Part 33 (2/2)

He shook his head as though he couldn't quite believe it. ”Well, you run a tight s.h.i.+p,” he said. ”It's amazing.”

She smiled. ”We try. Thank you.”

He turned to Robert. ”So. How you doing, son? I know this is a ... big adjustment for you. G.o.d knows it's got to be. I know it's not easy. I know it can't be easy.”

”I'm ... I'm okay.”

”Really?”

Robert nodded. Why was he asking all this?

Did he really care?

What was he doing here-and didn't he know?

”Anything I can do for you?”

”No. I mean, no thanks.”

”Anything I can bring? You got your Game Boy? Stuff like that?”

He nodded again. He noticed that his father was scratching at his thumb with his index finger. Otherwise he looked completely calm, like nothing was going on here at all. It was weird. It was like this happened to him every day, going to visit his kid in some home.

”Well, if there's anything you need, you know where to phone me. He can make phone calls, can't he, Mrs. Strawn?”

”I'm afraid not, Mr. Danse. The bills would be a disaster. You'll have to phone him here. And then because of the court order ...” She looked embarra.s.sed. ”Because of the court order I'd have to be on the extension. You understand, I hope.”

He seemed to want to ignore that last part.

”Sure, I understand,” he said. ”Twenty-one kids could make a lot of phone calls. I'll phone him, then. Any particular time of day?”

”Not before nine, please. And not after nine in the evening.”

”Fine. No prob ... oh, d.a.m.n it!”

He held up his thumb, turning it over and cupping it with the palm of his hand. Blood was flowing off it, running fast and hard down over his wrist.

”Oh, my Lord!”

”Could you ...? Where's the bathroom, Mrs. Strawn? I'm sorry ... I did this this morning putting in a new razor blade but I thought ...”

She pointed. ”First door to your left.”

”Could you get me something ... some paper towels maybe? Have you got a first-aid kit around or anything?”

”I'll be right back.”

She hurried down the hall to the kitchen. His father took one step in the direction of the bathroom and then stopped and turned, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapped it around his finger, striding toward him, reaching over and grabbing Robert's arm with the other hand, squeezing his bicep hard, that nice easygoing look on his face slipping away and sliding into a fury he had never seen on anybody's face, ever.

He'd been scratching at the finger.

Robert had seen him.

It was just to get him alone.

He tried to pull away. Arthur jerked him roughly back.

He tried to cry out to Mrs. Strawn but his voice wouldn't work and then his father's words were a whispered rush was.h.i.+ng over him like a cruel wind.

”You think I'm f.u.c.king stupid, Robert?” he hissed. ”I told you what I was going to do and now I'm going to do it-unless you say you lied, Robert. You think I can't? You seriously want to f.u.c.k with me? Unless you tell them you lied and you tell them fast I'm going to skin your f.u.c.king mother while she's still alive and then I'm coming after YOU! You understand me?”

He squeezed the arm and then released him just as he thought the arm couldn't take any more, just as he thought he was going to break it, and then he moved off quickly to the bathroom.

Robert heard water running.

His legs were about to give way. He sat down trembling on the couch. Fell into it.

Mrs. Strawn came in from the kitchen with some paper towels and a first-aid kit and she didn't give him a glance. She walked to the bathroom and he heard the water go off again and then he heard them talking.

n.o.body could protect him.

The realization was final.

His father could do what he wanted to, to both him and to his mother because his father could always outsmart them whenever he wanted and his father didn't care. He'd do anything.

He was the only one who knew that.

In spite of what his mom said, he was alone.

When they came out of the bathroom his father was smiling again holding up the thumb with a band-aid on it like it was some kind of thumbs-up thing and Mrs. Strawn was smiling too, completely fooled by the phony look on his father's face and the phony cut he'd made this morning just to get to him.

”All fixed,” he said. ”Thanks again, Mrs. Strawn. It's really good of you. I've got to go, Robbie. But I promise, I'll be in touch. Okay?”

And Robert knew he would. He'd be in touch. Forever and ever.

He always would.

Thirty-one.

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