 |
Might Have Been
|
by Kat
Parsons
|
part 6
Friday, December 2, 1988:
Once they rediscovered each other, Richie and Angie were again fast friends, and rarely did a weekend pass without their getting together. Sofia and Nathaniel Burke were happy to send Angie to visit them--anything that got her out of their own neighborhood, away from the influences there, was to them a good thing. That in the process Angie was exposed to art museums and antiques and people with culture and education was a bonus, as Sofia confided to them one day. Acquaintance with the MacLeods was opening up new horizons for their daughter, and it was a chance remark of Tessa's which decided Angie to give up her quest for a nose-ring. Tessa was happy to pass on to the Burkes clothes she no longer waned, and enjoyed the sight of Sofia, Angie and Carla showing up in cut-downs from her own wardrobe. When Angie had trouble in history, Duncan tutored her twice a week all semester.
For their parts, Duncan and Tessa were glad to have the Burkes as new friends. There were no children Richie's age in their immediate neighborhood, few children at all, and the boy was sometimes lonely. With Angie's frequent visits, and family outings with the Burkes, Richie rarely had a dull weekend anymore. Sofia taught him to cook simple dishes, a task of which Tessa had been ready to despair, and Nathaniel was happy to take him along bowling with his own kids. The Burkes were such a relentlessly normal, healthy family that it could only be good for Richie to spend time with them, in his parents' view. Their own life was not only somewhat rarefied, but rather isolated as well.
Almost a year after Richie had found Angie at the Christmas party, Duncan was building a fire in the living room fireplace while Tessa packed away dinner leftovers for later. Richie had gone out to watch a basketball game at the nearby public high school, where the team from Angie's school was playing. The kids were to call when the game was over so that Duncan could go fetch them, but he had the place and Tessa to himself for the time being and was contemplating a little evening delight on the hearthrug.
He heard a knock on the back door, but didn't give it much thought until he heard Tessa cry out in dismay and then call for him. Snatching up his katana, he rushed to join her.
A large boy was dragging Richie and Angie through the door by their collars, one in each hand, and the kids looked as if they'd been stunned. "What's going on?" Duncan demanded as Tessa tried to prop Richie up in her arms.
The boy, though he was tall and well-developed, was probably no more than sixteen. He froze in the doorway, regarding the sword warily. "This does belong to you, doesn't it?" he asked, giving Richie a little shake to indicate which one he meant. "He said this was his place."
Mechanically, Duncan put aside his katana. "Yeah, he's ours." He stepped forward and took Richie's shoulders in his hands, holding him still and upright. "Who are you, and what happened to them?" he demanded, ignoring Richie's cheery "Hi, Pop!"
"Gary Correll. I knew Richie back in the old neighborhood."
Tessa brought forward two chairs from the table and the boy took the opportunity to sit Angie down in one while Duncan pushed Richie into the other. Duncan took his son's face in his hand and tilted it up so he could examine him. Richie's pupils were so small, they had almost disappeared in the blue of his irises; he wore a foolish, sleepy grin and seemed to be mumbling to himself. His pulse and respiration were slow. Hastily, Duncan checked Angie as well, and found the same symptoms. He rounded on Gary, barely restraining himself from taking him by the throat. "What the hell happened to them?!"
Gary slouched against the jamb, his arms crossed. "Hey, dude, chill. Ain't my fault, I was just playing Good Samaritan and getting them home. Wasn't easy, either--you ever try to balance two kids in front of you on a motorbike when they're both off in outer space?"
Duncan watched Tessa wring her hands as she tried to decide what to do about the children. There was nothing bleeding, nothing bruised; it was nothing she could fix, and tears rolled down her face. There was nothing he could do, either. There was no fire to put out, no broken arm to splint, no evil Immortal to drive off or behead. There wasn't even an overgrown teenage boy to blame. He wished very much there were, because that was something he knew how to handle. Tessa picked up the phone, hitting the pre-programmed button for the family doctor. He turned back to Gary and made his voice as normal as he could. "I'm sorry. What happened?"
