What We Remember. Michael Thomas Ford

best for you.”

      “It sounds more like you’re telling me,” James replied. “What if I say no?” He was testing his father, and he knew he was dangerously close to going too far. But he was mad, and that made him reckless.

      “I hope that you won’t,” his father answered.

      The implied threat hung between them. James considered the possible ramifications of refusing. What could his parents do? Ground him? Take away his driving privileges? If they did, he wouldn’t be able to see Nancy anyway, not unless he did it behind their backs. And if he got caught doing that, things would be even worse.

      He really didn’t have any option but to agree to his father’s demands. But he wasn’t going to do it happily. “Fine,” he muttered, turning back to the homework on his desk.

      “Excuse me?” his father said.

      “I said fine,” James repeated. “I’ll tell Nancy I can’t see her so much.”

      “You don’t have to tell her,” said his father. “She already knows.”

      James whirled around. “What?” he exclaimed.

      “A.J. is talking to her,” his father explained.

      James could only stare at him. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was bad enough that his parents were asking him to break things off with Nancy. But her father telling her the same thing made it feel even more like they were being ganged up on.

      “Did you guys have, like, some kind of meeting about this?” he asked. He knew he was speaking too loudly, too accusatively, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I mean, what the hell, Dad?”

      “Watch your mouth,” his father barked. But he looked away from James’s face for a second, and in that moment James knew that they really had planned everything out. It wasn’t just his parents who were worried about him and Nancy seeing each other; Nancy’s father was too.

      “You don’t trust us,” James said, shaking his head. “You say this is all about grades and sports and…and…a bunch of bullshit. But what you’re really afraid of is that we’re fu—”

      “That’s enough!” His father’s voice thundered through the room, startling James and stopping his heart. As his father advanced toward him James put up his arms, instinctively shielding his face.

      His father stopped barely a foot away. James looked at the big hands, clenched into fists and held waist level. Unable to bring himself to look at his father’s face, he instead listened to the heavy exhalations of breath—like those of an angry bull—that chilled his blood. He closed his eyes, praying that he hadn’t said too much, and knowing that he had.

      “I asked you to mind your language, James,” his father said. There was an edge to his voice now, a sharpness that warned of imminent danger. James felt it slice across his skin, and his cheeks burned with fear and shame.

      “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice sounding to him like that of a child. He was embarrassed that he couldn’t speak with more assurance, ashamed of how he thought he must look to his father. Daniel McCloud, he thought, would never back down so easily.

      “I don’t ever want to hear you talk like that again,” his father said. He turned and moved away from James. But only when his father was once again standing near the door did the fear that choked James’s voice release its grip and his heart resume its usual steady beat.

      “Nancy will understand that this is what’s best for both of you,” his father said. His voice was flat, emotionless, and this frightened James almost as much as had the previous harshness. This was the voice of the town sheriff laying down the law. Usually it was reserved for strangers or those who had in some way offended Daniel McCloud’s strict code of conduct. When it was turned on one of his own, it meant that he had ceased any attempt at negotiation. Whatever edict came next, James knew that he would accept it without question.

      “You’ll get your grades back up,” his father continued. “And you’ll rejoin the team. I’ll speak to Coach Baker about that.” He paused for a moment. “If your next report card is better, we’ll see about letting you and Nancy spend more time together.”

      “Can I at least call her sometimes?” James asked.

      His father nodded. “Occasionally. And you’ll see her at school, of course. Church. Whenever the families get together. None of that will change. You just won’t be spending so much time with her alone. Okay?”

      It wasn’t okay, not at all. But James knew enough not to say as much. He’d come very close to trouble, and there would be no second chances. He merely said, “Okay.”

      “Good boy,” his father said. “And you’ll see—you’ll be a better man for this. One day you’ll thank me.”

      “Sure, Dad,” James replied. “Sorry I got so angry.”

      His father waved one hand at him, and James understood that whatever had threatened the peace between them had now passed. His father, having won, could afford to be generous with his forgiveness. James accepted it with relief.

      “I’ve got to go into town for a while,” his father said. “Want to come along?”

      James very much wanted to go, to sit beside his father in the sheriff’s department pickup and be seen by any of his buddies who might be hanging around downtown. But he sensed that his father was testing him, and so he chose the path of safety. “Thanks, but I have a lot of homework to do,” he said. “Next time.”

      “Next time,” his father agreed, nodding. He left the room, closing the door behind him and leaving James alone with his resentment.

      James picked up the headphones and fitted them over his ears. Hitting the Play button on his tape deck, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, Journey’s “Stone in Love” filling his head and driving away the anger he felt toward his father. He silently mouthed the words, and when the guitar solo kicked in he turned the volume up as high as it would go.

      The song was a favorite of his, and the album from which it came played almost continuously on his stereo. Nancy, too, loved the band. James had even bought tickets to their upcoming concert in Syracuse. He’d been planning on surprising her with them. Now, he thought, he might as well give them to one of his friends. But the concert wasn’t for another two months. Maybe by then his father and Nancy’s father would have calmed down about the whole thing. And even if they haven’t… he told himself. He didn’t allow himself to finish the thought. He knew what would happen if he defied his father that way.

      Still, it would almost be worth it to stand next to Nancy while Steve Perry sang “Open Arms.” He’d first kissed her while slow dancing to that song, at one of the Friday night school dances. Normally he hated those things. They seemed so babyish. But one night Nancy had persuaded him to go, and he’d agreed to make her happy. When she’d asked him to slow dance with her, he had almost been afraid to. But he’d done it, and in the middle of the song he had leaned down and kissed her. He still didn’t know why he’d done it. Maybe it was the song. Maybe it was the way it felt to have his arms around Nancy, smelling her perfume and feeling her head on his shoulder. Maybe he’d just been crazy. But he’d done it, and Nancy had let him.

      That was three months earlier. Since then, they’d spent more and more time together, nearly every afternoon and sometimes the evenings too. Mostly they worked on homework and talked. James liked talking to Nancy. She made him feel good. He’d even told her about how he wanted to go into politics when he was older. He hadn’t told anyone else that. And Nancy didn’t think it was silly at all. She told him she thought he would make a great congressman, or even a senator.

      Why couldn’t his father understand that Nancy was good for him? Sure, his grades had slipped a little, but he could fix that. And baseball wasn’t the most important thing in the world. Honestly, he didn’t even really like playing all that much. But his father had this idea—this image—of how his son was supposed