Never Alone

Chapter 31

"I told you," his father said with an edge of disappointment. "You need to get faster. It's like you're running through peanut butter."

"I made it. I was safe. It was a bad call," Marco said without looking at him.

"You shouldn't have left it up to the ump. If you had been keeping up on the running like I told you, then you would have been there with time to spare. You just can't take direction." His father shook his head and crossed his arms.

"Never fucking good enough," Marco said, so quietly I could barely hear him. He took a seat on the bench in the dugout and pulled his helmet off his head. I thought I'd see anger on his face, but instead he looked devastated.

"Bad call," a coach said from the other side of the fence. "You had that. Great job!"

For a second Marco's face relaxed and a small smile curled his lips. "Thanks, Coach." As soon as the man had turned away, Marco threw his helmet into a corner and closed his eyes tight. I wasn't sure if he was trying to hold in tears or rage.

The blowing sand was now a tornado, whipping past us so fast it was hard to see through. I could hear words his father had said as Marco replayed them in his head: You need to try harder. What's the matter with you? Are you stupid? I'm not going to help you if you aren't going to try. Get over here and do what I say. You're such a pussy. You're going to get your ass kicked if you can't stick up for yourself. I'm trying to help you. Get out of here—can't you see I'm talking to your mom?

When the sand finally settled, Marco was sitting on a couch with his father. His eyes were sunken in and his hair hung longer over his eyes. A flash of silver glinted from a piercing in his lip and the colorful ink of a tattoo peeked out from beneath his sleeve. He looked like a different boy than the one lying next to me.

"I need you to listen to me," his father told him.

Marco gave him his attention, but his body language suggested he was not there of his own accord.

"This deployment is going to be longer than the last one. You're older now. I need you to be the man of the house. You know what I do for your mom. Please help me do those things while I'm gone." His father's voice was different now, pleading. He knew he needed Marco's help.

"Dad, she can pump her own gas," Marco said, exasperated. "I can't keep up with my schoolwork and practice and do all the stuff you do for her. That's crazy. And I don't know shit about paying your bills and handling the big things. You never taught me."

"You never listened!" His father shouted. He ran a hand over his head. I wondered if Marco knew he did that when he was frustrated, too. "Marco, I know we disagree a lot, but I need your help."

"Fine. Whatever. Just leave a list and I'll do what you tell me to. Can't promise I'll do it good enough for you, though. Can't seem to figure out how to do that and I'm sick of trying." Marco stood up and tucked his hands into his pockets. "Are we done?"

His father stood up, too. It looked as if he wanted to say something else. He stared at Marco for a minute, taking in a deep breath as I held mine, waiting for his next words. Already the walls around them were beginning to blow away with the wind. Sand was kicking up around them at hurricane speed and yet they stood in the middle, as if in the eye of a storm, and faced each other.

"I love you, Marco. I may not have been the best at showing it, but everything I do is to make sure you have a good life. I just want you to be successful and happy. I hope one day you can see that."

Marco let his father's words settle in his mind before he spoke. "I just wanted you to like me. I wanted to look at you and see that I wasn't a box you had to check to make Mom happy. I wanted you to want me." Marco lifted his chin slightly and squared his shoulders. The move made him stand taller than his father. He'd grown up, just like his father had asked him to. I wondered if his father noticed.