Sunland: A Novel

20

• • 145 • • sitting in the dark, staring at this photo, warmed only by his wife’s smile. It saddened me to see love demolished by death, and I thought about Mona and the future, growing old, growing infirm, both of us clutching to each other. I opened the drapes. Below, two men were playing horseshoes in the pits, their game guided by shouts and luck. “That Mexican at game night was nice,” Epstein said. “Very polite, that guy.” “He’s not Mexican. He’s American.” He looked up. Half his face was shadowed. “Kid, listen,” he said to me. “I know you’ve got something cooking with that Mexican American. Whatever it is, I want in. I’m old. And old men don’t have that much time left.” another voice mail. I listened outside in the parking lot. “We could have had a son, Sid, or a daughter, two daughters, an entire swarm. That night you set your hand on my belly and told me stories. I listened. I heard everything you said. That night we sat by the radiator and you told me you wanted as many children as you had toes. We could have had children together, a family, we could have—” I hit erase. I had enough children, Juliet. Coronado High School wasn’t far from the casita, an easy ten-minute bike ride, and it was exactly where I wanted to begin some kind of career. During lunch hour I sat outside the administration offices, hoping to befriend the principal, a woman with Technicolor blouses and cosmetically tattooed eyebrows. Not the prettiest fruit in the basket, but she cut a commanding figure as she led a colleague into her office and slammed the door. A plastic vase vibrated on an end table. After some time her door opened and a teacher limped out. “In my office,” she said and pointed at me. The woman scared me. Joanne Rahlson parked her hip on her desk, beside her nameplate, crossed her panty-hosed legs, and swung her foot back and forth as she scanned my résumé. “So, you want a job, Charlie?” “It’s Sidney.” “Happens to be your lucky day. This spring I need a new phys ed teacher. Interested?” “I teach English.” 20 • • 146 • • “Beggars can’t be choosers, Charlie.” The more I examined her false eyebrows , the more they looked drawn on by black marker. “Listen, okay, look. How’s this?” she said. “Three periods phys ed, two periods English, and I’ll throw in donuts every week. You serve me well and I’ll see about bringing you aboard next year as English faculty.” She licked her finger and ran it along her temple, waiting for my answer. I already knew it. “Shouldn’t this be a more formal interview?” “This is it, Charlie. You have five seconds to decide.” Everything about the school, when I left her office with a job, felt cinematic . Someone may as well have been filming the quarterback preening in slo-mo down the hall as girls’ heads turned in admiration. All around me athletes sported red letterman jackets with blue C’s over their hearts. Cheerleaders wore uniforms too, showing off bright red kneecaps. Here everyone had a place, including me. Kids were excited to be living the legend. I knew their lives were thick with gossip and budding romances. Everything seemed tinted with promise. When I returned to my fifth-period class, the students were waiting for me. Five boys in hoodies had wandered away from their biology textbooks. They were now huddled in the back of the room. I parted the crowd and saw one of the boys brushing a wad of cash against his chin. I pointed at the boy with braces. “You gambling?” I asked him. “Just tossing dice against the wall,” he said. “Come on, guys. Toss dice during lunch, fine, but no gambling during class.” “You’re no teacher,” the kid said. “Just a substitute.” “Not anymore. I’m new,” I said. “Plus, you ruined my mood. Plus, I could easily kick your ass across this hot room. Put the dice away.” when the school day ended, I drove to the park. Parents and children claimed one large section, next to the brown soccer fields, where there was a playground with swings, monkey bars, slides, sandboxes, the works. Encircling the playground ran a track where women worked their glutes while pushing newborns in cross-training strollers. I lugged the child’s...