Joey Pigza Loses Control Read online

  “No. You be quiet,” she wheezed.

  We kept this up until we pulled into the driveway and I jumped out and there was Pablo on the porch shivering with the handle of his leash fastened around the front-door knob. Mom had written “Miss you already!” in lipstick on the little diamond-shaped window. I grabbed Pablo and kissed him all over his pointy face and he kissed me back with his awful dog puke breath, but I didn’t care. I loved him and he loved me, and that’s all that mattered.

  “See,” Dad said, coming up from behind me, “I was right, wasn’t I?”

  He was. I set Pablo down and threw my arms around Dad’s neck and just hugged him as tightly as I could because he was totally right and didn’t turn into a busted-up Humpty Dumpty when I had.

  “How did you know he’d be here?” I said.

  “Hey, what are dads for?” he replied all jolly, and hoisted me up over his shoulder like a sack of flour, and we entered the house while Grandma and Pablo growled at each other. I figured they were going to have a heck of a time because neither of them ever backed down from anyone or anything.

  “Hey, Dad,” I said while I had the chance. “I want to play baseball.”

  “That’s my boy,” he said. “A chip off the old block.” Then he kept talking and I stopped listening.

  4

  BAD GOLF

  In the morning Dad came in my room. I was happy to see him because I had been awake most of the night from Grandma’s coughing attacks. She would sputter and spit for a while until it sounded like she had dredged up a hair ball from deep inside. Afterward she’d clear her throat and finally settle down. Then, just as I was drifting back to sleep, she’d start up all over again. Finally I got up and turned on my tape player, but the batteries had worn out so I couldn’t escape her awful sounds and spent hours chewing my fingernails down to the part of the skin that tasted like baby carrots.

  “How’s your patch?” Dad asked, and sat on the edge of my bed with my box of patches. “You need a change before I head out to work?”

  “Yup,” I replied, and turned my book facedown on the bedside table. “And you better leave another one with me just in case.” I was thinking that I would be alone with Grandma all day and might need some extra meds to help.

  “The box says one at a time,” he said. He pulled a patch out of his shirt pocket and gave it to me. “One more thing,” he added. “I need to draw your foot so I can get you the right size baseball cleats.”

  He put a piece of paper on the floor and I stepped on it. “By the way,” he asked, looking up at me as he drew the outline with a pencil, “you throw left or right?”

  “Left,” I replied. “Catch right.”

  He smiled. “Excellent. We could use a lefty pitcher.”

  He stood up and folded the paper. “Hey,” he said before slipping out the door. “I told Grandma to make you some porridge, not too hot.” He grinned. I grinned too, and then he was gone, but I still had my grin.

  As soon as he left I peeled the covers all the way down and searched for Pablo. He had a bad habit of chewing a hole in the sheet and digging a burrow in the mattress. I think he was part prairie dog too. When I found him I lifted him up and we danced around. “I’m bad! I’m mad! I’m a hundred percent of Mom and Dad,” I sang. It was my favorite song and Pablo liked it too. But I couldn’t swing him around too much or he’d throw up.

  I got dressed and when I looked into the mirror on the back of the door to fix my hair, I saw that I was still grinning. So far, so good, I thought. He’s happy, and I’m happy Then I remembered I had to spend the whole day with Grandma.

  I decided, on the spot, that I was going to be nice to her. I figured it was my choice to set the mood. She was always going to be her two selves—one nice and funny, and the other mean and scary. She wouldn’t change, because she never felt that anything she did was wrong. So all the changing was up to me, and that was okay because I knew I could be wrong most of the time. So, I’d start off with my best foot forward. And if she was mean, then I’d stay nice for as long as I could until she wore me out and I’d go hide.

  I put my hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath, and opened the door. When Pablo and I entered the kitchen Grandma was prying a stuck Pop-Tart out of the toaster with a butter knife.

  “How’d you sleep?” she asked. Her voice was hoarse.

