Titanic Summer Read online

  “Eight days? We’re going to be in a car for eight days?” Dad, without his job to keep him warm, alone with me for eight days? No way. The man could not possibly be away from that hotel for more than half a day. I’d seen how he got really antsy, grabbing for his cell phone constantly whenever we took off for an outing of only a few hours.

  “No, no, no.” He held up his hands in protest. “Here’s the way I figure it. We’ll do the five-hour drive to Boston, then spend the night. Then it’s another couple of hours to Portland, Maine, where we spend another night. Next day, we board the CAT ferry to Yarmouth, Nova Scotia. You’ll love the ferry. It’s five hours or so of luxury. It’s only a three-hour trip to Halifax from Yarmouth. We can see everything in Halifax in two days. Then we retrace our steps back to Philly.”

  “And the Grayson hotel conglomerate won’t topple with their star employee gone for eight full days?” This was the argument that I knew would pierce his bubble, bring him back down to earth. I owed it to all the red-blooded teenage boys in the world to fight off this hideous scourge—this Dad-son, grave-watching, bonding journey.

  “I think they can get along without me for a week.” If he wasn’t worried about leaving his job for eight days, eight eternal days—not the week he just tossed off—then I knew it was a done deal. The fight for my pool time was over.

  Eight days imprisoned in a car with Dad. What a vacation. Then I thought… it would give me a chance to figure out just what was going on with him. I still hadn’t had a chance to probe him about why he hadn’t called me as much as he used to. This trip could be bearable if only because there’d be plenty of time for quizzing.

  I put what I hoped was a not too-fake smile of acceptance on my face. Then a light bulb went off over my head. An idea bloomed that I really got excited over. “You say we’re headed to Boston?”

  “Right.”

  “How far is Springfield from Boston?”

  Dad looked at me. “I know what you’re thinking, Jake-O.” He stood and walked to the computer. “Let’s find out.” First time that day I’d made him the least little bit happy. This was the dad I knew and loved. And it made me feel happy that he was happy.

  I followed him and looked over his shoulder as he pulled up Google Maps. He then input Philadelphia to Springfield. It came up a little over two hundred miles… about four hours. Then he looked up Springfield to Boston… about an hour and a half.

  Over his shoulder, he looked at me. “Okay, buddy. It’s doable. If we leave at the crack of dawn tomorrow, we can make the Basketball Hall of Fame by their opening time. We spend a couple of hours there, have some lunch, maybe go back for an hour or so, then head on to Boston. We should be in Boston in time to see some sights. It’s daylight savings time, you know. Whaddya say?”

  The look on his face was priceless. It was like the pleading look on an orphan puppy, impossible to resist. I bought Dad’s whole road-trip thing. So much for endless hours at the pool.

  God, I prayed, please let me find out everything I need to know about Dad. At least we won’t be in the middle of this gay stuff anymore. That gaggle isn’t marching all the way to Boston, surely. No gay stuff sucking the air dry, no chance my secret will pop out.

  “When do we sail, Captain Smith?” I knew he’d like the Titanic reference.

  “Oh-five hundred, mate. We’ll have room service in tonight, watch Kate…” Oh God, Red. “…and Leo, then get a good night’s rest.”

  Oh, goody, Red and Le-ho. And the inimitable song stylings of SeaLion Die-on.

  Chapter 4

  “DAD, YOU said you’d cancel the SUV.” My eyes barely open, I wasn’t awake enough to put up much of a fight, but when I glimpsed the gleaming green behemoth parked in front of the hotel, I was pissed at him. What a way to start this expedition. “You not only didn’t, but it’s a Lexus—a gas guzzler if I’ve ever seen one.”

  “Relax. It’s a hybrid. Great gas mileage and total luxury. Perfect for a long road trip. And it’s green. You said you wanted something green.”

  I groaned. It was too early for his eternally cheerful, joking self. But I was happy he’d listened to me. I could always count on him. “Just how long is this trip again?” I’d totaled up the potential torture, but I wanted him to say it. Maybe the enormity of it all would change his mind, and I could get back to bed.