"I was at Blackjack Pershing for the game--my school's playing. I saw the munchkins before it started, before the pep bands came on, talked to them a few minutes. Ain't seen Richie since he left the neighborhood; but Angie's a neighbor and she ain't got a big brother, so I look out for her. Couldn't stay with 'em, though, 'cause I was hanging out with some of my buds, and the Copperheads ain't good company for kids. I saw 'em later talking to Nikki--she's a girl from the neighborhood--and it made me mad, 'cause I've told Angie to stay away from Nikki." He shrugged. "Sometimes kids don't listen too good, though."
"I've noticed."
"Nikki ain't the kind of person the munchkins should hang with. She's one of them brave souls--you know, the kind that'll swallow just about anything? She's always got a buzz on from something, and she hangs out with some seriously bad dudes."
Duncan found himself softening quickly to this insolent whelp. "So, you try to keep Angie clean?"
"Ain't like that, really. I just try 'n' make sure she's safe. Angie's got her head on pretty straight, see? But I worry about her hanging around Nikki, 'cause Nikki's seventeen, and a lot of the younger kids think she's cool, on account of having a baby and the other stuff."
Looking down at the children, Duncan reflected that he didn't like the sound of "other stuff" and he wasn't that thrilled about the baby. To his immense relief, Richie and Angie appeared to be coming around a little, but there was a certain blueness to their lips and jerkiness to their movements that still alarmed him. "You don't?" he asked somewhat absently.
"Me? No. She's pretty, but she doesn't know the first thing about cool."
Duncan nodded. Contrary to appearances, this kid had his head on fairly straight.
"I went to go get 'em the hell away from there, but then the game started and by the time I got through the crowd to them, they were gone. But I went looking for them at half-time, and I found them outside, over in the cemetery, with Nikki and some of her friends." He shrugged. "They were sniffing Bics, been doing it for a solid hour, looks like. That one," and he nodded at Richie, "he was walking around looking like some kinda crazy puppet, kicking over flowers on the graves while Nikki and them laughed at him. Angie was on some scum-sucker's lap, and…she shouldn't've been."
Duncan heard an exclamation of dismay from Tessa and giggles from the miscreants. His own stomach was threatening to reject his dinner.
"I knocked down Nikki's boyfriend and took hold of the munchkins and hauled 'em away home. It was murder just trying to figure out where he lived," Gary added, with a rancorous look at the happily swaying Richie, who was whispering to Angie, cracking them both up.
Mac nodded, feeling a great weight settling into his belly and limbs. Richie had done this to himself. There had been a great deal of joy in having Richie in their lives the past five years, but the responsibility sometimes made him feel closer to four thousand years old than to four hundred. He despaired, at times, of getting his treasured son to twenty-five, much less the thirty or forty for which he hoped as a minimum. "Gary, thank you for…for bringing them here. We owe you."
Gary shrugged. "You don't owe me nothing, mister, I did it 'cause the munchkins are my friends, okay? I saw a guy fall down in a fit from that stuff once, and now he lives in a nursing home. Now, gimme back Angie, I better get her home."
Tessa was occupied in trying to get Angie back to her chair--the girl was wandering about in spastic movements, examining the kitchen as if she'd never seen one before.
"We'll get Angie home," Duncan said. "You just have a motorbike, don't you? I think it would be safer if we drove her."
Gary narrowed his eyes at him. "I don't know you. I can't be leaving Angie alone here."
This wasn't a good moment, Duncan thought, for arguing with anyone whose head he didn't want to take. He took a very deep breath and went to the phone. He dialed the Burkes' number and spoke to Sofia, telling her as calmly as he was able what had happened, and letting her know a doctor was on the way. Nathaniel Burke was out of town, visiting his ailing mother. Sofia didn't have a car of her own, and taxis didn't venture into that part of town after dark, so she had no means of getting there. She remained calm, only asking that they bring her daughter home as soon as possible. He then held out the receiver to Gary. "Ask her if it's all right," he told the boy, still keeping his grip on the anger that was turning the warm comfort of the delicious Cornish hen he had just consumed into a cold lump in a vat of roiling acid.
Reassured that Angie was in approved hands, Gary allowed himself to be ushered to the door. He turned back there, looking at the two kids, who were beginning to revive a little. "They'll be all right," he told Duncan. "They're too dumb for brain damage."
