by Jon McGoran
Well, if there’s really no one watching, I thought, then no one will see me running home scared. I took off, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder until I came to a stop in front of my house, four minutes later. Warm light spilled from the windows, painting the icy ground a soft, pale gold. I paused before I went inside, standing in the driveway that separated our house from the one next door.
The windows there were black and empty. The house screamed of vacancy.
For my entire life, it had been the home of my friend Del. Now it was empty.
As far as anyone knew, the house still belonged to Stan Grainger, Del’s dad. But no one had seen Stan in three months—apparently not even the police department where he used to work, out in the zurbs. No one had seen him since the night he shot and killed his own son.
He hadn’t even been arrested. Some tried to turn him into a hero—Howard Wells, H4H, even some of the same media that called me a hero. He was an off-duty officer of the law who shot his own son rather than let him endanger the innocent people of Pitman. That account might have been partly true. But it was still murder.
I was glad Stan had disappeared. I couldn’t have lived there knowing he was still next door. The thought that he could return any day was bad enough.
I jogged up our back steps, through the back door, and into the kitchen.
I could see my mom in the living room, engrossed in a book. A cup of tea sat by her elbow on the end table. If the book was any good, the tea had probably gone cold hours earlier.
I went into the living room and paused at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on the bannister. The room felt kind of cramped with the Christmas tree still up.
“Hi, sweetie,” Mom said, looking up. “Did you have a nice time?”
“Yeah, I did,” I said, feeling guilty not saying more, but absolutely confident I did not want to get into what had just gone down, at least not now. “It was fun.”
I retreated into the kitchen for a glass of water, thinking about how hard we’d been working to rebuild the trust between us after the events of that fall. The lies I’d told were bald-faced, meant to protect my friends. Hers were more lies of omission about our family, meant to honor my father’s wishes.
I wouldn’t have even found out about them if Aunt Trudy hadn’t spilled the beans that I had an aunt I didn’t know of—Dymphna Corcoran—whom I was named after.
I had been furious when I confronted Mom about it, but she explained it was my dad’s idea to cut his sister out of our lives, to pretend she didn’t exist. When I was two, there’d been a big family fight, and Dymphna had become persona non grata. I grew up not remembering anything about her.
When Mom finally talked to me about Aunt Dymphna, she actually couldn’t hide the admiration in her voice. Dymphna sounded like quite a character: a scientist and perpetual student, with degrees in everything from microbiology and epidemiology to chemistry and information technology. She was also an activist—an environmentalist and animal rights advocate. Apparently, Grandma and Grandpa weren’t crazy about that. Then she got arrested—my mom swore she didn’t know what for, and Trudy backed her up on that—and she went into hiding.
My grandparents were furious and heartbroken. They both died within a couple of months, and my dad never forgave Dymphna. She didn’t even come back for the funerals, and he never forgave her for that, either.
From that point on, no more Dymphna.
Mom said that after Dad died, she just kept on honoring his wishes.
I was still mad, but I kind of understood. Mom had been in a tough spot, and my dad had been pretty clear about what he wanted.
But between my lies and her lies, our relationship had suffered.
Now that we were finally pretty much back on track, I felt guilty all over again about not sharing more about tonight. But apart from anything else, it was late and I was tired.
“It was fun” was about as much detail as I had energy for.
I came out of the kitchen and started to say good night, but Mom closed the book around her finger and slid it between her thigh and the arm of the chair. That was okay: a finger meant a short conversation. A bookmark would have meant a long one.
“How about…Rex?” she said. “Was he there?”
She paused every time she said his name, but at least she was saying it. That was progress. Up until recently, she had insisted on calling him Leo.
My mom wasn’t sure about Rex, and I really couldn’t blame her. I knew she was a little put off by his decision to get spliced. I understood—I mean, just a few months earlier I had tried pretty hard to stop Del from doing the same thing. But I know a lot of her concerns had less to do with Rex’s splice and more to do with the fact that, in her mind, Rex was also the guy who’d robbed Genaro’s Deli. Rex was the guy who, after all he and I had been through together, and everything we supposedly felt for each other, practically disappeared for three months, without telling me where he’d been or why he’d been gone. That worried her, and I understood.
I trusted Rex, the way you trust someone because you believe the best about them, and everything they do confirms that belief. But all that trust notwithstanding, I shared some of my mom’s concerns. Not that I would ever say it aloud. And frankly, I found it annoying having to defend the very things about Rex that were currently bugging the hell out of me.
“Yeah, he was there,” I told her. “It was really good to see him.”
“I bet. It’s been so long. How did he seem?”
“He was good. He was Rex.” When I said it I realized it was true, and I smiled. He was Rex, and as messed-up as the night had been, it still really had been amazing to see him.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m gonna read and then get some sleep.”
“Good night, sweetie,” she said, opening her book. “Don’t forget, I’ll be leaving first thing in the morning.”
I hadn’t forgotten, but it had been quite a night, and for a moment maybe it had slipped my mind.
“Skiing, remember?” she said when I paused. Her smile had a vaguely accusatory cast to it. “With Aunt Trudy? Because someone thought it would be a good idea for us to do something together?”
