“You don’t have to answer that,” my mother said to Rick. “He’ll be quiet now. Won’t you?”
Yes, I said, and we were silent the rest of the way. I put my cheek to the window and shut my eyes, not sleeping but not thinking either, until I heard the turn signal click and felt the familiar dip of our apartment’s lot. My mother pushed me out, and we walked halfway to our building’s door before she told me to stop.
“You didn’t thank him, did you? Run back and thank him. Hurry.” I asked her if I had to, and she said yes. He helped us, didn’t he? Since when do we not thank those who lend us a hand?
I ran to Rick’s car, idling in the parking lot. He was watching us, waiting to see that we got in safe.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Wasn’t a thing,” Rick said. He put the car in drive, but kept his foot on the brake. He leaned his head out the window and looked past me, at my mother. He sank back into his seat, gripped the steering wheel tight, like it was a balloon that would fly into the sky if he ever let it go.
“You’ve got a good mother,” he said. “You like being with her, and so do I. But if you think she’d ever visit you or your brother in prison, you’re dead wrong.” He turned up the radio, reached for a seat belt that wasn’t there. “Nobody wants to see living proof of the mistakes they’ve made.”
nine
THE STRANGER STORY was ruined by the storm. It had slipped my mind until we stepped inside our building, the halls and stairwell buzzing with lights and things unseen. But as we made our way up the stairs, I remembered what we were returning to, my seething brother, waiting with closed fists for me, the liar. I pushed my hand into my pocket, so I could have the editorial ready to show him before he pummeled me. Here, I would say, hands up in surrender. Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot. In reality, what I pulled out of my pocket wasn’t paper. It was a watered-down wad, a spitball that came apart in my hand when I tried to unfold it. I sighed. My evidence, my chance at forgiveness, was gone.
None of that mattered, though, at least not right away, because when we opened the door to our apartment, there was no brother. No lights were on, and when my mother called my brother’s name, all we heard in return was the hum of the fan. I didn’t wait for my mother to bolt our door and find a place for her purse and keys. I went into the living room to see if my brother had made camp there. He hadn’t. A blanket was in the right spot but there was no brother. The first place my mother looked was our room, but he wasn’t in there, either.
“He’s probably just hiding,” I said, to punish us for leaving him for so long, coming back empty-handed. But I knew what I said wasn’t true. I could tell my brother wasn’t here. He was somewhere with Chris. Where, I didn’t know. For now, it didn’t matter. Because I wouldn’t tell my mother anything. The next half hour our apartment was a one-man movie, starring me as the world’s biggest liar.
“Show me all his spots,” my mother said. “Show me where he could be.”
I followed and helped her search, acting surprised when my brother wasn’t behind the clothes in my mother’s closet, or cocooned in her curtains.
“I don’t know,” I said. “He should be here.”
While my mother searched the rest of the apartment, looking in desperate, silly places (inside the oven, under the kitchen sink), I opened the sliding glass door to let the air in. I gazed in the pool’s direction and pictured the way it would look now. The automatic lights would have kicked on, giving the water a warm, sugary glow. All the chairs would be empty of belongings, except maybe one.
My mother came into the living room and asked what I was doing. I should be looking for my brother, she said. What kind of brother was I? She told me to recheck every spot I could think of.
“We have to keep searching, OK?” she said, and went to the phone. She picked it up, returned it to the wall. “I’m going to check with the neighbors. You stay here and search. Don’t go anywhere.”
I said OK, but when she left I stayed by the sliding door. I imagined what it would be like to swim at night, to break the first pool rule. You would want to stay in the water, I thought, where it was warm. The sun wouldn’t be there to comfort you, if you were just a spectator, a lowly stableboy. If you were on the diving board, you’d better know what move you wanted to do. You wouldn’t want to spend too much time up there, exposed, where the air was free to get you.
I dazed off until I thought I heard a splash, so soft I wasn’t sure if I had imagined it. I tried to get a better view of the pool. I slid open the screen door all the way and stepped onto our porch. Another splash. This one was louder, deeper. I stepped up on the porch’s lower rail, leaned over the edge. I’m so close, I thought. Just a little higher. If I could get on the top rail, I could see it all.
“What are you doing, dummy?” a voice said.
I jumped down and turned around. It was my brother. He was not in his swimming suit. He had the same clothes on as before. He was dry, and I wanted to hug him.
“Mom is going to kill you,” I said.
My brother smiled. “She’d never get away with it. Not in this city.”
“Where were you?”
“You better get inside before Mom comes back,” he said, and went inside and lay down in front of the fan. I sat on the couch, arms crossed.
“Where were you?”
“Nowhere.”
“You’re lying.”
“You’re right. What can I say, runs in the family.”
He closed his eyes like he wanted to rest. As if wherever Chris had taken him, the two had traveled long and far. To what secret kingdom, I knew he would not say.
“I read a thing about the Stranger,” I said.
My brother breathed deeply, his mouth open, and at first I thought he was asleep. “So?”
“So don’t you want to know?”
“Know what?”
My mother returned. I heard her check our room again, then call from the hall, asking if I’d had any luck. I didn’t answer. I let her step into the living room and see the scene herself. That’s what I would have wanted, if I were her. I wouldn’t want anyone to ruin the ending.
Her face twitched like it couldn’t be sure of what it was seeing. After the shock passed, she ran to my brother. She told him to stand up so that she could give him a hug.
“Where have you been?” she said.
My brother pushed her arms away. “I waited for you. I stayed up and waited.”
I watched his face closely, to see if it flickered when he started to lie. I couldn’t tell my mother my brother’s secrets, but maybe I could give her a clue.
“I’m sorry,” my mother said, and she told him what happened, about the van and about Sandy. “But where were you when we came home? You weren’t here, were you? As soon as I opened the door, I could tell the apartment was one boy short.”
“I waited as long as I could.” He put his head down. He wasn’t answering the question.
“Stop ducking the question,” I said. “He’s ducking the question.”
“You need to stay out of it,” my mother said, though she seemed to take my point. “You were supposed to stay in your room.”
My brother sat back down and faced the fan, turning his back to my mother like some proud villain. “I waited. But no one ever came to get me. I thought you forgot.”
I rolled my eyes, mumbled, Give me a break.
“Then I got thirsty in there. So I came out for a glass of water.” He paused there, either for effect or to give himself time to form his lie more fully. “That’s when I heard the siren.”
“Siren?” my mother said.
“Yes, I thought there was a tornado or something, so I went down to the laundry room, like you told us.”