Duncan scowled, though he recognized it as an attempt at comfort. Then, feeling he had been ungracious to someone who deserved his gratitude, he held out a hand to Gary. "If you find yourself in need of a part-time job, come by," he invited the boy. "I could use a strong, sensible young man to run errands and…do things," he said vaguely, since he hadn't until that moment ever felt any need for an employee in the store, still less a teenager who hung around with buds called Copperheads.
Gary's eyes flickered with surprise before he took the proffered hand. He was almost out the door when Tessa darted over.
She started to speak, but nothing came out. After a moment's intense silence, she gave Gary a kiss on the cheek and then turned back to the children.
Gary stared after her a moment, then looked at Duncan, his face red. "Guess I oughta bring kids home more often." He nodded and ducked out the door.
*****
The doctor had come and gone, with dire warnings of just how dangerous butane was and how many young people suffered brain damage and even died every year from inhalants, but he assured Duncan and Tessa that the children appeared unharmed--this time.
Tessa immediately called Sofia with the good news, while Duncan started yelling, pouring out all his pent-up anxiety in a blast of sheer volume.
Richie and Angie were sitting on the living room couch, hungover and apprehensive, when Tessa rejoined them. She proceeded to stalk the living room like a caged tigress, Duncan paced back and forth in front of them, and they took turns relieving their feelings at the hapless fourteen-year-olds.
"I can't believe you did this!" Tessa yelled, interrupting her own tirade mid-thought. She took a hard drag on her cigarette and sent a stream of smoke ceilingward. No matter how many times she quit, and despite all Duncan could say to discourage her, she still always managed to have a secret stash of cigarettes around for odd moments of stress.
At the moment, Duncan himself was thinking with a certain longing of the cigars he had once relished, before he'd known they were dangerous to mortals. He could use the calming effect of, oh, a boxful of cigars at just that moment. He stopped and looked at the kids, still so small, their faces still rounded by babyfat. They appeared so innocent, except for the bloodshot eyes. He stalked off and poured himself a shot of Scotch, hoping it would spread its warmth through his chilled system. When he thought of losing Richie to drugs, when he thought of the life that awaited a drug-addicted Immortal, when he thought of Richie maybe dead of heart failure at fourteen--worse, of brain damage… He downed the Scotch in a single gulp and poured another, hearing Tessa's angry, frightened words but not hearing them.
"Ye could ha' killed yourselves, ye stupid--!" he exploded, slipping for a moment into his brogue. "What in the words 'don't take drugs' did ye not understand?" He slammed down his glass and stalked over to the couch, leaning over them and waving his arms. "Ye know better! Ye both know better!"
Richie rolled his eyes and shifted his ice bag. "Dad, come on, take a pill," he begged. "We didn't take any drugs. It was just lighter fluid."
This left him bereft of speech long enough for Angie to chime in, "They do it all the time at school."
"Yeah, ours, too," Richie agreed.
Duncan felt himself making fish-faces and turned away. He could see that Tessa had gone white, and doubted he looked much better, himself. Immortality didn't make one immune to the ravages of passion, and the thought of his beloved son sitting around inhaling poisons to get high hit him like a sword in the throat.
"How stupid can you two be? No drugs means no drugs. That means ye don't sniff, ye don't swallow, ye don't inject, ye don't inhale anything, and that means nothing. Nothing!" He turned back to them, looming over them again. "Does it have to be tattooed on yuir foreheads? Can't ye understand something that simple?"
Angie sank deeper into the couch, her normally irrepressible smile replaced by clamped and trembling lips. She covered her face with the damp washcloth Tessa had provided.
Richie jumped to his feet. "No, maybe I can't. No drugs, huh? Don't swallow-- except booze is all right, huh?" He glared straight up into Duncan's face. "Don't swallow means nothing except Scotch." He turned to Tessa. "Whoops! I forgot, there's one other exception--don't inhale means nothing but cigarettes. How stupid can I be? No drugs means don't swallow anything except Scotch, don't inhale anything but tobacco smoke…Gee, why would I have thought some things might be all right? Wow, I really am stupid. I really am so much worse than you are!" He stamped away, ignoring Duncan's shouts to come back, and in a moment they heard his door slam shut.
Duncan looked to his wife and saw her arrested expression. "You go talk to him," he told her irritably. "If I go near him, he's liable to get a spanking the way my father would ha' done it. I'll take Angie home."
