Double Trouble (31 page)

He gave them each a hard look. “I want you both to talk to me about things, even when it doesn’t seem as if there’s time. Okay?”

They both nodded, though Jimmy was a lot slower.

“I know it’s hard right now and there have been a lot of changes in our lives. But I want you to try to respect your mother’s decision to make her life be the way she wanted it to be. It can’t have been easy for her to leave, especially to leave you guys, but she made a hard choice. She’s probably hoping that making a sacrifice like this will give her the chance to really be happy, and that’s a pretty noble thing.”

I thought it was pretty noble of him to give my selfish sister so much credit, but I knew what he was doing. Like it or lump it, she was the boys’ mom and they’d be seeing her again. I appreciated that James was taking the high road in an effort to minimize the emotional scarring on his sons’ lives. It wasn’t an easy choice and I hoped like hell that it worked.

“Wasn’t she happy with us?”

“She wasn’t happy with
me
, Johnny.” James squeezed his son’s hand. “I’m partly to blame for that. I’m trying to do better at talking about things and having more time at home and letting people know what I think and feel. It’s a big change for all of us, but I hope you two know how much I love you both.”

“What about Auntie Maralys?” Johnny asked.

“Well, your aunt and I had a big fight years ago and we were really mad at each other for a long time. But I don’t think that we’re mad at each other any more.” James looked at me and I shook my head. He held my gaze. “I like your Auntie Maralys, and now that we’re not fighting, I think she’s decided that she likes me. She might be around a bit more than before.”

That was about as much commitment as I could take without leaping in to correct him, and it did give me a little glow of pleasure that James understood me that well. Maybe he did get it that Marcia and I were different—she’s always been a fan of guarantees until Doomsday, everything in triplicate, signed sealed and delivered. I like my options open.

The boys looked between the two of us and I wished like heck that I could have kept from blushing.

“Do you wish you hadn’t married Mom?” Jimmy asked.

James thought about it for a minute. “No, no I don’t. If I hadn’t married your mom and lived with her for those years, I wouldn’t have learned the things I had from her. I wouldn’t be the person that I am today and I certainly wouldn’t have had the successes I’ve had without her help. I don’t regret it, not just because I can’t change it, but because it’s part of who I am.”

James studied his sons. “And if I hadn’t married your mom, then you two wouldn’t be here.” He leaned on his elbows and his voice turned hoarse, his gaze suspiciously bright as he looked at his kids. “And that’s something I can’t even imagine. I think maybe that everything that happened between your mom and I was just so you two could come into the world. Into my world.”

Awwwwww, time for a big family hug. Wipe away that tear. We’re all reconciled around the kitchen table, just like nature intended.

Or maybe not.

----

Subject
: argh!

Dear Aunt Mary -

My friend has all the best stuff and she’s so lucky! She’s got a great guy and a fab apartment and makes gobs of $ at her kewl job. Even tho I love her to bits, I’m starting to hate her too.

:-(

Should I dump her?

Green-eyed Girl

----

Subject
: argh!

Dear Jealous Jane -

Face it. Green’s not a good color on women.

Put your envy monster on a diet and maybe then you’ll be able to shake him off your back. Meanwhile, take care of yourself. Hate your job? Find another. Hate your apartment? Move. You should be getting the drift of this now. It’s easier to blame someone else for your troubles than to solve them yourself. Get some good stuff in your own corner and you shouldn’t be so worried about keeping score.

If you are, you’ve got bigger problems than I can solve.

Aunt Mary

***

Uncertain? Confused? Ask Aunt Mary!

Your one stop shop for netiquette and advice:

http://www.ask-aunt-mary.com

----

J
ohnny squirmed from his chair and went to James. James kissed his son’s temple and hugged him close, ruffled his hair then looked at Jimmy.

That son’s expression was hostile.

“What a bunch of crap,” he snarled, then fled to his room. He slammed the door hard behind himself, and James was on his feet in a flash.

“I’ve had just about enough of this attitude,” he muttered, but I stopped him with a gesture.

“Let me. I’ll enjoy it.” It was an impulsive offer, if one surprising to all of us.

