#cheesebugers

3

Neil and Donna came home at the same time—late.

“I am so sorry, Sammy!” Donna was hysterical. “Work at the retirement center was non-stop. I can’t believe the way it just ate away the day. I did manage to get tomorrow off, though, so if you don’t mind missing just one more day of school, I promise we’ll get you set up and ready, okay?”

“Whatever you think is best, Mrs Turner.”

“Good man! Now I told you, stop calling me ‘Mrs’. Yer makin me feel old.”

“And I’m feelin hungry.” Neil put his arm around my shoulders. “What say we get ourselves some big, fat, greasy, totally unhealthy American cheeseburgers, Sammy? You game?”

“Of course he is!” Donna screamed. “Those skinny bones need some meat!”

A tickle raid ensued. I was most uncomfortable.

New sis and I climbed into the back of a red Chrysler, its white seats covered in sticky leather. We left Stony Forest, and Neil pointed as he drove.

“This is Bay Boulevard, the main road here. If you ever get lost, just jump in the Bay, they say, and you’ll get where wanna go in Kaiser Lake. Around the corner here, you see your high school, Sammy—there. Not far, is it?”

Kaiser High was a long slab of brick with curved sides and black windows, set in a grove with trees but no brush. “One of the top ten high schools in the nation.”

Donna told me what I already knew. I certainly didn’t choose Texas for the weather or culture. Nevertheless, both parents awaited my impressed reaction.

“It’s bigger than I expected,” I compromised. “How many students, did you say?”

“Eight hundred?” Wife looked to husband.

“Three thousand,” he corrected, “give or take a dozen. The graduating class averages 800. In fact, I saw in the paper just the other day, the Secretary of Education might be paying you guys a visit this year, which should tell you how just good your school really is.”

“Yeah.” Heather spoke—for the first time. “Aren’t we lucky?”

Donna wheeled about. “As a matter of fact, young lady, you are lucky. Both of you. I would’ve killed to go to a school like this.”

“Well, I, for one, feel lucky.” I relieved the tension—with panache too. “Here I am, going to the best high school in the nation, in the best state in the nation, in the best nation in the world.” Thanks for reminding me, little girl.

Donna’s facial lines disappeared. The lioness smiled, patted my knee, and turned back around. Heather rolled her eyes. It was her signature move.

The rest of Kaiser Lake remained unimpressive. It was a flat land, populated by strip malls, chain restaurants, and only a touch of forest.

NASA was the worst. The world’s premier space agency turned out to be but a few buildings spread out over a cow pasture. Not even the Saturn 1 rocket in booster sequence display could disperse what I felt to be an enforced atmosphere of dull. But I moaned on an empty stomach.

I thought we were going to McDonalds. I thought all Americans went to McDonalds. But we went to Fuddruckers, as much a burger joint as Mickey D’s, but one catering to posh suburbans who had more cash to burn.

At the front door, was a sign—Proper Attire Requested. I paused awkwardly. Donna laughed, and pushed me inside.

Fuddruckers was as big as a barn, cold as a freezer. My cheeseburger was too much. I’ll never finish it, I thought. But one bite and I transformed into a starving dog. Indeed, I made a spectacle of myself.

“Atta boy, Sammy—you show that burger who’s boss!” Neil was impressed.

“Yeah, eat up.” Donna sucked sauce off her little finger. “You’re gonna need your energy for tomorrow. I can’t wait to take you shopping! It’s the great American pastime, y’know.”

“Shopping?” I forced small talk. It was difficult. “Not baseball?”

“For boys, maybe. But us girls, it’s shop-till-you-drop.” She slurped from a plastic glass filled with ice cubes and sugary tea. “I knew a guy back in college—believe it or not, he was a Geordie, from Newcastle. That’s what you call them, isn’t it? Geordie?”

“Impressive.”

“Yeah, well he taught me a lot about Great Britain. This was years ago, though. I don’t know how much has changed since then.”