Tessa nodded wordlessly and walked over to the coffee table to stub out her cigarette. Waving at Angie to precede him, Duncan stopped to pick up his coat on the way out, and then grabbed his katana on the way through the kitchen.
They rode in silence for several minutes, Duncan too angry to speak, Angie unnaturally silent. Finally, Angie pulled her feet up onto the seat and wrapped her arms around her knees as if for comfort. "Richie didn't mean anything," she offered. "Our heads hurt a lot and he was cranky."
Duncan glanced at her. She didn't look as if she'd had a very good evening, either. "Angie, why did you do it? You do know better, don't you?"
She shrugged. "I guess I knew we aren't supposed to do it, but it's not like it's a real drug. They never mentioned it at school, and Mom and Dad never said a word about lighter fluid. Nikki said it wasn't a real drug, she said it was okay, and she wouldn't hurt us. And everybody says it's safe. And it did feel good. And, sometimes…it's nice to feel like I belong, you know?"
"You belong to your mom and dad and your brother and sister, Angie. You belong to your friends who love you. You don't need to belong with people who only accept you if you do something you know you're not supposed to. And it wasn't safe."
"But--?"
"If it were, do you think Mrs. MacLeod and I would have been so scared? Do you think the doctor would have been so worried about you? Do you think your friend Gary would have ruined his evening to drag you two away?"
She pulled her knees closer. "Gary worries a lot. He thinks he's the big brother for the whole block. But he is cool, and he does look out for me. Not that I can't take care of myself!" she added quickly. "But sometimes it's nice to have somebody big and cool around, you know, when things get rough in the neighborhood." She looked up at him. "Were you afraid? Richie says you're not afraid of anything. I thought you were mad."
He took a moment to respond, wishing he could have shown as much restraint when he had the two of them sitting on the couch. "I'm afraid of a lot of tings, sweetheart. I'm afraid of anything that might hurt my wife or my son. Or my little friends." He reached out and tugged at her frizzy hair, fighting to put a smile on his face. "I was very afraid this evening. You know, there are a lot of drugs and poisons out there, and no one can make you a list to cover all the things you shouldn't do. You have to use some common sense, and understand that things that change how you feel or think--those are all drugs. And, if you're honest with yourself, you knew that."
"Maybe," she admitted. "But we really did think it was safe."
"Sweetheart, you and Richie could have died tonight. If butane were safe to sniff, it would be sold for that purpose. The manufacturers don't put 'do not inhale' on the side just to cut down on their own sales."
"I guess." She sighed.
He hesitated, then, "Richie was right about one thing. I wish Mrs. MacLeod never smoked, because it's bad for her, but she hasn't been able to quit completely, even though she tries. We don't want either of you to ever feel like that. And my drinking…" He stopped himself just short of saying that was different. "Maybe I ought to be more thoughtful about why and when I drink. Angie, sometimes grownups find themselves saying 'do as I say and not as I do' and I know that looks hypocritical to you. But grownups who love you don't want to see you repeat their mistakes. You're a big girl, now. Do you understand that?"
She nodded and looked away, her lower lip caught in her teeth. They didn't speak further till he had delivered her safely to her mother, when she gave him a swift hug and whispered, "Explain it to Richie like that," before hurriedly slipping off in the direction of her room.
*****
As Duncan escorted Angie out, Tessa headed down the hall to Richie's door, where she stood undecided for a period, trying unsuccessfully to rehearse some words of great wisdom, words which would cut through the anger and fear, words whose persuasiveness would overcome the gap of years and understanding between them. Words had never been her strength, but she was in no state to try to draw a picture for him of how she felt, so her words were all the weapon she had to use in defense of her child, or against him. "Richie," she said finally. "Chou-chou, I need to talk to you."
Richie didn't answer at first, just long enough to alarm her, but eventually she heard his bed creak. A moment later, he opened the door looking very much like Duncan with a hangover. "What?"
She debated how to handle the moment, then informed him, "I expect you to treat me with courtesy, Richie. That expectation does not change because you have a headache."
He quickly turned from her, a flush spreading up his neck, and went to flop onto his pillow. "Okay, lecture number 912--I'm ready." He refused to look at her, glaring defiantly out the window.