In fact, I got as skeptical a look as James could conjure. “You’re always saying that you don’t do kids, Maralys.”

“But I had attitude when I was one. Believe me, I know how to get through to him in a way a goody-two-shoes type like you would never understand.”

James gestured to the door and bowed slightly. “Then, by all means, be my guest.”

I didn’t think of it at the time, but later I wondered whether I had some unconscious urge to prove that I had something to contribute.

Nah. Why would I want to contribute? It may be that no man is an island, but this woman has been an island for a long, long time. And it’s going to stay that way. With occasional diplomatic conferences in the land of wild sex.

It was just a chance to show off. Right?

I crossed the room and kicked open the door, a healthy measure of my own attitude on display. “Hey, you!” I shouted as the door bounced back against the wall.

Jimmy jumped and cast an alarmed glance over his shoulder before he went back to his handheld electronic game. It was one of those units that you load up with different games, about the size of a television remote. “Go away. I’m busy.”

“And I’m getting too old for this kind of garbage.”

“I don’t have to listen to you.”

“No, you don’t.” My agreement clearly surprised him, so I let him worry about it.

I sauntered into the room, which was a pit of chaos in the time-honored tradition of boys everywhere. Moving was only a temporary excuse. The big Pentium box was in the corner, with the monster tube that had made me salivate when James bought it for the boys two years before. I guessed that this was the one thing Jimmy had insisted on keeping.

But I had my suspicions about that handheld gaming toy. It beeped and bopped as he played. Closer perusal confirmed my suspicions of its model and recent vintage. Jimmy was trying desperately to ignore my presence but he was edgy.

Too edgy.

And I knew why. I had been there, done that, read the book and popped eight bucks for the movie. Jimmy was angry that factors beyond his control were shaking up his life. Fine. The black eye and the attitude were just the tip of the iceberg. Fine, again.

Theft wasn’t fine.

I had been joking about a goody-two-shoes not knowing where to begin, but this wasn’t funny anymore. James probably didn’t even suspect. I wouldn’t have suspected anything if Jimmy had flashed that gaming gizmo around their old house. But he had it stashed away and I knew that flashy acquisitions were seriously on hold.

Sometimes it pays to have a nastily suspicious mind in the quest for truth.

I eased up behind Jimmy and he edged away—trying to pretend that he intended to move that way all along—but he couldn’t get far. He’d parked himself in a tight place, and was still trying to hide the device from the doorway. And his dad. Wasn’t that telling? He was winning the game, though, and probably couldn’t bear to put it down.

I’m wily. And I’m fast. He was going to lose the game with me.

I snapped the fingers of my left hand, Jimmy looked up, I swooped with my right and snagged the toy. He shouted and jumped after it, but I backed away, holding it high. James hovered in the doorway, watching, clearly not certain where I was going with this but trusting me. You’ve got to like that. Johnny’s eyes were as round as saucers at this unexpected household drama.

“Where’d you get this?” I asked quietly.

“It’s mine!”

I held it up towards James so he could see it. “Did you buy this?”

“I don’t know. All these games look the same to me.”

“Trust me to find that last living Luddite in the Greater Boston area.” I rolled my eyes, then flashed him a smile.” Tell me you have a Palm Pilot, at least. Restore my faith.”

James shook his head, bemused by the question. “A leather-bound daily planner.” Just thinking about how tactile he was could have distracted me in a major way if I’d let it. But he looked at Jimmy, challenging him. “Did I buy it? Did your mother?”

Jimmy tried to squirm free by acting bold. It works sometimes and I gave him some credit for trying. “Well, duh.”

James caught his breath and I knew he was fighting his father’s demons. No doubt he would have been flayed alive for challenging Robert Coxwell so boldly when he was this age.

Jimmy stretched out his hand, but I held the game away. Then I gave James some ammo while I held Jimmy’s gaze, daring him to argue with me.

“This is brand new technology. Next generation. Very, very cool and very, very coveted. In short supply, in fact. You can play interactively offline or on the ’net. There’s an infrared in the head of it so the competitors can boing stuff back and forth in the same room.” I paused.

