By the Book (17 page)

“Y
OU’RE GOING.”

“I’M NOT
.”

“You’re going.”

“He’ll kill me.”

“You’re going or I’ll kill you.”

Dry breakfast cereal with Felix was a poor substitute for the postseduction repast she’d planned the day before, and she wasn’t above displaying some of her resentment. While his showing up for dinner hadn’t necessarily precluded the eventual employment of the teal blue negligee, his behavior during the meal had certainly put a damper on it. When he’d loudly refused to be dropped off at his apartment, and then sullenly acquiesced to being taken to his mother’s house for the night—in spite of his roundly stated qualms about waking her up and causing her to worry—he’d thrown the whole idea into the deep freeze.

She’d stood on the front porch with Jonah, feeling not the euphoria she’d anticipated, but utter mortification.

“He has a drinking problem,” she’d said.

“I noticed.”

“It’s hereditary.”

“So are a million other diseases.”

If she hadn’t loved him before, his quiet acceptance and gentle understanding would have put her over the top. That and his empathy for the shame she felt for something she had no control over.

“My dad had it too.”

“Funny how you can hate something about someone you love so much, isn’t it?”

Funny, too, how the long embrace they’d shared had seemed even more satisfying somehow than wild, passionate sex might have at that moment.

Now she told Felix, “I’m dropping you off at Mom’s and she’s going to baby-sit you until I come back for you at five-thirty. Then I’m personally driving you over to Krane’s, and you’re going to take the job he offers you and pay him back every cent you owe him. You can’t put this off any longer, Felix. You have to settle things with Mr. Krane. And this is the perfect opportunity. He’s willing to give you a job and you’re going to take it. Finish your coffee.”

He sighed and rubbed both his hands over his face, pushing his blond hair out of his bloodshot eyes. “It doesn’t work that way, Ellen,” he said, doing his best to reason with her. “If Krane were willing to give jobs to everyone who owed him money and couldn’t pay him back, do you think it would still look like a dump?” He pushed his coffee cup away. “He’s not running some welfare project over there. This isn’t give-a-bum-a-job week. There’s a reason there’s just the two of them working there.”

She looked at him and when it became apparent that she was waiting to hear the reason, he rolled his eyes and spread his arms out wide. “He doesn’t want employees. He wants his money.”

“Then why would he agree to hire you?” She was down to her last ounce of patience with him when she reached out and put a hand on his arm, trying to reassure him. “I admit, he’s a creepy looking guy, but once I explained the situation to him and pointed out that some money was better than no money, he was very reasonable about the whole thing. Now, he might not pay you a lot, minimum wage, so you might want to think about moving in with Mom for a while. Just until you get him paid off. And you’ve got to stop drinking, Felix.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”

She sighed. “I know. I do. I know. But you’ve got to get some help. I can’t help you. I wish I could, but I can’t. You have to help yourself. And you’re just going to go from one mess to another if you don’t put a stop to it.” She paused to let that sink in. “This is the first step, Felix. This is the right thing to do. Stand up and take responsibility for yourself. Pay your debt to Mr. Krane. Get some help. Just, for once in your life, do the right thing.”

“Or?” he said, hearing the desperation in her voice.

“Or ...” she said, only half believing she’d be able to back up her words and knowing everything would get worse if she didn’t. “Or I’ll wash my hands of you. I will. And I mean it this time. I’ll make sure Mom and Jane do too. You won’t have anyone left who will have anything to do with you.”

Her heart wept as she sat and looked him straight in the eye, calling his bluff. Neither one of them were good gamblers, she was afraid. Her poker face felt cold and unnatural, but she wouldn’t let it slip. There was too much at stake. He was too much to lose.

Finally she watched as disbelief gave way to uncertainty, as doubt gave way to humble despair.

“It’s not going to work. I’ll screw it up. You know that,” he said, resigned. “But I’ll give it a try.”

“Good,” she said, patting his arm and giving it a gentle, loving squeeze. “Good.” She stood up from the table, half afraid she’d cry, not wanting to make too big a deal of the hope spewing forth inside her. “Maybe Mom can take you over and get your hair cut today and—”

“Don’t push it, Ellen.” He glowered at her.

