What Follows After: A Novel (14 page)

The guys were gone, leaving Gina and Rose alone in the house. Rose had insisted Gina let her clean up the kitchen. Gina pulled rank as the older sister, telling her “no chance.” Besides, Gina could use the distraction.

They had chatted mostly about lighter things as they worked. Gina had filled Rose in on her job at the insurance firm. Rose seemed to find it fascinating; she hadn’t worked outside the home since she had gotten married. Even then, it was just as a cashier in a grocery store.

As they talked, Gina got a sense both of them were stalling, avoiding bigger topics. When they were done cleaning, Gina suggested they take their last cup of coffee to the patio out back. It was such a beautiful October morning.

“Don’t you need to stay by the phone?” Rose asked.

“We’ve got the windows open, we can hear it fine out here as long as we leave the radio off. You don’t have any desire to hear what everyone’s saying about the world blowing to bits, do you?”

Rose poured her coffee. “Not really. It doesn’t seem real to me anyway.”

Gina poured her coffee too, then pulled the plug on the percola
tor. “Me neither. I suppose I’d care about it more if my life wasn’t so upside down right now.”

Rose walked toward the patio door. “Right out here?”

“Right out there.” As she stepped through the doorway, Gina inhaled the crisp sea air. “If we’re quiet enough, you can hear the waves breaking on the beach from here.”

“Really?”

“It’s only about a block away,” Gina said.

They sat in the patio chairs and listened a few moments.

Rose looked across the yard. “I’d forgotten about your cactus bushes over there along the back fence. They’ve gotten so much bigger.”

“I guess they have. Scott never messes with them. He tried once, when we first moved in. That was all it took.”

“You know,” Rose said, “I think those are the only cactus plants I’ve seen in Florida.”

“Maybe the previous owner of this house came from out West,” Gina said. “They seem to grow well here.” She took another sip of coffee. “Okay, Rose, how about you just ask me the questions you’re dying to ask me? Probably starting with, ‘How come you and Scott are separated, and how come you never told me?’”

Rose offered a sheepish grin. “I guess those are good ones to start with. I’m sorry, I didn’t know if you wanted to talk about that. And I didn’t want to add any more to your stress. We don’t really talk at that level anymore since I moved to Georgia, and long distance is so expensive.”

“I know,” Gina said. “And that’s really why I didn’t tell you. That and the fact that the real reason we’re not together is so painful . . . and humiliating.”

Rose’s face grew instantly serious. “It’s not because . . . he cheated on you, is it?”

Tears welled up in Gina’s eyes as she nodded.

“No . . .”

Gina nodded again.

“When did this happen?”

“Last Christmas, at an office Christmas party.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“I wish I didn’t have to.”

“How did you find out?”

“I walked in on them.”

Rose’s face turned to shock. “Oh Gina, no.”

“Well, it’s not like they were . . . you know, doing
that
. But they were making out. Scott and this young redhead.”

“Oh Gina, I’m so sorry. It’s so hard to believe Scott would do something like that.”

“Unfortunately, it wasn’t that hard for me to believe.”

“Why? Have you caught him being unfaithful with other women?”

“No, but you can tell when your husband has lost interest. He’d been coming home late from work almost every night for months. Even longer than that. And when he was home, he was constantly preoccupied with his job, always talking about work, never taking an interest in me . . . or the kids. Guess I know why now.”

“Did Scott admit to it, after you caught him?”

“No, he acted like nothing was happening between them, like what I saw was just some big misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?”

“Yeah. Like it was just some Merry Christmas kiss between co-workers. It didn’t mean anything at all.”

“Is that possible? Maybe they had a little too much to drink?”

“Rose, what I saw wasn’t some Merry Christmas kiss. She had her arms around him, and he had his hands on her waist, and he
was kissing back. Put that together with all the months of eating dinner by myself with the boys at home and the lack of romance in our relationship the last few years . . . that’s proof enough for me. Besides, the girl told me they were in a relationship and they were in love. She was sorry I had to find out that way.”

