Evolution (3 page)

“I hope you’ll find yo
ur room acceptable,” he added.

“I was about to take Jeff up to see it,” Richard said.

“Dinner is at seven tonight,” the old lady said, and then turned back to her book.

Richard nodded toward the hall, and I followed him to a huge staircase that opened up into a cathedral ceiling.
The floors around it were marble—like in a museum or a fancy hotel, not that I’d ever been to either.

I followed Richard up the stairs. He paused at the landing. All the doors but one were closed.

“This room on the right is my grandfather’s bedroom. Next to it is my grandmother’s room.”

“They don’t sleep together?”

“No. Here’s my room.”

We walked on.

“And this will be your room.” The door was open. Richard stood back and let me enter.

Compared to all the other rooms I’d seen, it was small, with just a bed, a dresser,
a small desk, and a straight-backed chair. I opened one door and found the closet. The other door had hidden a bathroom that seemed almost as big as my new bedroom.

“Sorry, but we have to share a bathroom,” Richard apologized.

So? I’d shared a bathroom with my mother. What did it matter?

“I’ll move some of my things around so you can have your own space.”

Space for what? All I had was a worn toothbrush.

Curtis arrived with all the bags from the car and set them on the bed.
“Would you like help putting your things away?” he asked.

“No, thank you.”
I didn’t want him to see my crappy stuff or how little there was of it.

Curtis gave me a nod and a smile and retreated.

Richard backed into the bathroom. “I’ll give you some privacy,” he said.

“Wait! You’re not going to take off and leave me here, are you?”

His answering smile was weak. “No. I don’t have to go back to work until Monday afternoon. We’ll have plenty of time to do what has to be done and get to know one another.”

“Thanks,” I said, although I felt anything but grateful.

Richard nodded and pulled the bathroom door closed.

Silence surrounded me. I looked around that cold unfriendly room and tried hard to swallow down the lump that swelled in my throat.

It took me less than five minutes to dump my stuff into the drawers. A small electric clock sat on the desk. I had ninety minutes to kill before dinner was served. Something told me it would be a terrible meal—not only the company, but maybe baked fish and boiled vegetables. I shuddered at the thought.

I sat on the bed and looked through the window at the sky, which would soon start to darken.
A tear leaked out of my left eye; it was only the first of what I knew would be a flood. I curled up on the bed, buried my face in the hard pillow, and at last gave into my grief.

***

SHOOTING HOOPS

Richard pulled the Porsche to a halt in front of the three-car garage—what his grandmother insisted on calling the carriage house—and cut the engine. After yet another exhausting shift at the hospital, he had two days off in a row. Two whole days and no one to spend them with. He’d lose half the day catching up on sleep, but his evening was still free. Maybe he’d call Tracy to see if she was free for dinner. And then he opened the car door, got out, and saw Jeff sitting on the back steps and his spirits plummeted.

The kid sat with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands, looking absolutely miserable.

Richard crossed the drive to the house. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Was he in trouble … again? He hadn’t made it through the first day at his new school without playing punching bag for a couple of senior-class bullies.

Jeff looked up at him. “It’s Sunday.”

“Oh.” He waited for the kid to elaborate, but he wasn’t exactly loquacious. “Anything wrong?”

Jeff shrugged.
“There’s nothing to do. There’s never anything to do around here.”

“Do you have homework?”

“It’s done. Even a project for extra credit.”

“Great.” Now what could they talk about?

“Now that you’re home, I guess I’ll have to be quiet all day while you sleep.”

“You haven’t woken me yet.”

“I try to be quiet. I’m not a prick, ya know.”

“You’ve been very thoughtful. I appreciate it; thanks.”

The kid merely shrugged.

“Well, I’m bushed. I’ll see you later.”

“I guess,” Jeff muttered morosely.

Richard stepped around him and entered the house.
After hanging up his coat, he entered the kitchen to find Curtis sitting at the kitchen table playing a game of Solitaire.

“Good morning, Mr. Richard.”

“Hey, Curtis.”

“Hello, sir. Would you like some breakfast?” Helen asked.
She had a roast on the counter ready to go into the oven.

“Toast and orange juice would be nice, thank you.”

Helen nodded and hauled out the toaster.

Richard took a seat opposite Curtis.
“I saw Jeff sitting on the step. He looks pretty bored.”

“There isn’t much to keep him occupied,” Curtis said, turning over a seven of hearts and placing it on the eight of clubs. “A boy with nothing to do could find himself in trouble someday.”

“Jeff’s a good kid,” Richard bluffed. He spent so little time with the kid, he really had no idea. But so far no one but his grandmother had complained about the boy.

Curtis nodded. “Quiet with good manners.
I’d hate for that to change.”

Helen set a glass of juice in front of Richard. He looked up at her and smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, but was tight-lipped. She’d made it clear she wasn’t happy when feeding an additional mouth was added to her workload, not that the kid seemed to eat all that much. “Will you be joining us for dinner, sir?”

Sunday dinner was served at two. “Perhaps.”

Helen nodded and returned to the counter just as the toast popped up. She got out a knife to butter it.

“The boy likes basketball,” Curtis offered and turned over the ace of spades, setting it above the rest of the cards.

Richard took a sip of his juice. “So?”

“It might be nice if he could play some one-on-one with you once in a while, and when you be working—on his own.”

“I don’t play basketball.”

“You could learn,” Curtis said pointedly. “That boy needs a friend. Just because you’re his brother don’t mean you can’t be his friend.”

Helen plunked the plate in front of Richard. “Sorry, sir.” She turned back for her roast.

“Where would one get a backboard and a couple of balls?”

“The big sports store on Transit Road sells that kind of stuff.”

