can’t
I
go? I like Uncle Mick.”
“Because you have school. And besides, you’re too young to get into the hospital to see Uncle Mick, anyway. You’d only get to see his kids. And you don’t particularly like his kids, if you recall. But that’s not the main thing. The main thing is you are not going to miss even one day of school. Not with your miserable grades. Now here’s a key to the house. I put it on a string so you won’t lose it. So when you need to come home to get more clothes or whatever you’ll be able to let yourself in.”
She hung it around his neck. Didn’t even hand it to him and let him slip it on himself. Nat felt like a five-year-old holding still to have his mittens pinned to his snowsuit. It was putting him in an increasingly foul mood.
“So, is Uncle Mick going to be OK?”
Gamma’s slapped look. A face full of horror. “Well, of course he is. How can you even ask such a question?”
How can I
not
ask it? Nat thought. How can
you
not ask such questions? But of course he kept those thoughts to himself.
• • •
“Oh, shit. Where’s my cat?” Jacob asked.
“I don’t know. Downstairs, I think.”
They were in bed, on lights-out. So neither was sure if they should move or not. And they spoke quietly.
“I have to get her in my room with the door closed. Otherwise my mom will throw her outside for the night. Especially when Janet is here.”
“Who’s Janet?”
“Her girlfriend she yaks and gabs and gossips with for half the night.”
“I didn’t know there was somebody here.”
“I’m not sure if she’s here. I just know she’s coming.”
“I’ll go find the cat,” Nat said. Mostly because he liked the cat, and wanted an excuse to pick her up again. She always purred when he picked her up. He liked to hold her to his ear for a moment, listening to that soft motor.
“I can be quiet.”
He padded downstairs.
Sure enough, Jacob’s mom had a girlfriend over. He could hear them talking in the kitchen as he searched the living room. He was able to gather that Janet had a gentleman friend. And that she was furious with him.
“Jacob, is that you?” The screechy sound of Jacob’s mother’s angry voice.
He hadn’t been quiet enough.
“No, ma’am,” Nat said, sticking his head through the kitchen door. “It’s me. Nat.”
“Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I was looking for Buttons.”
“Well, you better find her, too. Because if I find her first, she’s going outside. Janet is allergic to cats.”
Nat wondered whether Janet’s allergies explained the box of tissues on the table between them. Or whether Janet had been crying. Maybe it was both.
“You’re Nat?” Janet asked. As if it made you very famous and distinguished to be Nat. As if Nat were a truly unusual and remarkable thing to be.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Janet turned to Jacob’s mother. “Is he—”
Jacob’s mother shot her down with a look. A disapproving look and a slight shake of her head. As if to say, don’t. As if to say, under no circumstances finish that sentence.
Silence.
“Am I what?” Nat asked. Rather bravely, he thought.
“Nothing, dear. Run find Buttons and then go back to bed.”
Nat backed out of the room. Walked very slowly to the bottom of the stairs, where he knew he would be shrouded in darkness.
There he sat. And listened.
“So, that’s the boy.”
“Yes. That’s him. Poor little bugger. I feel so sorry for him.”
“I don’t blame you. Can you imagine? Your own mother. Trying to murder you.”
“Well, it wasn’t murder. Exactly. Bad neglect, I suppose.”
“Are you kidding me? You must be kidding me! Bad neglect would be if she never changed his diapers. It was freezing cold out in those woods. It’s a miracle he didn’t die. Does he even know the whole story, do you think?”
“I don’t know what he knows. His grandmother forbids everyone to talk about it. Jacob says he told him once, and that Nat said he knew, and
I
go? I like Uncle Mick.”
“Because you have school. And besides, you’re too young to get into the hospital to see Uncle Mick, anyway. You’d only get to see his kids. And you don’t particularly like his kids, if you recall. But that’s not the main thing. The main thing is you are not going to miss even one day of school. Not with your miserable grades. Now here’s a key to the house. I put it on a string so you won’t lose it. So when you need to come home to get more clothes or whatever you’ll be able to let yourself in.”
She hung it around his neck. Didn’t even hand it to him and let him slip it on himself. Nat felt like a five-year-old holding still to have his mittens pinned to his snowsuit. It was putting him in an increasingly foul mood.
“So, is Uncle Mick going to be OK?”
Gamma’s slapped look. A face full of horror. “Well, of course he is. How can you even ask such a question?”
How can I
not
ask it? Nat thought. How can
you
not ask such questions? But of course he kept those thoughts to himself.
• • •
“Oh, shit. Where’s my cat?” Jacob asked.
“I don’t know. Downstairs, I think.”
They were in bed, on lights-out. So neither was sure if they should move or not. And they spoke quietly.
“I have to get her in my room with the door closed. Otherwise my mom will throw her outside for the night. Especially when Janet is here.”
“Who’s Janet?”
“Her girlfriend she yaks and gabs and gossips with for half the night.”
“I didn’t know there was somebody here.”
“I’m not sure if she’s here. I just know she’s coming.”
“I’ll go find the cat,” Nat said. Mostly because he liked the cat, and wanted an excuse to pick her up again. She always purred when he picked her up. He liked to hold her to his ear for a moment, listening to that soft motor.
“I can be quiet.”
He padded downstairs.
Sure enough, Jacob’s mom had a girlfriend over. He could hear them talking in the kitchen as he searched the living room. He was able to gather that Janet had a gentleman friend. And that she was furious with him.
“Jacob, is that you?” The screechy sound of Jacob’s mother’s angry voice.
He hadn’t been quiet enough.
“No, ma’am,” Nat said, sticking his head through the kitchen door. “It’s me. Nat.”
“Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I was looking for Buttons.”
“Well, you better find her, too. Because if I find her first, she’s going outside. Janet is allergic to cats.”
Nat wondered whether Janet’s allergies explained the box of tissues on the table between them. Or whether Janet had been crying. Maybe it was both.
“You’re Nat?” Janet asked. As if it made you very famous and distinguished to be Nat. As if Nat were a truly unusual and remarkable thing to be.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Janet turned to Jacob’s mother. “Is he—”
Jacob’s mother shot her down with a look. A disapproving look and a slight shake of her head. As if to say, don’t. As if to say, under no circumstances finish that sentence.
Silence.
“Am I what?” Nat asked. Rather bravely, he thought.
“Nothing, dear. Run find Buttons and then go back to bed.”
Nat backed out of the room. Walked very slowly to the bottom of the stairs, where he knew he would be shrouded in darkness.
There he sat. And listened.
“So, that’s the boy.”
“Yes. That’s him. Poor little bugger. I feel so sorry for him.”
“I don’t blame you. Can you imagine? Your own mother. Trying to murder you.”
“Well, it wasn’t murder. Exactly. Bad neglect, I suppose.”
“Are you kidding me? You must be kidding me! Bad neglect would be if she never changed his diapers. It was freezing cold out in those woods. It’s a miracle he didn’t die. Does he even know the whole story, do you think?”
“I don’t know what he knows. His grandmother forbids everyone to talk about it. Jacob says he told him once, and that Nat said he knew, and
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