Billy's Bones (26 page)

Billy shrugged. “He can get another one. But I sure as hell can’t go back there tonight.”

Kevin could understand that, but when Billy asked, “Can we go to your house?” he was hesitant. He’d brought Billy to his house a few times, but he didn’t like to bring those two parts of his life together, his home life and Billy. And he didn’t like the way his father looked at Billy. Mr. Derocher was always polite and friendly to the boy, but there was something… hungry in his eyes when Billy was around. Billy thought he was just a “really cool dad,” because he was so friendly.

But the rain was getting heavier, and there was nowhere else to go, so Kevin said, “Sure.”

K
EVIN
’
S
mother was away for the night, visiting her sister in Maine, but his father would be getting home soon. They would have the house to themselves for a while. But when Billy grabbed him in the entry hall and kissed him, slipping a hand down inside the back of Kevin’s pants, Kevin pulled away.

“Not here.”

“No,” Billy agreed. “We can go up to your bedroom.”

Kevin shook his head. They’d never done it there, and he didn’t want to do it someplace that made him think of… him. “My dad’ll be home soon. I know a better place.”

He took Billy out to the gardening shed. Despite the rain, it wasn’t very cold, and Kevin’s mother had placed a kerosene heater and a radio in the shed for use when she retreated there. Kevin turned on the heater, and Billy switched the classical station on the radio to one playing Top 40 songs. Then Billy grabbed Kevin and pulled him close again. This time, Kevin didn’t resist.

They were naked and not really paying attention to anything but each other when Kevin heard something that made his blood run cold—his father’s voice. “Well, it looks like you two are having fun.”

Kevin and Billy exploded apart, both looking at the man with horror while they clutched at their crotches with their hands in a desperate attempt to cover themselves. Mr. Derocher didn’t seem angry. He was standing in the open doorway, rain pouring down behind him and water dripping off his raincoat and fedora as he regarded them both with an amused expression.

“Don’t panic,” he said softly. “You’re not in any trouble.”

When he entered and closed the door behind him, however, Kevin knew they were in for far worse than a scolding. They’d left their clothes near the door, and Mr. Derocher positioned himself so they’d have to go past him to get dressed. Billy attempted it, but Kevin’s father blocked him.

“There’s no hurry,” he said. His voice sounded warm and pleasant, but Kevin could see that… look in his eyes. The one he always had when he came to Kevin’s room late at night.

Billy stopped, uncertain. He glanced at Kevin, but Kevin couldn’t look him in the eye.

I knew this would happen
, Kevin thought, feeling sick inside.
I knew it! It had to happen sooner or later if I kept letting him come to the house. Why did I let him come here?

“I should go home,” Billy mumbled and made another attempt to reach for his clothes in the pile behind Mr. Derocher.

Kevin’s father stopped him with a gentle touch to the shoulder. Billy flinched away from it, but Mr. Derocher acted as though he didn’t notice. “You’re a very beautiful boy, Billy. Very handsome.”

“What are you? Some kind of—” Billy stopped himself before completing the sentence, perhaps because he didn’t want to upset Kevin by calling his father names.

But Kevin knew the word he’d been about to say:
pervert
.

Mr. Derocher laughed softly. “I just caught you having gay sex with my son. Don’t you think we’re all a little…?” He left the word unsaid, just as Billy had.

No!
Kevin thought, pleading silently for Billy to stand up to the man Kevin had never been able to stand up to.
It’s different! Tell him!

But Billy just stood there, apparently too confused to know how to react. He’d told Kevin that he liked Mr. Derocher, that he wished he could live with Kevin’s family instead of with the monster who passed for his own father. Kevin had wanted to tell him then, to warn him. But he’d been afraid Billy would think he was a freak and not want to be his friend anymore. Now it was too late.

“I think all men get turned on by other men,” Mr. Derocher continued good-naturedly. “At least a little. It’s part of our nature. Some parents might be upset to catch a boy… playing with their son the way you were. They might call your dad to come get you.”

At the mention of his father, Billy flinched visibly. Kevin had always thought of Billy as big and strong—he was at least an inch taller than Kevin—but Mr. Derocher was a tall man with broad shoulders, and he towered over Billy, making him look small and helpless by comparison.

