by Lisa Amowitz
“So, there may be a cure?” Bobby asked, suddenly eager.
“If someone can figure out what is actually wrong with you, maybe there could be a chance of stopping or reversing the damage to your vision.”
Bobby slumped in the chair. Under those words of optimism lay the truth. He was going blind, and no one knew why or how to stop it. “I understand.”
“Which brings us to the next phase of Plan Bobby. I’m not going to fire you,” Max said, his voice upbeat and bright. “I’m going to give you a new job. And listen closely—I’m going to pay you more.”
Bobby squinted, wishing he could see the man’s face better. He couldn’t imagine anyone being low enough to joke with him at a time like this. “Excuse me?”
“My daughter has been singing your praises as a musician. Your guitar playing is extraordinary, your voice beautiful and moving. You cover a lot of popular blues and jazz favorites, plus you write your own original music. Is this true?”
Bobby was speechless, his mouth moving soundlessly. “I, uh, guess?”
“Bobby,” said Mr. Cooper, “the recommendation of a distinguished artist like Gabriella Sorensen is no small thing. And I, of course, can back up her assessment. You are an astounding musician. It’s time you used your God-given gifts the way you were intended to.”
The floor beneath him seemed to give way. His ears burned, his cheeks hot. What was happening? Was this all a cruel joke? “What are you saying? I’m not following.”
“We,” Mr. Cooper said, “are forming a jazz and blues ensemble group, The Kenny Cooper Trio. You, Gabriella, and me. We’re going to be playing here, in the Graxton Grill, three nights a week.”
“What?” Bobby’s ears were ringing. The room seemed to have darkened, as if his weak eyes were stepping out of the way, making way for his future as a blind man. “You’re kidding.”
“No,” said, Max, “no one is kidding. Mr. Cooper approached me about this before we learned about your issues. He was upset that you were wasting your talent. That you seemed resigned to a future of menial labor.”
“That’s right. Ask your good friend, Gabe,” Mr. Cooper said.
Bobby wrung his hands, unsure what to think. “I’m not all that good. I’ve never played with a group, for starters. I-I…” Bobby hung his head, “I don’t know what to say.”
Mr. Cooper placed both hands on Bobby’s shoulders. “Just take a day or two to think about it. I’m going to work with the school on your supports, and I’m going to work with you on that audition for the Conservatory. Your story will resonate with them. Big time.”
Bobby shook his head, unable to process. Unable to think. It was as if invisible hands had taken control of his life, moving him in a direction he’d never considered. But it was true—if he was really going blind, what other options did he have?
“Does my dad know about any of this?” he asked finally.
“The VA wants to hold a meeting with him, you and us, once they have him stabilized. They need to break it to him gently. Things are going to change. You won’t be able to take care of him, or yourself, in the way you’ve been,” Mr. Cooper said.
Pain stabbed through his chest. He couldn’t breathe; his lungs weren’t taking in air. Everything he’d worked to preserve. His family. Falling apart. “What about Aaron?”
“The Woods have agreed to take him in.”
“What about me?”
There was hesitation. The room darkened incrementally, and Bobby fought it. Willed himself to see better. Finally, Mr. Cooper cleared his throat. “You’ll be able to have Coco stay with you a little longer while we get things ready.”
Bobby’s heart pounded in his ears. He put his hands to his head. In a minute, his skull was going to split open. He needed air. Needed to breathe. Needed to think. Then came a thought, like the clear blue sky breaking through gray clouds of confusion. “Mr. Friend, I’ll make you a deal. Let me stay on as a busboy. Let me stay until I can’t see my own hand in front of my face. The minute I can’t do my job, the minute I start to screw up, the first plate I drop, I promise—I’ll quit.”
“Bobby? Do you think that’s wise?”
Bobby stood straighter, his breaths slowing. Gaining control. “Mr. Friend, for all we know, they’re wrong at the VA. They don’t really have a clue what’s going on with me. It’s all guesswork. My eyes could stay like this. They could get better. If they get worse, I’ll deal with it when it happens.”
“Hmmm,” Max said.
