While You Wait for Warmer Weather

While you wait for warmer weather

You hear a sound outside

You hear a sound

And you take the bat

You play softball with

And you wait by the door

You know where to hit

That’ll hurt

But not injure

Not permanently

You know which door

He’ll try

Because he doesn’t know

You changed the locks

And that you had the jam fixed

So now you can’t kick

The lower right part of the door

And have it pop open

With only a slight crack

You don’t keep cash

In the house anymore

And you never did wear jewelry

But the ring your mother gave you

That he looked for

The last time he was here

Is still tucked away

Under a floorboard

In your office

When you were a girl

You used to hide your diary

From your mother

And now you’re hiding

Your mother’s ring

From your son

You hold the bat

You hope

You don’t start

To sweat

Because the sweat

Might make it harder

To hold the bat

Last time, you got him

In the side

But he still managed

To run away

Before you could call the police

Last time

It was cold out

Colder than it is now

He never used to come

In warmer weather

But now it’s warm

All the time

Two summers

And nothing

Not even a phone call

Which is its own hell

But you assume

He’s sleeping outside

You assume

You hope

That he’s on a beach somewhere

Sleeping and living

Like his father used to live

Back when he was trying

To be a sixties bum

Before you married him

And told him

You weren’t going to raise kids

In a traveling van

He got a job

At J&G Marketing

And after a few years

You didn’t even recognize him

A few years after that

He couldn’t recognize himself

And a year after the divorce

He went to Japan

And never came back

You and your son

Spent that first summer

On your own

Hanging out with your Mom

On the eastern coast

Of Florida

You’d buy him a little gift

From the souvenir shop

That was on your way home

From the diner

Where you worked that summer

To make some extra cash

While your mom watched him

During the day

A snow globe

A t-shirt

A stuffed gator

You’d come home

And he’d be in the front yard

Kicking all the water

Out of a kiddie pool

While your mother

Sipped a daiquiri to death

Trying to stay awake

Until you got back

She used to make your son

A little cup of the drink

For himself

Because he liked how red it was

But you never knew that

Did you need to know that?

Maybe you didn’t

Need

To know that

Maybe

It doesn’t matter

You can’t feel your hands

The bat is being gripped so tight

The sound was a minute ago

Was it a minute ago?

Was it two minutes ago?

It’s hot

It’s so hot

How can it be this hot

At this time of year?

You refuse to turn the air on

Because your electric bill

Was sky high last month

And you always forget

To budget for being home more

With all the lights on

When you get laid off

At the end of the semester

During the school year

You manage a bookstore

Near the college

And even though

There are still enough people

In the area

Who might want books

In the summer

The owner of the store

Prefers to close everything up

And head to his lake house

With his wife

Who can never remember

Your name

You were working at the bookstore

The first time the police called

That was when you used
The wrong-placce-wrong-time excuse

The second time they called

You were home

And it was almost midnight

You had been watching

A League of Their Own before bed

And this time

You felt the weight

Of a phone call

That’s about death

But it wasn’t

But it was

Someone was gone

He wasn’t living with you by then

You’d kicked him out

Tough love

Your mother told you

It was the wrong thing to do

And you told her

She was a shitty mother

And she should mind

Her own fucking business

And then you two

Didn’t talk for a month

Until she fell

And needed you

To go down to Florida

And help her

Move into an assisted living facility

When you came home

Your house had been vandalized

And there was no more tv

To watch movies on

Before bed

When you got the second call

From the police

You decided

That tough love

Would now mean rehab

You put him in rehab

He left

He escaped

He took off

You didn’t find out

Until you went to visit him

And you were informed

That nobody has to tell you

If your son

Decides to give up

The only chance he has

At fixing his life

Because he’s an adult

And you didn’t pick

One of those rehabs

Where they stop him

By tackling him

Or doing whatever

Those other places do

Because if you want

That kind of help

You have to pay for it

And you could only afford

The bare minimum

Of life-saving

Your jaw is clenched

You need to unclench your jaw

When did you hear the sound?