“But I’m not like most parents. I know that boys need to touch each other. I have no problem with that. You and Kevin can use this shed whenever you like, as long as his mom doesn’t find out. Women never understand these things.”

Kevin felt himself flush with embarrassment, but Billy seemed to be falling for his father’s smooth, easygoing manner and said, “Cool.”

But Kevin knew that wasn’t the end of it. His father wouldn’t just turn around and leave them. It never happened that way, no matter what he promised. And this time was no exception. Mr. Derocher smiled down at Billy and asked, “Now don’t you think I deserve a little something for being so understanding?”

Billy’s brief expression of relief quickly flipped back to nervousness. “What?”

“That’s only fair, isn’t it? After all, I’m taking a risk by allowing this. Imagine what it would do to my career, if people found out that I allowed boys to have sex with my son?”

Billy’s voice was small when he asked, “What do you want?”

“Nothing bad. I just want to touch you.”

Perhaps unconsciously, Billy gripped his left wrist with his right hand, bringing them together defensively in front of his naked crotch.

Kevin couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to
do
something—anything! “Dad, no, you can—”

“Don’t look frightened,” Mr. Derocher cajoled Billy, ignoring his son. “It won’t hurt. We’re all friends, aren’t we? Tell you what, I can even give you a little money for it. How about twenty dollars? You could use that, couldn’t you?”

Kevin saw some of the toughness he admired so much in Billy come back into the boy’s expression, but it was moving in the wrong direction now. He appeared to have stopped resisting and was thinking about how to turn the situation to his advantage. “Okay, sure. If you give me the money first.”

Don’t…. You don’t know how he is….

The sick feeling in the pit of Kevin’s stomach grew stronger as he watched his father draw a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet and hand it to Billy. This time, Billy was allowed to step past Mr. Derocher so he could place the money in his pants pocket.

Kevin couldn’t watch what happened after that. He ended up sitting on the pile of clothes, not daring to leave or even get dressed, but unable to look directly at the scene unfolding in front of him. He’d pretended so many times in the past that what his father did to him was really happening to some other boy, but he’d never wanted that boy to be Billy. Billy had been
his
. He’d been the only part of Kevin’s life that wasn’t filthy.
God, why didn’t I tell him he couldn’t come over?

Why didn’t I
warn
him?

Kevin held trembling hands against his ears, trying to block the sounds, but he could still hear too much.

He wasn’t quite sure when his father began pushing Billy too far. He became aware that some sort of struggle was going on and when he could bring himself to look, Mr. Derocher was on top of Billy, trying to kiss him. The man’s pants were down around his knees.

“Okay,” Billy was saying, his voice beginning to sound frightened, “that’s enough.”

“I paid you, Billy.”

“Please get off me.”

Kevin’s father had both of Billy’s arms pinned to the plywood floor of the shed. “I’ll pay you a little more.”

“No—”

“Ten dollars.”

“I don’t want any more—”

“Twenty!”

“No!”

Kevin watched in horror as Billy started kicking his legs and one ankle came down hard on the back of Mr. Derocher’s thigh. Kevin’s father flinched, but he didn’t let go. “Goddamn it!” he snarled, angrier than Kevin had ever seen him. “That fucking hurt!”

“Kevin!”

At the sound of Billy calling out to him, Kevin rose to his feet, but his father shouted, “Stay out of this, Kevin!”

Kevin froze in place. His eyes met Billy’s, and he saw the growing fear there as Billy realized things were no longer in his control.

“Kevin, help!”

Kevin stood there terrified as the rain beat against the tin roof of the shed and a brief surge of static almost drowned out the song on the radio. Then Billy screamed in pain as Mr. Derocher thrust forward, and Kevin clutched at his ears, as if he could stop what was happening if only he could block out the sound.

“Don’t,” he sobbed. “Don’t, don’t, don’t—”

“Shut up, both of you! You don’t fucking lead me on, Billy, and then—”

“Kevin!”