This inspired slightly better conversation, in which we made the usual comparisons: Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan; Parliament and Congress; pounds and dollars; rosie and coffee. But then Donna slipped in the Royal Family and it all went to cock—as if those spongers mattered. I’m no romantic—no New Model Army soldier, but I do indulge in one fantasy—the day when the Royals are toppled and beheaded, I personally wielding the axe on Prince Philip. I’m chuffed his sons turned out wimps and his lone daughter a butch—serves that macho wanker right. As for the Queen, send her to the elderly care home where she belongs. What is this? 1450? Then Neil brought in sport, and what do you call it? Football? Soccer? That was the one sterling aspect to my Sheffield state school. Thanks to the high population, sport wasn’t a priority. I was never pressured—not once—to beetle about a pitch kicking inflated rubber. I don’t want to discuss football. Not one bit. I’ll only say I hate it with all my being and soul and leave it at that. Cricket, I don’t hate. Cricket I have no feelings for, whatsoever. For me, cricket doesn’t exist, unless someone brings it up, at which point I turn off my ears and contemplate emptiness. What about Wimbledon, with its strawberries? Forget it. Polo? You want to talk polo? No money; no interest. Even with money, no interest. Polo. Yawn. Then there’s the War. I learnt to watch myself in America. “We saved your butts twice,” Yanks love to say. Right, you lot didn’t save us. The Kaiser was never going to invade the Island. As for Hitler, even if he crossed the Channel and conquered Britain, he’d have regretted it, seeing the kind of hooh-hah he later got from the Ruskies. But the fact remains Hitler did not invade, and he didn’t because we subdued his air force. Believe it or not, America, for a full year Britain was the only country in the world with the guts to face Hitler. By the time you warriors came in, the dog’s bollocks of the German army were already dead. You fought the bottom of the barrel, cousins, so sorry to have to tell you.

Of course, I never let the Turners in on any of this. They affected interest in my country, but were actually more interested in talking about themselves, which suited me just fine. I studied them. I studied them the way they should have been studying me.

“I phoned your sister this morning,” Neil thought to announce. “Just to let her know you got here in one piece. She wanted to say hi but you were out like a light, Sammy. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“It was good of you to do that.”

“She said, Take good care of my little brother, and I said, Don’t you worry, Miss. This experience is gonna enrich us all, isn’t it, gang?”

“Absolutely!” Donna sounded over a muzak version of A Hard Day’s Night, dripping from ceiling speakers.

“Is your sister okay?” Neil suddenly looked at me.

“How do you mean?”

“Nothing. She just sounded tired.”

“She works a lot.” At the pub, again I didn’t add.

“I heard that. Sometimes I think Tired is my middle name, Sammy. Tired from work,” he added, in case I was incredibly dense. “Your sister mentioned all the troubles she had with the person who arranged your trip here. Said it ended up costing more than expected.”

“True. But we got on. No complaints.”

“That’s what she said too. Y’know, I really like that attitude. I wish more Americans had it.”

Well, what does one say to that? “I wired your sister some money to help make up the difference.”

“Mr Turner—”

“Neil.”

“You shouldn’t have.” Portia was dead. How dare she start manipulate these yahoos before I was even over jet lag.

“Of course I should’ve. You’re family now, and families help each other out. I’m just tickled I guessed correctly where your sister has a savings account. Deposit account, I mean. I told her, Lemme guess—a branch of Midland, right? She sure was surprised, lemme tell you, heh heh.”

Unfortunately, Neil Turner was no donkey. He often gave that impression, but what he did know, he knew well. Without warning, he ravished me with minutiae concerning British building societies, insurance policies, computer programs. I half-listened, following the example of the females, and finished my meal.

“Would you be interested in learning, Sammy?”

Caught, I paused. “Pardon?”

“Computers. Would you like to learn how to use one? Have you ever even touched one? No offense, but there’s no way you can get ahead in today’s world and not know how to use a PC, at least.”

“Mr Turner—Neil, I’d be honoured—naturally, if you taught me everything.”

Neil looked as though he might cry. “Can you believe this kid, Donna?”

“Wow,” she said. “That’s all I can say—wow! I wish more kids had your attitude, Sammy.” A look in Heather’s direction. The girl kept cool.

“May I ask a question?” Again, I deviated attention away from the insignificant person. “And I apologise if this sounds inappropriate. But I’d be curious to know where you two met.”

That did it. Neil put his arm round Donna. “A long time ago, in a university far, far away.” He thought this funny. “On a planet called TESSU.”

“Sorry?”

“Thomas E. Starr State University. Go Wildcats! It’s a college in a town called Jericho, about three hours’ drive north of here. We met at the ’69 cotillion.”

