Evolution

by L.L. Bartlett

  “Work.” Richard fastened the buttons on his coat, avoiding Jeff’s gaze. He looked guilty.

  “You said you had off until Friday.”

  “Yeah, well, not any more. I got called in—the ER’s shorthanded and I’m low man on the totem pole. I gotta run. I promise, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” he said, and patted Jeff’s shoulder. In an instant he’d turned and grabbed his keys from the brass rack on the wall.

  “Wait, you said we’d go—”

  Richard paused at the door, looked back. “I know, but I have to go—sick people need me. You understand, don’t you?”

  How many times had their mother said that to Jeff every time she’d had to disappoint him? And he never had understood.

  “Jeff?” Richard pressed.

  Jeff looked away. “Yeah. Sure.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, kid. Merry Christmas.”

  The door closed with a bang.

  “What if I need you?” Jeff said. He stared at the door for long moments before he crossed to the window to watch Richard enter the garage from the side door. A few moments later, the automatic door rose. Taillights flashed as Richard started the car and the sleek red Porsche backed out.

  “I hope you get a flat,” Jeff groused, scrunched up the newspaper and threw it at the trash bin, missing it by inches.

  He heard Curtis come in through the pantry entrance and looked up to see him peel his gloves off before hanging his cord jacket on a peg. “It’s a cold day.”

  Jeff slumped in the maple kitchen chair.

  Curtis entered the kitchen, stepped over to the coffee pot on the counter, but the maker was switched off; the pot was empty and clean. “Do ya think Helen would get mad if I made another pot?”

  “Probably,” Jeff muttered. “She screams at me if I leave a crumb on the counter.”

  The old black man raised an eyebrow. “Screams?”

  “Well, her voice might not be loud, but she screams.”

  Curtis’s smile was almost infectious. Almost.

  “Where was Mr. Richard going?”

  “Work.” Jeff couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “He promised we’d do cool stuff tonight and tomorrow. He promised me. Grownups always lie to kids.”

  “I never lied to you,” Curtis said.

  “Yeah, well, then you’re the only one.”

  Curtis rested a dark hand on Jeff’s shoulder. “I’ve known Mr. Richard almost his whole life. He’s a good man. He feels a great responsibility toward helping people. That’s why he took you in. Not many young men would have done that. But being a doctor is important to him, too. My nephew is training to be a doctor and he has to put in ungodly hours just like Mr. Richard. It’s part of the territory. Something you just gots to get used to, Jeffrey.”

  Jeff pursed his lips and nodded. “I don’t care. I don’t need him, anyway.”

  #

  Sleet pellets pinged off the windows as Jeff lay in his bed, listening to Christmas carols on the battered little radio his mother had given him as a Christmas present several years before. Had it been the last gift she’d given him? He wasn’t sure. Some nameless choral group started in on a version of Silent Night, making the carol sound more like a dirge than a lullaby.

  Yeah, this Christmas would suck after all.

  He folded his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling where the shadows of bare branches danced, backlit by street lamps and unhampered by the huge lighted evergreen wreath that donned the side of the house outside his window.

  Dinner had been a solitary affair in the kitchen, eating a cold plate of cottage cheese and fruit cocktail Helen had rustled up for him while the elder Alperts and their equally ancient friends had first feasted on hors d’oeuvres and then dined out with more of their wizened old cronies. Good, he liked the house better when he was its only occupant.

  He’d checked the calendar and figured out he was stuck here for another two-point-five years until he was eighteen—and considered an “adult.” He could deal with that. There were worse places. Terry Rydinger from school was with his fourth family in five years, and his horror stories of the foster care system had made Jeff realize that he actually had it pretty good.

  No one demanded that he do any chores ... well, except for the petty kitchen jobs Helen wanted done. No one was molesting him or smacking him around, either. The fact that nobody much cared about him gave him the freedom to more or less do as he pleased. That he had nowhere to go, besides school, didn’t really enter into it. He’d always considered school a haven, and volunteering for the yearbook staff had been a smart move. He had a place to go, a desk of his own, free use of a school camera and all the film he wanted. So what if he had no close buddies. He never had before, anyway.