Was it five minutes ago?

Ten?

The sound was in the backyard

That’s how he tried to get in

The last time

The sliding door was smashed

But not shattered

Just smashed enough

Where he could get his arm through
Cut it all up

And let himself in

And you were waiting with the bat

And you got him in the side

And he took off

While you called after him

While you called after your son

That you just hit with a bat

Telling him to come back

So you can help him

What a...

Now there’s an alarm

You want to get your cell phone

And call the police

But you don’t trust the police anymore

Because you know better

Because the last time you called the police

They found him one block over

And when he tried running

They beat him so bad

He ended up in the hospital

He went through withdrawal in there

He moved home

He got a job at the movie theater

The weather was warm

You took him out to a barbecue place

To celebrate

The two of you talked about the future

You saw a version of it

Where you son was married

Where you had grandkids

Where you didn’t have to worry

Then another call came

A call that feels like death

Before you answer it

This time

It was about

Your mother

He went down to Florida with you

The first time down there together

Since he was a kid

It was all too much for him

And you knew it would be

You begged your son

Not to go

To his grandmother’s funeral

But he said he could handle it

And there was no

Convincing him otherwise

Three weeks later

Someone broke into your car

And tried to steal it

Right out of your driveway

Then you had

The locks changed

It’s been two years

You haven’t spoken

To your son

In two years

While you wait for warmer weather

You’re finding trinkets

Things left behind by him

When he comes around

Notes in the mailbox

That don’t make any sense

Asking for forgiveness

Accusing you of being heartless

Assuring you he’s fine

He’s fine

This is fine

Unsigned notes

In a mailbox

From your son

Is how he wants you

To know

He’s fine

A man’s wallet

With no money in it

Is in the driveway

There’s a driver’s license

In the wallet

That belongs

To a man you don’t know

You think about trying

To find the man

But you don’t

And you feel guilty about it

So you drop it off

At a nearby police station

And say you found it

On a walk

You see an empty

Potato chip bag

On the front step

The flavor he likes

At least he’s eating

If you call that eating

When the weather is warm

You’ll play softball

But only

For one more season

You like the team camaraderie

You like having people depend on you

You like the structure of the game

But your knees are getting bad

And you’re not as fast

As you used to be

But you love

Being up

At the plate

You hold the bat

You try to guess

What’s going to happen next

How’s the ball

Going to come at you?

Will it have a curve?

There’s another sound

This one closer to the door

The door is locked

There’s an alarm

But what if he knocks?

Or what if he kicks?

What if he kicks it down

Splinters it

Like Jack Nicholson

In The Shining

What if he begs you

To open the door

And you do?

Why are you holding this bat?

Why are you holding a bat

In case your son

Breaks his way

Into your home somehow?

You wait for another sound

Outside there’s nothing

On the trees

There’s nothing anywhere

The trees weren’t tricked

Into returning early

This year

Like they have been in the past

It’s warm

But it’s not summer

It’s just warm

It’s hot

And it shouldn’t be

This hot

You can’t do summer things

Until it’s summer

It’ll be summer in a few weeks

And then

You can sit in the backyard

Without thinking

About every snapped twig

And barking dog

You won’t have

To run to your car

In the morning

Afraid he’s waiting for you

Behind the hedges

That separate your yard

From the neighbor’s

You won’t have

To wonder

If he would hurt you

If he had to

The tv you bought

To replace the stolen one

Is still playing

In the living room

Field of Dreams is on

There are no other sounds

And nothing on the trees

And no cash in the house

And nothing worth taking

That hasn’t

Already

Been taken

There’s nothing

There’s nothing anywhere

It’s quiet

You lower the bat

You lean against the wall

You clear your throat

And upstairs

You hear the sound

Of a window

Breaking