The Book of Leah

Home for the Holidays - Chapter 16

December 22, 1991, Tucson, AZ    - 6 Months Earlier  

"You had no right!" Jake exclaimed, storming through the back door into the kitchen and pointing directly at his mother.

"How about you lower your voice and start with at least a hello," his mother countered, her voice laced with tension as she glared back at her son. "By the way, I'm glad you finally graced us with your presence. In case you forgot, lunch was scheduled for noon. It's nearly 2:30 PM."

"Well," said Jake, "I would have been here earlier if I hadn't gotten a call from Matt's dad saying he was cutting me from the winter travel team due to scheduling conflicts mid season. Conflicts that were complete and total news to me, I can't even begin to say how embarrassing this is." Jake continued. "So, after spending two hours digging I kept reaching a dead end, but everyone had a similar story to the one I was being told. The name that never got mentioned even once, but that was tiptoed around like dynamite, was yours, Mom. You and whoever else is involved -- and I can guess it involves other people I missed dining with if I knew the truth. So seriously! What gives? If I'm going to look good for scouts this spring, I need to be in the best form I can be and have all the wrinkles worked out before I even step on the field in. I'm wondering why?"

"Why, ... what?" came a flat, deep, gravelly voice from the opposite doorway that led to the dining room. "I'll tell you Jake. What I've been wondering is where my grandson was who didn't have the common courtesy to show up for a meal I invited him to for Christmas. So, I guess I'm wondering why too?" said Andrew, Jake's grandfather.

"I'm sorry I missed lunch, Grandpa," Jake said. Andrew humphed to himself at this initial comment, his face showing his age but also the keen wit buried within him that hadn't aged a bit.

"I lost track of time," Jake continued, "my coach for winter league called and said after further information on conflicts I would have in January and February, maintaining my position didn't make sense after the the Christmas break, so I would be dropped from the winter ball team immediately. I was floored. So I called and asked Mr. Jimenez on the board and all he said was 'sorry, Jake, the matter is closed'. So, I called around and called around, and I finally got a friend (who I won't say anything about because I don't want any retaliation against them)," Jake said, staring through his mother with fiery eyes, "but I was told that on Wednesday an update was filed with the league office about my schedule and conflicts with the league by my parents. And now, Grandpa, Here's the weird thing. Dad was flying all day Wednesday trying to get back here for the holidays. But hey, guess what? My mother has a fax machine right on her desk in the accounting department for the your company."

"So basically, Grandpa," Jake continued, his voice rising in anger, "my own mother used her influence and faxed a letter stating I wouldn't be able to play, referencing conflicts I have never heard of, to crush my ability to play in the winter league. I know Mom hates me playing baseball, but why would she go to all that trouble to remove me from the team and the league entirely without telling me?"

Cindy bristled. "Before you start dad, this is none of your business!" She said, staring at Andrew before he dove into the situation between her and her son. "And as for you, Jake, your priorities are way out of order. Someone needs to step in and do what you clearly don't have the sense to do for yourself. That's why I intervened. It's for your own good."

"Actually," Andrew interjected coldly, raising his pointing finger, his gaze fixed on his daughter, "since you obviously used my company's hours, building, and even my fax machine to conduct your little schemes, I'm curious. What was so urgent that it required billing me for it to happen?"

Cindy's face flushed with anger. "If you must know, Dad," she snapped, "this boy didn't take any AP classes this fall, and he refused -- refused! -- to switch to any this spring. No honors classes either, for fear of, 'God forbid,' the extra work affecting his precious baseball or that ridiculous band he plays in. He needs his grades up and some extracurricular volunteer work if he's going to get into Stanford. Currently, no scholarships, or legacy admittance are ever coming through, without a check I'd rather not have to write..."