Whisper Down the Lane, Clay Chapman [best short books to read txt] 📗

Never with him, but with everybody else.

But Sean heard everything.

“Sean? Sean?” Mom leaned in closer, taking hold of his shoulders so he was forced to look directly at her. Only her. For a moment, he had forgotten he was in the tub. “Talk to me, baby. You need to tell me what happened. Please.” Her voice kept climbing.

What was worse than code red? Black and blue?

More. She always wanted more from him. She wanted to get beneath his skin. Beneath his face. Her grip kept tightening. She wouldn’t let go, no matter how much he squirmed, until she found whatever it was that she was digging for. Which was confusing to Sean. There were times when she didn’t want to know the truth. Not really. Like whenever he got sick. If he ever complained of feeling under the weather, Mom would ask him if he was really-really sick. Or was he just pretending? She didn’t want to hear The Truth in those moments, because Sean knew a sick day for him meant a sick day for her. She wouldn’t be able to go to work, and not going to work was a major code red. But isn’t that what she wanted? For them to be together?

“Listen to me, hon.” Her voice strained.

Code blue!

“I need you to tell me if there’s anything happening at school…”

Code purple!

“It’s very, very important that you tell me the truth…”

Code black!

“If—if your teacher—if he’s touched you. Hurt you in any way.”

Code burst capillaries!

Sean just wanted to give her whatever it was that she needed from him. He wanted to give her everything. To make everything right. To make all the bad stuff go away.

He just had to figure out what the right answer was. What would make her happy? Should he tell her it was Tommy Dennings? Or did she want him to say it was Mr. Woodhouse?

The truth—or this other thing. Not a lie. Not exactly. An answer that made everything safe again. That brought code black back to purple to blue to red to orange to yellow and all the way down to the way life used to be. Back to when Mom wasn’t always afraid.

That’s what Sean wanted. To take her fear away. Make the world a safe place for her.

Just her and him.

Alone, together.

Sean could do that for her, he was sure of it. He had that power.

By the power of Grayskull, He-Man always said, I have the pooooower…

All Sean had to do was tell Mom exactly what she wanted, needed, to hear.

A game, he thought. That’s all this is. Just a game.

And the name of this game was to say the right thing. Figure out the secret message that protected Mom, the meaning hidden within the words that would defend them both.

The Truth.

DAMNED IF YOU DON’T

 RICHARD: 2013

I hesitate outside Eli’s room, peering through the cracked door, just to see what he’s up to before I barge in. This is all about respecting boundaries. “Got a sec, big man?”

Weegee hops off Eli’s lap at the sound of my voice and hides underneath his bed. The boy eventually nods—or, I think he nods. I enter his shrine to paleontology, keeping the door open a comfortable gap. Still figuring out our footing here. Dances with Stepdad. Every exchange that doesn’t involve Tamara is a self-conscious crossfire of questions and murmured answers that never quite hit their mark. I don’t want to put him on edge straight out of the gate.

“Heard there was a little scuffle at school today. I’d hate to see the other guys…”

“Mom told you?” Eli flops back on his bed, surrounded by plastic dinosaurs, an impenetrable ring of prehistory. Pre-me. If Elijah could have his way, I reckon he’d be content to stay in the Jurassic period with the rest of his prehistoric pals, all those centuries before I rocketed into his life and destroyed everything. In Elijah’s eyes, I am the meteor that wiped out the dinosaurs. I am the domestic asteroid that caused the extinction of life as he knew it. “Do we have to talk about it?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“Okay.” He’s back to his dinosaurs. That’s all she wrote. Case closed.

“Who was the girl? The one you were sticking up for.”

“I’m not supposed to say.” Eli doesn’t look at me when he says it, smashing a stegosaurus against a…diplo-something-or-other-acus.

“How come?” I try keeping my curiosity in check. Seems strange he’d hide this sort of thing.

“She told me not to tell.”

“If somebody’s getting bullied, it’s good to let a teacher know. Maybe I can help?”

“Are you helping like a teacher or like a…dad?” He swallows the last word, unfamiliar with its taste.

“Uh-oh…You said the ‘D’ word. We’re in trouble now.”

“I mean,” he tries. “You wanna be a dad?”

“What do you want?” I had practically written out a script in advance of this, practicing all afternoon, like rehearsing for some role in our fall play.

Eli shrugs. He’s clearly not comfortable navigating his way through this conversation.

“You and your mom have talked about when I was your age, right? She’s told you about my childhood? How I was adopted?”

There. First hurdle down. Now the “A” word is finally out there in the ether.

In front of an adult, raise your right hand and say: I promise to love my Cabbage Patch Kid with all my heart. I promise to be a good and kind parent…

Elijah glances up at me while keeping his head tilted down so his eyes can hide behind the cover of his hair. It is a simple trick he has perfected since I’ve known him. He dips his chin so that the curtain of his bangs covers his face, shielding his eyes beneath that auburn mop top.

“The truth is,” I say, “I don’t really remember that much about my family before. I was five, just like you are. Maybe a little older. But a lot of it is a blur for me.”

This is new information for him. Is he finding any