“Bobby, you need to prepare,” Mr. Cooper said, his voice somber.
“Why can’t I do both? Keep bussing tables and rehearse with you for the ensemble?”
Mr. Cooper rubbed his chin. “I don’t see why not, Max, if you’re in agreement.”
“I suppose. You did do an exemplary job tonight. People took notice.”
Bobby let out his breath, a smile spreading across his face. “Thanks. You won’t regret it. Do you mind if I get back to work now?”
“Go right ahead, Bobby.”
Bobby hurried down the hall to the dining room. Most of the tables were empty and in need of clearing. He got to work, piling dishes on his arm in precarious towers. But it was no problem for him at all.
On his second trip back from the kitchen, a group at a corner booth caught his eye.
“Hey, Bobby! Over here!”
“A-man? That you?”
He rushed over to the table and recognized the bright-orange cap of Aaron’s Little League team. Aaron bounded into his arms.
“A-man. God, I miss you, kiddo.”
“Bobby. They said you were sick. But you look okay, except for that weird bandage on your head. And what’s with those glasses?”
Bobby smiled. “I thought it would make me look darkly mysterious. Like a spy, you know?”
Bobby heard Jerry clear his throat. “Think it’s time someone tells this kid the truth, Bobby.”
Bobby slipped onto the seat next to Aaron and draped his arm around him. “A-man, it’s true. I haven’t been feeling so good. My eyes have been… The light hurts my eyes a lot, so I can’t drive. Dad’s going to be in the hospital a while, and with me not being able to drive…we all think it’s best if you stay with Jerry for a while.”
“Someone at school said you’re going blind.” Aaron pushed the fries around on his plate. “And someone else said you’re faking it because you’re a murderer.”
“C’mon, A-man, you know that isn’t true.”
“I know the murder part isn’t true. You’re not faking the blind part, are you?”
Bobby sighed. “I’m a tough guy, Aaron. I’m having some problems with migraines, which are messing up my eyesight. But I’m no quitter, champ. So hang in there. For me, okay?”
Bobby swallowed, patted Aaron on the head, and got away as fast as he could. He couldn’t come out with it. Couldn’t tell his brother that life as they knew it would never be the same.
After they closed the restaurant down for the night, Gabe drove Bobby home.
In the car, Bobby was silent, breathing in the scent of her perfume, watching the streetlights of the town pass by his window like comet tails. They drove most of the way like that, the beam of her car’s headlights a cone of radiance against pure black.
“Bobby,” Gabe said finally, “you did an amazing job tonight.”
“Thanks, but it’s not necessary to keep telling me that. I always work hard. Nothing’s changed.”
Silence again. Finally, Gabe sighed. “You’re a real challenge, you know that?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, I wonder when you are going to realize people do things for you because they like you. Because they believe in you. Not because they feel sorry for you. Mr. Cooper really believes in your talent.”
Bobby nodded. “I know that. He tells me all the time.”
“So do I. Believe in you, I mean.”
Pressure built inside of him, competing with his rising anger. His skin
suddenly felt too small for his body, every nerve tingling. Gabe pulled the car to the side of the road and turned to face him. “Bobby, I wish you’d understand. I don’t care about your background. I don’t care what Dad thinks. I—”
Bobby didn’t know what got into him. Maybe it was the craziness of the night, convincing Max Friend to keep a half-blind busboy on his payroll. He felt like he could do anything. He pulled her toward him and pressed his mouth to her lips. They tasted like candy. Like cherries. They tasted like heaven.
He kissed her softly. Sweetly. No desperate panting or pulling off clothes. Just his hands in her hair, feeling the softness of it under his palm. Soaking in the touch and feel of her. Memorizing each patch of skin.
Finally, her hair tousled, Gabe pulled away. “It’s getting late. I should get you home.”
Bobby nodded and smiled. “You should.”
“So,” Gabe said, “do you believe me now?”
Bobby didn’t have the chance to answer. A caravan of flashing blue and red lights surrounded them, sirens shrieking. A bullhorn blared, “Robert David Pendell. Get out of the car. Put your hands over your head.”
“What the hell?” Gabe said.
