Homecoming for Beginners

Chapter 4

OLLIE LEFT Theo at the tender mercy of Grace, the student helper who’d been assigned to give him a tour of the school, while Ollie went outside to the bleachers to think about his assessment.

“He’s reading at a fifth-grade level,” the resource teacher had told him earlier, which made perfect sense because Theo had to be pried away from his books with a crowbar and because he’d spent half his life in a hospital bed with nothing better to do than read. “That’s wonderful, but he’s a year behind the curriculum in math.”

Ollie didn’t know how much math curriculum an eight-year-old was supposed to know. Was Theo having trouble with adding or long division? But before he could ask, the teacher went on.

“He’s young, so there’s every possibility he’ll adapt quickly and catch up. But he’s also been out of school for a long time. Given that and the fact that he’s smaller than other kids his own age, it might be worth placing him in second grade instead of third. It would give him more practice at socialization. And there’s no reason the other students need to know he’s a year older than they are.”

The whole thing made Ollie feel like a failure as a parent. Allison would’ve made Theo do more math. Then Ollie wouldn’t have to make this kind of monumental decision.

He hated the idea of Theo being held back, even if that wasn’t really what this was. Of course he had gaps in his education. He’d been busy fighting for his life. It didn’t mean he wasn’t smart.

But kids tended to see things in black and white. Ollie didn’t want Theo to feel stupid, or like his dad didn’t have confidence in him.

He also didn’t want his kid to suffer in third grade because he couldn’t keep up with the classwork his peers were doing.

The fog of his thoughts must’ve been pretty thick, because he was already climbing the bleachers before he realized he wasn’t alone .

That figure the third row up, along the side near the forty-yard line, looked familiar. Sure enough, as Ollie got closer, he made out the scar along the jawline and the distinctive profile of Ty’s nose. He looked just as lost in thought as Ollie was.

That probably meant Ollie should leave him alone, right? Except if Ollie was being honest with himself, he didn’t particularly want to be alone right now, even though he’d stalked out to his old sulking grounds to have a think. So maybe Ty didn’t either.

In the end he split the difference and sat one row down from Ty, a few feet over. When Ty didn’t react to his presence, Ollie offered, “Hey.”

Ty’s head came up so fast Ollie had to believe he’d been so deep in his thoughts he really hadn’t noticed Ollie. “Jesus, you scared me. Uh. Hi.”

Whoops. “Hi. Sorry about the ambush.”

Ty glanced down at the metal floor of the bleachers and then back up again with a crooked half-smile. “Something tells me you didn’t mean to sneak up on me. I guess I was just thinking.”

“Good spot for it,” Ollie commented.

“Yeah. Did all my best thinking out here in high school. Well.” The crooked grin widened, but it still didn’t reach his eyes. “At least when I could be bothered to think.”

Ollie found himself smiling back a little. “You played football too, right? I know I kind of filled your spot on the baseball team.”

“Yeah, how dare you,” Ty said flatly, like maybe it bothered him. Then his lips quirked back up again. “I played tight end.”

“Well, that’s all right,” Ollie said. “I was quarterback.”

Ty snorted. “Of course you were.” He tilted his head. “Registering Theo for school today?”

Ollie heaved out a breath, grateful to have an opening, even if it was weird. Ollie wasn’t a let’s talk about it kind of guy by nature. The Army didn’t exactly encourage a sharing-is-caring mentality either, so he was extra used to keeping his mouth shut.

But something about Ty made him easy to talk to. Maybe it was like that magazine article Ollie had read while Theo was in his last round of treatment at the hospital. Some study had shown that you were more likely to trust a stranger after you’d done a favor for them, even if it was something simple like passing them a bottle of ketchup at a diner. Ollie figured helping a drunk, hungover, mostly naked guy get to his father’s funeral service on time was a lot more effective than handing someone a condiment.

It definitely helped to know that almost no matter what he said, Ty had no room to judge. “Yeah. He’s getting his tour right now, while I came out here to have a crisis about what grade to put him in.”

“What, they’re just going to let you pick?”

“No. Yeah, kind of?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Uh, he missed a lot of school because he had leukemia, so….”

“Jesus.” Ty’s eyes widened. “Poor kid.”

Ollie blew out a breath. “Right?”

“So… picking a grade?” Ty prompted.

“I mean, I don’t think they’d let me put him in eighth grade or anything. He’s ahead in reading and behind in math. I have to decide if I’m putting him in third grade with the rest of the eight-year-olds or in second so he can catch up.”

