Foul Candy
On an usually sweaty summer Saturday in Maine, the sun bakes the Robinsons’ home at the bottom of Ninth Street. Let’s take a peek inside, shall we? There’s sixteen-year-old Ken, slouched in an easy chair in the family room, an oscillating floor fan sweeping stale air across his face. His lanky older brother, Wade, and his girlfriend, Julie—who is clearly out of his league—are on the sofa, snacking on a mound of foul candy left over from Easter.

“Want some candy?” smirking Julie asks Ken, nodding toward the pile. Ken gives her a dirty look. She isn’t finished. “Hey, Ken, the 1970s called. They want their haircut back.”

Wade laughs like a donkey. “That shaggy hair is his convenient excuse for why he can’t get a girlfriend. The real reasons are—” Wade swings his head into Julie’s shoulder just before the tennis ball Ken threw strikes the wall. Julie pushes Wade away and rubs her shoulder.

Wade straightens up, looking unperturbed. “He still can’t throw worth a damn. When we went out for City League, Ken got stuck on one of the minor league teams, the Wildcats. They didn’t even have uniforms.”

“Oh, my god!” says Julie. “What a loser.” Ken pushes himself out of his chair and leaves.

Ken only joined City League in hopes he and Wade would play on the same team. He didn’t want to languish in the stands while Wade got cheered for his line drives and diving catches. But as a Wildcat, Ken got put in right field. Batting was, literally, hit or miss for Ken, although there was that one game where he felt in command at home plate and really connected, sending the ball deep into center—a home run. After he crossed home plate, his elation vanished when the ump, who had been rubbing his shin, yanked Ken’s arm and angrily told him to toss his bat off to the side after hitting, not behind him. Ken glanced around. The game was on hold, with his upbraiding witnessed by players and spectators alike. Much as he tried, he couldn’t get that winning feeling back. At least Wade wasn’t in the stands to see the humiliation.

Let City League go, Ken. How about getting that haircut you’ve been thinking about for days? This afternoon would be as good a time as any.

When he and Wade were little, their mother always dropped them off at Rivera’s Barber Shop. They’d stayed with the place out of habit. But Mr. Rivera died the past spring, so they switched to nearby Mike’s, a barber shop that doubled as a comic book store. His haircuts were so-so, but there was no other choice on this side of town.

Ken heads outside and foots it over to the barber shop. He slides into the shop’s AC-cooled air and smiles. “Hey, Mike.”

Mike nods, puts down his newspaper and points to the barber chair next to him. Mike has always followed hair fashion and these days sports his pitch-black hair in a fade, which he cut himself. It’s perfect, even the back.

Ken settles in. His reflection in the mirrored wall makes him feel small.

“Back so soon?” Mike asks as he drapes Ken with a cloth.

What a strange thing to say. Ken hadn’t been there in weeks. “Yeah,” says Ken hesitantly, “time for a trim for the hot weather.”

Standing behind him, Mike tousles Ken’s hair with his fingers. “Your hair grows fast. You must be eating right.” Mike picks up some scissors. “Okay, let’s get these ears lowered.” With one snip he drops a lock onto Ken’s left shoulder. “So, how’s your girlfriend? It’s Julie, right?”

That explains it. Wade and Ken look a lot alike, and Mike’s seen them only a couple of times. This presents Ken with an interesting choice, one that puts power in his hands. He could set Mike straight, but that seems boring. Ken decides to play along—just to see what’ll happen. “She’s good. We played tennis this morning.”

“I know her parents fairly well,” says Mike, “mostly from church. I think I saw you there once with them.” He follows up dryly, “I haven’t seen you at church in a while.” Gee, who appointed you the church police, Mike?

Ken takes it in stride. After all, the subject of church gives him a lot to work with. And talk about power—if Ken plays this right, big brother could go down hard. And he deserves it. Remember, Ken, this morning’s insults were the second time this week he’s dissed you. Don’t forget his unprovoked spite on Tuesday, when he claimed your dad told him not to worry about having enough money for college, including med school. Dad supposedly said, “Sending Ken to college would be a waste of money. He’d probably never get in, anyway.” Getting hit by a wild pitch couldn’t hurt as much.

“I stopped going,” Ken says ruefully.

Mike looks concerned. “Oh? Why?”

“Well, do you remember that sermon a couple of months ago—the one where the pastor got all worked up about…darn, I can’t remember, but he was getting pretty emotional. Do you remember it?” A fishing expedition—well played, Ken, but don’t get over-confident, buddy.

Mike stares off to the side. “Hmmm…” He strokes his chin for a second, fingers the diamond stud in his right earlobe, and finally smiles. “I think maybe you mean his sermon about the breakdown of the nuclear family.”

“Yeah, that was it! I was really interested in what he was saying, but I was sitting next to Julie’s dad, and he kept talking to me, whispering to me about his great golf score. He wouldn’t shut up, so I missed most of it.”

“Hmmm…that doesn’t really sound like Bob. But it’s too bad you missed the sermon. It was profound. My wife and I talked about it afterward.”

“And the next Sunday, I sat next to Julie’s mom. I could hardly stand it. I don’t think she bathes.” Nice, Ken. So far, you’re batting a thousand.

“Maybe it was just a one-time thing. Maybe she’d been on a jog or something.”

“No, it happened twice.”

Mike laughs. “I guess you need to make sure Julie is sitting between you and her parents.”