“When did she say that?”

“Right then, that night. With Scott standing right there. He acted shocked and totally denied it, said it wasn’t true. But of course he’d say that. What else could he say? I’d caught him with her.” Gina stood up. She didn’t know why, or where she was going.

“I’m sorry to get you talking about this. Look how upset you’re getting. That’s why I started talking about things like your cactus bush and—”

“No, it’s all right, Rose. We needed to talk about it. You needed to know. We’re sisters. There’s never gonna be a good time to have a conversation like this.”

“I guess, but still . . .”

“I just feel so bad for the boys,” Gina said. “They don’t understand what’s going on, and I can’t tell them. Listen to me . . . tell
them
. Oh Lord, where is Timmy?” She sat back in her chair, folded her knees up to her chin.

Rose got up and hugged her.

It was apparently time to cry again. Gina let it go as her little sister Rose rubbed her back softly.

After a few minutes, Gina regained her composure and Rose returned to her chair. “It must’ve been terrible keeping something this big a secret all that time. Not having anyone to confide in.”

“Don’t feel too bad for me about that. It was a stupid idea, and I wish I’d never agreed to it. To make it work not only did we have to lie to everyone, we made the boys do it too. Can you imagine such a thing? Parents forcing their kids to lie? What kind of Christians
would do that? What kind of parents would? I’m sure that’s the reason Colt and Timmy ran away, or at least a big part of it.”

Rose sat back in her chair and made a face Gina couldn’t interpret. But it was obvious she agreed with what Gina had just said. “Just say what you’re thinking, Rose. It can’t be any worse than what I’m thinking about myself right now.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything bad. Just that what you said is true. The lying part, I mean. Colt did tell me on the telephone that was a big part of why they ran away. He didn’t want to have to keep lying about what was going on here.”

Gina sighed. For some reason, hearing Rose confirm it made it even worse. They really were to blame, her and Scott, for Timmy’s disappearance. They were the adults, the ones who were supposed to do the right thing and teach their kids the right thing. But instead, so they wouldn’t look bad and their reputation wouldn’t get soiled, they had broken one of the Ten Commandments. Not just once, but over and over again for months.

Was that why this happened? Was God punishing them for all the lies?

August didn’t like people as a rule. Had no use for them.

Couldn’t think of one who’d ever done him any good. Nothing but a bunch of users and takers. Couldn’t trust anyone to do what they said they’d do. Not a single one. People letting you down was like a scientific law, like the laws of motion or gravity.

Starting with his pa, a no-good drunk who beat him every chance he got, and his ma, who watched him do it. Then she up and died, leaving him alone with that man to take all he had to dish out until August could finally take no more. At sixteen, he hit his dad back, then got the better of him. Knocked him out cold then ran off to join the Army.

People in the Army treated him no better. Maybe even worse. Would have gotten out except that the Korean War started up, and there he was, stuck in the middle of it. Like a foretaste of hell, that place. The only upside was, he had to kill these Chinese and North Koreans for Uncle Sam. Finally found something he was pretty good at, and he had to admit, he took some pleasure in it.

None of his bosses since the war were any good. Every single one had treated him badly. Every co-worker too. Then finally came Bobby’s mom. Thought she might be the one person on earth to treat him different. Seemed that way for a while, a good while. Then she started drinking and going out. Said she’d made a mistake,
wasn’t ready to be nobody’s wife or ma. It was a good day when she left for good, ’cause he’d have wound up in prison for killing her.

Bobby had been his only bright spot.

Like most kids, didn’t listen half the time. But at least it was only half. The rest of the time August liked having him around. A lot. Actually made him laugh, Bobby did, a good number of times, right out loud. All the things he came up with.

Then, for a little while, Bobby was gone. Those were the darkest days of August’s life.

But he was back now. His Bobby was back.

“Mister?”

August looked down. He’d been out on the porch, staring at the water.