Ty was quiet for a second and then climbed down to Ollie’s row. “Okay. And?”

“And I don’t know what to do.” Ollie held up his left hand, palm up. “On this side, I don’t ever want to be responsible for holding my kid back. I don’t ever want him to feel like his dad doesn’t believe in him.” He flipped over his other hand. “And on this hand, I don’t want him to get bullied for being small or not being good at math. I don’t want him to struggle. And I don’t want him to feel like there’s shame in needing more time to learn.”

“Wow.” Ty whistled under his breath. “That’s a lot to consider. What does his mom think?”

“Ah,” Ollie hedged, “she’s not really around.”

“Where is she?”

The answer slipped out before Ollie could stop it. “Arlington.”

Ty’s eyes went wide and the color drained from his face. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. That was so insensitive.”

“It’s okay,” Ollie assured him quickly. “I could’ve been more forthcoming, I can see how that would’ve led to follow-up questions. Uh, but yeah. She passed four months ago. That’s when I got custody. I mean, we were never together, but Theo knew I was his dad. It’s just that when I was deployed, I didn’t really have to be a father . Allison said he didn’t need more than one parent. We just got to do the fun stuff. And now….”

“Now you get to be good cop, bad cop,” Ty finished. “Why don’t you ask Theo what he wants?”

“I could.” Ollie had considered it. “But what if he tells me and I suddenly realize it’s not what’s best for him? I’d feel like a dick and he’d probably hate me.”

“I guess that’s a fair point.” They sat in silence for a few seconds. Then Ty said, “Okay, feel free to tell me to shut up, because it’s not like I have any parenting experience to draw on. But I’ve met your kid, remember? Not that I had all my faculties at the time, but he had no qualms peppering a total stranger with questions over breakfast while you were there. Speaking as someone who lost their mom as a kid, you’re doing a great job. Whatever you decide, Theo will be fine because he has a great dad.”

Ollie’s throat went tight. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know you’re the kind of dad who’s agonizing over the right thing to do for his kid to a total stranger. That counts for a lot.”

Now he couldn’t help but smile, but he also needed to deflect. Ollie had never gotten the hang of gracefully accepting compliments. “Total stranger, huh? I’ve seen you mostly naked.”

Ty’s laugh was a loud, surprised sound that echoed in the stands around them. “Remind me not to tell you about my misspent youth.”

“I’m absolutely not going to do that.” Something told Ollie those stories would be hilarious. “Anyway. You know about me now. What were you thinking about so loud you didn’t hear me coming? If you want to talk about it, that is.”

“Just reevaluating some stuff from my childhood.” He shook his head. “Turns out my dad was an even bigger asshole than I thought. Good times.”

“I’m sorry.”

Ty smiled again, though it was a little wistful. “It’s kind of nice, actually. My dad being more of an asshole means other people weren’t when I thought they were. Hence the reevaluating.”

Ollie didn’t follow all that, but he nodded anyway. “I guess. ”

In the distance, a bell rang. Ollie watched his own instinctive reaction play out on Ty’s frame as his spine straightened and his feet twitched like they were trying to stand up without input from his brain.

Ty quirked his eyebrows. “Old habits die hard.” He got up. “I better go before Henry decides I’m too much of a flake to help the baseball team.”

Ollie glanced at his watch as though he didn’t know exactly what time the lunch bell rang. “I should go too. I have to tell the resource teacher to put Theo in third grade where he belongs. And then I have to look at apartments while he has his first day of school.”

They walked back toward the school together. For the first time since Allison died, Ollie felt like he might actually have a handle on this parenting thing.

WHATEVER TY expected from his first baseball practice, this was not it.

“Coach,” Ty said seriously. They were standing in the dugout to watch the boys warm up—well out of earshot of any potentially sensitive listeners.

“Mm-hmm,” Henry answered.

“That kid doesn’t know how to hold a bat.”

“Yeah.”

“This is America .”

Henry gave him a sideways glance. “What, are you angling to teach geography next?”

Smartass. “They can’t do the beautiful game like this, Henry.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re within their constitutional rights to be bad at baseball.” There was a beat. After a moment Henry said, “Couple years ago the school started a lacrosse program. It’s popular. Season runs at the same time as baseball.”

“So all the athletic kids went out for that instead,” Ty extrapolated. Henry nodded. “So why even have a baseball team?”

Henry gave him a look. “This is America .”

Fine. Ty probably deserved that. He rubbed the back of his neck. “When’s the season start?”

“First game is Friday. ”

So they had four days to teach these kids enough skills that they didn’t die of embarrassment. Ty took a deep breath. “Okay, then. We’d better get started.”