  “You should unplug the toaster before you stick a knife in,” I said, trying to be helpful. “Once I did what you are doing and got a shock that knocked me off the counter.”

  “Well, I’m already half dead,” she replied, “so a little shock will only pep me up.”

  “That’s why I eat vitamins,” I said.

  She frowned. “Now, how many Pop-Tarts do you want? And how many does that dog eat?”

  “We need to buy some dog food,” I replied. “And Dad said you were making me porridge. Like the Three Bears.”

  “He’s just a big talker,” she said. “Better get used to his gibber-jabber or he’ll drive you nuts.”

  “Can I call my mom?” I asked.

  “Why don’t you write her a letter?” Grandma said. “A stamp is a lot cheaper than a call.”

  “Mom gave me money for the phone,” I said.

  “What do you want to tell her?” Grandma asked.

  “That Pablo is okay and that I found him on the porch.” I gave him a little squeeze and he made a sound like bagpipes warming up.

  “You don’t think someone would steal that mongrel?” she said, pointing the knife at Pablo.

  “Stop calling him names,” I said. “He’s a Chihuahua mix. Besides, Mom said—”

  “I don’t want to hear what your mom has to say on the subject. Just call her and get it over with,” she said, then bit down on a piece of burnt Pop-Tart. But she was panting so hard from talking too mean and fast that she had to turn and spit it into the sink so she could take a deep breath off her oxygen hose, which she had hooked to the top of a skinny green tank that was on the counter.

  The phone was screwed to the kitchen wall and when I picked it up Grandma began to whistle to herself like she didn’t want to hear what I had to say, but I knew she would be listening to every word.

  Mom was already at work so I called her there.

  “Beauty and the Beast Hair Salon,” Tiffany, the receptionist, said.

  “This is Joey,” I whispered with my hand wrapped around the voice piece. “Is my mom there?”

  “One sec’, hon,” she said, then I heard her yell, “Fran, it’s your kid. Sounds like he’s been kidnapped.”

  I heard quick steps. “Hey,” Mom said. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “And Pablo is too. I couldn’t believe I forgot him.”

  “Well, I wasn’t a mile down the road before he began pitching a fit in the glove box, so it was no big deal to turn around.”

  “We were at Storybook Land,” I said. And then she started asking so many questions about Dad and Grandma and me that I was saying “yes” and “no” and “no” and “yes” like I was playing Ping-Pong with my words.

  “Well, have a good day,” she said. “It’s slow here so I’m dyeing my hair red and getting a pedicure. I’m going to paint my toenails to match my hair and buy a nice pair of summer sandals. You’ll hardly know me when you return.”

  “Pablo will sniff you out,” I said.

  “Gotta run,” she cut in. “The dye is leaking down into my eyes and it stings like the blazes.”

  “One more thing,” I said, raising my voice so that Grandma could hear even if she was deaf, “Dad is real nice. We had fun and he’s putting me on his baseball team. He’s buying me a glove and cleats.”

  “Great,” she said. “I’m happy to hear that. Now, call me later. Love you.” And she hung up.

  When I turned around Grandma was leaning back against the kitchen counter with her arms folded across her front. She was eyeing me up and down while taking deep breaths off her oxygen hose.

  “I’m g
lad to have a few hours alone with you,” she said in a voice that was like being sent to the principal. “I’d like to set you straight on some things around here before you get any big ideas. Things in this house aren’t exactly the same as Carter said they are.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, and leaned over to give Pablo a piece of Pop-Tart.

  “Oh, he’s got a steady job but he still sneak-drinks now and again and he’s got himself a girlfriend that hasn’t figured out what a loose screw he is. Just know that he hasn’t turned into the squeaky-clean Boy Scout he says he is, even though he’s a neat freak.” She pointed to the Pop-Tart crumbs. “He’ll blow his top if he finds crumbs on the floor,” she warned.

  “Are you trying to scare me?” I asked as I stooped down and picked them up.

  “No, I just want you to know what you’re stepping into here. It’s been no picnic livin’ with him and every day I think I should’ve stuck it out with you and your mom.”