“Eighteen years ago,” said Donna, the two taking turns. “I was an innocent freshman, Sammy, straight outta Commerce, Texas—”

“If Jericho’s small, Sammy, Commerce is microscopic.”

“And your host father here was this big, bad sophomore from Comfort, another metropolis. I was Gamma Epsilon—”

“And I was Tau Alpha Zeta. Go TAZ!”

“He asked me to dance and I couldn’t believe he even noticed me. And when we danced, I thought I was dreaming. But the moment the song was over—”

“Sweet Caroline. By Neil Diamond.”

“I knew this was the man who’d be my future husband.” Donna touched my hand. “So imagine my shock, Sammy—my shock—when the so-called of love of my life excused himself that very same evening and ignored me for an entire year after that! Can you believe it?”

“Now now, heh heh.” Neil was amused. “It was two years.”

Donna hit him. It was her signature move. “He was so full of himself in those days, Sammy. But I got his attention when I dated a certain young gentleman, didn’t I, sweet?”

“Oh please!” Neil enjoyed playing the youth. “But I admit it did take me awhile to see the light. But once I did, I was Mr Commitment and my wife knows it.”

Donna sighed. “Yes, he was. I swear it, Your Honor!” She was hilarious.

“Besides, it was my duty to rescue Donna from a bunch of Crooks.” Crook, I was told too late, was Donna’s unfortunate maiden name. I forced a smirk. This was becoming painful.

“Sammy, I was the one who had to rescue Neil. Without me, he would’ve ended up marrying Tanya Terry. And before you ask, I’ll tell you. Tanya Terry was—are you ready for this?—a Mormon!” Donna’s laughter was a machine gun. “Yessirreebob. If it weren’t for me, this man would be in Provo, Utah right now—with ten kids!”

“Or ten wives.” Neil sourly rotated lemon wedge in tea. “She wasn’t that bad,” he attempted.

“Oh right!” Donna pinched hubby’s gut. “You really think she was any contest for your hot blonde here? I don’t think so!”

By now, Heather’s eyes were so far up her head they were looking at her brain. And everybody saw it. The maiden was quiet, but rarely subtle.

“Am I embarrassing you, dear?” asked Donna. No answer. The girl was ice—worse than me. But Donna was used to it. “That’s okay. I know one day you’ll be married and make a fool out of yourself in front of your daughter too. Just you wait.”

“I’m never having kids,” Heather said through steel teeth. She stared at her mother. She hated her.

And just like that, the evening out was ruined.

Upon arriving back home—not for the first time—Neil said, “Heather, your mother and I would like a word with you, please.”

They gathered at the table in the informal dining room. I went to my Cat Room, the polite thing to do, and opened the door a crack.

Donna fired the opening salvo. “You can’t keep on goin like this.” Heather said nothing. “This crap is ending now. I don’t wanna have this conversation ever again. Do I make myself clear?” Silence. “Hello! Earth to Heather! Are you listening to me?” No. “You got a rotten attitude, young lady, and I’m sick of it! You hear me? Sick of it! I’m your mother and you will listen to me!”

“Heather.” Neil played Good Cop. “Look, something’s obviously wrong. Tell us, even if we don’t like it. No matter what, we’re here for you. For real.”

But Heather remained a rock. Hated to admit it—I was impressed.

“I can’t believe this,” uttered Donna. “You’re driving me insane. Do you know what you’re doing to yourself? Do you have the faintest idea, Heather? If you don’t straighten up and I mean now you’re gonna go nowhere, Heather. You hear me? Absolutely, positively nowhere.”

“I’m already nowhere!” Heather didn’t speak. She screamed. Louder than her mother dared dream. I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing.

Donna ordered Heather to her room, where the rebel switched on her stereo and unleashed Teenage Jesus and the Jerks—little darling should’ve been Portia’s sibling, not me.

Neil pounded on the door. Another common gesture, apparently, for Heather turned down the volume. Then Neil knocked, gently, on mine, now closed. To give the devil his due, Neil always respected my privacy—Heather’s too.

“Excuse me, Sammy.” He poked his head inside. “Sorry if I’m bothering you.”

“Quite all right.” I’d long since jumped on the bed, making it look as though I’d been reading—or rereading, as I did all the time—my paperback copy of The Conquest of Gaul this whole time.