“Cool,” Johnny whispered, eyes round with awe now.

“It’s only just shipping.” I spoke to James. “You would have to have bought it in the last two weeks or so.”

“I haven’t bought anything lately.”

“Oh, you’d notice this baby on your Visa bill, even if Marcia had picked it up.” I named a price and James turned into Granite Man with Eyes O’ Fire. “Then there are the games, at a hefty price per pop.” I waved it at Jimmy. “What have you got on this, twenty games? That’s some kind of inventory.”

“Where did you get it?” James demanded of his son, and it was clear from his tone that the math was all nicely tabulating to the same answer I had gotten.

Jimmy faced him defiantly. “My friend gave it to me.”

“Which friend?” James demanded in the same moment that I said “Bullshit.”

Both boys stared at me, shocked that anyone would use such a word in their home. But this was serious stuff. Jimmy was only ten, so there was a chance to keep him off the slippery slope.

Someone snagged me back by the scruff of my neck when I was twelve, and I figured it was my job to pass the favor along. I’m a big fan of civic responsibility, you know.

I shook the toy under Jimmy’s nose. “You stole this. ‘Fess up.”

But he was unrepentant. “So what if I did?”

James looked like he was going to blow, but I held up one hand. “So, you’re going to make it right.”

“Oh, please.” Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Only stupid people think that’s how the world works.”

Boom! I had no chance to say anything more.

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” James started across the room, eyes flashing.

“Oh, come on, Dad! You get crooks free all the time!” He mimicked his father. “And you’re so good at what you do.”

James faltered, caught in his own inconsistency.

“Some bitch, having smart kids,” I muttered, but no one was paying any attention to me.

James’ composure had clearly been shaken, but he recovered in record time. “Is that what you think I do?”

“Mom said. You just went to California to get Uncle Zach out of jail. Didn’t you?
Didn’t you?
”

“That was different!”

“Bullshit!” Jimmy shouted, picking up my word with gusto.

James shoved a hand through his hair, then sat on the edge of the bed. He wrestled the demon of Robert Coxwell—who I suspected would have horsewhipped a child for challenging him so boldly. Either that or James and his siblings had all grown up so terrified of what their father might do that none of them had dared to challenge him.

James won his battle against repeating his own experience, took a deep breath, then bent his attention on his son. His words were very controlled, but I don’t think any of us were fooled. “What I do is ensure that people have a fair hearing.”

“I don’t think so...” Jimmy retorted and James’ anger flared again.

He pointed at the desk chair. “Sit. Shut up. Listen.”

Both boys sat.

Hell, I sat.

You could have heard the roaches breathing from the kitchen. James took his time, making us wait for it. And wait we did.

“We have a system of law which is intended to keep innocent people from being punished for what they haven’t done,” he said finally. “It’s a check and a balance to the authority of the state and of the police. Innocent until proven guilty. That’s the fundamental tenet, the right of every one of us who are citizens in this country. And if the guilt can’t be proven, then the accused is found innocent.”

“Even if you know he’s guilty.” Jimmy wasn’t going to let this one go.

“You can only
know
guilt for sure if you can
prove
it,” James snapped. “People lie and facts are obscured all the time. Truth is tricky. Our system demands that guilt be proven beyond a shadow of doubt or else we have to let the accusation drop.”

“It’s all a game.”

“No, it’s not a game,” James retorted. “It’s a cornerstone,
the
cornerstone, of a free society. To have the right to defend yourself against false charges, the right to a fair hearing and the right to a defense attorney is fundamental to our liberty.”

James spread his hands, warming to his theme in the face of Jimmy’s obvious skepticism. “That sounds very lofty, but there are a lot of places in the world where people don’t have those rights. Because you have grown up here, you don’t appreciate what you have. In many parts of the world, someone could walk into this room, say that your Pentium was stolen, arrest you, lock you up and throw away the key. No one would ever see you again, or even know what had happened to you. And they would be afraid to ask, in case they joined you.”

“But it’s not stolen!”