  “I thought you slipped down the sewer,” I said. “I found your shoe by the grate.”

  “I hopped a bus,” she said. “But I was lookin’ for that shoe.” She laughed, then her laughter turned into a fit of coughing and she bent over. When she straightened up she raised one finger and held it in front of my face. “A word to the wise,” she said. “Don’t blab to your mom everything that goes on around here if you want some time with your dad. ’Cause if she knew what all takes place in that man’s head, she’d pick you up in the bat of an eye and you’d never see him again.”

  “I think I need to change my patch,” I said. I grabbed Pablo off the floor and speed-walked back to my room. Maybe Dad had done some bad things in the past, I thought as I opened my shirt and reached around to the back of my shoulder and ripped off the patch. But just like me, he deserved a second chance, and I wanted to make up my own mind about him. Then I put the new patch on in a slightly different spot and rubbed it for a minute to heat it up and get it going.

  “You can’t hide from me all day,” Grandma called out, and rapped on the door. “I got big plans for us.”

  “What?” I yelled. I didn’t know where to put my old patch so I stuck it inside the book I was reading.

  “Golf,” she yelled back. “Now let’s get a move on.”

  I opened the door and stared at her. She had rigged herself up to her oxygen tank, which was stuffed into a blue shoulder bag. The yards of clear plastic hose from the top of the tank ran underneath her shirt and out the back of her collar. It split into two separate lines that curled over her ears and joined at a nose piece that clipped onto the thin wall of flesh between the nostrils. Little jets of air whistled up her nose. The whole thing sort of looked like a costume from a science-fiction movie.

  “Don’t laugh,” she warned me. “Or I’ll swat you with this 2-iron.”

  There was nothing to laugh at. It seemed pretty awful to me because if someone turned the oxygen up she’d swell out and pop like a balloon.

  “Believe it or not,” she said, “I’ve been looking forward to your coming. Your dad makes fun of me when I hook this thing up. He said I look like one of those life-support patients. So I don’t use it and half the time when I go to do anything I’m just panting like an old hound dog.”

  “What do you want to do?” I asked.

  “If you are anything like your old self you need to run around for a while, so I got a plan that will suit both of us. Now grab my tank. We’ll go over to the park and I’ll hit a few balls to you.”

  “Okay,” I said. I wasn’t sure I could say no.

  I followed her out to the front porch. “Help me get into my buggy,” she said, pointing to a grocery cart on the sidewalk with an old couch cushion on the bottom. I must have looked confused because she kicked a small stepladder on the porch and said, “Use this. I did have a little handcart for the oxygen but Carter said it cost too much to rent so now he just gets me the tank with the shoulder case and because it’s so heavy I can’t get very far.”

  I put the stepladder next to the cart and steadied it with one hand and her with the other as she climbed in. I lifted her oxygen tank up over the edge and set it in her lap. I put the tin bucket of old golf balls between her feet and slid the 2-iron in by her side.

  “Don’t forget to fold the stepladder up and slide it underneath,” she instructed, “or I’ll never get out.”

  After I did that I grabbed Pablo and strapped him into the baby seat, then pushed them down the sidewalk and turned onto the road as Grandma adjusted her little sun umbrella.

  “You know, I could always read your mind, Joey,” she started up. Her voice was sharp enough to cut through the rattle of the cart on the asphalt. “I could always look into those spinnin’ eyes of yours and know what you had cookin’ up behind them.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I said, but right away I noticed my hands were shaking and I felt a little antsy.

  “I know you think you can get your mom and dad back together again. Don’t tell me I’m wrong, because there’s not a kid alive who doesn’t think they can get their parents back together once they split up. But do yourself a favor and forget about it. Those two should be apart.”

  “I only came to visit Dad,” I said.

  “I hope that’s true. But just the other day he said it’s his dream to get a whole family together.”

  My heart started pounding because Grandma said something that I had joked about with Mom. In the car Mom told me to forget about her ever liking Dad again. Ever. But now the idea that Dad secretly wanted the family together only confused me. I didn’t know what to say so I changed the subject back to golf.

