The Big Time

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

THEY PULLED UP INTO the dirt patch in front of Troy's house, and Drew snuggled the Porsche right up next to the VW bug.

"Excellent," Drew said, his eyes scanning all around them. "Seth's got some manners."

"What do you mean?" Troy asked.

"A lot of guys in his shoes would be upset about all this," Drew said, sitting and looking at the small saltbox house. "The old boyfriend showing up. Father of the kid. Me and your mom? We've got some catching up to do, and we sure couldn't do it with Seth hanging around. I respect him."

"You mean, like, he'd be jealous?" Troy asked, his heart thumping. "Like you and my mom getting back together?"

"I doubt that," Drew said, chuckling softly until he looked at Troy's face, "but you never know, right?"

"That's what I was thinking," Troy said, following his father as he hopped out of the car, then trailing him up onto the porch.

"Okay," Drew said, taking hold of Troy's shoulder. "You let me do the talking in there. Just do what you normally do."

"Like get ready for bed and say good night?" Troy asked. "But how do I know if I'm going to New York with you?"

"You don't," Drew said, "but you trust me. If there's any way of you going, it won't happen unless you just go to bed like you're not expecting anything other than a day of algebra, or whatever it is you take in whatever grade you're in."

"Seventh," Troy said.

His dad shrugged and angled his head at the glow from the big front window.

Troy opened the door and wasn't surprised to see his mom reading a book on the couch with her feet curled up underneath her. Drew stepped inside but stayed on the mat.

"Okay if I come in?" Drew said in a voice Troy hadn't heard before.

"Sure," his mom said, closing the book but without getting up.

"Well," Troy said, extending a hand to his father, "thanks…"

Troy blushed, unsure of what to call him.

"Thanks, Dad?" Drew said, raising his eyebrows and then grinning as he shook Troy's hand. "You may as well get used to it."

"Thanks…Dad," Troy said, and it felt oh so good.

Even his mom smiled, and Troy kissed her and said good night. On his way into the hallway toward the bathroom, he heard his dad ask, "Mind if I sit?"

"No," his mom said. "Please."

From the corner of his eye, Troy saw his father sit on the couch, careful to leave an empty cushion between them before he turned and winked at Troy. Troy hurried out of sight.

When he was ready for bed, Troy moved slowly down the hall, his ears aching to decipher the low murmur of his parents' voices. He stopped and listened hard, until they went silent and his mom shot her voice his way.

"Troy? Get to bed."

Troy scuttled into his room, closing the door and plastering his ear to its smooth, cool surface.

Nothing.

For quite some time he paced his room, listening for something, anything. He considered slipping out through the window but knew better. He made up wizardly devices he wished he had, things that could snake silently through the air vents with a microphone or detect words from the vibrations of sound moving through walls. In the end he lay down on his bed, yawned, and waited for the sound of his mother's bath and the water groaning through the pipes. When she went to bed, he could sneak out to the kitchen phone and call his father to get the scoop. His mind whirled around the different possibilities between his parents, his contract, the TV interviews he would soon be doing, and his entire future.

The thirst to know what they were saying and doing battled with his drooping eyelids and the yawns that snuck up out of his throat. Eventually, he surrendered to exhaustion with the final thought that if he allowed himself to close his eyes, the next time they opened he would know his fate.