Risking It All Page 22

He didn’t follow her. She served dessert to everyone and sat back at the table. She was upset so she reported what had happened.

  “I really think he needs something stronger than therapy,” Grace said. “They have these therapeutic schools where they have a lot of success straightening kids out.”

  “He’s not a juvenile delinquent, Grace. He’s an unhappy boy.”

  “I think they help with that too.”

  “Didn’t Dr. Benson suggest something like that?” Jeff asked carefully.

  “Yes, but for the summer, a camp not a school.” She paused. “I’ve been giving that a lot of thought and I think we may have to try something like that. So now, let’s talk about something else, okay?” She wanted to turn the conversation away from kids and problems and toward work and politics, but with Grace that was always a little hard. She still worked, although not full-time, and she claimed she liked her job, but nothing interested her as much as her children—Stephie, now five, and Petey, the baby, who always had some new issue she could talk about: he didn’t sleep, he slept too much, he didn’t reach some arbitrary developmental milestone that it was clear to Marcia he would meet in a few weeks, but Grace was worried. So Marcia just let the conversation go where the others led, which meant some whispered analysis of Danny’s behavior that she suffered in silence, some sympathy for Jeff, some shared anxiety about Danny with Marcia. When they finally said good night, she was glad to see them go.

  There hadn’t been much wine consumed, and Marcia and Jeff finished the bottle between them. Their problems became less clear, fuzzier around the edges, and Jeff was so handsome and he looked at her in that old way in which she could see how much he wanted her. She looked away, but her cheeks flushed. She wanted him too. She looked at him, pushing the hair out of her eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he said. She didn’t answer and he didn’t press her. She asked him about his cases and he told her about one he was having some trouble with. He asked her how her work was going and she told him about the new book she had discussed with Brynn about relationships. They were on the verge of crossing a threshold but neither could take the final step. At last, tired, she got up. Slowly, she started to load the dishwasher. Jeff joined her and they finished the table and counter together. He looked a little unsure of himself and it touched her—he so rarely looked that way.

  “Well,” he said, stifling a yawn, “I guess it’s time to go to bed.” He started walking toward the guest room and she walked with him, stopping at the door to the master bedroom.

  “Good night,” he said.

  “Do you want to sleep here?” she asked softly.

  “You know I do. But only if you want me to.”

  “I want you to.”

  They were tentative, they were considerate, they were gentle with each other, and their lovemaking wasn’t what it once was, but they had broken a barrier and they both knew it. She laid in his arms for a few minutes, allowing herself to feel comforted. “I’m falling asleep,” he murmured. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” she whispered almost mechanically, but he was already breathing deeply and she wasn’t sure he heard her. They had always ended their lovemaking with those words, she thought. But did she? she wondered. She thought she knew the answer. In spite of everything, she still did.

  She couldn’t sleep. She was hopeful about Jeff but very worried about Danny. After tossing and turning for a while she got out of bed and tiptoed to his room a few doors down the hall. She could see that the light was off and assuming he was sleeping, she was about to go back to her bedroom when she heard a sound inside his room. She put her ear to the door. He was crying. It was unmistakable. She hesitated only a few seconds and then knocked softly and opened the door. He was lying in bed and buried his head in his pillow when he saw her, trying to stifle his sobs. She sat on his bed. “Danny, please, tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll help you. I’ll be on your side. Just tell me.” She gently removed the pillow and saw his tear-stained face and red eyes.

  “I miss my ma,” he said. “I need to talk to her.” His sobs had subsided but now they returned stronger than before.

  “I know you miss her. I know I can never take her place, Danny, but is it so impossible to talk to me instead? I was her friend. She’d want you to talk to me if she wasn’t here.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Okay, Danny, if you can’t, you can’t. But maybe you can still talk to her. You believe in God, don’t you? I know your mom took you to church sometimes.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So your mom is in heaven and she’s watching you. She can hear you. Talk to her. Maybe you’ll hear what she says. It will be like a voice inside your head, like your own thoughts.”

  “You really think she could hear me?”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  He nodded. “I’ll try.”

  She patted his arm and bent down to kiss his cheek.

  “Give me a chance one time, Danny. I might be smarter than I look.”

  He smiled at this and rubbed his eyes. She smiled back. She had lied. She didn’t believe his mom could hear him. But if ever there was such a thing as a white lie, she told herself, that was it. It seemed to be what he needed.

  29

  In the weeks that passed after the family returned from Woodstock, Danny’s behavior didn’t improve. Marcia was called into school twice to discuss problems he was having: homework not turned in even though she had seen him finish it and put it in his backpack, rudeness to this or that teacher, even missing school without permission. One teacher said he insisted on mimicking everything anyone in the class said, including the teacher. “Stop it now, Danny,” the teacher had said.

  “Stop it now, Danny,” Danny had reiterated, imitating the tone as well as the words.

  “I mean it.”

  “I mean it,” he shot back.

  “If this doesn’t stop this instant I’m sending you to the principal’s office.”