  “How’s your game?” I asked.

  “Pretty good since I’ve been working regular on it. Your dad went and got me a starter set of clubs with all the cigarette coupons I saved up. I can’t tell if he’s being nice to me or if he wants me to exercise myself to the grave.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that either so I kept quiet.

  When we reached the park I could only push the cart a few feet into the grass before the wheels stuck. I got the stepladder and helped her out over the side. Then I set the oxygen tank in the front corner of the cart so she could have a few feet of tubing to move around like an astronaut walking in space.

  “Run out there for about fifty yards,” she said, pointing, “and I’ll hit some to you.”

  “Do I get a helmet?” I asked, as I unstrapped Pablo and set him down.

  “No,” she said. “Just don’t let them hit your noggin. If you go home with a dent in your precious head your mother will have a cow.”

  “What about my eyes?”

  “Put these on,” she said, and tossed her pink old-lady sunglasses at me. “Now, no more questions. Just get going.”

  “Come on, Pablo,” I shouted, and we took off across the grass. I had to run with one hand holding the glasses against my face because they were so big they fit like circus clown glasses. When I looked over my shoulder, Grandma was turning off her oxygen tank with one hand and holding a cigarette in the other. I figured in about thirty seconds she’d be ready to ricochet a ball off my head.

  The moment we got about fifty yards out Pablo had to go. He tramped around in a little circle, then squatted down. His whole body began to vibrate like he was pooping on the North Pole. I looked up at Grandma. She was smiling, then she aimed the head of her club at us, reared back, and teed off.

  “Hurry up, Pablo,” I advised as the ball landed about ten yards away. “She’s a pretty good shot.”

  I heard her hit another one. I looked up into the air but the ball was lost in the whiteness of a cloud. Then, thunk! It hit a little closer. Pablo stuck his butt up into the air as he finished his business.

  “Hurry, you don’t want her to hit a hole in one,” I said. “Now get a move on.” He did, then ran around in figure eights.

  Once I got used to spotting the balls in the sky it was easy to catch up to them. I let them hit the ground, then I’d th
row them back to where she could reach them with her club and tee up again.

  Every time Grandma had a cigarette she turned her oxygen off, and every time she finished one she turned it back on. We kept this up for almost an hour. I liked being outside, running around in the grass with Pablo. It was just the kind of activity Mom was hoping to provide for me. And I wished she was here to see that not everything with Grandma was awful.

  I had just picked up a ball when I looked toward Grandma to get ready for her next shot. She raised the golf club back up over her head and in an instant I saw that her oxygen tube had looped around the head of the club.

  “Don’t swing!” I shouted.

  She went into her swing with a smile on her face, maybe because Pablo had stopped to rest and she had him lined up in her sights, when suddenly the club hit the ball and at the same time ripped the oxygen clip clean out of her nose. Her head jerked forward, and she stumbled and fell to her knees.

  The ball whistled over my head as I ran toward her. By the time I got there she had hoisted herself up with the club and was standing with her hands on her hips. A little stream of blood was slithering down her upper lip and around the corner of her mouth. The sun made the blood very shiny.

  “Of all the brainless, cockeyed things I’ve ever done this beats the pants off ’em all!” she snapped.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “You’re bleeding.”

  She ran her hand over her mouth. “Don’t ever live to be old,” she said to me, “or you’ll have lived to regret it. I promise you.” Then she bent over and began to cough like she would never stop and the nosebleed spattered all over her face and it looked like she had been in a fight. Pablo saw the blood and was going nuts.

  “Sit down,” I said to her.

  “No, or I’ll never get up again,” she replied between huge gasps for breath. “Just get me home.” And then with what sounded like her last breath ever she said, “Shut that yapping rat up.”

  “Hush,” I said to Pablo. “It’s not good manners to laugh at other people’s mistakes,”

  “How do you know he’s laughing?” she wheezed.