House Rules by Jodi Picoult Page B

will be able to handle the feeling of the liquid dripping down his throat. And every day, it breaks my heart.
    It goes without saying that none of these supplements which cost hundreds of dollars each month are covered by medical insurance.
    I put a plate of muffins in front of him as he turns another page in the paper. Did you brush your teeth?
    Yes, Jacob mutters.
    I put my hand down on the paper so that it blocks his view. Really?
    The few times Jacob lies, it‘s so obvious to me that all I have to do is raise an eyebrow and he caves. The only times I‘ve ever even seen him attempt dishonesty are when he‘s asked to do something he doesn‘t want to do like take his supplements or brush his teeth or to avoid conflict. In those cases, he‘ll say what he thinks I want to hear. I‘ll do it after I eat, he promises, and I know he will. Yes! he crows suddenly. It‘s in here!
    What?
    Jacob leans over, reading aloud. Police in Townsend recovered the body of fifty-three-year-old Wade Deakins in a wooded area off Route 140. Deakins succumbed to hypothermia. No foul play was indicated. He scoffs, shaking his head. Can you believe that got buried on page A fourteen?
    Yes, I say. It‘s gruesome. Why would anyone want to read about a man who froze to death? I suddenly pause in the act of stirring half-and-half into my coffee. How did you know that article was going to be in the paper this morning?
    He hesitates, aware he‘s been caught in the act. It was a lucky guess.
    I fold my arms and stare at him. Even if he won‘t look me in the eye, he can feel the heat of my gaze.
    Okay! he confesses. I heard about it on the scanner last night.
    I consider the way he‘s rocking in his seat and the blush that has continued to work its way up his face. And?
    I went there.
    You what ?
    It was last night. I took my bike
    You rode your bike in the freezing cold to Route 140
    Do you want to hear the story or not? Jacob says, and I stop interrupting. The police found a body in the woods and the detective was leaning toward sexual assault and homicide
    Oh my God.
    but the evidence didn‘t support that. He beams. I solved their case for them.
    My jaw drops. And they were okay with that?
    Well … no. But they needed help. They were totally going in the wrong direction given the wounds to the body
    Jacob, you can‘t just crash a crime scene! You‘re a civilian!
    I‘m a civilian with a better understanding of forensic science than the local police,
    he argues. I even let the detective take the credit.
    I have visions of the Townsend Police showing up at my house today to berate me (at best) and arrest Jacob (at worst). Isn‘t it a misdemeanor to tamper with a police investigation? I imagine the fallout if it becomes public knowledge that Auntie Em, the advice expert, doesn‘t even know where her own son is at night.
    Listen to me, I say. You are absolutely not to do that again. Ever. What if it was a homicide, Jacob? What if the killer had come after you ?
    I watch him consider this. Well, he says, entirely literal, I guess I would have run really fast.
    Consider it a new house rule. You are not to sneak out of here unless you tell me first.
    Technically, that wouldn‘t be sneaking, he points out.
    Jacob, so help me
    He bobs his head. Don‘t sneak out to go to a crime scene. Got it. Then he looks directly at me, something that happens so infrequently I find myself catching my breath.
    But, Mom, seriously, I wish you could have seen it. The crosshatch marks on the guy‘s shins and
    Jacob, that guy died a horrible, lonely death and deserves a little respect. But even as I say it, I know he can‘t understand. Two years ago, at my father‘s funeral, Jacob asked if the casket could be opened before the burial. I thought it was to say good-bye to a relative he‘d loved, but instead, Jacob had put his hand against my father‘s cold, rice-paper cheek. I just want to know what dead feels like, he had said.
    I take the newspaper and fold it