She held up both hands. “One step at a time.” She picked up their breakfast dishes and started off to the kitchen sink. “Don’t forget, now. Five-thirty. We don’t want to be late.”

“I’ll go by myself.”

She wanted to let him go by himself. He was a grown man, he should go by himself. She didn’t really relish the idea of going back to that junkyard. But the simple truth was, she didn’t trust him.

“No. I’m driving you there. Don’t bother to argue with me. I’ve made up my mind.”

He didn’t bother, but when she emerged from the kitchen, he was waiting for her, a frown on his face.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “You’ve been acting weird lately.”

Weird or confident? she wanted to ask. If Felix, through his dazed view of the world, had noticed the change in her, then the little green book was truly working. She smiled. But explaining the little green book to Felix
would
have been weird, so she just said, “I’m fine.”

“Must be that guy from last night that’s making you act so different.”

“Jonah. His name is Jonah.” And just the thought of him set her world right.

“I know.” A pause. “I liked him.”

He was such a baby sometimes that it was hard to remember he was still a man, still thought of himself as the man in the family—that deep down inside he might have enough pride left to believe his opinion counted.

She smiled at him, then swooped down to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, Felix,” she said softly near his ear. “I’m glad you like him. What you think is important to me.” She stood up straight. “Now bag up the trash for me and set it outside the door for Eugene, will you? I have to finish getting ready.”

She was the teeniest, tiniest, weeniest bit late for work that morning, but certainly not late enough to be attracting looks throughout the day.

Too-nice people weren’t accustomed to being looked at, to feeling paranoid. Who’d want to persecute a really nice person? Who’d be out to get one? Trusting other people to be nice was part of the too-nice complex. So perhaps the new, not-so-nice Ellen was overreacting to something she’d never noticed before—at least that’s what she was hoping as she looked up once again and caught two tellers talking, looking at her, then suddenly looking away.

Maybe she’d only imagined Mary Westford’s and Sylvia Plant’s voices through the restroom door; maybe they hadn’t gone suddenly silent when she walked in; maybe their reaction to her wasn’t a whole season colder than usual. Maybe this was how people normally acted and she was just now noticing. Or maybe something was wrong.

“Vi,” she whispered in her over-the-divider voice.

“What?”

“Have you noticed anything strange or different around here?”

“You mean other than you?”

She smiled, glad that Vi had noticed the changes in her too. But the changes she’d made were for the better; they weren’t that strange and they weren’t that different.

“Yes. Other than me.”

“Nope.”

She sighed. Maybe it was her imagination. ...

Joleen didn’t mention that she’d noticed anything out of the ordinary when they talked in her office just before the bank closed for the day.

“I know you asked to leave a bit early today, Ellen, and that’s fine, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t changed your mind about taking Mary Westford’s position while she’s on leave. Do you still want the job?”

That was never the issue. Wanting the job. She was very happy with the job she had. “I deserve that promotion, don’t I?”

“Yes, of course you do.”

“Then I want it.”

It was a good thing she and Jonah had agreed to meet later at the hospital—so he could visit with his father while she took care of some family business—because she left work feeling testy and out of sorts. Jumpy. Nervous. Maybe Felix and the job at Krane’s had affected her whole day at the bank, without her even realizing it. Maybe his paranoia was rubbing off on her.

There wasn’t an ounce of rational thinking to her hurrying home to change from skirt to slacks before she picked up Felix. Her reaction to some deep-seated and inconsistent concept about a skirt in a junkyard was easier to comply with than to argue with, she supposed. But to save time, she parked out in front of the house, dashing up the sidewalk, across the porch, and in through the front door.

“Ellen,” Mrs. Phipps said, startled as they met in the hallway. “You’re home early. We were just about to—”

“Not today, Mrs. Phipps,” she said, rushing up the stairs with hardly a pause. She frowned at the trash bag still sitting outside her apartment door. Had she gotten the day confused? No. It was Thursday, trash day. “Shoot,” she said, jamming the key in the lock and letting herself in.

Fat Bubba had followed her up the stairs. He loitered in the doorway a fraction of a second too long.

