Page 5 of The Falcon and the Foe

“What does that mean?”

“The Falcons are about wilderness training and survival skills.”

“Survival skills? This is the suburbs, Russ.” I stood up, addressing Russ and the room. “I’m all for my son working hard and learning valuable lessons, but at the end of the day, I want him to have a good time and make some fun memories.”

“There’s more to life than having a good time,” Russ said, his words extra salty like they came from a fast-food drive-thru. “There is value in hard work, in challenging yourself and seeing what you’re capable of.”

“And mixing in fun bonding and socializing with those challenges. Are you really going to send nine-year-olds into the woods to build their own shelter? This is a scout troop for kids, not Navy SEAL training.”

Russ rubbed his forehead like the simple act of listening to me was degrading his quality of life. “The blindfold walk is a group activity. All of the activities we do are from the recommended list put out by the national Falcons organization.”

“It seems like you’re picking the most intense ones.”

“Those are the fastest ways for scouts to acquire badges and to move to more advanced levels in the organization.” Russ flashed the wall of badges hanging on his chest as if it were my grandma showing off her Christmas brooch. “And being a Falcon is all about being ready for anything.”

“All I’m saying is that maybe you’re being a splash too intense here, Russ.”

“A splash too intense? Am I a cocktail?” He cocked a condescending eyebrow my way.

“If you were a cocktail, I’d throw you in your own face.”

Silence took over the room. Judgmental eyes were on me, not Russ. The world had gone upside down. I gazed at Josh for support, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. Fuck, I was ruining this for him, but I knew I wasn’t wrong. The other adults in the room were all thinking what I was saying.

“If you don’t like the course I have set out for the Falcons, you and your son are welcome to leave.” Russ gestured to the door.

Josh tugged on my shirt to sit down. So I did. But not because Russ was right.

3

RUSS

Ibelieved that I was a good person. I worked hard at my job. I was a good father to my son. I donated to charity and volunteered and broke for squirrels that froze in the middle of the road.

But it seemed that wasn’t enough for God because he decided to punish me by sticking Cal Hogan in my Falcons meeting.

Couldn’t he have stuck bamboo under my fingernails instead?

I had learned to keep my distance from Cal years ago. He was loud, sloppy, and rude. When we met at a kindergarten event, he leaned over to me and asked if I found our sons’ teacher hot—his idea of bonding because we were both gay. He never brought homemade goods to school events but proceeded to pig out on everyone else’s, wiping his crumb-stained hands on his pants. He would send Josh to birthday parties (late, of course) without gifts—not even a card. The man seemed dead set on annoying everyone around him, always needing to question and complain about things.

He made planning the annual Spring Carnival a nightmare. He’d stroll in late with crumpled papers, forgetting what we talked about last time, always pitching suggestions like this was a street fair in New York City and not a local carnival. Any idea I presented, he had to think of a different one. Aflashierone. When I asked follow-up questions about his ideas—things like budget, logistics—he would claim that I was silencing him. His constant stream of objections and unrealistic ideas were putting us behind schedule. After getting complaints from other parents and the school, I had no choice but to boot him off the committee, something I knew stuck in his craw.

He hated me. Well, guess what, buddy? The feeling was one hundred percent mutual.

After the meeting, I made my way around the room to introduce myself to all the parents and their kids. I saved Cal for last. His son was always a nice boy. Too bad his father was a blowhard.

Quite a few of the parents asked me how intense the meetings and trainings got. Thank you, Cal, for putting those thoughts in their heads. The Falcons had training on first aid and cars breaking down and what to do if there’s a snowstorm, which we get every winter. The thing was, life threw us curveballs, and we had to be prepared. My late husband was driving home from work like he’d done a million times before when a car ran a red light. If the other drivers who stopped had first aid training, maybe they could’ve kept him stable until the paramedics got there. It was in those critical moments when he had a chance of staying alive.

From the corner of my eye, I kept tabs on Cal. He hadn’t left. If Josh did join the Falcons, I’d only have to see Cal when he dropped him off and picked him up, fortunately. He was avidly enjoying the snacks I’d put out, eschewing the cocktail napkins for his own pants.

The worst part about finding Cal so frustrating was that had he been some random guy on the street, I’d totally find him attractive. He was definitely a bear type—tall, meat on his bones that was a mix of fat and muscle, a protruding stomach that made him perfect for cuddling. He had bright green eyes and a hearty smile that popped against his full beard and gave off warm vibes—that was, until he opened his mouth.

“Russ, we are looking forward to another year with the Falcons.” Eddie Yamimoto shook my hand heartily. He co-led the troop with me, and was a great right-hand man, always at the ready and prepared. His daughter Emmaline was a sweet girl who knew her way around knots. She’d racked up an impressive number of badges last year.

“It’s going to be great. Isn’t that right, Emmaline?” I bent down to give her the Falcon salute, which she reciprocated flawlessly. She then flocked to the snack station for another cup of sugar-free juice. Run fast, I thought, before Cal cleans us out.

“Are you free tomorrow, Eddie? I’ve started planning out this quarter for meetings and the camping trip. We should touch base.”

“About that. I won’t be able to be co-scout leader this year.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

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