  “If this doesn’t stop this instant—” But before he could finish she had grabbed his arm and physically pulled him out of the classroom. He was growing fast and was bigger and probably stronger than his sixty-year-old teacher, so Marcia was grateful that he hadn’t fought back but submitted, at least in that respect, to her authority. But it was clear he was going through some passage that no one understood, and several extra meetings with Dr. Benson didn’t get them any further in pinpointing the source of this behavior. She had asked Dr. Benson about camp recommendations and was reading brochures and speaking to the different program directors.

  After the mimicking incident at school Marcia asked Danny to sit down in the living room with her for a talk. She chose a more formal room in the hope that he would not feel too comfortable, that he would realize this was serious business. Her tone was not full of compassion and understanding this time. She was both frustrated and furious. “What do you think you are up to, Danny? You told me a few weeks ago that you miss your mother. Do you think it would make her happy to see the way you’re acting? She would be ashamed. She would tell you that this is not how she raised you.”

  “I tried doing what you said. But she didn’t answer. Not even in my head like you said.”

  “Sometimes you have to keep trying.”

  He looked at the floor, his face angry and disbelieving. She tried again.

  “Look, Danny, we were all devastated by your mother’s death and especially you, of course, I understand that. But there’s one way she still lives—the only way people get to live after they die. And that’s through how she is remembered and what she has accomplished. You were her greatest achievement. She was so proud of you and so hopeful for your future. What you’re doing now doesn’t just hurt you, it hurts her memory. Do you want to do that?”

  He sniffed hard. “No.” His voice was barely audible and several emotions that she couldn’t read played around his face.

  “Say it louder. Do you want to do that?”

  “No!” he screamed. “I don’t know wh
at’s wrong with me. I can’t help myself.”

  “Okay, then let me help you. Tell me what is bothering you. Do you even know?”

  “You can’t help me. No one can help me.” He ran to his room and slammed the door.

  He and Jeff were doing better together, and even under these difficult circumstances Jeff was still trying much harder to get along with Danny. But Marcia still tried to keep Jeff from knowing about many of the infractions Danny was accused of. There was no point in making it more difficult and she thought she was protecting both of them by this course. But Jeff couldn’t help seeing the sullen behavior at home and Danny’s general alienation and unhappiness. He pressed hard for them to choose the camp and to pick one that lasted for the entire summer break. Dr. Benson supported this and one evening, over dinner, Marcia mentioned it to Danny. She feared he’d be upset, feel rejected, worry that it was a step in getting rid of him, but he surprised her.

  “Where is this place?” he asked.

  “It’s in the country.”

  “No, but where? Is it Woodstock?”

  “No,” Jeff said. “The one we think would be best is in Maine. We would go up to visit you and take you out for a lobster dinner. I don’t think you ever ate a lobster, did you?”

  “No, I’ve seen it. It looks disgusting.”

  “Well, we’ll see,” Marcia said.

  “How far away is it?”

  “You mean how long does it take to get there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “A long time. Maybe eight or nine hours’ drive. But you go in a bus with the other kids and sing songs and tell stories and it’s fun,” Marcia said.

  “Sing songs?” Danny asked with a frown.

  “Okay,” Marcia said, laughing. “You don’t have to sing songs. I just meant it’s fun.”

  After a brief pause Danny responded. “Okay,” he said. “That’s good. When can I go?”

  Marcia was so surprised she didn’t answer right away. “July first to August thirtieth,” Jeff said. “You come back right before school starts again.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that long,” Marcia said. “We can see how you do.”

  “No, that’s good. That’s good,” Danny repeated.

  Jeff looked at her after Danny left to watch TV. “Well, that was a surprise. He wants to go. Much easier than I thought it would be.”

  “Yeah. Maybe too easy. I don’t know why.”

  “Just don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Jeff said. “This is what he needs and what we need too.”

  “Yeah … Maybe you’re right…”

  The next day was one of Marcia’s work-at-home days so she was there when Danny came home from school. He seemed particularly edgy when he arrived, refused a snack, barely said hello to Griffin and went straight to his room. What now? she thought, surmising that he’d probably had another incident at school and was in trouble again. She stood outside his door. “You might as well tell me what happened,” she said. “You know I’m going to find out.” He didn’t answer but he did come to the door and open it. “I didn’t do nothing, Marcia,” he said.

  “Why do you say it like that when I know you know the right way to speak?” she asked. “Is it tougher or do you think it makes you cooler?”

  He shrugged.

  “I didn’t say you did anything, by the way. I just wondered why you seem even more nervous today than usual.”

  He looked down, his face working as if he was torn between wanting to say something and wanting not to. “I just got nervous because that cop who always comes here was on the corner when I came in. He looked at me funny.”

  “Did you say hello to him?”

  “No.”

  “So maybe he looked at you because he knows you and he wanted to greet you. These cops are supposed to get to know their neighborhood. He seems like a pretty nice guy. He brought you home three times.”

  The phone rang. “Hello,” Marcia said. “Oh, sure, please send him up.”

  Danny looked at the door, as though he wanted to run out of it. He looked scared.

  “That was the doorman,” Marcia said. “There’s a cop downstairs who wants to come up. It’s probably him.”

  “Why does he always bother me?” Danny asked, looking nervous.

  “He doesn’t, he … oh, never mind, there’s the door.”