I laughed. I loved Trudy, and I think my mom did, too, in a way, but they were very, very different. Plus, as much as my mom apologized for not telling me about Aunt Dymphna, I think she was irked at Trudy for not keeping the secret.
My mom scowled at my grin.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “It’ll be fun.”
“Well, it’ll be nice to get away for a bit,” she said. “Kevin’s in charge until I get back, but you need to make sure you’re ready for school on Monday morning, okay?”
“Kevin’s ‘in charge’?” I laughed again, but this time with more of an edge. My brother was a good guy and I loved him, but he was a bit of a meathead. “So, if I want to eat some cookies or watch a scary movie I should ask his permission?”
“Oh, Jimi, of course not. Don’t be silly. Just let him know what you’re up to so someone always knows where you are. He should do the same for you.”
“Yup, you’re right,” I said. “That is silly.”
She waved her hand, dismissing the comment. “Anyway, we’re leaving at six thirty. If you’re up, you should come down to say hi to Trudy.”
“I’ll check with Kevin and see if I’m allowed.”
“Jimi…”
“Okay, okay. See you in the morning.”
I turned and went upstairs, passing Kevin’s room on my way to my own.
He was lying on his bed with his ear buds on, drumming his hands on his belly with no apparent rhythm or pattern. Clothes, gym bags, grimy balls of used athletic tape, and at least three empty Gatorade bottles littered the floor. There was a smudged glass on his bedside table with a couple of inches of discolored orange juice at the bottom and several rings above from where it had evaporated away. The glass had been there since the beginning of winter break.
And this was the guy who was
in charge. This was the guy who, just a few weeks ago when I had asked him about the whole Aunt Dymphna thing, said, “Oh yeah! I forgot about her.”
I couldn’t believe it. “You forgot you had another aunt?”
To be fair, if I’d been two, he’d only been three, but then he said, “I didn’t know she was a real aunt. I thought she was one of dad’s work friends, like Uncle Bill. Remember Uncle Bill?”
When we were little, my dad’s boss had insisted we call him Uncle Bill, which even then I thought was kind of weird. But Kevin was missing the bigger picture.
“So the fact that her name and my name are both Dymphna…,” I said. “You thought that was just…a coincidence?”
“What? It’s not that unusual.”
Dymphna was totally that unusual.
I was shaking my head at the memory of it when Kevin looked over and took out an ear bud. “What?”
“Nothing.” I rolled my eyes and went into my room. To be honest, it didn’t look much better. But I had an excuse. I’d been redecorating, taking down all the little-kid stuff that had been cluttering my walls and surfaces, and putting it all in a box.
I hadn’t decided what to replace it with yet. At this point the only thing on the walls was a framed antique David Bowie poster Aunt Trudy had gotten me for Christmas. I loved it, but now I really felt the pressure to get some other stuff up there, quick, so it didn’t seem like that was my only interest.
On the floor by my desk, there was a huge Earth for Everyone sign I’d bought at a fundraiser after Thanksgiving. It had the E4E logo on it, and behind that, the H4H logo with a red line through it. I liked the sentiment, but the poster was kind of ugly. I’d probably put it up anyway, eventually.
As I changed into my pajamas, I thought I caught a whiff of Kevin’s room, but I realized, to my horror, it was me. After all that running, I needed a shower before bed. By the time I finally climbed under the covers, I was too tired to concentrate on a book. Instead I lay there, staring at the blank walls, and at David Bowie, who seemed almost disapproving that I’d left him alone up there. My eyes found the box of old posters and photos and figurines I’d taken down. Part of me wanted to pull it closer and look through it all. But I’d already decided I was moving on. Instead, I turned out the light and went to sleep.
CHAPTER 8
I woke up in the early morning darkness to the sound of my mom’s suitcase banging against my door. Twice. I’d told her I’d get up to see her and Trudy off, but I suspected she’d thunked my door to make extra sure of it.
I pulled on a sweatshirt and hurried downstairs so I wouldn’t miss them. If I was getting up this early, I wanted to get credit for it.
Mom and Trudy were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. When she saw me, Trudy glanced at my mom over her mug with an impish look that confirmed my suspicions that Mom had been intentionally loud.
“Oh, you’re up,” my mom said, feigning surprise.
“Yes, I heard you,” I said, pouring myself a cup of coffee. “I’m surprised Kevin’s not awake too.”
“Oh, you know Kevin,” Mom said. “He’d sleep through a herd of elephants.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said, sipping my coffee. “I’m pretty sure I just heard one.”
Trudy snorted. “Well, I’m glad you’re up. Full confession: I told your mom I wanted to see you before we left. And she said she’d wake you.” My mom rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Trudy.”
“That’s okay,” I said, “it’s not like I only have a few days of winter break left to sleep in, or anything.” I offset my sarcasm with a kiss on Trudy’s cheek.
“Any big weekend plans?” Trudy asked.
“Not really,” I said, flashing my mom a sidelong glance. “I’ll probably just watch some scary movies and eat lots of cookies.”
Trudy looked at my mom, curious.
“Rex is back,” my mom said, ignoring me.