  Still, his mind kept circling away from the hurt of Richard’s betrayal. Why had he ever believed that tall bastard’s lies that they’d spend Christmas together? Richard seldom had time for him. Why had he wanted it to be different? Why had he wanted to connect with this person—the brother—he barely knew? Why should one day in December be any different from any other day?

  Nope, being disappointed was just plain stupid. And it would never happen again. He wouldn’t let it.

  Jeff turned off the little radio, set it on the bedside table, and rolled onto his side. No sense wasting the batteries.

  ‘Sleep in heavenly peace’ the song had said. He doubted he’d do that.

  He thought about the pile of unopened gifts under the Christmas tree with his name on them. Richard had paid for them, but Jeff knew it was Curtis who had picked them out. Richard was, after all, too wrapped up in his career to notice much of anything.

  One gift was big enough to be a twelve-inch TV—what he’d really wanted. Then he’d never again have to ask permission from the elderly Alperts to watch the set in the living room. The other boxes all looked like they contained clothes. Okay, he couldn’t go to school buck naked, and he’d done some growing so he needed longer pants and shirtsleeves. Yeah, he’d wear them, but he wasn’t going to use the TV. Well, maybe just to watch the basketball playoffs, but that was all.

  Jeff eased his hand past the elastic at his waist and allowed himself the only comfort and joy he was likely to receive that Christmas.

  #

  Richard breathed in the scent of spent candles—vanilla— and cracked open an eye to unfamiliar surroundings. Daylight peeked through a crack in the curtains at the window across the room. The mound of clothes on a chair across from the bed were his, lying in an untidy heap. It wasn’t like him not to fold them neatly.

  From somewhere nearby came the sound of a shower. He rolled onto his stomach. The bedside clock read nine-fifteen. Still plenty of time to get home and—

  The water stopped. Moments later a towel-clad woman entered the room. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

  “Morning.”

  Christina Maynard, RN, crawled across the bed, losing her towel along the way, drew back the covers and nestled her damp body against his.

  “You’re cold.”

  “Cold body, warm heart,” she murmured, pressed her lips against his, her tongue teasing his.

  “Have you been a good little girl?” he asked, coming up for air.

  “Always.”

  “Then maybe Santa can make this the merriest Christmas morning ever.”

  She laughed, tracing a finger along the rim of his ear. “You mean I have to wait another whole year?”

  “Year?”

  “Christmas was yesterday, dear boy.”

  Richard’s thoughts raced—he’d lost all track of time. “Yesterday! Holy shit.” He pushed her away, threw back the covers, snatched up his limp socks, donned them, and then searched for his skivvies.

  “You’re not leaving, are you?” she said.

  “My little brother’s waiting. He was expecting—”

  Christina pouted. “You’d rather be with some kid than me?”

  Richard pulled his T-shirt over his head. “He migh
t be just a kid but it’s his first Christmas with me.”

  “With you?” she asked, her voice filled with reproach.

  Richard found his sweater and donned it. “Yeah, I’m his guardian. I’m responsible for him, and—” It was all too complicated to explain to someone he really didn’t care about, to someone who was just a warm body, a willing partner who—

  Shame coursed through him. He had offered the woman a ride home from the hospital. Sex with her had been an unexpected bonus. But he hadn’t meant to fall asleep afterwards—not when he’d already disappointed the kid. But he’d been close to exhaustion after a thirty-six plus hour shift. He must have slept for nine hours and now—

  “I’m sorry, Christina, but I really should have gone home last night.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. Instead of a frown, he found her smiling. “What?” he asked.

  “It’s so cute that you care about your baby brother.”

  He stared at her for a moment, taking in her words. Jeff would be anything but cute when he confronted the boy.