“Don’t argue with people with guns. Just do as they say. These guys shoot first and ask questions later.”
Bobby got out of the car slowly, hands over his head. He couldn’t see past the glare of the flashing lights. Couldn’t see whose amplified voice boomed through the bullhorn.
“You’re under arrest for the kidnapping of Dana Barclay.”
The shaking started in his knees and worked its way up his spine. Dana. The vision he saw. Her throat cut.
A figure strolled toward him from behind the glare of the lights. A bulky figure. Sheriff Barclay. He spoke in a cold, flat tone, void of emotion. “I should have known you were full of shit. That you were hiding something all along. Rotten trees grow rotten apples. You’re an asshole just like your father, Bobby Pendell. Maybe an even worse asshole. A more dangerous asshole. The signs were there all along, but I chose to ignore them.” The sheriff’s voice rose steeply to a shout. Droplets of spit flew in Bobby’s face. “Now this! What the hell did you do with my daughter, you little fucker?”
“What? I didn’t do anything to Dana!”
The sheriff yanked Bobby by his waistband, twisted him around and slammed him facedown against the car, wrenching his wrists into handcuffs. A sharp blow behind his knees sent him toppling to the ground on his side.
“What are you doing?” Gabe screamed. “Stop it!”
He felt his glasses ripped from his face, a light shined directly into his eyes. Pain knifed through his eye sockets, his vision shattered into jagged fragments. He squeezed his eyes closed against the stabbing light, his eyes tearing.
“Open your eyes, you bastard!” Sheriff Barclay roared, kicking him in the ribs. Bobby groaned, the air rushing out of his lungs.
“He can’t!” Gabe pleaded. “Stop this right now! You can’t do this!”
On his side in the dirt, the pain in his eyes like razor cuts, Bobby heard the squeal of tires, the slamming of car doors followed by the scuffle of feet.
“What’s going on here?” It was Mr. Cooper. “You can’t arrest him. He didn’t do anything.”
“Says you,” the sheriff barked. “Stay out of police business, music teacher, or someone might break your precious fingers. This animal is involved in my daughter’s disappearance.”
Max Friend’s calm voice cut in. “Has he been read his rights? What’s your basis for the arrest? The kid can barely see. I have his medical report with me.”
“He had plenty of time before reporting to work. And apparently, he sees well enough to continue working in your establishment,” growled the sheriff, the rage in his voice barely controlled.
“Let him go,” Max said, his voice silken, yet frosted over with ice. “I was parked a few yards down and taped the whole arrest. I’m not at all above posting the whole sorry scene on YouTube—‘Police harass visually-impaired boy in false arrest.’ Maybe you should review his file before you proceed.”
“I know people at the state level,” Mr. Cooper said. “You wouldn’t want an inquiry, would you?”
There was a pause. The sheriff’s voice cracked. The man was distraught, on the edge of hysteria, and somewhere, under the pain, Bobby felt a deep pity for him. He couldn’t blame him. His daughter, Dishwater Dana, who’d never hurt anyone, was dead. Of this, Bobby was certain.
“My daughter is missing. Can you understand? What if your daughter is next, Friend? Dana told me she was going for her run. Before she left, she mentioned to me she’d had an upsetting talk with Bobby Pendell. That he scared her. Threatened her. That kids in school were talking about how weird he’s been lately.”
“He’s been under a lot of strain, Sheriff,” said Mr. Cooper calmly, his voice slow and steady. “Being upsetting does not make him a kidnapper.”
“Not being able to see right does not make him innocent. If he can clear tables, he can see good enough to drag a girl into the woods. What did you do with my daughter, Pendell?”
CHAPTER
14
“Is there a body?” asked Mr. Cooper.
“No. But every minute counts. I have to find my girl.” The sheriff was sobbing in rasping, gulping howls. “My girl is gone! Do you understand? Gone! He’s a monster—preying on the innocent. For all I know, he’s just picking up the family business where his crippled father left off! Do you know how many unsolved crimes there are in the cold case file?”
“What the hell are you implying, Sheriff?” Mr. Cooper’s voice remained calm and steady.