  “Uhmmm,” he evaded. “I’m not sure. I didn’t add it all up. But relax, the first leg is, you know, only about four hours.”

  Inwardly I expelled another groan. But I kept my mouth shut. If Dad wanted this trip, then I wanted it. After all, I was going to finally get to see the Hall of Fame. That was a treat. He could have said we didn’t have time for that, but he didn’t. For me.

  I climbed into the monster, lugging my pillow, hoping for a long, long nap on the way to Springfield.

  Dad took the pilot’s seat. “Now you see why I got the luxury car?” he laughed. It was roomy. I’d give him that.

  He’d been übercheerful earlier that morning, whistling as he piled our luggage for the bellman to come cart to the car. He was so bubbly that he almost won me over then. But it was too early in the morning to be that full of sunshine. I’m definitely not a morning person.

  Wanting to descend into the peace of slumber, I closed my eyes. My mind instantly drifted to my call to Mallory the night before.

  “Who’s wakin’ me up?” she grumbled.

  “You know who, and I’m sorry. It’s an hour later here, but I figured you’d still be up. Trying to get in some rest before the rigors of swim camp, huh?”

  “You bet I am. You know Coach works us until we drop. And the bus leaves at the crack of dawn tomorrow.”

  “I’m sorry I woke you up, but I just needed to touch base with sanity before this ordeal here begins.”

  “You interrupted a delicious dream. Of you. Or Ryan Gosling. I’m not saying which.”

  I laughed at her. I knew if she had a choice, she would choose Gosling over me. No comparison there, even if I wanted to ravish her. I spent about five minutes, commiserating.

  “Come on, Jake. What’s the big deal? Your dad wants to spend some time with you. You need to man up.” Earlier that day, she had been gentler with me. I guess she really was pissed that I’d called so late.

  “I know. But think about it. Cooped up in a car for eight days.”

  “You’re exaggerating. You’re only going to be in the car for a few hours at a time. You get to see the Basketball Hall of Fame. Thank your dad for that, why don’t you? He’s doing this for you. He showed that when he pounced on your idea of the Hall-of-Fame stop. Get real, Jake, and quit being such a wuss.”

  Being around coaches, she knew how to lay on the guilt.

  “Okay,” I said. I knew she was right. I did need to change my attitude about this. I hate riding in a car for hours on end, but Dad was determined this would be fun. Sometimes I just need Mal to give me a kick in the butt.

  “And if this trip means as much to him as it seems to, you can go along with the idea. And smile the whole time, you hear me? Cripes. At least you have a dad!”

  Mal had too many friends whose dads had skipped out.

  “Okay, okay,” I said. “I’ll play nice. You’re right—like always.” I added the last just to appease her, although she usually is right about stuff, and she never fails to make me see her side.

  “Good boy.”

  “Okay, but I’m gonna need you to have your phone with you at all times and have it turned on, ready for me.”

  There was a long silence.

  “Mal? You still there? Did the signal cut out?”

  “Noooo.”

  I didn’t like the way she was drawing that no out. Something was up, and I knew I wasn’t going to like it.

  “Spill it, Mal,” I demanded.

  “Well, it’s just that Coach said cell phones were banned at swim camp this year. Seems that they became a problem last year, so the coaches voted to ban them altogether. If Coach catches any o
f us with one, we’re off the team. As added incentive he said he was taking our phones and locking them up in the camp office.”

  “Crap!” I was never without Mal to bounce things off of. And Dad was taking me into uncharted waters. I knew at some point I was going to need to vent, no matter how I tried to stay on an even keel. Sometimes a guy needs his best friend to get him through. Even if she does give him grief.

  “You’ll do okay. How’d you cope before you met me? I get tired sometimes of telling you what to do. Just sayin’. You need to take responsibility. Quit relying on me so much. And before you take that wrong, let me say I still love ya. But you need to do an attitude adjustment every once in a while, you know? Just keep telling yourself that this is for your dad. After all, you said yourself it’s been years since he’s taken a real vacation from that hotel. This is your chance to make it special for him. I know you can do this.” That was the Mal I knew and loved, the supportive Mal, the butt kickin’ Mal.

