just that you guys all go away to go to school, and you come home to work in your dad's office for the summer. Me? I'm working with old man every day, with the construction crew. Then, you talk about this girl having money.” He shakes his head. “I don't mean nothing by it. I'm just saying, it's funny.”

I nod slowly, popping a piece of popcorn in my mouth.

July 19, 2007

“Yeah, I miss hanging out at Joey's like that,” Chang says over the phone. “I can't even remember the last time we all hung out over there.”

“It's been a while,” I agree, pinning phone between my shoulder and the side of my head as I make a left hand turn, driving the Oldsmobile back toward home. “So how's camp going?”

“I'm not gonna lie. It's pretty awesome. There are a lot of great people here, and it's kind of cool to have the chance to reinvent myself a little bit here. It's like, you come to a place like this, and no one knows you. There's no preconceptions or reputation. Then, after the summer, you're probably not going to see anybody again. It's like there's nothing to live down, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“And of course, it's cool getting to hang out with Brad everyday.”

“Yeah, very cool,” I say, not sure what else I should say. Despite seeing them kiss that one time, and, to my knowledge, being Chang's only friend who really knows about it, we still haven't really talked about it. I never know if he wants to talk—or, if by not bringing it up, I make it look like I'm uncomfortable. “How's he doing?” I go on.

“He's good. I mean, he worked here last year, so he knows the job inside and out, and he's really good with the kids.”

“Cool, cool.” I say, pulling to a stop sign, and flicking the turn signal, almost home.

“So hey, I wanted to talk to you about was your brother's wedding.”

“Yeah, I'm looking forward to it.”

“Well, that's the thing. I was looking forward to it, too. But Brad, and a bunch of the people who work here—they're all going to this campsite the week after we finish here to relax for a little while. And they invited me.”

“Ah.”

“So look, the last thing I want to do is throw you and your family under the bus—”

“Hey, don't worry about it, Chang,” I say, pulling into my driveway. I would like for him to be there, especially knowing he's family and all. But it's not as though he and my brother were ever that tight. “I mean, if you can't make it, you can't make it.”

“Well, all right. Thanks for being so cool about this,” Chang says. “Anyway, I gotta get back to the kids. But let's catch up again soon, all right?”

“You've got it. Talk to you later, man.”

July 20, 2007

Valerie rubs a cloth over the glass counter, wiping off what little dust may have gathered over the sparkling display of jewelry. It's funny that, while I've visited her during shifts many times, this is one of the few times I've actually seen her working at the Crystal Castle.

“It's just hard to listen to them,” she says. “All of these people talking about what a great person my father was, trying to make the jury believe it. It's almost like they're eulogizing my dad. And then, that makes me think of my mom's funeral, and how my dad hasn't even had time to mourn. All he's had time to do is try to convince people he's not responsible.” She shakes her head.

Following her eyes, I see Valerie's face in the glass. She runs the cloth over her face's reflection a few extra times.

“I know I can't understand how hard that must be,” I say. “And it's kind of backwards, but when this is over—when he's free, then he'll have his chance to relax, and think back the way he should.”

She looks away from the glass, leaving the cloth, haphazardly, over the counter. “But then, I've got to testify too.”

“Well, it's like my dad said. If anyone is going to convince people, it's you. No one knew them like you did.”

“I know, it's just—” she trails off. “I'm just worried I'm not going to say the right thing.”

“I wouldn't worry about that. I mean, it's your father. Just speak from your heart. That's all anyone could ask from you.”

She smiles for a second then, looks down, picking up the rag again. “Let's talk about something else. Anything else.”

July 21, 2007

Walking up to the Crystal Castle, all I can see is my own reflection in the glass doors. Opening one, and setting foot in the store, I want to leave immediately. Valerie already has a chatting partner, as Allie leans on the opposite side of the counter from her.

In the second that it takes me to process this fact, and decide I should go, Valerie sees me. “ Preston , what's up?” she asks.

I smile self consciously, and step all the way inside. The cool of the air conditioning feels nice, if nothing else, though it also makes me conscious of the way my shirt is clinging to me.

“Hey Preston ,” Allie says as I come closer. I'm not sure what it is that irks me about her, but I suppose it has something to do with how perceptive she is. She could recognize that I like Valerie, even if she exaggerated it. I get the impression she has a good handle on what Valerie and Adam's relationship is like, as well. Most of all, though, like my father, it seemed Allie had a certain intuition that Valerie knows more about her mother's death than she's letting on—at least that's what I figured from the last time we talked. I guess knowing that, and knowing what I'm up to, makes me wish she wasn't around.

“How are you doing, Allie?”

“Good,” she says, sort of eying me, up and down.

“Well good,” I say dumbly, as Valerie gives me a polite smile. I decide not to push my luck today. “So Valerie, I'm just stopping in because my dad wanted me to remind you to meet with him Monday morning, before court, to go over your testimony.”

“Right, I've got that written down. Thanks for the reminder, though.”

“Cool,” I say with nod. “Well, I've gotta run.”

“You can't hang out today?” Valerie asks.

I shift my eyes between the two of them. It's probably just an innocent question. I have hung around the store a lot lately. Nonetheless, there's a part of me that distrusts it. “Na, bunch of errands. I'll talk to you soon. And Allie, good seeing you.”

“Good to see you too,” Allie says back. We make eye contact for a second, then I'm gone.