Gun Lake (19 page)

She wiped away tears she hadn’t even known were there. She sat back down on the hard couch and curled up in one corner, seeking some comfort.

Lord, if you’re planning to do something, now might be a good time
.

She was tired and needed rest. But it wouldn’t come. It wouldn’t come for a long time.

“COLLETTE, IT’S ME.”

“Why are you calling?”

“Come on,” Don said into the phone. “It’s been long enough.”

“We didn’t set a timetable on this.”

“Col, please.”

“This isn’t something that’s going to just pass over.”

“What’s that mean?”

“What’s it mean? It means that I’m not about to—I don’t
know
what it means. Except that I’m not coming back home. Not any time soon. Probably not ever.”

“Come on—”

“No, I’m serious. This isn’t a wake-up call. You’ve had enough of those. This isn’t a probation period. I’m done. It’s done.”

Don couldn’t believe this was the same woman he’d lived with for so many years—his wife and the mother of their two children. She sounded determined, hostile, resilient.

“Collette, I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.”

How was he supposed to talk when she said things like that? How could he come back from that?

“You’ve been sorry all your life. But your apologies don’t
mean
anything. To you, they’re just your trump cards, your get-out-of-jail-free passes. But it doesn’t work like that, Don. I’m tired. I’m just really, really tired of all of this.”

“Col—”

“No. No more apologies, no more excuses. No more trying.”

“And the boys?”

“They’re fine.”

“Can I talk to them?”

“They’re asleep.”

“I don’t want this thing getting out of hand,” Don said in a sigh.

“This ‘thing’ you’re talking about is already way out of hand. What ‘thing’ are you referring to? Our marriage? This argument?”

“All of it.”

“You still don’t get it, do you?”

“What?”

“‘What?’“ she said, repeating his bewildered response. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

“What don’t I get?”

“The reason I’m gone.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then tell me. Tell me why. Do you even know why?”

“’Cause of the—the drinking, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“No, I know.”

“You came home at midnight and decided to take a leak in the middle of our sons’ room. You remember that?”

Don didn’t know what to say. He didn’t remember it, didn’t even remember her yelling at him for it.

“You were so drunk out of your mind that you didn’t know which room was the bathroom and which room belonged to Jeff and Todd.”

“Listen, I—”

“No. You listen. The thing is, it could be something different. You could come home with one of those well-cleaned expensive guns you carry around and something really bad could happen—”

“I’d never—”

“Or.
Or
you could maybe get angry again, lose that temper of yours, and do something.”

“I’d never hurt the boys.”

“I’m not talking about the boys.”

“Col, I’d never hurt you either. You know that.”

“I don’t know anything about you. Not anymore. The guy I married—yeah, sure—but that guy is gone. Buried out in the lake somewhere.”

“I’ll stop drinking.”

“You’ve said that hundreds of times. More.”

“I will. I promise.”

“That means nothing.”

“What can I say?”

“You can’t say anything. You’ve already said enough. You’ve already promised enough. Every single one of your promises means nothing. It means nothing.”

“Collette, please—”

“And I really wish you wouldn’t call me anymore.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I can’t help you there,” Collette said. “You’ve gotta figure out what you can do to get that life back in order. But this part, the part that involves me and the boys—that part is done.”

He started to say something but only heard her quick “Goodbye, Don” and then the click on the other end.

He sat in the living room, their living room, and smelled the burnt cheese sandwich he’d made two hours ago. He looked toward the kitchen, toward the refrigerator which he could see from where he sat. His mouth watered. He had a wretched headache and his allergies were acting up and Collette was really digging in her heels this time. The whole bit about going in the boys’ room—he didn’t know what that was about. He must’ve been sleepwalking or something.

Don stood up. Looked at a photo of the two of them, taken many years ago.

He headed toward the fridge and opened it and found a bottle of Bud. He’d bought a twelve-pack just yesterday. Good thing he’d planned ahead.