Tessa crossed over to the window and drew the shades, cutting off his view, and planted herself right in front of him. He turned his profile to her once more, focusing on his guinea pig, but she noticed that his lips were trembling. All at once she felt better, realizing that his insolence was a cover for the knowledge that he had disappointed them. She sat down on the bed beside him, tucking the other pillow behind her back. "We need to talk, chou-chou. I am calmer, now. I hope you are, too."
Richie shrugged and pulled a foot onto the bed without regard for the comforter. He picked at the sneaker.
"Tantrums won't accomplish anything. Not yours, and not mine."
Richie tightened his lips into a sort of pucker for a moment, then shrugged once more.
She put an arm around him and pulled him close, till his curls were tickling her nose. "Chou-chou, you are so precious to us…Do you know how much we love you?"
He didn't speak, but he nestled a little closer.
"When I saw your condition when you came in, I was so afraid…I don't believe I have been so frightened since…I don't know when. Perhaps since you and your cousins got lost in Paris that first Christmas after you were ours; or maybe it was the day the judge signed the adoption papers, only we weren't sure if he would. If anything ever happened to you, it would destroy my world. And I was angry, because my world was threatened. And so was your father. So we said unkind things, and I apologize for that. But, chou-chou, what you did, it was so very foolish, so very dangerous."
"And smoking's not? Dad keeps trying to get you--"
"Don't try to make my bad habits an excuse for your bad behaviour," she interrupted firmly. "I have worked very hard to stop smoking, and you know I go months at a time without a single cigarette. I know I should not smoke, I know I'm setting you a bad example, but sometimes I fail to do what is right. I wouldn't have this problem if, when I was your age, I had paid attention to the warnings I got about cigarettes." She took his chin in her hand and tilted his face up so she could look into his eyes. "I think one of us may have called you stupid tonight, I don't quite remember--"
"Dad did. He said, 'How stupid can you be?'" He snorted. "No big deal. Like I haven't heard that before. Stupid, lazy, dumb, good-for-nothing, bastard, worthless, idiot--"
"Stop that!" she snapped. She took a moment to calm down again. "We don't really think you are stupid, chou-chou. And you are not lazy, or dumb, or good for nothing, or--"
"A bastard?" he interrupted again, pulling his head from her grasp. "I probably am, you know that. I can remember my mom--my, you know, my…" He hesitated here, obviously searching for a polite way to put it.
"Your birthmother?" Tessa suggested.
"Yeah, that. I can remember her, but I don't remember an old man at all. I am a bastard."
She realized, suddenly, that Richie thought Emily Ryan was his birthmother; he couldn't possibly, after all, actually remember a mother who had abandoned him when he was less than a day old. "Richie, it doesn't matter what your birthparents were, none of that makes you less wonderful than you are. And if you mean the woman…" She stopped herself. Richie would feel no better thinking his birthmother had abandoned him than he did thinking she had been a single mother who'd died young. "Emily Ryan loved you very much." She knew from photographs that had been in his file from Social Services that Emily Ryan had cherished Richie no less than she and Duncan did. "And she did have a husband, only their marriage failed. That doesn't mean he didn't love you, too."
"You think so?"
"I think so very much. How could anyone resist?" She planted a kiss amongst his curls, wishing she could do this more often, but he had reached an age where he normally resisted cuddling.
"Plenty of people managed to. You and Dad weren't exactly proud of me tonight."
"No, we weren't proud of you. We were shocked that such a smart boy could do something so stupid. We were frightened, because you did something that could kill you. We were angry, because you did something you knew was wrong. But we love you very much, and that doesn't stop because you do bad things. I hope you will prove you are not stupid by never, ever taking drugs again. And there must be some punishment."
He moved as if to protest, but she forestalled him. "You were very rude and disrespectful to your father and me. However, we also said things we perhaps should not have said. So we will call that even, and all three of us will tell Father Andresson about it at Confession. There must be punishment for what you did tonight, though. You did a number of bad things, Richie. You left the school, which you know you were not to do. Your father is very strict, you know, that you should always be exactly where you are supposed to be." In fact, Duncan was somewhat of a nut on the subject, but she couldn't argue with his concern over Richie's safety. "You went off with people we don't know. Your father has always warned you specifically against ever doing that, hasn't he?"
Richie nodded.