  “I’ve gotta go.” He moved to her side once more, leaned down, and kissed her. Her tongue darted between his lips once again, teasing him, making him wish he didn’t have to rush out the door. She pulled him down to the bed, melting her now-warm naked body against him, her breath warm against his cheek. “Stay. For just another little while.”

  Selfish need overcame sense and Richard spent another hour in unproductive bliss.

  #

  Richard hit the Porsche’s brakes as he approached the mock-Tudor house, taking in the eight-foot Christmas tree on the curb in front. Next to it was the box for the TV set he’d bought Jeff. Up the street he saw the lumbering garbage truck make a stop. He turned into the drive, still thinking about the TV box.

  Well, since he’d disappointed the kid by changing their plans, he couldn’t blame Jeff for not waiting for him to appear before opening his gifts. He hadn’t thought of it before, but Richard had been looking forward to watching the kid tear open his presents. Didn’t every parent—pseudo or otherwise—enjoy the same thing?

  Inside, he found the house had been totally stripped of all seasonal decorations. All that remained was a small pile of gifts bearing his name sitting on the bottom step of the stairs. He scooped them up and headed upstairs to shower and change clothes, and afterwards ducked his head into Jeff’s bedroom. The bed was neatly made. He didn’t see the TV, nor a sign of the kid’s other gifts, not that he knew exactly what they were.

  Back downstairs, he entered the living room where he found Mary, the young housekeeper, collecting the last of the Christmas ornaments. She averted her eyes, busying herself with the boxes.

  “Hello, Mary, have you seen my brother?”

  “No, sir. He wasn’t here when we arrived this morning.”

  Something in Richard’s gut twisted. “What time was that?”

  “About seven-thirty. I’m not sure, but I don’t think his bed had been slept in.”

  Dear God, could Jeff have been so disappointed by a crappy Christmas that he’d run away? But no—there’d been the empty TV box ready for the trash men. Jeff was moody, yes, but otherwise a well-behaved kid who rarely acted up. Richard wouldn’t panic about the boy’s absence just yet.

  “Where’s Curtis? I saw his car in the garage.”

  “He drove Mr. and Mrs. Alpert to visit their friends in Canada, sir.”

  Richard frowned. “I thought they were going by limo.”

  “They had a change of plans, sir. Helen told me. I’m sorry, I don’t know the details.”

  Richard nodded toward the box of ornaments. “Who told you to take down the tree and all the decorations?”

  “Helen, sir. She said Mrs. Alpert called and gave her instructions to have everything taken down and packed away before they arrived home.”

  “They aren’t due back until next weekend.”

  “Helen told me to do it today, sir.”

  Richard glanced at another pile of gifts—more of his own. “What happened to Jeff’s presents?”

  Mary seemed to squirm. “They were under the tree this morning, sir, untouched.”

  “Where are they now?”

  Panic filled her eyes. “It wasn’t me, sir.”

  “Where are they?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Mary looked as though she might cry. “In the trash, sir.”

  Outside, the garbage truck rumbled away.

  “Who put them there?”

  Tears overflowed Mary’s eyes.

  #

  Richard stood in the butler’s pantry doorway for a full minute before Helen acknowledged his presence. Crouched before one of the mahogany cabinets, a clipboard in hand, she appeared to be taking inventory of the canned goods.

  “Oh, Dr. Alpert.” At last she straightened, her face impassive. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

  Richard played it cool. “I understand you spoke to my grandmother this morning.”

  “Yes, sir. She said to take down all the decorations.”

  “Did she say it had to be done today?”

  “She wanted them down before she returned.”

  “Which won’t be for another week.”

  Helen sniffed. “Sir, she left me in charge of the staff. I have the discretion to give them instructions.”

  “Yes, but this is also my home, and I wish you’d consulted me before you had Mary dismantle everything.”

  “As I told you, sir, I didn’t expect to see you today. You’re rarely here.” She turned her back on him.

  “There’s another more serious matter I’d like to discuss. My brother’s gifts are missing. Mary seems to think they’ve been thrown away.”

