"Losing Face" Chapter 5: Secrets Slip

I was in bed by ten. A radio woke me, some kind of music. It repeated. Not my ringtone. It was two in the afternoon, and I had no messages from the boys. I shook myself into awareness. The music was one of Matt’s songs on loop, and it was only getting louder. Matt’s phone. Joseph wouldn’t call Matt’s phone instead of mine, but I had to check. I found my feet, then clothes, and then Matt’s phone.
          Who is this?” I rubbed my chin with the nuckles of my other hand. Needed a shave; I needed a shave last night, but I couldn’t face the thought of a razor. I wanted a shower. I needed more sleep.
          “Hey. Am I speaking to Matt Lavenza?” The call was tinny, and the speaker sounded distant. A lot of static and noise in the background.
          “This is his father.”
          “Mr. Lavenza,” the bored voice said, “Can I talk to Matt? I need to let him know what he needs to bring for his first shift.”
          “He isn’t here right now. What… when does he start?"
          “Well. Next Saturday. Can you just let him know he needs dark pants, brown or black socks, nonslip shoes? He gets one smock free, but if he wants more he can put one’a his first coupla paychecks toward it.”
          “I’ll let him know. Thanks.”

           The dismissal bell rang as I pulled into the parking lot. I edged forward through waves of smaller minivans and SUVs. Joe’s blonde hair was hard to miss. I hoped it never darkened. Joe wasn’t the only one who jumped when I honked, but he was the only kid who picked up his pace to jog over to the truck.
          “Dad”? I reached over and popped the passenger door. I sat back to scan the crowds of kids and harried parents for my other kid. Joe climbed in.
          “Where’s Matt?” I asked. I glanced at Joe, and then looked again, at the violin case tucked behind his legs. “Why do you have that? Did you see him, today? When did you get that? I didn’t get any messages from him. From either of you.” Joe put up his arms to fight off my questions.
          “Dad, c’mon. Don’t yell. Matt is fine. He’s…” Joe sighed. “He’s gonna go with Ryan and Sean to play this new VR horror game, where you put on the headset. Ryan got the whole thing with the sensors so it reads you anywhere in the room, and when the monster’s behind you it’s like it’s really behind you.” He brandished his phone at me. “I’ve been working on something like that. It’s hard to do without the setup, but Matt said he’d ask Ryan about letting me come over when I have more done the test it. You play a character in the woods being chased by somethin’ bad and if you don’t collect all the stuff in time—because you have to collect stuff—but if you don’t do it, the monster gets you. Then you’re the monster and then you’re chasing people and then if you can’t do that in time, then it’s game over. But playing the monster is way tougher than the first part, since the people being chased move around and paper doesn’t, so I have to figure that out.”
           I loved watching their lit-up faces when the boys got caught up talking about games, or sports, or band. Joe had that look, now, and he moved his hands like his game was a physical thing he could paint on the air. I hated to interrupt these moments. We slid out of the parking lot while he spoke, and trawled along the street while he continued.
           I was still down one kid. The rel realization hit me and I turned down the next side street.
          “Call Ryan.”
          “I don’t have his number, Dad. I don’t have Sean’s, either. Look, it’ll be fine. He just wants to hang out. When he comes home tonight you can…” We turned down another side street, and Joe and I spotted the three slouching teenagers walking down the center of the road. None of them reacted when I honked. I rolled up beside them, and matched their pace until they stopped. Beside them, Matt looked shaggy and rough. When did he get his haircut last? We needed to go clothes shopping. Ryan and Sean both carried trumpet cases. Matt glared at me. I stared back.
          “Get in.” He didn’t move. “Get in, Matt.” Behind him, Ryan and Sean traded a look. Matt kept staring.
          “Can I go to Ryan’s hou—“
          “No.” Matt clenched his jaw.
          “Just a coupla hours, and I’ll be home and—“ I put my hand down on the wheel harder than I meant to; even I jumped when the horn went off.
          “Get in. Matt. Next time you want to go out somewhere, text me, or ask me.” He moved to say something. “Joe knew where you were. I want to know, too.” He stood where he was beside my window. His friends said goodbye and started up the street. They looked back at us while we continued talking. “Matthew. Get in the truck.” He stood where he was. I slammed the truck into park. When I popped open the car door, he backed up. Matt gave me the dirtiest look I’d ever seen on either boy’s face, but he crossed to the passenger’s side and climbed in beside Joe. Riding out in this truck, the three of us, was a lot easier when they were smaller. We started driving. I noticed Matt staring out the window; Joe caught my eye.
          “Where we going, Dad?”
          “I don’t know, yet,” I said. I loosened my grip on the steering wheel. “Is there anywhere you want to go, Matt?” He glared at me from behind Joe. “Like Haulee’s?” Both boys jumped a mile. Joe hissed at Matt:
          “You got the job?” We jerked to a stop.
          “You knew he was trying to get a job?” Before Matt answered, Joe said, “I helped him. With the interview. Getting ready for it.” Joe slid down, leaving me to stare fully at Matt. When I spoke, I was quiet.
          “When did you plan on telling me, Matt?” I saw his guilt loaded in the next dirty look he threw at me.
          “I was going to tell you. I was gonna tell you after I worked a couple weeks. So I couldn’t really, so you couldn’t just make me quit without notice. It’s just on weekends.”
          “What about band?” Matt didn’t answer right away. He dug out his case from the truck floor to hold it on his lap.
          “A lot of high school kids work at Haulee’s. Maybe when band practice really starts, I can work nights on the weekends. Practice after school—“
          “And sleep when? Even if I let you, you can’t work like that. There’s labor laws about it. It’s band bad enough when you miss church for practice. You should focus on school. You’re already making hard choices with your time. Focus on you. School is your job; why do you even want to work? If you need more money for something, we can work it out.”
          “Work it out with what money?” Matt rubbed his fingers together and then flapped his hand at me. “We don’t have any money. If you want me to stay in band, I need this job. I need a job. My band director told me not to come to another practice with my socks showing. But you can’t buy the pants without the whole costume.”
          “We can rent—we can do something. That’s not really—“
          "When you’re asleep, sometimes,” Joe said, “People call the landline. Matt or me answer ‘cause it can be important. Mostly it’s scammers and marketers, but a lot of times too it’s the electric or the water or the garbage.” The truck jerked forward until I pressed my foot back down. I shoved it into park. Joe said, “They mostly want to talk about payment plans. Payment counseling, I think one said.”
          “How long can you go putting off one bill a month, Dad?” Matt asked. “Is that gonna go to two? Going to choose between water and lights?” I couldn’t answer. Someone behind us couldn’t pass by on the narrow side street. When they honked, I started driving just to move.

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