Johnny Angel

“I'm not sure they can afford to,” Johnny said honestly. But much as he hated to see her move on, he knew that Becky needed a boyfriend. There was nothing he could do about it, but he realized that at eighteen, she had a right to more than the life she was leading. Her siblings were as much her responsibility as her mother's. Sometimes more, because her mother worked longer hours. It saddened him that Becky never had fun anymore.

“I offered to baby-sit for her. Charlie could help me.”

“If you can drag her off of the basketball court once in a while, which I doubt, sometime between basketball and baseball season. Why don't we try to get Dad to one of her games, Mom?”

“I have,” she said unhappily. “He won't go. He never has. You know as well as I do, he thinks it's stupid for girls to play sports.”

Johnny looked instantly annoyed. “She's a fantastic athlete, better than I was. He'd see that if he'd ever go to watch her.”

“Well, he won't,” Alice said, closing the subject. She had said it to Jim hundreds of times herself, but he said he wasn't going to waste his time, watching a bunch of girls play boys' sports, badly. It was useless to discuss it further with him, and Alice knew it. She had tried for years.

“He's the one who's missing out, as much as she is,” Johnny said, looking frustrated.

“I go. That's something.” But they both knew it wasn't what Charlotte wanted, or not all of it at least. She wanted her father's attention and approval, and so far she had never won it. Alice worried about what it would mean to her later, when she looked back and remembered that her father had never seen her win a single game, hit a home run, or win a trophy. And she had nearly as many as Johnny, including an award for MVP in the league for her last baseball season. Her picture had even been in the local paper. And Jim hadn't even mentioned it to her. But if Bobby had been able to play he'd have noticed, and told all his friends.

Johnny came with her to pick Bobby up at school again that day, and he and his mother chatted all the way there in the car. And Bobby seemed in better spirits when he got in. He turned and stared straight at Johnny in the backseat, and then turned around and looked out the window as they drove home, and his mother chatted with him. She always acted as though she expected him to answer her, but wasn't upset when he didn't.

And once they got home, she gave him milk and cookies. Johnny had gone upstairs, back to his room, to put away his jacket. And a few minutes later, Bobby rushed upstairs, and Alice stayed in the kitchen to slice some vegetables for dinner. She had promised to make Charlotte's favorite dinner, of southern fried chicken, and mashed potatoes, with the zucchini fritters she loved.

Charlotte came home late that afternoon, and she went outside almost immediately to shoot some baskets, just as Johnny had done at her age, and after a while Alice was chilly, and went upstairs to get a sweater. She could hear sounds coming from Bobby's room. He was playing one of his talking tapes that she had bought for him, to inspire him, but the program had never worked. It had been a nice thought though. She poked her head into the room and blew him a kiss, and she saw Johnny sitting on the window seat, watching Bobby and saying nothing. And Alice winked at him, before going back downstairs to the kitchen. She had almost finished making dinner when Johnny came back downstairs and looked longingly at a plate of cookies. But no matter how normal he looked to her, he could not eat them. There were some things he didn't do, and few he missed as much as her cookies and apple pie.

“Is Bobby okay?” she asked, looking distracted, as she put the last touches on the zucchini fritters.

“He's fine,” Johnny said matter-of-factly, as he hopped up on one of the kitchen counters. He was swinging his feet just the way Bobby would have. “He sees me,” he said, and then waited for his mother's reaction to what he'd said.

“Who sees you?” she asked, putting something back in the refrigerator, and taking something else out.

“Bobby,” Johnny said, and then grinned as she came out of the refrigerator in rapid reverse, and stared at him.

“How do you know?”

“I can tell. Besides, he touched me,” he said as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

“You let him? See you, I mean? Are you supposed to do that?”

“I don't know. I didn't think anyone could except you, Mom. But he does.” He looked happy about it.

“Did you scare him?” she asked, looking worried.

“Of course not. Why would he be scared of me? Did he look scared to you when you walked into the room a few minutes ago?”

“No, he didn't.” At least he couldn't tell anyone. Maybe that was why “they” had let Bobby see him too. “What did you tell him?”