  “Okay—I’ll try. But if I come back a basket case, it will be Coach Truvy’s fault. You can tell him that for me.”

  “Yeah, like he’s going to care. You just keep focused. The trip will be over in no time. And, consider this possibility… you may even have a good time.”

  As I settled into the passenger seat, my pillow propped against the door, those words rattled in my brain. There was no way that was going to happen… endless car rides, Dad’s cheerful sightseeing commentaries, and a megadose of Titanic fever. Ugh. I might love my dad unconditionally, but that didn’t have to include hours of pavement noise and frickin’ graves!

  But I was determined to make the best of it. He could benefit from time off, and I could benefit from some father/son bonding—if only to find out what he was hiding.

  “You ready, Jake-O?” I felt something drop into my arms. My eyes flew open. It was a map.

  “What’s that for?” I turned my eyes suspiciously around at him.

  “You’re the navigator, my boy. You have to earn your keep, me laddie.” I had never seen him so giddy.

  “But why the map? This luxe ride you rented has GPS.”

  He bowed his head sheepishly. “I’m ashamed. I hate to admit it, but your old dad has failed. Miserably failed. I can’t figure out how to program the thing. If you can do it, then be my guest.”

  Yeah, sure. “No prob, captain.” I waved my smartphone. “This baby has GPS.”

  His face fell. “I just thought we could go a little old school. Charts and maps, like the ship’s navigator?”

  Another secret. He could program the GPS. He just didn’t want to, for whatever reason. I resigned myself to play his game. “Fine. The map will do just f-i-n-e.” Like Mal said, I would go with Dad’s flow.

  “Good boy. The map will work for us, you’ll see. Look.” He pointed. “I’ve got the route all marked. You just have to keep an eye on it and tell me when I need to turn onto a new road. Easy, huh?”

  I sighed. “Yeah, easy.” If Dad was happy, everybody was happy. Well, everybody else in that monster car. Which was me. Just me. And Dad.

  It was going to be a long trip. I once again said a prayer for guidance and patience and endurance. Mom would be proud. Of my praying, not the reason for it. Although she got exasperated at him too—a lot.

  He switched the ignition, the engine came to life, and he pulled out onto the street.

  “This baby has satellite radio. Pick a station.”

  “Do they have an all Titanic, all the time station?” I asked. It was too early in the morning. I couldn’t control myself.

  He laughed. “That’s a good one, Seinfeld.” Wasn’t meant as a joke. He took it as one. Score one for me. I reminded myself to watch my tongue. I desperately needed to start thinking before speaking, if this trip was going to work. And besides, as Mal reminded me all the time, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He treated me too well.

  We sampled a flurry of music choices. At one point, the dial alighted on an easy-listening channel. And—you guessed it—SeaLion was warbling “My Heart Will Go On.”

  Dad said, “That’s a good choice.”

  I pretended not to hear him and kept dialing, finally settling on some indie rock music.

  I tossed my pillow into the back seat, since it was obvious that I wasn’t going to get any sleeping done, not with my newfound navigation duties.

  He knew his way out of town, so I didn’t have to keep my eye on the map. Instead, I stared out the window, wallowing in the grief that Mal would not be available to me for the next ten days. Argh.

  “Jake. Jake. Jake.” Dad was repeating my name like his voice was on autopilot. I broke my thoughts, hearing him say, “Pilot to navigator. Which highway do we turn on from here?”

  I looked at the map and told him. Then he swung a right.

  “I like that song. What’s the name of it?”

  Now first of all, I never in a million years thought he would like an indie rock song. And second of all, I had no idea what the name of the song was because I hadn’t been paying attention.

  “I don’t know. Must be one I haven’t heard before,” I answered.

  “Nice day for a drive, isn’t it?”

  Quit with the small talk, Dad. Let me veg out. Quit your attitude, Jake.