“Not today, Bubba,” she said, using the same hurried, impersonal tone of voice she’d used on Mrs. Phipps as she swung the door closed on him.

Fifteen minutes later she was in jeans and a white T-shirt, out the front door, and heading for her car. She had the eerie feeling someone was watching her and turned to wave good-bye to Mrs. Phipps, but the old lady wasn’t standing in her window and Eugene’s shades were drawn. She slowed down for a second, noticing that the house looked older than usual somehow, and sad in a way she couldn’t define. And worse, with the shades drawn and the curtains closed against the summer sun, it was almost as if it were shutting her out, turning its back on her—which was ridiculous, of course.

She shook off a peculiar sensation of foreboding and got into her car. On the way to her mother’s house she tried to get enthusiastic about what she was doing, but deep inside a dark, misty fog of uneasiness churned and swirled. As right and as bright as the day before had been, this day was filled with dark suspicions and apprehension, and she didn’t know why.

But for Felix’s sake she was smiling when she honked the horn outside her mother’s house and waved cheerfully to them both when they stepped out onto the front porch. Surprisingly, he jogged down the walk and quickly got into the car.

“Go. Quick,” he said, slamming the door closed. “Hurry, before she puts more spit in my hair.”

Laughing, she complied. That their mother had had a field day dressing her son for a job interview was too obvious. His old short-sleeved cotton shirt was patched and pressed, his T-shirt was bright white, and there was a razor-sharp crease down each leg of his ragged jeans. Even his tennis shoes had a fresh coat of powdery white polish on them. He was shaved and his hair was clean and combed—and apparently held in place with Super Hold Spit.

“Big day for Mom, huh?”

“The first day of school revisited,” he said, letting loose a huge sigh as he started to relax a bit. “All I need is a backpack and some lunch money.” She chuckled, and he glared at her. “Sure, laugh. But it’s a sad day when a grown man actually runs toward his own death just to get away from his mother, you know.”

“Oh, stop,” she said, scoffing. “You haven’t looked this good in months, number one. And number two, you’re not running to your death. You’re taking your first step toward a new life. You’re doing what’s right. You’re taking responsibility for yourself, and I happen to be very proud of you.”

“Great. That makes all the difference to me,” he said in a sarcastic tone of voice. However, she noticed that he squirmed in his seat a bit and sat up a little straighter, smoothed out the creases in his jeans. “I’ll keep that in mind during my recuperation.”

“I’m serious,” she said, knowing that he knew she was, but wanting to pump up his ego a bit more. “What you’re doing takes a lot of guts, Felix. Facing Krane like this, attempting to pay back your debt. I’m proud to call you my brother.”

She waited for his next quip, but when it didn’t come and the silence changed into something palpable, she glanced at him, found him pale and serious and regarding her with great affection.

“I haven’t been much of a brother to you lately, have I?” he asked, and before she could deny the remark, he said, “You know, if anything happens today, if something goes wrong, I want you to know that you’ve been a good sister to me. You get mad sometimes, but you’ve never turned your back on me and I ... I appreciate that.”

“Felix.”

“I know I’m a pain in the ass. I know people have told you to have nothing to do with me. To practice tough love on me.”

“And I did,” she said defensively. “I do. Because I think they’re right. And look how well it’s worked. You’re standing up for yourself. You’re—”

“You tried. But you never once left me to sleep out in the cold or go hungry. You never turned your back on me.”

“Well, no.” If she had, this day of reckoning might have come years earlier, but being a too-nice person sort of precluded letting your brother starve or freeze to death. Another fine demonstration of the fact that being too nice wasn’t the best thing to be. “No, I didn’t. And I’m sorry for that. Maybe if I had—”

“This day would have come sooner?” he asked, finishing her sentence for her. His laugh was hollow. “This day wouldn’t have come at all, Elly. I’d be dead by now.” She opened her mouth to deny it, to champion his will to live and the common sense he had when he wasn’t drinking, but he stopped her. “I just want you to know that you’ve been a good sister and I love you.”

Tears pressed hard on the backs of her eyes and stung to make them water. Good sister, bad sister wasn’t really important now. They’d hit the crux of their conversation. “I love you, too, Felix.”