"You took drugs--and don't try to tell me that it isn't a drug, because it is, and I think you knew it all along."
He shrugged, still sullen.
"You risked your own life, and you allowed Angie to risk hers, too. Do you realize the Burkes might not ever allow you to see Angie again?"
He looked up at her, truly alarmed for the first time. "But, Mom, no--"
"They would be within their rights. If I thought Angie had encouraged you to be bad, I would not let you see her anymore. But I don't think it," she added quickly. "Your father and I will discuss what your punishment is to be and we will tell you in the morning."
He kicked at his bedspread, and she could feel the pout against her cheek. "We just wanted to be cool."
Tessa remembered something from earlier in the evening that she had barely registered at the time. "That boy who brought you home, Jerry?"
"Gary."
"Do you think he's cool?"
"'Course."
"Gary said the girl who got you two to do this doesn't know anything about being cool. I think so, too. So does your father." She released him and got up, stretching her back against the muscle tension that was making knots in her body. "You go to bed, Richie, and when you say your prayers, you thank God that you and Angie are alive and well. And if you need me, call." She bent to kiss him once more on the crown of his head. "I love you, chou-chou."
"Love you, too," he mumbled.
Saturday, December 3, 1988:
At breakfast the next morning, Richie was informed that he was grounded for a month. No more basketball games, no television, no Christmas parties, no visiting friends, no friends coming over, no riding his bike to the park--no nothing. School and home and nothing else. This inhumanity was compounded by having his Atari confiscated for the duration, by his entire allowance being diverted to the church benevolence offering, by having his modem disconnected, by losing his phone privileges, and by having to do all the dishes for the entire month. And, first thing Monday morning, the three of them presented themselves in Sister Augustina's office and told her there were students sniffing lighter fluid behind the heating plant during recess.
Duncan softened these punishments slightly by relating that he had had a long talk with Angie's mother when he dropped the girl off, and Sofia was not disposed to blame Richie for what had happened. Angie could still be his friend.
In fact, Sofia had been more discouraged than shocked by the news. Raising children in their neighborhood--with a pool hall downstairs, an adult bookstore next door, a peep show across the street, a crackhouse just down the block, and prostitutes on the corners--was a constant struggle, and she felt she had been remarkably lucky so far. That her children would be touched by drugs was inevitable; they were, every day, one way or another.
The Burkes were very aware of Nikki--not a bad girl, at heart, but wild, and completely out of her mother's control. The Burke children had been warned to stay away from Nikki, and the girl wasn't welcome in their home, but what could they do when Angie rode a bus with her every day to school? And, really, Nikki was to be pitied--she was a victim, herself, and just didn't know it, yet.
They knew Gary Correll, too. Asked about him, Sofia had hedged a bit. "He's not just the boy I'd really want Angie to know, if times were better," she admitted. "My husband don't like having him around her one bit. He's only two years older than Angie and Richie, but his mama, she can't manage him at all. Always, she's complaining she can't make him mind, she can't get him to go to school. He's bigger than her, and she's real young, and she just don't know what to do about him, and it's probably too late to get his respect now. He's out all hours, and he don't do good even when he goes to school. Probably gonna drop out, one of these days, half of the kids around here do. He gets in trouble a lot--stealing, joy-riding, nothing worse so far. But he tries to take care of his mama, and he's always good to the littler kids--defends them, you know? Gary's not got a mean bone in his body, and I like him."
Duncan now fixed Richie with his sternest maybe-I-ought-to-take-your-head look. "Mrs. Burke and I talked about what you did, and it seemed to us that maybe you two are bored."
Richie hastily denied this. "How could I be, with all the homework I've got?"
"Well, do you have a better explanation for why you did what you did?" Tessa asked.
Duncan watched Richie's wheels turn as he made a big show of stirring his oatmeal; he could almost have been amused, if the transgression hadn't been so serious. The boy was obviously trying to decide what would be most expedient--one of his stories, or a quick admission that he was, after all, bored, and in great need of something, like a puppy, or maybe a pair of in-line skates, to keep him busy.