  “I don’t know what you mean, sir.” Her voice was level, but she didn’t face him.

  “Jeff’s gifts are gone. I understand you disposed of them.”

  She didn’t answer, but a blush colored her cheeks.

  Caught!

  “Where’s the TV?” Richard asked.

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “The color TV. Or did you toss that, too?”

  Again, no answer.

  “You wouldn’t mind if we checked the trunk of your car, would you?”

  Helen turned to face him, her eyes wide. “I don’t like your inference, sir.”

  “Oh, well, then perhaps you’d rather talk to the Amherst Police.”

  #

  The long walk from school in frigid temps left Jeff feeling chilled to the bone. Thank goodness the weather had waited a day to revert to Buffalo’s stormy wintry norm.

  The back door was unlocked, but Jeff wasn’t sure who he would find inside since there were no cars parked in the drive. He hung his coat on his usual peg in the butler’s pantry and he made sure no snow clung to his shoes. He’d been yelled at too many times for that infraction.

  The house was deadly quiet, and he crept along the hall, pausing at the threshold to the large and unwelcoming living room. Richard sat at the far end of the oversized couch, staring at the cold fireplace with a glass clutched in his hand and a bottle of Scotch on the cocktail table before him. A little TV sat by his side on the floor.

  The sight of the drink in his brother’s hand frightened Jeff. How often had he come home from school to find their mother drunk—passed out? And if she wasn’t, she was liable to blow up at him—take out her anger at him for transgressions he’d never made—problems he hadn’t caused.

  He cleared his throat. Richard looked up, startled, then stood up. “Thank God you’re home. Where have you been, kid?” His voice wasn’t angry. In fact, maybe he even sounded … worried?

  Then again, he had a lot of nerve asking that question. Still, Jeff decided to answer honestly. “School. I’ve been at school.”

  Richard frowned. “School? Doing what?”

  “Printing pictures for the yearbook. I’m their photographer. Remember I told you?”

  Richard’s expression darkened. “It’s Chr
istmas vacation. How’d you get in?”

  “The janitor. He knows me. And I have a key to the photo lab.”

  Richard sank back into his seat, eyed Jeff, and took another slow sip of his Scotch. “The housekeeper says you didn’t sleep here last night. Where were you?” This time there was an edge to his voice.

  “School. I’ve got nowhere else to go. I knew you wouldn’t be here, so I came home around six. The house was locked. I don’t have a key.” Mrs. Alpert wouldn’t allow him to have one.

  “Where’d you spend the night?” This time Richard’s words sounded like an accusation.

  “In Curtis’s car. I had to break a window to get into the garage. You can check if you want.” Would he be punished for that, too?

  “It was in the thirties last night. How did you stay warm?”

  “Curtis keeps a blanket on the backseat. It didn’t help much. I thought I was gonna freeze to death.”

  Richard took another sip. “Where have you been today?”

  “I told you, school.”

  Richard grunted and downed the last of his drink.

  Fury boiled inside Jeff. Why didn’t Richard apologize for not coming home the night before, for making him sleep in the garage? Why wasn’t he angry at what Jeff had had to endure? Why didn’t he do something besides pour liquor down his goddamn throat?

  Anger obliterated Jeff’s resolve to keep silent, to not give a damn about Richard and the promises he’d failed to keep.

  “Where the have you been?”

  Richard looked startled. “Me?”

  “I called from the school phone. The hospital said you left before midnight last night.”

  Richard’s mouth opened. He exhaled, but he didn’t speak.

  “I’ll bet you spent the night with some trashy chick,” Jeff bluffed.

  Richard put his glass down on the cocktail table before him, his shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry this was such a shitty Christmas for you, kid. I really wanted it to be different. And I’ve got more bad news.” He turned and looked Jeff in the eye. “Helen tossed your presents. I managed to retrieve this.” He indicated the TV on the floor. “She had it stashed in her car—along with half of grandfather’s liquor cabinet and a bunch of other stuff. She must have been cleaning them out for months.”