“Would they come out and mount it on the garage?”

“If they don’t, I bet they’d know who would.”

Across the way, Helen grunted in disapproval. Richard ignored her.
“Are they open on Sundays?”

Curtis turned over another card, inspected the layout, and placed it on the discard pile. “Yup.”

“I know it’s your afternoon off, but would you be willing to go to the store and arrange it?”

“I could do that, but once it’s up, it would mean more if you let the boy come to you.”

Richard took a bite of toast, chewed, and swallowed. “What do you mean?” Obviously Curtis had put a lot of thought into this suggestion. As Richard hadn’t made much headway in connecting with the kid—and they were stuck with each other for the foreseeable future—he was inclined to listen.

“Jeffrey’s a boy who ain’t never had nothing. A boy who know’d better than to ever ask for anything ’cause he knew what the answer would be.
Might be time for him to learn better.”

“Did he tell you this?”

“Shit, no. That boy don’t speak unless he’s spoken to.”

“So, what should I do?”

“Don’t say, ‘here, go play.’ You should shoot some baskets—wait for him to ask if he can play with you. That is if you want that boy to ever care about you.”

Richard chewed his toast and swallowed. “My job makes it hard.”

“Ain’t nothing worth having comes easy,” Curtis said, turning over his last card.

Richard thought about his plan to call Tracy and reconsidered. He drained his glass and stood. “I guess I need to spend a bit more time with Jeff.”

“Sure wouldn’t hurt,” Curtis said and gathered the cards into a pile, straightening them into a stack before shuffling them.

“I guess I’ll go have a quick talk with him.”

Curtis nodded and began to lay out the cards once again.

Not bothering to grab his coat, Richard crossed the kitchen to the butler’s pantry and opened the back door.

Jeff hadn’t moved, still staring at nothing.

Richard stuffed his hands into his pants pockets.
“Hey, kid, you want to go for a hamburger or something tonight?”

Jeff turned and looked up at him.
“You mean it?”

“Yeah.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “Okay.”

Richard nodded.
“All right. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.”

Jeff turned back to gaze at the garage once more, but this time sat a little straighter. How pitiful was it that the lure of something to look forward to—even a lousy burger—held so much allure?

Richard reentered the house and paused to speak to Curtis. “Offer to pay whatever they want to get that backboard up as soon as possible.”

Curtis grinned.

#

The hamburger outing couldn’t be called much of a success. Although Jeff had lived at the Alpert abode for six weeks, the brothers hadn’t talked much since the weekend they’d buried their mother. Richard’s schedule was erratic and they’d passed each other coming and going with little interaction. They’d long ago run out of idle chit-chat.

The backboard did go up on that Monday. Again Richard nixed plans to call Tracy and stood out in the driveway tossing balls at the basket and missing miserably, but Jeff didn’t come out to join him.

When he was home, Richard practiced shots every time he had an opportunity during the next nine days, but it wasn’t until the tenth day that Jeff shambled out the back door to join him in front of the garage. Richard dribbled the ball and made a layup shot that danced around the rim, then—incredibly—fell off without making a score. The ball bounced once and then rolled away.

“Boy, you’re really lousy at the game.”

“I suppose you can do better?” Richard challenged.

“Maybe.”

Richard retrieved the ball and tossed it to Jeff, who dribbled it like he meant business and then made a shot. “Two points!” he called, sounding pleased as the ball fell through the net.

“Show off.
Bet you can’t do it again,” Richard taunted.

“Bet you I can. Bet I can free throw ten in a row without missing.”

“Bet you can’t.”

“How much?”

“You miss, you wash my car.”

“Okay, and if I win?”

“I’ll give you ten bucks.”

For the first time since they’d met, Jeff actually smiled. “You’re on.”
He motioned for Richard to move closer to the basket. “You better stand over there—that way you can catch the balls as they come through the net.”

“I’m betting I won’t have to catch too many.
And you know that washing the car includes waxing it, too.”

“Only if you up the ante and pay me two bucks a throw if I win.”

Up the ante? Who did this kid think he was? An NBA pro?

“You got it.”

Jeff took off his jacket, tossing it to the driveway. He took aim, threw the ball, and it arced straight into the basket.

“Lucky shot,” Richard called out as he caught the ball.

“Not luck; skill,” Jeff bragged and caught it when Richard threw.

Plunk, plunk, plunk the ball went.
Every time Jeff threw, the ball either kissed the rim or went straight through.

“Damn,” Richard said with a frown. “You actually did it.”

“You have no clue what I can do,” Jeff said and rubbed his fingers together. “Now pay up.”

Richard fished for his wallet and plucked a twenty from it, slapping it into Jeff’s waiting palm.
“What are you going to do with that? Blow it on something foolish?”

The smile that had brightened the boy’s features instantly evaporated. “No, I’m going to buy some new underwear and socks.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Richard asked.

Jeff grabbed the ball and began to dribble, averting his gaze. “No.”

Curtis’s words some ten days before came back to haunt him—that it was time for Jeff to learn to ask for what he needed.

“Jeff, you do know that as your guardian, I’m responsible for that kind of stuff.
If you need anything, all you have to do is ask.”

Jeff continued dribbling, but he wouldn’t look at Richard.

“We can go to the mall right now if you want.” But Jeff didn’t answer; just continued to dribble the damn ball. Finally, he pivoted and tossed the ball in Richard’s direction.

“I’ve got homework to do.” And without another word, he grabbed his jacket and stalked into the house.

The brief minutes of camaraderie they’d shared were history. Richard stared after his brother long after the door slammed shut.

He still had a long way to go before he’d gain the kid’s trust.

***