Season One, Episode Seven - Liftoff
As May 26th steadily approached, Iggy was certain he’d wake up one day and realize it was all just a dream. He woke up flat on his back, then rolled onto his left side so the calendar that was tacked to the back of his door was in view. It was a simple, plain desk calendar, but with Iggy’s own customization. He’d gone through and printed pictures from SI’s latest bikini shoot, glueing them over the normal nature scenes that accompanied each month. And that was why it was tacked to the back of his door, rather than above his desk. He knew that someone would eventually see it, but for now it was his own personal greeting each morning. Hilary Duff sat on the upper portion for the month of May, wearing a simple black one piece, angled away from the camera so her ass was the focus of the shot, the bikini riding up just enough to see the curves on her cheeks, her blond hair cascading down her back as she wore a soft smile.
For a moment he forgot what he’d originally been searching for, lost in the ‘prime milk’ as Ty called her, before refocusing on the date.
May 26th. In bold red ink: AZ. That was his confirmation that it wasn’t a dream. It was real. And, as he swung his legs over the bed and crossed to the calendar, snagging the bright red sharpie as he passed his desk, it was time to cross off May 25th.
Today was the 26th and in three short hours, he’d be heading to the airport to begin his journey back home.
~~~
Cassie sat on the leather couch in the living room, the one off-center from the television, while Clay lounged in his Lazy-Boy, watching the French Open on the large television set into the wall, the French windows cascading the morning light through them. Although June was fast approaching, summer hadn’t quite taken ahold of Alaska yet. Frost still clung to the grass each morning, slowly evaporating away as the morning sun slowly rose the temperature until the frost could resist their chemical reaction no longer.
“Why don’t we tell him now, so he can pack a few extra things that he will need?” Cassie had asked the question five different ways now, but was met with the same conclusion.
Sure as the clock kept ticking, so did Clay’s answer.
“It’s not a punishment if he can prepare for it, Cass. Now stop asking, you’re starting to piss me off,” snapped Clay, his attention fixed on the screen as Coco Gauff worked her way towards a game winning bagel in the second set.
Cassie ran her fingers through her hair, using her nails to work out the knots as she went. At this rate, he’d be shipping her back to Tolleson too if she kept prodding.
“Besides,” he added over his shoulder, the words coming with an ease of someone who’s used to being told he was right, even when he wasn’t, “We already warned Rodrigo. If Iggy needs things, it’s his job to do it.”
“We’ve done our part for the last ten years, it’s time for Rodrigo to put on his big boys pants.”
Gauff blew the ace by Taylor Townsend, clinching her 6-4, 6-0 victory to advance to the second round.
“I would have liked Pegula to win, but at least an American is advancing. Even if…”
His words trailed away as Cassie quietly exited the room, not wanting to distract Clay from the television and incur any more of his wrath.
‘If I can’t warn him, I can at least give him a home cooked meal. If Rodrigo didn’t learn how to cook in prison, they’ll be eating a lot of takeout,’ she thought with a laugh. She was halfway down the hallway to the kitchen when she passed the mahogany door that lead into the dining room, and beyond it, the bar. The door was slightly ajar still, likely never closed when she finally retreated to bed late last night, not wanting to wake anyone as she stumbled out of the room.
Her eyes landed on the bar. Then, the bottle of vodka, more than half gone, still sitting on the bartop where she’d left it the night before. The once frozen bottle was no entirely warm, the condensation that had enveloped it, slowly running down the long glass bottle and pooling on the marble bar top, was gone.
Before she registered the movement, Cassie was moving toward the bar, her arm instinctively reaching for the bottle.
‘I’m just putting it in the freezer, so it’s chilled for tonight,’ she reassured herself with false hope as she wrapped her fingers around the glass, lifting it off the counter.
Her hand froze midair, the bottle still firmly in her grasp, stuck between one of two inevitable actions. Cassie’s eyes rose, catching her own reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Her eyes met their own reflection and held its own stare.
‘What am I doing,’ Cassie thought with dismay and was ashamed when she had no defensible answer. With a shudder, she walked behind the bar, shoving the bottle into the freezer without a care where it landed, before slamming the door a tad harder than necessary, the bottle rattling inside as it shook the freezer.