  Danny ran back to his room as Marcia opened the door. Standing there was indeed the same cop who had come three times before. This time, though, he seemed a little uncomfortable and slightly more formal. “May I come in?” he asked.

  “Yes, of course, Officer. Please do.”

  “There was a moment’s silence. “Well,” Marcia said uncomfortably. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’d like to speak to Danny,” he said.

  Marcia frowned. “Of course, I’ll get him. Can you tell me what this is about?”

  “I just have a few questions to ask him.”

  “Has he done something wrong?”

  “It’s just an investigation we think he may be able to help us with.”

  “An investigation of what?”

  “I think it would be better if I could speak directly to him first.”

  “He’s a minor so I believe you need my permission to talk to him and I need to be present when you do.”

  “Yes, of course. But he isn’t under investigation himself. We just think he might be able to lead us to someone else.”

  “I don’t see how that would be possible. He doesn’t know many people. He just goes to school and comes home every day.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I know. Would you mind if I talked to him for a few minutes?”

  She hesitated, still nervous about what this would lead to, but she called Danny and told him someone wanted to speak to him. Her worry increased when he came out of his room. He walked slowly, his shoulders hunched, his gaze everywhere but at them. He looked scared but she had to admit that he also looked guilty. She hoped it was just nervousness at being sought out by a policeman but she had her doubts.

  “Danny, this policeman’s name is … I’m sorry, Officer, I don’t know your name.”

  “It’s Kellicut, ma’am. Mick Kellicut.”

  She nodded. “Officer Kellicut wants to ask you some questions. Is that okay?”

  Danny shrugged, still avoiding looking directly at anyone.

  “Why don’t we sit down?” she asked, leading them into the living room.

  Officer Kellicut was tall and wiry, with dark brown hair cut very short, hazel eyes and a slim physique. He was youthful, probably around thirty-two, but looked even younger, and he prided himself on the rapport he was able to develop with the kids on his beat and in his life. “Hey, buddy, how’s it goin’?” he said, taking a seat on the wing chair.

  “Good.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. No more problems at school?”

  Danny shrugged again.

  Marcia waited impatiently for these warm-up pleasantries to end so he’d get to the reason he was there. She was seated next to Danny on the sofa.

  “So, Danny, you see much of Raul these days?”

  Raul? Marcia thought. Surely he couldn’t be in trouble.

  “No,” Danny said.

  “You know now that they’re in different schools, they don’t have a chance to get together,” Marcia offered.

  Mick Kellicut nodded. “Yeah, and I hear his mom doesn’t allow him to see Danny anymore, right, Danny?”

  Marcia stiffened. “I don’t think that’s true,” she said. “They were best friends. Then they had a fight about something but I think they’re friends again.” She looked at Danny for confirmation but he didn’t look up. “We just haven’t had a chance to arrange a date for them lately.”

  “Danny?” Mick prodded. “Didn’t you tell your mother?”

  “She’s not my mother.”

  “Right. Sorry. Didn’t you tell Marcia?”

  He just shook his head and kept looking at the floor. He pretty much knew
what was coming.

  Mick addressed Marcia directly. “I’ve just come from talking to Raul’s mother,” he said. “She was afraid that since Danny got expelled from Claremont a friendship with him would have a bad effect on Raul.”

  “Well,” Marcia said, irritated and insulted on Danny’s behalf, “she might have discussed that with me and let me know. That would have been very hard on Danny.” She turned to him. “I know that must have hurt your feelings, but I wish you would have told me. I don’t think she did the right thing. I know how much you must miss him.”

  “But Danny saw Raul anyway, right, Danny?”

  Danny didn’t answer.

  “Danny? Did you?” Marcia asked. “It’s okay. Just tell the truth.”

  Very slowly, trapped and seeing no way out, Danny nodded.

  “How many times?”

  “A few.”

  “But when? How? How did you even get there?”

  Danny was about to answer but the officer interrupted.

  “I’m not here about that. You can take that up with him later. But what I want to know is if you ever saw Raul’s brother Julio at his house?”

  No answer.

  “Did you?”

  No answer.

  “Danny, you have to answer,” Marcia said. She turned to the cop. “No one ever told me Raul had a brother. I doubt Danny even knew about that.”

  “Oh, Danny knew. When Raul’s mother was working Julio would come over sometimes—secretly, because he was forbidden to be there when she wasn’t—and if Danny was visiting, Julio would hang out with the boys. They did that while Danny was still at Claremont. What I want to know is if Danny saw him again after that.”

  “Why didn’t she allow him to be there without her? Her own son?”

  “He’s her husband’s son, not hers. He’d recently done some time in jail and she wanted to protect Raul from his influence.” He turned to Danny. “Listen, Danny, I know you’re not a bad kid. And I’m guessing you saw Julio and maybe he made you promise not to tell. But he’s in bad trouble and if you don’t tell, you’ll be in trouble too. When did you see him last?”

  “I don’t know. A long time ago. I don’t remember.” He was getting flustered and tears were beginning to cloud his eyes. Marcia moved closer to him and put her arm around him. “Danny, it’s okay. Just tell us and you won’t be in any trouble.”