He sat back on his favorite chair and turned up the volume on the television and tried to think what his next step with Collette should be. The first sip tasted delicious and allowed him to think better. It always did.

MICHELLE OPENED THE DOOR and gave her son a baffled, amused look.

“What is this?” she shouted above the bizarre music.

“Huh?”

Jared lay on the bed, on top of the covers, wearing shorts and a tee-shirt, eyes wide open, listening to the music.

“What
is
this awful sound?”

“Radiohead.”

“It sounds like the guy has a hernia problem.”

This made Jared actually smile.

“Can you turn it down some?” Michelle asked.

Jared leaned over and shifted the volume.

“That’s hideous,” Michelle said, amazed someone actually thought this was music. It sounded like noise, a bunch of drums and odd-sounding synthesizers and moaning into a microphone.

“They’re one of the biggest bands around. From England.”

“Those English groups are weird.”

“Like you know any,” Jared said.

“Sure I do. The Beatles were from England, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. But name a recent band from England.”

Michelle thought for a second. “Flock of Seagulls?”

Jared rolled his eyes. “Come on.”

“I don’t know.”

“See?”

“These guys are influential?”

“This is one of their more experimental albums. They got really popular and decided to do some more avant-garde music.”

“‘Avant-garde,’ huh? That what you call this?”

Jared nodded. Michelle wanted to tell her son what she really thought of this music.
Avant-garde
wasn’t the term she would have used. More like a bunch of junk.

“Since you’re so busy, what do you think of going out to dinner?”

Jared nodded and held up his hands. His message was clear:
It’s not like I have a choice since I’m being held prisoner
.

“Anything you want to eat? Pizza? Burgers?”

“I don’t care.”

Michelle sat on the edge of the bed.

“So when are you going to start to?”

“Start to what?”

“Care.”

He gave her one of those looks, and she thought,
I’ll never get through to him
. And that’s what she wanted, more than anything. To connect. To break into that world in his mind, in his heart and soul. She wanted her words to mean as much as some British idiot’s mumblings, some guy who didn’t know nor would ever know her son.

“Never mind,” she told him and started to walk out of the room. “I just thought it would be fun to go to dinner.”

“All right,” he said.

Michelle turned around, surprised at his response.

“What?”

“I could go for some pizza,” he said.

It’s a start
, she thought.
I’ll take it
.

“Wanna go now?”

He nodded, then knelt down to turn off the kill-the-cat music.

Her head felt immediately better.

“Do you guys miss St. Louis?”

The question took Michelle by surprise. She stopped chewing on the slice of pepperoni and green pepper thick crust and stared at her son, whose look hadn’t changed. Jared hadn’t even mentioned their move in almost a year.

“Of course we do,” she said after finally swallowing.

She waited for something else, anything else, to come from Jared, but he didn’t follow up his question with another.

“Why’d you ask that?”

“Just wondered.”

“You know it was hard on all of us,” Michelle said. He nodded and nonchalantly took another slice.

“Do you miss it?” she asked.

At first he didn’t answer. Then he said, “Not Missouri, really.
But the guys—some of them, at least.” He took a big bite, slurping in the strings of mozzarella that trailed behind.

“It was a hard decision for your dad and me,” she said. “We prayed about it for a long time.”

“And it was something God wanted you to do, right?” Jared said, an edge creeping into his voice.

“We thought it was.”

Now I’m not so sure
.

“So, this leading by God—how do you know when he’s leading you? Do you get visions and hear voices and stuff like that?”

“No,” she said, “and I believe you know that. We just felt like … that was the direction God was leading us.”

“It helped that the job up here paid more, right?”

“No. I mean, yes, of course it helps. It helps a lot of things. You know—there are a lot of people looking for jobs out there.”

“Not the kids around my school.”

“I know most of them are well-off.”

“‘Well-off,’“ Jared said with a cynical chuckle. “This girl in my class got a BMW as an early graduation present. New. Brand-new three series. Can you imagine what the insurance alone on that car would be?”