She stood there for a moment, breath hitched in her chest, fighting the urge to pull the bottle back out of the freezer. ‘One drink wouldn’t do anything but clam her nerves, keep her from being an emotional mess at the airport’ she thought to herself. As she wrestled with her urge, something else caught her eye, just outside of her peripheral vision. An envelope, on the serving side of the bar, right next to the sink.
Had she put it there last night? Shame wrapped cooly around Cassie as she again realized she did not know. She slowly peeled the tab back, it was unlikely it was Clay’s, since he never went into the dining room anymore, but she wanted to be sure.
The glue peeled back with a satisfying snapping sound and Cassie let out a tiny, barely audible gasp when she saw the contents.
She closed the flap, then reopened it to confirm what she saw.
‘Maybe there is a way to help Iggy without warning him,’ she thought to herself, her passion suddenly restored by the mysterious envelope.
~~~
The scenery outside kept changing, the trees moving slowly in and out of view, the road changing as Clay turned his Ram 2500 onto the New Seward Highway as the truck barreled towards the airport.
But inside the spacious cab, it felt like time was standing still. Clay kept the same stone expression on his face, Cassie shrank into the door of the passenger side, eyes cast low to the floor boards, not daring to look at Iggy as if to offer him help.
“What do you mean?” Iggy heard himself stammer. He was unaware he was even speaking, marveling at how the words floating in his brain found their way out of his mouth.
“I don’t know what’s so hard to understand about it, Iggy. You’re doing mandatory football camps while in Arizona. You have a gym membership that you are required to use. These are stipulations approved by the judge and Rodrigo’s lawyer.”
It didn’t sound any different on the third time than the first or the second.
“Unless, Rodrigo can’t handle being a father with responsibilities.”
Clay turned to face Iggy now, wanting to be sure that Iggy understood the full scope of what was being explained. The shit-eating grin reserved for when he knew he had won was plastered on his face, white teeth showing as he spoke through the smile.
“If you miss more than three days of camp, or days at the gym, you’ll be on the next plane to Alaska. You got it?”
Iggy nodded. He’d already had one outburst, he wasn’t going to give Clay the satisfaction of anymore.
At least, the camps were non-contact. But still. He didn’t have his cleats, his gloves, his workout gear. Nothing. It was no matter though, the decision was made. He’d have to figure it out once he was there, find some gear at a second-hand store.
Iggy looked down and was surprised to see his fists still clinched, the nails digging half-moons into his skin. He forced them open, flexing his fingers that protested as they released, then rubbed the indentations on his his skins softly.
A second hand store was exactly what he would have to do, it wouldn’t be flashy, but it would be practical.
He glanced up as he continue to wrestle with the idea, and his eyes met Clay’s through the rear-view mirror.
They locked eyes and Clay’s shit-eating grin stayed blasted across his face.
~~~
The Ted Stevens International Airport was appropriately unhurried for a Tuesday morning. There was traffic, that was to be sure, but it wasn’t the steady flow of people all battling to be the first through the security checkpoint liked he’d seen on occasions past.
When they’d arrived moments earlier, Clay simply pulled up to the curb and looked at Iggy through the rearview mirror again.
“Get your stuff,” he said coldly. It was clear, there would be no goodbye from him. Cassie, on the other hand, insisted on walking him inside. As she climbed out of the large truck, Clay simply nodded.
“Call me when you’re done.” Then pulled off of the curb the moment Iggy’s suitcase cleared the bed of the truck.
They had walked in silence, side by side, as Iggy went through the usual procedure of checking in. He had one more fleeting thought about wishing he had more gear as he placed his suitcase onto the scale to be weighed, but brushed it aside. Lingering on the could have been would just sour his mood during the nearly six hour flight to Phoenix.
It wasn’t until they were approaching the security checkpoint that Cassie spoke. As she coughed to get Iggy’s attention, drawing him away from the line as he’d been scanning for how many passengers were ahead of him, he was embarrassed to see tears streaming down her face.