Mr. Derocher yanked one of Billy’s arms across his face and leaned his own muscular forearm directly on Billy’s throat. “Shut the
fuck
up!”

Billy was choking now, unable to call for help. What little of his face Kevin could see was turning red as Billy kicked wildly at Mr. Derocher’s legs and backside.

“Dad!” Tears were streaming down Kevin’s face now. “Stop! He can’t breathe!”

“Go sit down!”

Kevin remembered the jackknife in Billy’s pants.
No….
He forced himself not to think too far ahead as he went back to sit on the clothes and tried to feel around for the knife without his father noticing.
I can’t….

A song Billy liked—“Kyrie” by Mr. Mister—began to play on the radio as Kevin’s hands closed on the knife.
I can’t….

Billy’s legs had stopped kicking and were only moving slightly, but Mr. Derocher didn’t seem to notice.

“Daddy, you’re choking him!”

“Kevin… if you don’t… be quiet….”

Kyrie Eleison down the road that I must travel….

As if he were dreaming, Kevin opened the jackknife, still keeping it out of sight. His father wasn’t really looking at him anyway. The man didn’t even notice when Kevin stood up and slowly moved toward him. It was as if Kevin’s body was disconnected from his mind. While his thoughts kept screaming at him to stop, at his father to stop, at the
world
to stop… still he kept moving forward, the metal and plastic inlay of the knife handle growing slippery in his sweaty hand.

This isn’t happening.
But he told himself that every time his father came to his room. It never worked. It always
was
happening.

Kevin no longer dared to call out to his father. The man was beyond listening to his pleas, and it would alert him to the fact that Kevin was standing over him now, gripping the knife tightly.
I can’t do this….

At that moment, his father grunted and stopped moving. The sound of electric guitars and synthesizers came to an abrupt halt, and Billy’s head rolled to the side, eyes blank and staring lifelessly into Kevin’s eyes, while the singers on the radio chanted:

Kyrie Eleison down the road where I must travel!

Kyrie Eleison through the darkness of the night!

Kevin half screamed and half sobbed as he realized he was too late.

“What the fuck?” Mr. Derocher panted, groggily, as if coming out of a deep sleep. He whipped around to see his son standing near him, and a split second later his eyes fell on the hand holding the knife. “Jesus!”

Some instinct for self-preservation took over, and he kicked out hard with his leg. It was still tangled in one leg of his pants, but he was able to connect hard enough with Kevin’s hip to send the boy flying across the small room. Kevin smashed into the plywood wall, and the knife flew out of his hand. But he didn’t care about the knife anymore. “You killed him,” he choked out, the tears coming again.

Mr. Derocher stared slack-jawed at his son and at the knife on the floor, back and forth, as if he couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. Then he turned to look at Billy and whispered, “Billy….”

He tried to get to his feet, but his pants tripped him and dropped him down hard on his knees. He scrambled across the dirty wooden floor on all fours and shook Billy by the shoulder. When the boy didn’t respond, Mr. Derocher slapped him hard on the face. “Billy!”

He checked Billy’s pulse but apparently didn’t find one because he dropped the boy’s wrist and began performing CPR. For the next several minutes, Kevin watched his father’s frantic fumbling as he tried to revive Billy, but Kevin knew it was hopeless. He’d seen Billy’s eyes—the same eyes he’d always secretly thought were pretty, though he could never say so to Billy. They weren’t pretty now. They were cold and dull and empty.

Mr. Derocher finally gave up his useless attempt at CPR and sat back, staring at Billy’s naked dead body in horror. Only gradually did he seem to become aware of the choking sobs coming from his son, and he looked at Kevin with pleading eyes. “It was an accident.”

Kevin was sobbing too much to answer him.

“You can’t tell anyone about this, Kevin,” his father said as he slowly got to his feet and pulled his pants up. “They’ll arrest us and lock us away!”

“Us?”

“I’ll go to prison, and they’ll lock you up in juvenile detention. Then who’ll take care of your mom?”

Kevin stared back at him in stunned silence. That wasn’t true… was it? Would the police think it was
his
fault?

It
is
my fault!
If he hadn’t brought Billy here, none of this would have happened.