“Would you mind coming to the kitchen? We need to talk.”

Donna was sitting at the table, head in hands. She was drained. “I'm sorry you had to witness that,” she mumbled, looking at the plastic tablecloth. “We don’t want you to think that goes on all the time.”

“Of course not,” I said, knowing now it did.

“Heather’s at that age,” Neil chimed in. “She’ll grow out of it. We know that. But for now, she just refuses to be sensible.”

“My home had its share of drama too.” Now my turn. “It’s normal, I think, no matter where you’re from. My sister has a saying—Fifteen’s a bitch.”

The stress heads chuckled; then reasserted gravitas. Americans maintain a strict line between comedy and a jolly bad show and suffer for it—deservedly so.

“I hope,” said Pops, “I sincerely hope Heather learns from your example.”

Neil paused in order to let this sink in. He was rather more than what he seemed. Should I consider the possibility—he was manipulative too?

“I’m very impressed by your maturity, Sammy. Your coming all this way, from everything you’ve known—how old didja say you were when your parents died?”

“I didn’t. But six.”

“Yeah, doing what you’re doing, getting stronger and stronger. It says a lot about you, and the British.”

“We want you to be happy here.” Donna lifted her head. She looked at me with grey eyes. “We want your experience in America to be nothing but positive. Neil and I’ve dreamed about having a transfer student for years. We’d like to think it's our way of giving back.”

“You know what did it for me?” Neil stroked the caterpillar resting on his upper lip. “For us, I mean, to convince us you were the one we wanted? It was the essay you wrote. I was very impressed. I said to Donna, Now this kid’s got his act together. I want you to have fun here, Sammy, but I can’t tell you how much it pleases me to know you have your priorities straightened out. You won’t regret that. Ever.”

I tried to reconstruct a single word I’d written in that so-called essay. “I am,” I said, “without a doubt, very grateful to both of you. I’ve wanted to come here—to America—for a long time. And now I am. Thank you.”

The Turners smiled. Old Glory flapped behind. Before the Union Jack unfurled over it. That’s what I saw for one lovely moment.

“I wonder,” Neil looked past me, his way of going for the kill. “Would it be possible? Would you, could you … try to be Heather’s friend?”

“Pardon?”

“Reach out to her. If she could look up to you, Sammy, if she could see that it just doesn’t pay to be the way she is. She needs a role model. Someone she can admire.”

“We can’t do it.” Donna was more direct. “Lord knows we’ve tried. But Heather’s a teenager and everyone knows teenagers hate their parents, even though we give her every blessed thing on Earth. You’re her age, though. Or close to it.”

“Your example would inspire her,” said Neil. “We really think it would.”

I watched Georgie, sitting nearby, licked her bottom. “I’m not quite sure I qualify—”

But Donna didn’t let me get away with that. “Oh, don’t be so modest, Sammy! You’re perfect. You’re smart.” Her fingers counted the reasons. “You got it together. You know where you wanna go. And you’re going there.”

Neil: “Once Heather sees it’s possible to be her age and actually have some direction in life. That it’s not—uncool.” Air quotes. “She’ll be falling all over herself trying to be the same way.”

“We really believe that.” Donna wouldn’t stop staring. But then, I hate it when anyone looks at me. “With all our heart.”

“All we're saying,” Neil shifted gears, doing his best to make the bomb easier to swallow, “is that if you have the opportunity, we’d appreciate it greatly if you tried, just gently, to steer Heather in a more positive direction. You may ask, Well, how do you do that? It’s easy, Sammy. Be yourself. Be who you really are and everything will work out, I promise.”

Right … what does one say to that?

“I shall do what I can.”

Neil seemed satisfied. Donna, less so. But the thing was over. I excused myself—said I was going for a walk. Georgie read my mind, and insisted on joining me, lead in her black lips.

Kaiser Lake wasn’t better at night. The temperature dropped a little, but diabolical humidity remained. Some Brits love saunas. I don’t. Dinner perspired through me as I walked down still empty streets.

A slight change in plans, to be sure. What would Caesar do? What Caesar always did—eyes on the prize. Cool down passion, beef up strategy—divide and conquer. Be like everyone else and you’ll fail.

Fly like the Roman eagle, high above them all.

they talk about cheeseburgers A LOT