“Yeah, she’ll lose sometimes. So what? She should give up before she even tries, and go through the rest of her life being afraid?”
“She should figureout a smarter way to handle things! If she’d come to me and told me Ty was picking on her—”
“If she’d gone running to a man to solve her problems even though she can solve them herself?”
“I really don’t think this is a feminist issue.”
“Feminism? I don’t have time for that. But I don’t need a man to take care of me, and neither does my daughter.”
“The police,” Ben suggested. He was prettysure he was letting himself be led far, far from where the conversation should be headed, but he didn’t seem able to stop himself. “If someone was breaking into your house, you’d call the police, wouldn’t you? That’s kind of my role in the classroom, or at least one aspect of it.”
“If the same asshole kept breaking into my house and the cops didn’t give him more than a slap on the wrist eachtime, and he came back and broke in again? It wouldn’t take long before I stopped calling the cops and started loading my gun.”
Yup, he’d walked into that one. He wanted to defend himself, talk about how Tyhadreceived consequences, how Peyton’s refusal to back down made it much harder to see her as a victim who needed to be protected and therefore harder to treat Ty’s behavior as bullying—hewanted to say all kinds of things. But he was finding himself distracted by the words echoing in the back of his mind. Not the old ones aboutanyone but Liam. Something new, something he’d just heard from Ms. Dale.That’s what life is. Life is getting hurt, and then standing back up and getting hurt again. But not being a robot. Being alive.Roaring.
“I appreciate your perspective on this,” hesaid, and maybe she could tell that he meant it, because she didn’t snarl in return. “I want to think about it all. But I need to warn you—there are school rules, rules I agree with and support, banning violence. If Peyton gets physically violent with another student, especially when there’s a teacherright therewilling to help her find a different solution, then all the talk about roaring andstanding up for herself isn’t going to keep her out of trouble with the office. Or with me. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe getting detention or even a suspension is just one more adversity for her to overcome. But I don’t think there’s a need for it. I hear what you’re saying about being willing to stand up for yourself, but I also truly believe that you have to pick your battles. Sometimes the bestthing is just to walk away from a fight.”
“And sometimes the best thing is to fight.” Ms. Dale held his gaze, waiting for him to object. But he didn’t. Sometimes the best thingwasto fight. After a moment, Ms. Dale stood up and straightened her work shirt. “You think about what I said, and—we’ll think about what you said.” She took a step toward the door, then turned back around and spoke quickly,as if the words were being forced out of her mouth and she couldn’t control them. “Peyton likes being in your class. She says you’re a good teacher. All the breathing bullshit she could do without, but—she likes you. And she’s a good judge of character.” She looked him up and down and added, “Usually.”
With that, the two of them stomped out of the room, as fierce and independent and stubbornas they’d been when they arrived.
Ben sat quietly in the classroom after they were gone, and he couldn’t help noticing how empty the space felt without their intensity and vitality. Empty, even though he was still there.
“Liam fucking Marshall,” he said out loud. He wasn’t quite sure how to trace his current state back to Liam Marshall, couldn’t precisely track the connection through all theswitchbacks and false trails, but he knew it was there. He knew this all came back to Liam somehow.
He pushed himself to his feet, the student desk rocking as his thigh hit it. He grabbed his keys and phone out of the drawer of his desk and left the pile of grading behind as he strode out of the building. Into the Toyota, then downtown, all without a single coherent thought. He pulled into thesmall parking lot of the small-engine shop and sat staring at the windows. The sign on the door said Closed, but that didn’t mean Uncle Calvin wasn’t inside. He shut down at five, most days, and spent another hour or two on the day’s more complicated tasks, the ones he couldn’t work on earlier when he was likely to be interrupted by customers.
He probably didn’t need to be interrupted by hisangsty nephew either. And what was Ben hoping the old man would say, anyhow? Did Ben even know what he wanted to talk about? What question he wanted to ask?
Well. Yes. He did know that, as a matter of fact.
He pushed his way out of the car before he had time to second-guess himself and rapped on the front door of the shop. After thirty seconds or so, he rapped again and saw movement in the shadowsinside. Uncle Calvin appeared on the far side of the glass, unlocked the door, and stood back as Ben pulled it open.
“Am I a coward?” Ben demanded. “Am I running away from things because they’re scary? Things that—that could be good? Or great, even? Am I settling for something less than what I could have just because I’m afraid of trying and failing? Of being hurt again? Is that what I’m doing?Am Iroaringenough?”
“Well, those are all good questions.” Uncle Calvin frowned. “Except for the last one. That one’s just strange. But for the others—I think those questions are best answered while drinking scotch by a campfire. And probably best answered byyou, not me. But if you want me to provide the scotch and the campfire, I can do that.”
“Yes,” Ben said before he could change his mind.“I want the scotch and the campfire. Please.”
“Okay.” Uncle Calvin wiped his hands on the rag he always had tucked into his waistband when he was working. “I need to get some of this oil washed off me before I go anywhere near an open flame, so I’ll go home and shower, and you’ll go pick up pizza for dinner. I don’t care what kind, but make sure there’s something green on it. We’ll meet at myplace.”
Ben nodded. He wasn’t sure he wanted to have this conversation, really, wasn’t sure he wanted to feel the way he was feeling. The strange buzz in his brain, under his skin, the excitement of something new and scary on the horizon—something he might not be running away from.
No, he wasn’t sure he liked it. Not exactly. But there was something about it, all the same. Something familiar,a reminder of other times he’d felt this way, and the good things—and bad things—that had happened after the feeling.
It was being alive, he was pretty sure. This was what Peyton’s mom had been talking about. This riot of energy, uncontrolled and unfocused, with so much potential to cause damage and chaos, also had the ability to create something wonderful. But only if he was strong enough tolet it keep flowing.
“I’ll get pizza,” he said. “Yeah. Okay.” He stepped back away from the door and looked at his uncle. “And you’ll get cleaned up, and we’ll talk.” All pretty obvious. But then Ben added, “Hurry. Please.” Because he wasn’t sure how long his nerve was going to hold, and he really, really wasn’t sure what would happen if it broke.
Uncle Calvin nodded sagely. “I’ll be ready whenyou get there.” He smiled, quick and true. “I’ve been waiting for this conversation for a long time.”
