Love,
Mother.”
I dashed to a phone and called Father collect. He answered the phone. I told him I'd gotten the news.
“Fine, Terry. I'm looking forward to seeing you over the holiday. We've got a lot of things to discuss.”
“I've already made plans, Dad. I'm visiting my roommate. It's been arranged for months.”
“They'll just have to be cancelled, then.”
“I can't cancel them. It's too late, now.”
“I'm sure they can be. This boy must have a family of his own who'd rather have him to themselves during Christmas. When does your term end?”
I told him the date.
“I'll be there to pick you up, then, first thing in the?”
“But, Dad…”
“No buts, boy. This is final. I'll see you then.”
I hung up and dialed Sandy's school. As soon as she got on the line I blurted out the news. She'd been informed of it too, and Mother had made her cancel out as well.
“Where will you be staying?” I asked.
“At Grandma's. What are we going to do, Terry?”
“I don't know. We'll figure out something. I'll call you there. Stay close to the phone and try to answer it yourself. If Mother answers it and complains the other party hung up, you'll know it was me.”
“I'm scared, Terry.”
“Don't be. They can't break us up.”
After I hung up I started to tremble with rage and panic.
FIFTEEN
I hated the sight of my father as he walked into the lobby of the administration building, hated his handshake and slap on the back and “Hi, Terry,” hated the leer he gave Michael when I introduced him and then said goodbye, and hated myself for going along with him, getting into the car and heading for his house.
I said as little as possible to him on the way, replying to his questions with grunts and letting what little conversation there was lapse into dead silence at every opportunity.
Once we had got to his place-a house in the New York suburbs where Sandy and I had lived briefly before they split up-he started to get tanked up while I made myself a couple of sandwiches.
I slumped into an easy chair in the living room while he made another drink. He sat down on the couch opposite me and gave one of his serious, appraising looks.
“Well, Terry, we've got a lot of ground to cover. It's been almost a year since I've seen you. You've grown quite a bit, becoming quite the handsome lad.”
I grunted.
“How are you doing in school?”
“Fair to poor.”
Instead of being irritated he seemed amused. “Well, maybe you need a change of scenery. I know I do. This whole divorce mess has taken a lot out of me.”
I really felt sorry for him.
“What I had in mind was a little trip to Europe, maybe for a year or two.”
“I don't want to go to Europe.”
“Wait a minute. Hear me out.” He went on to explain how he'd like to take off as soon as the winter term was over, pull me out of school and head for the Mediterranean until the warm weather came, then head north and wind up in England for the autumn. He'd enroll me in a public school there and it would be a grand old time. “How does it sound?” he asked.
“I guess it's okay for you, but I'd rather stay here. I wouldn't want to be away that long. I have friends here, and you're not my only parent, even if you do have custody. And there's Sandy. We've been pretty close, you know.”
He leered. “Your mother mentioned something about that. She didn't specify exactly what happened, but I've got a pretty good idea. Quite the cocksman, eh?”
My face burned. I glared at him. “You son of a bitch!” I hissed.
He gagged on his drink, a little taken aback at my ferocity. “Easy, son, I didn't mean to step on your toes.” He regained his composure. “And watch your tongue with me or you'll regret it.”
He stormed out for another drink. “Anyway, you might as well forget about your sister,” he said when he had returned. “That's part of the agreement. You're not to see her. As a matter of fact, the European trip, even though it was my idea…”
“I don't want to hear about it.” My heart was sinking, my heat thumping, I was starting to feel delirious. “About your slave trade deals. You'd think we were a couple of pieces of livestock.”
“Well, if you don't want to hear about it, then we won't talk about it,” he said testily. “We'll change the subject. Let's talk about you. Tell me about yourself. I've been out of touch with you for so long.”
“What do you want to hear?”
“Oh, I don't know-your likes, dislikes.”
I hated his guts. He was playing with me, toying with me the way a big, hulking tomcat toys with a bird whose wings he's trapped. I shot a bitter glance at him. “I don't feel like talking about what I like, with you. But I can tell you one of the things I dislike: I detest you.”
His face turned crimson with anger. He clenched his fists and tried to control it. “What the hell is it with you, for Chrissake. You've been acting like a little brat since this morning. All I get from you is hostility. You haven't done a goddamn thing all day but grunt and snarl. What the fuck's wrong with you?”
“You spoiled my plans. I told you I had plans for the holidays. You twisted my arm and made me come here. I didn't want to spend two weeks with you. How do you expect me to feel?”
The leer crossed his face again. “I can imagine what kind of plans you had with that roommate of yours. I got a load of him this morning. He's quite a hot number. I imagine you've been making it with him, too.”
“You fucking cocksucker!” I screamed. “You can't get away with that! I still remember the night you snuck into my room and tried to suck me off when I was a little kid. You're a fucking child molester, you bastard!”
He growled like a wild beast and lunged at me drunkenly. I was quick enough to dart out of his way, and he went staggering into the armchair. I reached out for the first thing I could find and picked up an ashtray stand, which I smashed into the back of his skull. He went limp, slumped in the chair, and slid face downwards on the floor.
I ran around in a panic like a chicken with his head cut off until I managed to pull myself together and call Sandy. My hands were trembling so much I could hardly dial the number. After three unsuccessful attempts, wrong numbers, no numbers, I finally got the right one. Sandy answered the phone. I started babbling gibberish, totally incoherent, until she managed to calm me down and get me to start from the beginning. I told her everything that had happened.
“I think he may be dead,” I said.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don't know.”
“You better call the police.”
“What for? That's not going to do any good. I want to see you.”
“But it's an eight-hour drive up here. How would you…”
“I'll take his car now. I'll leave right now. I'll meet you out in the woods, on that rock we used to go to, as soon as you can get out. Right after breakfast.. Tell them you're going for a walk.”
When I had hung up the phone I went back to Father's body and rolled him over onto his back. I was afraid to check whether or not he was dead. I reached inside his jacket for his wallet. He had five hundred dollars in cash. I got the car keys from his room, put on my coat, and left.
SIXTEEN
With the adrenaline shooting through my bloodstream, bug-eyed, I drove all night with only one stop for gas and hardly a blink, arriving within shooting distance of the house by six in the morning. I stepped at a diner and had breakfast; then headed for the woods.
Parking the car off the road, behind some trees, I walked the mile and a half down to the stream with the frozen ground crunching and crackling under my feet. The stream was frozen, too, and the moss on the rock was a yellowish brown. I waited for perhaps an hour before I saw Sandy running down the frozen stream.