He wasn’t embarrassed about the act itself. He was embarrassed, and partly ashamed, that he hadn’t notice sooner, because by the smearing of her eyeliner, his mother had been crying for some time.
Iggy pulled his Mom in close, her head pressing into his chest. He could feel the warm tears stinging through the black cotton shirt he wore and the small shudders that rocked her body as she tried to calm her breathing.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered into his shirt, a new series of sobs escaping as the words left her lips.
They stood there, awkwardly embraced in front of the security checkpoint, for a few minutes before Cassie finally forced herself to separate from her son. Her eyes were red from the tears, the makeup smeared from the crying and pressing into Iggy’s shirt.
“I tried to get Clay to tell you earlier, so you could bring stuff,” Cassie stammered. “But you know how he gets.”
Iggy simply nodded as he stared down at his mother.
“I really am trying. I know you don’t see it but—“ Cassie’s voice died in her throat as sobs escape where words had just been.
Iggy went to pull his Mom close to him again, more out of instinct than anything, but Cassie took one firm, defiant step back, putting her hands out in front of her to indicate she was fine.
“I wasn’t able to warn you,” she continued, swallowing back another burst of sobs that threatened to overtake her, “But I can do something.”
She had pulled an envelop out of her purse, hastily shoving it at Iggy, who took it and turned it over in his hands to examine it.
“Don’t open that in the middle of a crowded airport!” Cassie hissed as Iggy flipped open the flap. “Somebody will see it.”
Iggy ignored his mother, pulling the wad of cash out of the envelope. It was easily $500 spread between 20s, 50s, and a few 100s.
He looked at his Mom with a mixture of surprise and awe. Had she robbed Clay to give him the money for new gear?
“Don’t ask where it came from. And if someone happens to ask, you don’t know where it came from. Got it?”
Iggy nodded in bewilderment, still in shock that his mother would be this defiant of the man she spent her entire life walking on eggshells for.
“I’m not going to give you another hug. I don’t want to burst into tears again, and I don’t want to embarrass you anymore than I have.”
“I love you Ignacio. Call me when you get to your father’s.”
She rose on her tiptoes, planting a soft kiss on his cheek, and turned and walked away.
Iggy watched her weave her way through the crowd, pulling her iPhone out of her back pocket as she went, presumably to summon Clay again. A mixture of admiration and sadness washed over him. How much had she risked to give him that money, he thought to himself. And without Iggy there to be the defacto punching bag, how much verbal and emotional absue would she receive because of it?
Iggy shuddered as images of Clay towering over Cassie, words and spit flying out of his mouth as he berated her flashed into his mind. He forced the thought away.
Even if that happened, there was nothing he could do now. He was on his own journey.
When Cassie finally disappeared through the sliding glass doors to the parking lot, and Clay, beyond, Iggy turned to face the security line.
With a deep breath, he started walking, easing himself into line. As he moved through the line, carefully pacing his steps to avoid bumping the other travelers, he realized that for the first time since he’d moved to Alaska, he would be outside of Clay’s purview.
There would be no scowl as he walked through the door for the next two months. No hidden agenda in the words. No incessant reminders from Clay, framing his harshness as training, steeling him from becoming another washout like his father.
He was lost deep in thought, marveling at a summer unbridled of rules, and failed to notice that he’d made his way up to the TSA Agent screening the front of the security check in line.
“Boarding pass and identification,” the elderly woman said in a monotone voice.
Iggy fumbled into the front of his carryon, panic setting in briefly as he struggled to find his boarding pass. Then, his fingers found the paper and it was coming out of his bag. For one panic filled second he thought Cassie still had the ticket, that he would be pulled back into Clay’s gravitational pull inadvertently.
The woman, who was easily in her mid-50s, blonde hair well-grayed, and enough makeup applied to try and appear at least ten years younger. She moved with a slight stiffness of someone who had done physical labor at one point and was paying the price now, her movements heavy and strained.
She slouched over the podium, examining Iggy’s paperwork, before raising her patient eyes, that were still bright at the edges, to Iggy.
“Going to Arizona, huh? Visiting the Grand Canyon?”
Iggy shook his head, a smile finally cutting through.
“No.”
“I’m going home.”