"It wasn't our idea. See, Nikki's boyfriend told us that, um, that there was this injured cat--got hit by a car--over in the graveyard. So, we went out to help them look, see, and we looked all around, and we got tired, and the girls, you know, Nikki and Angie and the other girl, I forget her name, they got scared, on account it was a graveyard. And then we sat down to rest, and Nikki's boyfriend, he took out this lighter and he sniffed at it, and then before we knew what was happening, he had it under our noses and then we were too high to think straight. Yeah, and once we were already high, we didn't know any better than to keep doing it, and, besides, they all said it was safe, and…"
"So, what happened to the cat?"
"Um, it, uh, it got away."
"What a shame," Tessa murmured. She was obviously in no mood for his wild tales, either. "Of course, if we call Angie, she will tell the same story."
Richie blushed crimson. "Um, she might not remember it just right," he pointed out. "After all, she was pretty spaced out. And we both got awful headaches."
"I have an idea," Duncan proposed. "Let's drive over to the old neighborhood and look up Nikki, and she can tell us how it all came about."
Richie looked back down to his oatmeal. "Don't bother."
"Are we through with lies, then?" Duncan asked quietly.
"It wasn't a lie!" Richie protested. "It was…it was just a story."
"I see. And if you found out that, oh, say, I didn't really fight under Wellington against Napoleon, would that just be a story?"
Richie shrugged and stirred.
"Or that I didn't fight for Bonnie Prince Charlie, that you actually have grandparents over in Scotland with a little farm on the shores of Loch Shiel, and I'm not on speaking terms with them because I, oh, robbed a bank? That I'm not an Immortal, that the time you saw me healing from the burns was just a trick, that I've been telling you stories all this time, how would you feel about that?"
The tips of Richie's ears burned with his blush.
"I bet it would hurt your feelings. I bet you wouldn't like being made a fool of, that you'd call my stories lies. Wouldn't you?"
Richie shrugged.
"I don't mind when you weave your stories around what you did today, or tell us the Norwegians executed your birthfather for spying, or make up stories about people you see on the street. Some of your stories are a lot of fun, and your mom and I think you have a real talent, that maybe someday you'll be a novelist, or maybe another George Lucas. But you know the difference between imagination and lies, and what you just did was lie to us, wasn't it?"
Richie didn't move for several moments; finally, he nodded. "I didn't mean any harm."
"No, you just wanted to shift the blame off yourself and onto someone else, didn't you?"
"I guess."
"That's not the action of a man of honor, Richie. A man of honor--and that's what I want you to be--stands up and accepts responsibility for his mistakes, even when it hurts, even when he's afraid, even when he's disappointed the people he loves and who love him. If he doesn't, he'll disappoint them more, and disappoint himself. Do you remember the Samurai who taught me, who gave me his sword?"
Richie nodded. "Hideo Koto."
"Do you remember what he said to me, when I suggested he turn me over to the shogun's troops to be executed? I thought it was a logical solution; I would revive and Hideo would live. But Hideo reminded me of something I should already have known: one cannot save honor with a lie."
Richie looked up at this, his lips trembling and unshed tears glistening in his eyes. "I just made it worse?"
"Yes, you did."
He dropped his spoon into the oatmeal; it was almost cold, anyway. "Can I be excused?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly.
"No, there's one more thing," Tessa told him. "From now on, all three of us are volunteering two Sundays a month at the homeless mission. We don't want you to be bored, and we think it would be good for you. I've spoken to Mrs. Burke this morning, and Angie will be joining us." She got up and took his oatmeal from him. After fishing out his spoon, she reheated the bowl in the microwave and gave it back to him, with the rinsed-off spoon. "Finish your breakfast, wash the dishes, and then you may be excused."
Convinced that Richie was honestly penitent, Duncan also got up from the table and took his dishes to the sink, where he left them unrinsed. Looking out the window, he saw a bright, clear winter day, a day he would have loved to have spent in the park with his son playing Frisbee, or catch. "Richie, your mom and I are very glad you weren't hurt. You aren't going to do anything like this again, are you?"
"Nossir."
"I hope that's not a lie or a story."
"Nossir."
"Good."
Monday, June 12, 1989:
It was made clear to Richie that though his punishment was only to last a month, other than the volunteer work which they all came to enjoy, earning back their trust was going to take longer. After a period of sulking, he rose to the challenge. He became such a pattern of youthful rectitude, so polite, so tidy, so conscientious, that his parents sometimes had all they could do to keep from laughing.
