Baltimore
sucks. At least that's what I thought when I stepped off the jetway in the
airport. The place reeked of overpriced, stale pizza. I had gotten back from
San Jose, where I was born and spent most of my life. I had moved to Baltimore
two years ago during my freshman year because my father got a better job offer.
Now I was 17. I had no license, I had no friends, I had no life. Moving to
Baltimore was the worse thing that ever happened to me. There was one plus,
though. I did get to visit with my friends in San Jose every summer. That was
lots of fun, but now I was back. Yahoo.

I looked
around and saw my mother, Sandra, standing by the restrooms. She looked around
nervously and lit up a cigarette.

What the
hell is she doing? I thought as I shouldered my laptop and jogged to
where she was standing. No sooner had she looked up than I plucked the
cigarette from her mouth and ground it out in the ashtray. I had never seen her
so surprised in my life.

"Oh uh,
hi, David. Did you have a nice visit?" She was obviously embarrassed and
was being evasive.

I let the
matter drop and gave her I hug. "Yeah," I said, "I had a great
time. I forgot to buy my cold weather clothes. Sorry."

"Oh,
that's alright. Don't worry, we can take car of that."

We walked to
the baggage claim in silence. I scanned the oddsize area and saw my two large
trunks. I tried to weave my way through the mob of people trying to get to
their bags first. I slipped a dollar into the Smarte-Carte machine and got a
luggage cart. After heaving the trunk onto the cart, I circled around to where
my mom was waiting. I tried to hurry, fearing she would try to light up again.

"So how
is everybody?" I asked.

She said
that everybody was fine and went on to complain about her so-called wrinkles
and the "do-you-think-I'm-fat" routine. Christ, you'd think that
these questions and complaints would at least be reserved for my dad. I
followed her into the parking garage and she beeped off the alarm on her
Mercedes. I put one trunk in the trunk of the car, and one in the back seat. I
got into the car and the engine came quietly to life.

I pretended
to be asleep, but mom knew I was faking it. She craned her neck to look out of
the rear window as she backed out.

"David,
dad and I want to get away for a week," She said.

"Where
are you going?" I said.

"Were
leaving for Veracruz tomorrow after noon."

So you just
want me to sit around the house all week, is that it?" I asked with a hint
of irritation.

"No,
not exactly," She said looking away for a moment. "You're going to
spend the week with Russ and Claire."

"The Fitzgibbons?"
I asked in disbelief. "There's nothing to do but pick pumpkins and squash
and sit on my butt!"

"Well,
you have your laptop," She said reaching into the back seat. "And
this stuff your father wanted you to have." She plopped a large, hastily
giftwrapped box the size of a PC monitor into my lap. "Call it an early
Hanukkah present."

I tore away
the wrapping with half-hearted enthusiasm. But when I opened the box, my face
showed a smile for the first time. The first item in the box was a Panasonic
portable DVD player. The second was a 56k cellular laptop modem. Then there
were ten of my favorite movies on DVD. I was touched. I plugged in the player
to the cigarette lighter and started Austin Powers.

"Do you
want to call dad now? I'm taking you to the farm because you have all your
stuff."

I paused the
player and said, "Yeah, thanks."

I picked up the cell
phone and dialed my dad at work. The phone rung three times. Not good. "Hi.
You've reached the office of Daniel Levine. I'm sorry I'm not able to take your
call right now, but if you leave your name and number, I'll get back to you as
soon as possible."

"Hi,
dad. This is David. Thanks for all of the cool stuff. I really appreciate it.
I'll try to call you tomorrow from the farm."

I hit the
end button and restarted my movie.

Russel
Fitzgibbon was an old high school chum of my father's. He was like an uncle to
me. I grew up knowing him and playing with his son, Paul, on their farm in
northern Virginia. They also had another son, Billy, who was hyper and
immature, but in an endearing sort of way. I guess they were the only family
friends that my father bothered to keep in touch with.

The highway
seemed to stretch on into infinity. Mom started to reach for her Marlboro's,
but I snatched them from her reach and tossed them out my open window. She
started to protest, but thought better of it. We continued our drive in silence
as the landscape became more and more rural.