  “Yeah. Nice day.”

  “So what should we talk about? We’ve got a passel of hours to kill, here.” He was making a valiant attempt to be nice. Must have been the way I was treating him, because he never has to make an effort to be nice unless he’s dealing with someone who is being a butt. I remembered what Mallory had told me and what I’d just told myself, so I once again adjusted my attitude. I put a smile in my voice.

  “What do you want to talk about, Dad? I’m game for any topic. After all, I’ve got the time.”

  “Okay. You talk to your mom yesterday?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, how’s she doing? Missing her baby?”

  “Mom’s fine. She’s the same old, same old. She was at the church. She’s always at the church.”

  “Your mom’s very devout. I’ll give her that.”

  “I’d say it’s not so much devotion as it’s fanaticism. You know—she’s perpetually fighting for an issue.”

  “And what’s this year’s cause?”

  He knew very well what her new cause was. I’d heard her telling him about it. But this was father/son bonding, have a fun conversation time, so I pretended.

  “HERO.”

  “Don’t tell me. I read about it in the Houston Chronicle online edition.” He was laying it on thick. Feigning semi-ignorance. He paused. “Houston Equal Rights Ordinance. Am I right?”

  “You got it. Mom’s making flyers, placing calls, shouting to the rooftops at anybody who will listen.”

  “For or against?” he asked.

  I looked at him. He was smiling as much as I. “What do you think?”

  “Right.” Suddenly he got very silent. It felt like several minutes before he spoke again, hesitance in his voice. “What do you think about it?”

  “About what? Mom’s dedication to the church?”

  “No.” He stopped. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts or courage or something. “HERO.”

  Oh crap. Did I want to get into this with him? I was sure it was just going to turn into a Dad vs. Mom thing. I tried to avoid that at all costs. I should have chosen my words more carefully when he asked about Mom.

  But I was stuck, so against my better judgment, I plunged in head-on.

  “I don’t know. Mom might be right, you know? It says so in the Bible.” Where was I heading? I didn’t believe all that stuff. I only believed that my life was over if anybody found out I was gay. Maybe I was hoping against hope that Dad would agree with what I’d just said and how I thought he’d feel if I ever came out to him would be confirmed.

  “The Bible preaches against equal rights?” He baited me.

  That was the moment I could have changed the subject. But no—I plunged right i
nto it. I was not a Bible believer. Mom had spouted so much of it to me over the years that I knew there was a lot of good advice in there, but I also knew there was quite a bit that didn’t apply to us in the modern era. After all, the thing was written thousands of years ago. I did know what it said about men lying with men, so I dove into deep waters, leading with that. Just to test his beliefs.

  “Come on, Dad. The Bible says being gay is wrong, so it stands to reason that those people have no rights.” The minute I said those people, I got a stabbing in my gut. I was one of those people. But since I was never going to act on my gay feelings, I wouldn’t need any special rights.

  “I’m not sure you’re right about that, son. I’m no Bible scholar. But I do know it says you’re not supposed to eat shellfish. You think you’ll go to hell for those shrimp you gobbled up last night? Huh?”

  He had me there. That was one of those things that didn’t apply anymore. But sex with men? That was a lot different than devouring shrimp. Surely the Bible could be counted on for the big things, and no matter that some people thought there was nothing wrong with homosexuality these days, there was still that lingering thought that all us men who lie with men were going to hell. The Bible could be right on that point.

  “Not likely. But—”

  “Well, it’s in Leviticus. Didn’t you know that?”

  “Of course, Dad, I knew it.” I piled the sarcasm as thick as I could get it. “Why, I don’t even go to sleep at night unless I’ve read all of Leviticus at least twice.” There was a moment when I thought he might slap me across the face. But abuse is not his style.

  “Just my point.” Dad took no offense at how snarky I was being. I almost wanted to explore that, but he was rattling on. “Most people don’t have any idea what the Bible says we should and shouldn’t do. Hell, Judaism has 613 commandments. You think they follow all of them?”