“I’d rather not risk it. I miss the income, though.” That sounds intriguing. It’s no surprise someone set on getting an MBA would be focused on a money angle.

“Income? I’ve never thought of church as a place to make money. What do you mean?”

“Well, my hobby since I was a kid has been magic, especially sleight of hand. Whenever the collection plate came around, I dropped in a dollar and palmed a ten or twenty.” Whoa! Smiley Mike’s reflection is looking pretty stern. You’re in scoring position, Ken. “Nobody ever noticed. I bought some sweet weed with all that cash.”

Mike slams the scissors on his tray. “That’s it! This haircut is over.” He yanks the cloth off Ken, and a cloud of hair clippings flies out.

Ken steals a glance at his hair in the mirror. “Looks kind of uneven.” Perfect tag, dude.

“There’s no charge today, but I don’t ever want to see you in this shop again.” As Ken walks to the door, Mike yells, “And tomorrow at church I’m going to have a frank conversation with Julie’s parents!” Well done, Ken. It’s safe to say revenge is fully in your wheelhouse.

###

Here comes unsuspecting Wade, driving up in his silver SUV in front of Julie’s house the next day. They typically head out and get loaded with assorted friends after she gets home from church. Wade hops out of his car, and Julie marches toward him from the house. Look, she’s still wearing her pink lace dress from church. Something’s up, all right. “You need to get out of here before my parents see you. They want me to dump you, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.” Well, that was a major announcement. Too bad Ken isn’t here to enjoy it.

“What?” Wade clumsily drapes his arms around her, but she pushes him away.

“Just leave!”

“Why? What did I do?”

“Are you kidding? You say horrible things about my parents, and steal money from our church, and you think I’m going to ignore it?”

“Who said I did that?”

“Your barber. Mack. Mike. Whatever his name is. He told us at church today.”

“My barber? Tell me exactly what he said.”

“He said when you got your hair cut at his shop, you told him—”

“Julie! You were with me! Did you hear me say anything bad?”

“Not that haircut. Yesterday!” She’s clenching her fists now.

“I didn’t go there yesterday. Does my hair look any different to you?” It seems Wade is determined to win this argument with logic. A bit of a stretch, but let’s see what happens. “Look, let’s go to his house. I want to hear him say it with me standing there.”

Julie’s expression softens. “Well, okay,” she says. “Do you know where he lives?”

Wade pulls out his phone and finds the address in a few seconds. It’s not far, so they decide walk. They wind up on Maple Street, curve around the shrubs in Mike’s front lawn and ring his doorbell.

Mike looks surprised. “Hi, Julie. What’s up?”

“Mike,” says Julie, “do you remember Wade?”

Mike scans Wade up and down. “Sure, Wade, I remember you. Hmmm….but yesterday, I had this customer who knew Julie and her parents and—”

“So,” Wade says, “some guy comes into your shop and says he’s me, but he doesn’t even look like me, and you buy his whole ridiculous story?”

“But he did look like you,” says Mike. “I mean, not exactly, which I can see now that you’re standing here, but quite a bit.” Mike points at Wade’s face. “Same nose.”

Julie’s and Wade’s eyes lock. “Ken!” they say together.

They apologize to Mike and head toward the sidewalk. “I told him never to come back,” Mike yells before going inside.

With her steps in sync with Wade’s, Julie hooks her arm through his. “I can’t wait to see this. I haven’t seen you smack him since he scratched your car.”

“That wasn’t his fault,” says Wade. “His stupid friend knocked his bike over. I shouldn’t have hit him.”

“You believed that story?”

Wade ignores the question and looks up into the swaying trees. The sizzle of cicadas signals the end of summer and start of another school year. His glum face suddenly brightens. “No, I’m going to apologize to him.” What? This seems backwards.

“You’re going to apologize to him? Don’t you have it backwards?” Exactly!

“No. Just think of what must have been going on in his mind for him to do something like that.” Okay, Wade, go on. “It’s because of me. I’m going to apologize for being a rotten brother.”

“Oh, come on. That’s your job.”

“Look,” Wade says, slowing his pace, “I’m going to be living at home for one more year. It’s not like a bad haircut. It isn’t just going to grow out and be okay.”

“Whatever, you go easy on him. I can pick up the slack.” Julie laughs.

Wade stops and faces Julie. “You are really something. You wanted to break up with me because of some terrible things you heard, without even asking me if they were true. And you think this situation with my brother is a big joke.” Julie sure isn’t laughing now.

Wade isn’t finished. “I’m going to send Ken to pick up my car. You and your parents will never have to see it—or me—again.” Impressive sacrifice, Wade. All kidding aside, from now on, we’re rooting for you.

Wade walks home alone and then pads down the stairs to Ken’s room, where he finds him sitting on a chair with his T-shirt pulled up, steadying an insulin syringe. “Oh,” says Wade, “I can come back later. Or do you want me to do it?”

“No, thanks. I got it.” Ken finishes the injection, wipes his belly and pulls down his shirt. “So, where’s Julie?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Wade looks a little uncomfortable being stared at. “Catch!” He tosses his car keys to Ken.

“What are these for?”

“I’m going to let you drive my car while I’m in Orono, so you might as well get used to it. We can share it this year.”

Come on, Ken, say something. This is big. “Uh, thanks. But I don’t get it, considering what I did. I’m sorry for being such a jerk.”

“I had it coming.” Wade relaxes against the door casing. “I’m sorry, too.” Ken suppresses a grin. With the score tied, it looks like we’re headed into extra innings.