Eddie Joyce - Small Mercies

They walked down the bleachers and Danny introduced her to the young coach. He gave her a card, told her he’d be in touch. She and Danny joined the other parents in a large, joyless circle, the season’s usual alliances abandoned in favor of solidarity in this cruel, merciless land.

“Jesus, that was an absolute ass-kicking.”

“What about that kid Long? It wasn’t even fair.”

“No way number 24 is seventeen.”

Their sons didn’t linger in the locker room, didn’t keep them waiting. They wanted to get away as quickly as possible, back across the bridge and safely ensconced in the warm, convivial comforts of the Island. The city boys had whipped them, as they usually did, at least in this game, and they wanted to go home.

Bobby was surprisingly chipper, had already shaken off the sting of defeat. He told Gail that he’d catch a ride back with Pat Keegan and he asked for a few bucks because the whole team was going to dinner at Denino’s. She gave him a twenty and watched as he walked over to Tina.

Now she was truly unfettered. Michael would be working. Bobby would be out. She looked at Danny and he was smiling at her, like a little boy who’d lined up all his dominoes and whose finger was poised over the first, crucial one. The parents slowly shuffled out of the gym, more disappointed, it seemed, than their sons. She felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned.

“Mom, Tina took the ferry, then the train, and the dinner is kinda team only and there’s no room in Pat’s car anyway and I was wondering if you could give her a lift home so she doesn’t have to take the ferry alone.”

Tina was irritated at the fuss.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Amendola. It’s no problem. I like the ferry.”

What could she say?

“Don’t be silly, Tina. Of course I’ll give you a ride home.”

She fished in her purse for the car keys, handed them to her son.

“Bobby, walk Tina to the car. I need to use the restroom.”

They walked out of the gym, arguing in lowered voices. The gym was nearly empty, but Danny lingered back, sensing a disruption. They stepped into a small, dimly lit alcove between the bleachers and the exit doors.

“I have to drive Tina home,” she said, with teenage petulance.

“Okay, meet me after.”

“Drive back to Brooklyn?” she asked. Something about that rankled her. Something silly, like having to pay the toll twice. He laughed.

“It’s okay,” he said. “We can do it another night, Gail.”

“No, no. I’ll come back.”

He put his hand on her arm, gave it a squeeze.

“It’s gonna be okay, Gail. Everything will be okay.”

She kissed him. A long, exploratory kiss, the kind she and Michael hadn’t shared in years. She pulled away.

“Wait for me,” she said.

She walked out of the dim, dusty space. Outside, in the parking lot, it was cold and dark. Only a few cars remained. She saw Tina standing outside the car, shivering. She walked to Tina, hands thrust in her jacket pocket, her tongue tingling from the taste of spearmint.

* * *

The car was quiet until they were halfway over the Verrazano.

“That kid Long was unbelievable.”

The sound of Tina’s voice startled her; she’d been daydreaming about Danny.

“Yes,” Gail said. The traffic on the bridge was heavy. The car inched over the span in short spurts.

“So, you’re pretty friendly with Mr. McGinty?”

Gail stiffened. Was it that obvious? She tried to sound casual.

“Not really. He’s helping Bobby get a scholarship. That man at the game was an assistant coach, he thinks Bobby could play at Sacred Heart in Connecticut.”

Tina laughed.

“Bobby’s not going to Sacred Heart,” she said, with a sarcastic certainty out of step with her usual politeness. She looked out the passenger window, her face turned away from Gail.

“Well, there are other schools interested as well. Mr. McGinty”—she nearly called him Danny—“says he could get a scholarship to a number of Division Two schools, maybe even a low-end Division One school.”

Tina laughed again.

“Bobby won’t go away to school. No way.”

“How do you know?” Gail asked, a little annoyed at Tina’s presumptuousness.

“He’ll never leave Staten Island. He loves it here. All he cares about is the Staten Island tournament. That’s why he wasn’t that upset today.”

The car behind them honked. Gail pulled up in line. She didn’t need this. She didn’t need traffic. Or a chat about Bobby. She needed a straight line. No distractions. She needed not to lose momentum. Of all the fucking nights.

“What do you mean?”

“All Bobby wants is to become a fireman, like his dad. Be a firefighter, live on Staten Island, coach CYO.”

She’d managed to banish Michael from her thoughts. She opened her eyes wide, tried to suck all the moisture of out her eyeballs.

I will not cry. Gail will not cry. She will sleep with Danny. Gail will sleep with Danny.

“He’ll go to CSI, play on the team there, join the FDNY as soon as he can.” She laughed again, nervous to be playing the expert. “That’s what he tells me, anyway.”

Gail cracked the window to pay the toll. Cold air spilled into the car, stinging her eyes. She rolled the window up and, with her thumbs, pushed the tears into the tight flesh beneath her eyes. She laughed to disguise her agitation.

“You may be right, Tina. What do I know? I’m only his mom.”

Tina flushed with embarrassment.

“No, Mrs. Amendola, I didn’t mean that.”

Gail turned to her. Tears meandered down her cheeks. She saw Tina’s embarrassment turn to confusion.

“Are you okay, Mrs. A?”

“I’m fine. Please call me Gail.”

Behind them, a few horns honked.

“Jesus, all right, take it easy!” Gail yelled, startling Tina. She pressed down on the gas and the car raced forward. She glanced at Tina.

“Anyway, Mr. McGinty is only trying to help.”

A long pause. When Tina spoke, her voice had returned to the peppy, polite tone Gail was accustomed to.

“I’m sure you’re right. I think he helped Jack Kelly get onto the SUNY-Potsdam team last year.”

The name sounded vaguely familiar.

“Jack Kelly?”

“He was on the team last year. Blond hair. Kinda short,” Tina offered.

Gail remembered him now. Scrawny thing, never saw the floor. He barely played in high school. How could Danny have helped him get onto a college team?

Then she remembered the laugh.

The year before, during one of the games, someone had been laughing like a loon in the stands behind her and Michael. An obscenely loud laugh, sounded fake. She’d glanced over her shoulder and saw where the laughs were coming from: Jack Kelly’s mother, Terri, a recent divorcée with bottle-blond hair, wearing skintight, leopard-print leggings. She’d forgotten, but someone was sitting beside Teresa, whispering crisp, mint-scented jokes in her ear.

The cause of the high-pitched cackles. A helper of boys, companion to their lonely mothers.

Danny.

* * *

When Gail gets home, Michael is in the living room. Not the Michael she didn’t speak to for six months. Not the Michael she nearly cheated on. Not the Michael who wanted to bartend.

No.

This Michael served his penance: he attended Bobby’s last few high school basketball games after Gail threatened to divorce him if he didn’t. This Michael went to his father to claim his inheritance only to find it was too late, that Enzo had already sold the business to the other Enzo. This Michael watched that other Enzo turn one store into four and make a small fortune with his father’s business. This Michael is humble and heartbroken and watching basketball with a glum, disinterested look on his face.