Tessa was always the softer touch of the two, and Richie had her charmed into giving him her blessing by St. Valentine's Day, but Duncan had no intention of being so lenient. His own father would have thrashed him soundly for such a sin as Richie's; he didn't do that, and he was careful to keep communications open, but he made it clear that Richie was in the doghouse for a long-term residence. A period of living with the shame would do Richie good if it kept him from more serious errors later in life. Duncan knew how he would have worked to regain his father's respect, and hoped that such respect meant as much to Richie.
It seemed it did, because the New Richie, with only occasional lapses, persisted for months. Duncan was almost tired of having such a perfect son by the time he decided Richie had redeemed himself and rewarded the boy with a week of fishing on the island during Easter break. After that, things got back to normal, and Duncan found himself almost relieved to have a normal kid again--noisy, forgetful, and clumsy. But Richie promised he would never, ever take drugs again, and his parents believed him.
*****
The school year was nearly over when Duncan entered the shop door just before closing, bearing a gilt-framed painting of some long-ago racehorse, a probable Stubbs, and proclaimed it a bargain.
"Good, I am glad to hear it," Tessa snapped, tossing down her pen.
Duncan gave her a rather cautious look and put his new treasure aside. "Something wrong? Dear?"
She shoved the letter she had been composing across the counter. "See what you think of this."
He obediently took up the letter and perused it, whistling at the end. "I think this is grounds for a lawsuit."
"I'm not interested in suing anyone!"
"Not you, the Dickersons. They could sue you for slander and threatening the life of a minor."
"Duncan, don't make fun. I am very angry!"
"So I see." He put down the letter. Richie would have to be tough, and someday he would suffer pain far worse than a teenage bully was likely to inflict, but Duncan no more appreciated his son being hurt than any other parent. On the other hand, one of them had to stay calm, and it clearly wasn't going to be Tessa. "How badly is he hurt?"
She hunched a resentful shoulder. "It scared me to death when he came in here, blood all over his face and pouring down his neck. He has a black eye and two loose teeth--the dentist said to put ice on his face and call him if they don't tighten up again by morning. His clothes were all torn up, his shirt is completely ruined. He has a cut over his left eye, and a cut lip, and not only were they bleeding, so was his nose--but I'm pretty sure it's not broken. The doctor is coming by on his way home."
Duncan felt his blood pressure shoot up, but suspected the injuries looked worse than they were. Facial wounds bleed copiously, so it was no wonder it had alarmed Tessa. "So who won the fight?"
"Duncan!"
"He lost, I take it?"
"The Dickerson boy is twice his size," she ranted. "If that nice Gary Correll hadn't been there, he might have killed Richie! I don't understand why they didn't call home-- poor Richie had to ride his bicycle all the way home from the park in that condition."
If Richie could ride home, he probably wasn't that badly hurt. "Have you ever even seen this Dickerson boy?" he asked, his lips twitching despite his best intentions.
"Richie said he's almost as big as Gary."
"Gary's a big boy, sweetheart, but he's not twice Richie's size. If Richie knew how to--"
"I should have known you'd use this as an excuse to teach him to fight!" She glared. "You haven't even been up to look at him, you don't care how he's been hurt, you just want to pass on the manly art of violence!"
"Tessa, you know better," he said mildly, crumpling her letter and tossing it into the trash can behind her. "If a bigger boy is bullying Richie, of course we have to do something, but you can't go writing incendiary letters--you could just make things worse. Richie still has to leave home and we can't always be there to protect him." He walked around the counter and tried to take her into his arms, but she turned from him. He took a deep breath and counted to ten, wondering if, every time he'd come home a little tattered, his father had had to go through this with his mother. Probably, he thought, remembering just how fierce Mairi MacLeod could be. "Where is he?"
"In his room. I gave him some pudding and milk and soft cookies and told him he could play with his Atari the rest of the afternoon."
"Oh, le pauvre chou-chou," Duncan chuckled cruelly. "Tess, that boy has you wrapped around his little pinky."
"How can you be so mean? He was in pain! You haven't even seen his injuries."
"All right, I'll go visit the invalid right now. Will that make you feel better?"
"Yes, it will. And then I want you to go see that bully and put the fear of God into him!" she hollered up the steps after him as he went.