“Oh,” Trudy said, then, “Ohhhh,” as if some deeper implications were sinking in.
I had to fight back a laugh as my mom blanched, as if she was suddenly realizing that Rex was in town and she was about to not be.
“When did he get back?” Trudy asked me.
“Last night.”
“Did you see him?”
“Yup.”
“And how was that?”
“Good.”
She paused, as if weighing whether she could get away with one more question before we crossed the line from conversation into interrogation. “He’s been gone awhile. Where has he been, anyway?”
Mom lowered her coffee cup, looking at me expectantly.
“I don’t know,” I said, trying to sound casual.
Trudy glanced at my mom, and seemed to realize she’d stepped into the middle of something. “Oh. Well…sounds very mysterious.”
“Yup.”
After an appropriately awkward moment of silence, they both finished their coffees and started making noise about how they really should be hitting the road.
I wholeheartedly agreed.
Mom hugged me and told me to stay out of trouble. Trudy hugged me and told me to have fun. Then they were gone.
I took my coffee back to my room and snuggled back under the covers, thinking about Rex, and how after the quiet normalcy of the past few months, and all of my efforts to reestablish trust with my mom, almost immediately after his return I was involved in drama: fights, guns, arrests, and even death. And I was essentially lying to my mom by not telling her about it.
None of it was Rex’s fault. I knew that. But trouble sure seemed to follow him.
I realized that sometimes trouble came from not running away from a fight. From standing up for what you believed in. From sticking up for your friends. The kind of trouble that followed Rex was the same kind of trouble that had found me three months ago. And maybe it was all part of him being the kind of guy I liked as much as I did.
I set my mug on my bedside table and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, the sun had risen. I could tell by the light coming in through my window that it had snowed again. A glance outside confirmed it.
I went downstairs and emptied the cold, burnt coffee in the coffeemaker and put on a fresh pot.
Kevin was in the living room watching Holovid Sports. A panel of middle-aged former athletes were arguing about what the current crop of athletes would achieve later on that day.
“Hey,” I called out. “I’m making coffee. You want some?”
“There’s a pot in there,” he called back. “Mom made some.”
“It’s cold and gross.”
“Just microwave it.”
I stepped into the dining room so I could see him. Sure enough, he was drinking a huge cup of the sludge.
I ate a banana while I waited, and when the coffee was done I poured myself a cup. Kevin came into the kitchen as I was savoring my first sip.
“See?” he said. “It’s fine.”
He poured himself the rest of it, microwaved it unnecessarily, and headed back into the living room, slurping as he went. “You’re crazy,” he said over his shoulder. “This tastes great.”
“Amazing,” I said.
I went upstairs to get dressed, and the phone rang as I was coming back down. Kevin answered it just as I reached the bottom of the steps.
“Hello?” he said, then glanced up at me with a smirk. “Well, I’m not sure if she’s here,” he said, his voice gravelly in an exaggerated imitation of Rex. “Can I ask who’s calling?”
I stormed toward him, scowling, and he held the phone out to me.
“It’s Rex,” he said, trying to maintain the low voice while cracking himself up.
I snatched the phone and mouthed the word asshole to him before taking a breath and putting the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“So that’s Kevin, huh?” Rex said.
“Afraid so.”
“He’s every bit as charming as when we were little.”
“Yes,” I said, projecting my voice i
nto the living room, “He is a total jerkwad with no redeeming qualities.”
Kevin flipped me off in reply.
I looked at the display on the phone. “Is this your new number?”
“Yeah. For a little while at least.”
I entered it into the phone’s memory, then turned toward the kitchen and lowered my voice. “So how’s it going?”
“Okay, I guess. Jerry talked with that lawyer, DeWitt. She wants to meet with us here at Doc’s place. Can you make it?”
“When?”
“In an hour.”
“Yeah, I can do that.”
“Good. You okay?”
“Me? Yeah, I’m fine. Look, Rex, about last night, asking you where—”
“No, don’t apologize,” he said. “I’m sorry I have to keep so many secrets right now.”
“So many? How many others are there?” I half laughed, because I was only half joking.
He chuckled in reply, as if I were completely joking. “Okay. I’ll see you then, right?”
Hahaha. “Yeah, I’ll see you then.”
I went to grab my jacket, hat, and gloves. When I returned to the living room, Kevin was still sitting on the couch.
“I’m going out,” I said.
“Where?” he said without looking up.
“Oh, please.”
Kevin just shrugged, which got him partial credit. “I’m out tonight,” he said, “so you’re on your own for dinner.” Then he went back to his sports show, and I went out the back door.
The sun was bright, the sky was a clear, cold blue, and the fresh snow was sparkling. I took a deep, bracing breath, and set off for the Levline.
A couple of houses I passed already had Christmas trees out, waiting to be recycled.
These days, I was ambivalent about Christmas. It used to be my favorite holiday, but ever since my dad died, there had been an undeniable sadness to it, as well. At this point it felt like part of the tradition.
I always felt a slight relief when Christmas was over, but in a way that was the saddest part: one more Christmas without my dad. One more year of me growing up without him. Deep down I felt guilty, as if somehow I was responsible for letting the time go by without him.