“You should be taken off this case,” Max Friend added firmly. “With all due respect, Sheriff, you’re not making sense. There haven’t been any murders around here before that other girl’s disappearance.”
“That’s what you think, Friend!” the sheriff shouted. “Do you have access to the state-police files? You just talk out of your ass, Mr. High and Mighty. You just got here. How the hell would you know what’s gone on in Graxton before you came? How about ten unsolved murders, huh? Ten unsolved murders spanning fifteen years.”
“My glasses,” Bobby whispered, hoping someone heard him. “Please.”
He was pulled to his feet, his glasses repositioned on his nose, but he didn’t dare open his eyes. He felt Mr. Cooper’s reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“Just the same, you have no grounds to arrest him. No evidence whatsoever to connect him to any of that,” said Mr. Cooper. He whispered into Bobby’s ear. “Keep your head and let me handle this.”
“I never saw her after school, Sheriff Barclay. I was home,” Bobby blurted.
“They have nothing on you, Bobby,” Max said defiantly. “My sympathies over your situation, Sheriff, but I think your time would be better spent combing the woods for your daughter rather than harassing an innocent kid.”
There was a long pause. The bright light clicked off. Bobby let out his breath.
He heard the chink of the handcuffs being unlocked.
“Get him the fuck out of here,” the sheriff growled.
Back at his house, Bobby left it for Mr. Cooper to break the terrible news to Coco. After the searing pain of the sheriff’s spotlight, his head still vibrated and throbbed from even the slightest movement. Despite the glasses, he couldn’t keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds.
“I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning,” Mr. Cooper said. “If you or Coco need anything, let me know early, before classes start. Tomorrow is going to be a very strange day at school.”
“Thanks again for everything, Mr. Cooper. I owe you one.”
“You don’t owe me a thing, Bobby.”
After they left, with Coco sobbing quietly on the couch, Bobby could still barely pry his eyes open. Pete rubbed against him, whimpering, crawling between his legs. Even the dog knew something was up.
“Dude, I’m so sorry,” Bobby said, feelin
g his way over to the couch. Pete jumped up, wedging himself between them.
“She called me,” Coco moaned. “She told me she was still pissed at me and asked if I put you up to messing with her head.”
Bobby rubbed the bridge of his nose and debated telling Coco about the vision he’d had, but there didn’t seem to be any point. “I just reminded her to be careful. That there was a killer on the loose.”
“Jeez, Bobby. Do you know how creepy that must have sounded to her? Her dad has her all skittish and paranoid as it is. Probably because he’s worse than any criminal out there. You have no idea what goes on in that house.”
“I can just imagine,” Bobby said.
“It’s my fault. I should have gone to see her. We were supposed to go to the mall to shop for sneakers. But we had another stupid fight. Fuck.”
“Coco, it’s not your damn fault.”
He heard Coco get to his feet.
“I’m going to look for her.”
“Don’t!”
Coco spoke quietly. Slowly. “Why would you want to stop me, Bobby? Do you know something you’re not telling me?”
“No. I just…I get these hunches. Don’t go out there. It’s not safe,” Bobby pleaded.
“Hunches? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I… Please, Coco. You have to believe me that I only wanted to warn her. I just had this feeling—”
“I have to find her.”
There was a rush of air as Coco sprinted for the door. Bobby sprang, lunging, and grabbed Coco around the waist. Coco was taller, but Bobby was stronger—more compact and wiry. He tackled Coco to the floor and sat on top of him, pinning his wrists to the floor.
“Get off me, asshole. I’m going.”
“Please believe me, Coco. You don’t want to go out there.”
“Now you’re freaking me out, Bobby. Tell me you had nothing to do with this.”
Bobby groaned. “For the love of God. How could you think I would hurt Dana?”
He felt Coco relax under his grip. “How about you just level with me, Bobby? It all started with you and that head injury. Did you even have a head injury? Next you start blabbing about serial killers. Then your eyesight begins to go, you imagine you see a body in the garbage, and lo and behold—the body turns up. Now this shit with Dana. You know how this seems, don’t you?”