“Excuse me, mister. I finished eating the cornflakes. Can I go home now?”

What was he talking about, going home? He was home. “You put the bowl on the washboard like I told you?” The boy nodded. “You rinse it out first?” He nodded again. “That’s a good boy.” August patted him on the head. “Why’d you put on the same shirt you had on yesterday?”

The boy stepped back. “It’s the only shirt I got. All my other ones are in my dresser back home.”

“Why you keep saying ‘going home’ or ‘back home’? You are home, Bobby. And you got a whole dresser full of clean shirts to pick from back in your room. Now get on back there and put a clean shirt on. Don’t matter which one. Everything matches dungarees.”

The boy just stood there, a confused look on his face.

“Did you hear me? Go on, get!”

He ran off. August heard him crying as he made it to the bedroom. Had a mind to yell, “Stop that crying, or I’ll give you something to cry about.” But he didn’t. His pa wouldn’t have just said
it; he’d have come after August with a switch. But August knew better. The boy needed at least a day or two to settle in.

But he’d have to mind. August couldn’t have a willful boy messing up his quiet home. He knew what to do with willful boys who wouldn’t mind their pa. You didn’t have to beat ’em. Not all the time. There were better ways of dealing with such things.

Then August got an idea. Wouldn’t do to bring the boy with him. He walked back into the house then over to the hallway, near the boy’s bedroom door. Peeking inside, he saw him buttoning up a blue flannel shirt. “You’re doing that wrong, Bobby. Got started on the wrong button.”

“Mister, my name isn’t Bobby. It’s—”

“What do you mean, it isn’t Bobby. ’Course it is. I don’t know what’s gotten into your head. Now unbutton those buttons and start over.”

“My mom sometimes has to help me with the first button.”

“Don’t even talk about that woman in this house, you hear?” The boy looked up, startled. Like he was about to cry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell like that. But I’m the one raised you all this time, put food on the table every night. And if you need help with anything, I’m the one you come to. We clear on that?” The boy’s head nodded slowly up and down. “Here, let me get you started on the right one. Have a seat on the bed.”

The boy sat, and August reached over, buttoned the first button. “You can do the rest, right?”

“Yes.”

August stood, walked back through the doorway, and turned. “Listen, I need to get a few things down at the general store. I won’t be gone too long.”

“I’m going to be alone?”

“It’ll only be for a while. You’ll be fine. No one ever comes here.
Folks around here keep to themselves. You just sit there on your bed and read your comic book till I get back.”

“But where are the other comic books? They were on the dresser last night, but when I woke up they were gone.”

“They were just for the bus ride. I’ll give them back to you, one at a time, but you have to earn them by being a good boy and doing what you’re told.”

The boy picked up the one comic book he’d brought with him. “But I’ve already read this one a hundred times.”

“Well, read it a hundred and one.” August began closing the door.

“Wait,” the boy said. “Can’t you leave that open?”

“No, I can’t. Can’t have you traipsin’ all around this house by yourself, getting into who knows what kinds of trouble. I don’t want to lose you again. You’ll be fine in here with the door closed. I’m locking it for your own good, so you’ll stay safe.”

Bobby was pouting as the door closed behind him. But it had to be done. “You don’t cry,” August yelled through the door, “and I’ll bring you home a Coca-Cola. You like Coca-Cola?”

“Yes,” Bobby yelled back.

“Okay, then. I’ll sit out here and listen a few moments. I hear any crying, and I’ll drink that Coca-Cola myself.”

“I’ll try real hard not to cry.”

August put his ear up to the door. Heard some whimpering, but that was all. A few moments later, he heard the bedsprings creaking. The boy was doing what he was told. August started walking down the hall toward the front door.

See, you didn’t have to always beat ’em to get ’em to mind. Sometimes you could just trick ’em into doing the right thing, and it would only cost you a nickel.

Beatings were only for the worst things. A distinction his pa knew nothing about.