of addict?”
“I want to know you’re not breaking into Fremantles’ and smoking,” Jim said doggedly. “And if you are using marijuana, I’d like to know where you’re getting it.”
“Why?” his son demanded. “Do you want some?”
Jim’s own temper rose. “What kind of crack was that? If Curly is supplying you with drugs—”
“Curly is not supplying me with drugs, okay?” Chip stared at his father with hard, hot eyes. “And I won’t lie to you: I sometimes smoke with the guys on the team, but I don’t do it often. And I don’t do it when I’m alone.”
He turned on his heel and ran up the stairs, slamming the door to his room. Chip was supposed to be helping Lara with the dishes, but Jim didn’t feel like confronting his son for a second time in five minutes so he went into the kitchen to help her himself. She saw how upset he was; she gave him a lighthearted rundown of their day in Kansas City, trying to coax him into a better mood.
Jim kissed her forehead. “Baby, I’m a crab cake tonight. You go on up to your homework—I’m better off doing the dishes myself.”
When he’d finished, Jim went into the family room and challenged his brother to a Foosball match. Nate jumped up and down with excitement, cheering on his dad, who beat Jim by two points. Nate demanded a turn with Jim, who let his nephew win. The little boy’s glee slowly brought Jim back to his more usual level spirits.
Lara, bored with her history book and drawn by the laughter, came back downstairs. She challenged Jim and Doug to a team game, she and Nate against the brothers. Jim was surprised all over again by how competitive his brother was: even though it was his own son he was playing, he put everything he had into the game, even snapping at Jim for letting Nate kick a ball past his defenders.
“We won, we won!” Nate squealed. “We beated them.”
He and Lulu exchanged high fives, and then Lara scooped him up under her arm. “Come on, shrimp. Even Brian Urlacher has to go to bed sometimes.”
“I am not a shrimp. I’m a giant. Put me down!”
Later, in bed, Jim told Susan about his abortive conversation with Chip. “The way he reacted makes me think he is smoking over there at Fremantles’. You don’t think you could talk to him, do you, Suze?”
“If Etienne swore he wasn’t using drugs often, I think we have to believe him,” Susan said.
“He didn’t. That’s the point. He won’t lie to me directly. But he did a good job of dancing away from my questions.”
“After Tuesday, when this Gina Haring moves in, it won’t be a problem anymore.” Susan turned out the light. “It’ll be good to have the house to ourselves again—I’d forgotten how crowded this place feels with seven people in it.”
“So seeing Nate running around doesn’t make you wish we had another little person here?” Jim said, only half teasing. He liked all children, especially his own, despite his recent brushup with Chip. It was going to be hard when his son went off to college next fall.
“Oh, Jim, I’m forty-five now. I can’t go through another pregnancy.” To soften her response, she put her arms around him and pulled him close to her in the bed.
Six
DRUG BUST
S UNDAY NIGHT, Lara and Chip slipped out of the house, muffling their laughter against their parka sleeves. They’d told their parents they were going to stay up late to watch a movie. If their father was surprised that they’d agreed so easily on what to see, he didn’t say anything.
They sat in the family room, watching March of the Penguins, for half an hour after the lights went out on the second floor. When they were sure all was silent in their parents’ room, they slipped out of the house through the garage, leaving the television on as a decoy. Chip didn’t turn on the flashlight until they’d reached the gravel road on the far side of the train tracks.
Yesterday’s snowfall was starting to melt. Wheat stubble poked through the
“I want to know you’re not breaking into Fremantles’ and smoking,” Jim said doggedly. “And if you are using marijuana, I’d like to know where you’re getting it.”
“Why?” his son demanded. “Do you want some?”
Jim’s own temper rose. “What kind of crack was that? If Curly is supplying you with drugs—”
“Curly is not supplying me with drugs, okay?” Chip stared at his father with hard, hot eyes. “And I won’t lie to you: I sometimes smoke with the guys on the team, but I don’t do it often. And I don’t do it when I’m alone.”
He turned on his heel and ran up the stairs, slamming the door to his room. Chip was supposed to be helping Lara with the dishes, but Jim didn’t feel like confronting his son for a second time in five minutes so he went into the kitchen to help her himself. She saw how upset he was; she gave him a lighthearted rundown of their day in Kansas City, trying to coax him into a better mood.
Jim kissed her forehead. “Baby, I’m a crab cake tonight. You go on up to your homework—I’m better off doing the dishes myself.”
When he’d finished, Jim went into the family room and challenged his brother to a Foosball match. Nate jumped up and down with excitement, cheering on his dad, who beat Jim by two points. Nate demanded a turn with Jim, who let his nephew win. The little boy’s glee slowly brought Jim back to his more usual level spirits.
Lara, bored with her history book and drawn by the laughter, came back downstairs. She challenged Jim and Doug to a team game, she and Nate against the brothers. Jim was surprised all over again by how competitive his brother was: even though it was his own son he was playing, he put everything he had into the game, even snapping at Jim for letting Nate kick a ball past his defenders.
“We won, we won!” Nate squealed. “We beated them.”
He and Lulu exchanged high fives, and then Lara scooped him up under her arm. “Come on, shrimp. Even Brian Urlacher has to go to bed sometimes.”
“I am not a shrimp. I’m a giant. Put me down!”
Later, in bed, Jim told Susan about his abortive conversation with Chip. “The way he reacted makes me think he is smoking over there at Fremantles’. You don’t think you could talk to him, do you, Suze?”
“If Etienne swore he wasn’t using drugs often, I think we have to believe him,” Susan said.
“He didn’t. That’s the point. He won’t lie to me directly. But he did a good job of dancing away from my questions.”
“After Tuesday, when this Gina Haring moves in, it won’t be a problem anymore.” Susan turned out the light. “It’ll be good to have the house to ourselves again—I’d forgotten how crowded this place feels with seven people in it.”
“So seeing Nate running around doesn’t make you wish we had another little person here?” Jim said, only half teasing. He liked all children, especially his own, despite his recent brushup with Chip. It was going to be hard when his son went off to college next fall.
“Oh, Jim, I’m forty-five now. I can’t go through another pregnancy.” To soften her response, she put her arms around him and pulled him close to her in the bed.
Six
DRUG BUST
S UNDAY NIGHT, Lara and Chip slipped out of the house, muffling their laughter against their parka sleeves. They’d told their parents they were going to stay up late to watch a movie. If their father was surprised that they’d agreed so easily on what to see, he didn’t say anything.
They sat in the family room, watching March of the Penguins, for half an hour after the lights went out on the second floor. When they were sure all was silent in their parents’ room, they slipped out of the house through the garage, leaving the television on as a decoy. Chip didn’t turn on the flashlight until they’d reached the gravel road on the far side of the train tracks.
Yesterday’s snowfall was starting to melt. Wheat stubble poked through the
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