Chương 9
Ethan looked at the wall beside his desk.
“Okay.”
“And don’t make him feel responsible for the outcome.”
He did not answer.
“Mr. Cole?”
“I’m here.”
“That part matters.”
“I know.”
After work, Ethan drove to Lauren’s house.
Noah was in the driveway kicking a different soccer ball against the closed garage door.
Ethan parked at the curb and watched for a moment before getting out.
Noah kicked the ball.
Stopped it.
Kicked it again.
Each kick was gentle.
Nothing like the hard, joyful shots Ethan was used to seeing.
Lauren came out holding two cans of sparkling water.
She handed one to him.
“Observe anything?”
“He’s playing.”
“Barely.”
Ethan watched Noah stop the ball beneath his sneaker.
“Did you buy that?”
“No. Neighbor kid’s.”
Noah saw Ethan and waved.
Then he kicked the ball too hard.
It bounced off the garage door and rolled toward Lauren’s car.
Noah froze.
His whole body went rigid.
The ball stopped six feet from the bumper.
Nobody spoke.
Noah walked over, picked it up with both hands, and carried it back to the neighbor’s yard.
Ethan felt something inside him break more quietly than anger.
Lauren said, “He did that yesterday too.”
Ethan stared at the spot where the ball had stopped.
“He loves soccer.”
“I know.”
“He’s scared of a parked car.”
“I know.”
This time the phrase did not irritate him.
Lauren sat on the front step.
Ethan sat beside her.
Noah came back and dropped down between them.
“Can we get pizza?”
Lauren said, “We have chicken.”
“I don’t like your chicken.”
“You ate it last week.”
“I was younger.”
Ethan laughed.
Lauren said, “Traitor.”
Noah leaned against Ethan.
For a while, none of them mentioned Ryan.
That night, Margaret called Kendra.
The next morning, she asked Ethan to come over.
He arrived alone.
The backyard looked wrong without people in it.
The picnic table remained beneath the maple tree. The black grill stood where it always had. Margaret had scrubbed most of the melted rubber from the lid, but a faint smear remained.
Ethan stared at it.
His mother came outside carrying two glasses of iced tea.
“You want to sit?”
“No.”
She sat anyway.
He remained standing.
“What did Kendra say?”
Margaret looked at the lawn.
“Ryan never hit her.”
Ethan let out a breath he had not realized he was holding.
“He scared her.”
His relief disappeared.
“How?”
“Breaking things. Blocking doors during arguments. Punching walls.”
Ethan sat down.
“Blocking doors?”
“She said he never touched her, but sometimes when she tried to leave a room, he would stand in the doorway and keep arguing.”
“That’s not nothing.”
“I know.”
“She tell anyone?”
“Her sister.”
“Police?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Margaret looked at him.
“You know why.”
He did.
Because calling police changes things.
Because people tell themselves the absence of a bruise means the absence of danger.
Because embarrassment is persuasive.
Because tomorrow always seems like a better day to act than today.
“What else?”
“She said he got worse after he lost his job.”
“Drinking?”
“Sometimes. Not constantly.”
“Was he drinking here?”
“One beer.”
Ethan nodded.
That mattered less than he had hoped.
Margaret took a sip of tea.
“Kendra said the car has become... a thing.”
“What kind of thing?”
“He bought it after she asked for the separation.”
Ethan looked toward the driveway as if the Challenger might still be there.
“She thinks he bought it because?”
“Because he wanted to feel like he was doing well.”
“While unemployed.”
“He had severance then.”
Ethan shook his head.
Margaret said, “She said he sits in it sometimes.”
“What?”
“In the apartment parking lot. Doesn’t go anywhere.”
“That’s weird.”
“Yes.”
They sat in silence.
A sprinkler clicked in a neighboring yard.
Margaret pulled a loose thread from the hem of her floral blouse.
“She also said something about you.”
Ethan looked at her.
“Of course she did.”
“She said Ryan talks about you.”
He groaned.
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No.”
Margaret waited.
He surrendered.
“What?”
“He thinks you look down on him.”
“I barely think about him.”
“That may be worse.”
Ethan stared at the table.
Margaret said, “He told Kendra that everybody in the family thinks you’re the responsible one and he’s the screwup.”
“That is not my problem.”
“No.”
“He’s thirty-seven.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t make him buy the car. I didn’t make him lose his job. I didn’t make him threaten Noah.”
“No.”
“Stop agreeing with me like there’s a second sentence coming.”
Margaret smiled faintly.
“There is.”
“Of course.”
“You did enjoy being the responsible one.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“After your father died.”
“That was fifteen years ago.”
“You and Ryan were always compared.”
“By Aunt Susan.”
“By all of us.”
“I didn’t ask for that.”
“No.”
“Mom.”
“You liked winning.”
Ethan stood.
“I came here to talk about whether Ryan is dangerous.”
“We are.”
“No, now we’re doing family archaeology.”
Margaret looked up at him.
“You want Ryan to be completely different from you.”
“He is.”
“He threatened your son.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
“He grabbed the poker.”
“Yes.”
“You stopped him.”
“Yes.”
“You shoved him.”
“Yes.”
“He cannot control what happens when he feels humiliated.”
Ethan said nothing.
Margaret continued.
“Can you?”
He stared at her.
“That’s not fair.”
“No.”
“Not even close.”
“No.”
“Then why say it?”
“Because it scared you.”
His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Margaret looked toward the grill.
“You have spent your whole adult life terrified of your father’s temper.”
Ethan sat down again.
“Don’t.”
“You told me to stop protecting people.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No. It isn’t.”
She folded her hands.
“But you asked why I told you not to confront Ryan.”
“You thought I’d hit him.”
“I thought you would lose control.”
“I didn’t.”
“You pushed him to the ground.”
“He had a poker.”
“I know.”
There it was again.
He laughed quietly.
Margaret looked tired.
May you like
“I’m not saying you were wrong to stop him.”
“Then what are you saying?”
