The Memory Book(19)

She used this guilt tactic a lot. She would whisper to Bette and Davy while the rest of the family was watching the Patriots play on TV, sending them screaming across the house to coerce me from doing homework. When Puppy needed to be let outside, she would send him into my room until he practically dragged me from my desk. While he ran around me in circles, banging into the screen door with excitement, I would hear her from her spot curled up in the living room, laughing to herself.

I pushed out, “Yeah, sure. Maybe after graduation.”

“Mmhmm,” Mom said softly.

After a bit of silence, she reached for my face. “Can I—” she started, and after years of her checking for sore throats, for brushed teeth, for hidden hard candy, I opened my mouth automatically.

“Hmm,” she said. “How’s your tongue?”

I seized up and pulled away. “Fine. Why?”

She looked at me and shrugged, pasting on a smile. “Nothing.”

I put my hand to my jaw. “What, was I slurring?”

“No! No,” she said quickly. “Are you packed?”

She was trying to change the subject. Tomorrow, Maddie would tell me if I sounded weird. I mean, sure, I’d have to make up an excuse, like perhaps I drank a slushie too fast and my tongue was frozen, but anyway, nothing a few of her theater-kid tongue twisters couldn’t fix.

“Yep,” I said. I had packed last night. I would probably unpack and repack again, just for the satisfaction.

“Got your prescriptions?”

“Yep.”

“Even Zavesca?”

I grunted.

(What is Zavesca, you ask? Future Sam, have I not told you about Zavesca? It’s kind of like the grapefruit soda Fresca, except it’s not at all like Fresca, because actually it’s just a terrible pill! Side effects include: Weight loss! Stomach pain! Gas! Nausea and vomiting! Headache, including migraine! Leg cramps! Dizziness! Weakness! Back pain! Constipation!)

“Doctor’s note?”

“Yep.”

“Do you want some spending money?”

Now it was my turn to change the subject. “No, no, no, no worries, Mom.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, we raised enough at the raffle this year to cover everything we’ll need.”

“Mmhmm,” she said again, in only the way Mom can do it. Those “m” sounds. Her mantra. Her strength. If a hurricane started blowing the windows in, Mom would breathe through her nose and say Mmhmm. Once, when I was nine, I had slipped right where I was sitting tonight and hit my head on the edge of the counter, cracking my skull. Mom had made it from the yard to the kitchen in minus-five seconds without a word, wrapped my head in a T-shirt, and called 911, all the while rocking me and saying, Mmhmm, mmhmm, mmhmm.

I stood up from the table, feeling the scar on my scalp. “You know, Mom, someday I’m going to pay you back. When I’m a successful lawyer, or whatever. I’ll pay you back for all the medical bills.”

“Oh, honey,” Mom said, and came around the table in her stocking feet to hug me. I held her tiny body. Her head only came up to the crook of my neck.

“I’m serious! You can even make a ledger…”

“You just get better,” she said, muffled by my shirt. “That’s all I need. You just get better.”

“Okay, I will,” I told her.

And I will.





BY ALL ACCOUNTS, HERE’S HOW NATIONALS SHOULD UNFOLD:


SOME PREDICTIONS BY SAMMIE MCCOY


Maddie and I arrive at the Sheraton Boston via Pat’s van. We check in, hang up our suits, and camp out with snacks. We put on German techno. We go through fresh copies of every article on the living wage and highlight everything we need with the same color. With the same color. That is very important.

As the sun is rising, we roll into the lobby, both figuratively, in the badass word for “arriving,” and literally, because we are pulling tubs full of evidence on wheels. We register and find a spot to practice away from all the other teams.

We set up behind the affirmative desk, on a platform, under lights, in the largest conference room. We watch the other team set up with stony looks on our faces.

We shake hands with the judges.

Then the battle starts.

Maddie stands at the podium and offers the affirmative. Maddie presents a plan. She says why this plan will work. As I said, she’s damn good at it. The emotions she can pack into eight minutes stating nothing but facts in a particular order—it’s a beauty to behold. Think of every motivational speech at the halftime of every sports movie you’ve ever seen, but at the beginning of the movie, and with less tears, less yelling, and more logic.

The negative rebuts. They state their philosophy. They say why our plan won’t work. I listen to their points so closely I can hear their spit sloshing around.

Second affirmative: Here’s me. I gather all the holes in their argument, BUT. But. I have to frame them as if our plan anticipated all these holes to begin with. This is where pantsuits come in handy. Not for any utility reason, just to look down on in order to remind yourself that you are a streetwise BAMF who is never surprised by anything.

They point out the disadvantages of this brand-spanking-new plan.

Maddie comes back in, tries to talk about how stupid they are for arguing against our perfect plan (without losing sight of the original plan).