Ty was good with kids. His team back in Chicago said it was because he was one himself, but really kids were just easy to like, easy to understand and get along with. All you had to do was talk to them, show an interest in things they liked, listen thoughtfully to what they said. Treat them like people.

Teenagers were not like kids. Teenagers were like aliens. Ty did his best, but having been an alien in the past did not prepare him to deal with them now.

Dustin and Butch—who was all of five foot three and maybe a hundred and ten pounds sopping wet; Ty couldn’t make this up—were supposed to be practicing fielding grounders, but they could barely be torn away from their conversation about a girl named Lila. Danny was so distracted looking at the clouds he almost got beaned by a pop fly, and only Ty shouting “ Heads up !” at the top of his lungs saved him from a concussion.

He didn’t catch the fly ball either.

And then there was Jeremy, their aspiring catcher, who took one look at the mask and took an actual step backward. “I’m not wearing that.”

Somehow Henry managed to answer without pinching the bridge of his nose. One day Ty was going to figure out how he did it. “You are if you want to play. League rules. Sorry.”

“Coach.” Jeremy lifted the mask by its strap with one finger. “It’s giving Hannibal Lecter.”

Never mind—now Henry did pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’m way too young to feel this damn old.”

Ty turned his laugh into a cough that might’ve fooled the kids but didn’t get past Henry, who skewered him with a knowing glare.

By the time practice finished, Ty was reasonably certain the kids at least knew the rules of baseball. He was less convinced they would follow them. When the last of the kids’ parents left the parking lot, Ty heaved out a breath and asked Henry, “Do high school games have a mercy rule?”

“Nope.”

Jesus .

“You want to come over for a beer?”

“Absolutely.”

A beer turned out to come with homemade burgers on the grill and a garden salad in every color of the rainbow. Ty kept Henry company while he cooked, and they made small talk about the goings-on around town. It was nice—normal, like what Ty might’ve done with his coworkers back in Chicago, except none of them had a backyard this big.

“So,” Henry said when they’d loaded up the dishwasher and Eliza had excused herself to go watch her guilty pleasure TV show, “this is the part where I admit to ulterior motives.”

“I already signed up for free labor.” Ty finished off his beer and set it on the table. “Schedule’s still wide open.” He’d gotten as far as filing for bereavement leave, so at least he’d have a job to go back to when he returned to Chicago… theoretically. Assuming it got approved and could be extended more or less indefinitely.

Henry set down the bottle of beer he’d been nursing all night. Ty wondered if he even liked the taste or if he kept it on hand as a social expectation. “Thing is,” he said, “you remember I told you about Margie?”

“The lady with the cryptic pregnancy?” Ty said. “Yeah, Coach, we were just talking about her five minutes ago. My memory’s not that short.” Besides, cryptic pregnancies fascinated him. All those people who didn’t realize they were expecting until all of a sudden they were in labor? So cool. From a medical perspective, anyway. From a personal standpoint, Ty was pretty glad he didn’t have the equipment for it. And from a professional standpoint, helping someone deliver a baby they didn’t know they were having was kind of a lot.

Henry nodded. “Yeah. So anyway, she’s a part-time teacher. Elementary school health.”

The past few years had made Ty a little cynical. “Wow, this state allows elementary school health classes?”

That earned him an eye roll. “It’s mostly stuff like the importance of stretching before exercise and why we have to eat our vegetables.”

Nobody wanted a class full of constipated fourth graders. “I still don’t see what any of this has to do with me.”

“Seriously?” Henry was looking at him like he’d dropped an easy pop fly. “We’ve been shy on substitute teachers since the pandemic. Principal Gupta ran your clearance check. You passed, not that anyone’s surprised. We’d like you to sub in for a couple weeks. We’re thinking a crash course in first aid could do the kids some good, and you’re well qualified.”

They wanted him to what ? “Jesus, Coach. You kept that one close to the chest.”

“You gotta know when to hold ’em,” Henry quipped. “Principal Gupta thought it’d be better coming from me.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong about that, but…. “What the hell,” Ty muttered. “I only found out I didn’t get expelled this morning, Henry.”

“Then it’s the perfect time to heal your wounds with your old school. Right?”

I don’t think that’s how therapy works , Ty thought, but… maybe it did. Maybe if he spent a couple hours a day with some rowdy grade-schoolers it would take his mind off the rest of his life. “What the hell,” he repeated. “How bad could it be?”

Henry grinned. “That’s the spirit.”