Читать книгу What We Remember - Michael Thomas Ford - Страница 9

1991

“Billy, eat your eggs.”

Billy poked at the plate of scrambled eggs, then set the fork down and pushed the plate away from him. He took a spoonful of sugar from the bowl on the table and added it to the coffee in his mug. Stirring it, he tried to pretend he was somewhere else.

“Billy,” his mother said again. “You already put four spoonfuls in that coffee. That’s enough.”

“I’m not a kid, Mom,” he snapped. “For fuck’s sake, I’m twenty-one years old.”

“Don’t swear,” said Ada. “Not in my house.”

“Mom, are you okay?”

Billy looked across the table at his sister. Celeste was sitting beside her husband, Nate. The two of them were ignoring him—had been ignoring him ever since their arrival half an hour ago.

“I’ll make some more eggs,” Ada said, starting to get up.

“Ada,” said Nate. “Sit down. Please.”

Ada paused, then returned to her chair. Of course she listens to Nate, Billy thought. His head hurt. Slipping a hand into his pocket, he sought the little plastic bag he recalled putting there the night before. It wasn’t there. Fuck me, he thought.

“I know this is hard for you to hear.” Nate’s voice droned in Billy’s ears. He closed his eyes, trying to block it out. He wanted to sleep. If he could only sleep, he’d feel better. He hadn’t been to bed in days. How many? He tried to count backward but couldn’t remember if it was Wednesday or only Tuesday. That made a difference.

“You say they found Dan,” he heard his mother say. Her voice was flat, as if she were discussing the laundry or the weather. “I heard you.” She was silent for a minute, then began speaking again. “I knew he was dead,” she said. “We all knew that. This just proves it.”

“It’s not just that, Mom,” Celeste said.

Billy opened his eyes. He seemed to be looking at his sister through a haze. She was blurry, indistinct, a ghost. Her voice was coming from far away. He blinked, and the fog lifted like a curtain going up on a play. Celeste’s face came into focus, and he stared at her mouth.

“What else can there be?” his mother asked. “You’ve already told me he’s dead. Seems to me that’s the end of it.”

Billy saw his sister look at her husband. Nate leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and folding his hands. “Ada, we didn’t just find Dan in those woods. We found him in a box.”

“A box?” Ada repeated. “What do you mean, a box?”

“Dan was buried inside a trunk,” said Nate.

Billy sat up. “What?” he said.

Nate ignored him, speaking directly to Ada.

“Somebody put Dan into a box—a trunk, actually—and buried him on the land where Nicky Turner is building his cabin,” he said.

“How would he get inside a trunk?” asked Ada. She gave a short laugh, as if she’d just realized that someone had played a joke on her.

“Dad killed himself,” Billy said. “We all know that.”

This time Nate and Celeste did look at him. Celeste in particular looked angry. By speaking about his father’s death he’d broken the agreement that had existed between the members of the family since that day seven years ago. But he didn’t care. Celeste could go fuck herself. Nate too. Especially Nate.

“He killed himself,” Billy repeated. “How the fuck would he get inside a trunk and bury himself in Nicky Turner’s lot?”

“He didn’t kill himself,” said Nate. “Someone else killed him.”

Stunned, Billy looked to his mother. She held her coffee mug in her hands, and she was looking out the window. “That squirrel has been at the suet again,” she said.

“Mom,” said Celeste. “Did you hear what Nate—”

“I heard him,” Ada interrupted. “But he’s wrong. I have the letter.”

“I wish I was wrong, Mom,” said Nate. “But I’m not. Dan didn’t kill himself.”

Ada shook her head. “No one would kill Dan,” she said. “No one could. He would never let them.”

Billy coughed. He felt sick, as if he might throw up the coffee and eggs in his stomach. His chest hurt. He felt another cough coming on and tried to suppress it. But it was too strong for him, and he began hacking. His sister and his brother-in-law shot him annoyed looks but said nothing.

“No,” his mother said decisively. “You’re wrong. That must not be Dan in that…box.” She said the last word softly, letting it die in the still air. “It must be someone else.”

Celeste got up and walked over to Ada. Putting her hand on her mother’s shoulder, she said, “It’s Dad, Mom. He’s wearing his uniform.”

“How do you know what he’s wearing?” Ada snapped.

Celeste looked across the table at Nate. Billy saw Nate nod curtly.

“I’ve seen him,” said Celeste.

“You’ve seen him?” Billy repeated.

Celeste continued speaking to their mother. “I wanted to be sure before we told you. At first I didn’t want to believe Nate, either. But it’s him, Mom. It really is.”

Ada’s face crumpled. She began to cry. That’s the first time I’ve seen her cry since he died, Billy thought. He wished he could go and put his arms around his mother. But Celeste had already claimed her.

“Why did you have to tell me?” Ada said. She looked up. “It was all over,” she said. “I let him go. Now…”

She lowered her eyes once more. Billy saw her shoulders buckle as more tears came. Say something! he telegraphed at Celeste, who remained motionless with her hands on their mother’s shoulders.

“What about the letter?” he said, looking at Nate.

“That’s one of the questions we’re going to have to answer,” Nate answered. “It will all be part of the investigation.”

Ada looked up. Her eyes were wet. “Investigation?” she said weakly.

Nate nodded. “There will have to be an investigation,” he said. “Now that this is a murder case.”

Ada slammed her hand on the table. “No!” she said. She pointed a finger at her son-in-law. “You leave this alone! Do you hear me?”