Michelle shook her head. She knew this would be a losing battle if she decided to wage it.

“Back at Cedar, you didn’t have the sort of money and—I guess it’s attitude. These people that think they’re really, truly better than you because they have all this money.”

“I think Dover will be different. I mean, we checked them out pretty carefully. It’s not a place where rich people warehouse their kids or anything. It’ll be a chance for you to start over.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait,” he said. “Spend another two years of my life getting to know people I’m only going to have to say goodbye to when college comes. Nice.”

“Jare, I’m sorry,” Michelle said.

Jared looked at her and took a sip of his drink.

“Sorry for what,” he said to her.

“Sorry that it’s so hard for you. It’s hard for all of us.”

He nodded, looking at her, then looking away, not being able to look her in the eyes for too long of a stretch.

“Jare—we know—I mean, your dad and I do have some idea at least just how hard it’s been. That’s one of the reasons we—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted.

“No, it’s not. We’re worried about you.”

“Don’t be. I’ll be fine.”

“But will you? Jare—look at me. I want you to know we love you.”

“Yeah—”

“And we’re frightened.
I’m
frightened. I’m scared that you’re going to go out there and finally be on your own and get into some trouble. Some real trouble. This past year—you have to understand there are rules. There are consequences to actions. There are reasons for not doing the things you’re doing.”

“You don’t understand—do you know how many kids smoke? I mean—there are kids I know doing coke. Cocaine, you know? I’ve never done that.” He cursed at the end of his sentence.

“Don’t use that language.”

“See?” Jared said. “You know there are freshman girls already having sex—with different guys too? It’s not like high school when you went.”

“I know that.”

“No, I don’t think you do. You guys harp on me for going to a party, for smoking, for using bad language. Uh-oh, he used the f-word. He’s on his way to hell. And you have no idea. I mean, compared to a lot of them, I’m a regular Sunday school teacher.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Michelle asked. “Why do you want to be like the rest of the world?”

“But I’m not. Watch MTV for an hour sometime.”

“I have. That’s part of what worries me.”

“But I’m not out of control. I’m sixteen years old and yeah, okay, sometimes I smoke a little.”

“You’ve been smoking a lot lately.”

“It doesn’t harm anybody.”

“First off, it’s illegal,” Michelle began, an argument they’d had
many times before, and she instantly saw Jared turn himself off, shut down. She stopped herself.

“Look, I don’t want to argue the pros and cons of marijuana. I just—can we just have dinner?”

“Fine with me,” Jared said.

She had lost her appetite, but forced herself to nibble on another piece. For a few minutes, neither of them said anything.

“Want to take out the Jet Ski tomorrow?”

Jared nodded.

“Maybe we could head to the mall. Go see a movie.”

“Sure,” he said. But the conversation was over. The walls had gone back up.

I guess I blew that
.

She thought of her brother.
Maybe I should tell him about Evan. He deserves to know. Maybe it would help
.

But she didn’t know
how
to tell him, how to even bring it up. Or what his reaction would be upon learning the truth.

And even if I tell him, it might not matter. People told Evan a lot of things, all the time, all his life, and he still managed to get himself in trouble. He still ended up getting himself killed
.

And that, of course, was exactly what she was afraid of.

“WHY DON’T YOU get out of here?” Kurt said to the older man who sat across from him on the sofa.

“And go where?” Ossie asked him.

“Go anywhere. Just get your stuff and go.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not? You’ve got time. They’re not coming back for a while.”

“I can’t. It’s not that easy.”

“What’s not easy about it? You pack as much as you can in a
suitcase and
get out
. Go west. We won’t be heading west, I know that.”

“I know where you’re going.”

Kurt studied Ossie for a minute, wondering how he knew.

“Sean told me.”

“Yeah? That’s nice. Was he planning to tell the rest of us?”

“You’re heading to Michigan.”

“Any idea why?”

“Not a clue.”