“Mom—” Celeste began.

“I said no,” Ada interrupted. “There’s no need to bring all of that up again. It won’t change anything.”

“But Mom,” Celeste said, “if Dad was murdered, then Nate has to find out who did it.”

“I don’t care who did it!” Ada cried. She looked at Billy. “I don’t care,” she said, more softly.

It’s all right, Billy thought, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring look. The fog had descended again, and it was difficult to concentrate.

“It’s my job, Mom,” he heard Nate say. “It’s my responsibility to find out what happened to Dan.”

“I know this is hard,” Celeste told her mother. “It’s hard for all of us.”

Celeste looked at Billy. He realized that she wanted him to say something to back her up. But he was so tired. All he wanted to do now was go lie down and sleep. Just for a little while. Until his head cleared.

Shaking her head in obvious irritation, Celeste pulled out the chair between Billy and Ada and sat down. She took one of Ada’s hands in hers and held it, her back to Billy.

“Mom, you have to be prepared for the attention this is going to get. Once people find out that Dad was murdered, it’s going to get crazy.”

“Don’t tell them,” Ada said. “They don’t need to know our business.”

“You know I can’t do that, Ada,” said Nate.

The room fell silent. Billy knew that his mother had accepted the situation, although something still didn’t feel right. He searched his fluttering thoughts, trying to pin one down as if trying to catch a moth in a jar. Something bothered him, but he couldn’t get his mind to stop tumbling headlong through space to figure out what it was.

“James is coming, Mom,” Celeste said, breaking the quiet. “He should be here soon.”

Billy heard himself laugh. James, he thought. Of course James is coming. It’s always James to the rescue. He had the sudden image of his older brother galloping across the prairie on a horse, his white hat shining in the sun. He laughed again.

“What’s wrong with you?” Celeste asked.

Billy looked at her. “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all. I’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine. James will be here and everything will be fine.” He emphasized the last word, and saw his sister’s jaw tighten.

“Billy, why don’t you go get some rest,” Nate suggested. “You look beat.”

“Do I?” asked Billy. “Do I look beat, Nate? That’s weird, because like I told my sister, I feel just fine.”

“Billy,” Nate said. His voice was heavy with warning.

“Fuck you,” said Billy. “I’m not married to you. And if anyone doesn’t belong here it’s you. You’re not family.”

“I’m the sheriff,” Nate replied. “And in case you’ve forgotten, your father and my father were best friends.”

Billy nodded. “That’s right, Nate,” he said. “That’s right. Thank you for reminding me about that.” He tapped his temple with his finger. “I forget things sometimes, you know?”

“Stop picking on your brother, Celeste,” said Ada.

“Pick on him?” Celeste objected. “He’s the one who’s—”

“Celeste,” said Nate, stopping her.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Celeste said. “Maybe you should go lie down.”

“Maybe,” said Ada. “Maybe I will at that.”

She stood up. Celeste steadied her. “Let me help you, Mom,” she said.

“I’m fine, Celeste,” Ada answered. “Just let me be.”

Billy watched as his mother left the kitchen. As soon as she was gone, Celeste turned to him. “You’re high, aren’t you?”

“What difference does it make?” Billy said.

“For one thing, it’s illegal,” Celeste told him.

“Illegal?” said Billy. He laughed. “You’ve been married to that one for too long,” he told his sister, indicating Nate with a wave of his hand. “And it wasn’t all that long ago that neither of you cared about it being illegal yourselves.”

“That was a little pot,” Celeste replied. “What you’re doing is a lot worse.”

“Right,” said Billy, nodding.

“Mom doesn’t need you being fucked up right now, Billy,” Celeste said.

“Maybe not,” Billy agreed. He looked his sister in the eyes. “But maybe it’s what I need.”

Celeste shook her head. “Can’t you arrest him?” she asked her husband.

“Both of you need to pull it together,” said Nate. “This is just going to get worse.”

“Don’t worry,” Billy told him. “Didn’t you hear? James is coming.”

“I’m serious, Billy,” Celeste said. “Once this gets out, everyone’s going to be looking at us. I don’t want them thinking…” She stopped, and turned to look out the window.

“Think what?” Billy asked her. “Think what, Celeste?” he repeated when his sister didn’t reply.

“You know what,” Celeste said quietly. “You know what, Billy.”

Billy stood up. He swayed slightly as his head pounded. “Here’s a news flash for you, big sister. They already think it.”

He made his way out of the kitchen and into the bathroom that was off the hall leading to the living room. After shutting the door behind him, he slumped to the floor and sat there, his back against the side of the tub. The tile in the bathroom was pale pink. It hadn’t changed since he was a kid. Sitting in there with the door closed, it felt like being inside a womb, small and closed in and safe.

He shut his eyes. They’d found his father. His father who had supposedly killed himself seven years ago but who now it seemed had been murdered. It seemed like he should feel something—sadness, anger, rage, anything. Instead, he just felt numb. Not that that was anything new. He had perfected achieving a state of total disinterest in everything.

The throbbing in his head had subsided to a dull pain. Through the door he could hear the voices of Celeste and Nate, faint as the droning of bees. Beside him warm air blew up through the vent in the floor, the breath of the oil furnace hibernating in its basement cave. It felt good to be warm; he was almost always cold. But not here, in the pink bathroom, away from everything.

He curled himself into a ball beside the tub, his head resting on the mat. And for the first time in days, he slept.