Page 9 of Life and Death
If I haven’t heard from you by 5:30 p.m. today I’m calling Charlie.
I checked the clock. I still had an hour, but Mom was known for jumping the gun.
Mom,
Calm down. I’m writing right now. Don’t do anything crazy.
Beau.
I sent that, and then started the next, beginning with a lie.
Everything is great. Of course it’s raining. I was waiting for something to write about. School isn’t bad, just a little repetitive. I met some okay kids who sit by me at lunch.
Your shirt is at the dry cleaners—you were supposed to pick it up Friday.
Charlie bought me a truck, can you believe it? It’s awesome. It’s old, but really sturdy, which is good, you know, for me.
I miss you, too. I’ll write again soon, but I’m not going to check my e-mail every five minutes. Relax, breathe.
I love you.
Beau.
I heard the front door bang open, and I hurried downstairs to take the potatoes out and put the steak in to broil.
“Beau?” my father called out when he heard me on the stairs.
Who else?I thought to myself.
“Hey, Dad, welcome home.”
“Thanks.” He hung up his gun belt and stepped out of his boots as I moved around the kitchen. As far as I was aware, he’d never shot the gun on the job. But he kept it ready. When I’d come here as a child, he would always remove the bullets as soon as he walked in the door. I guess he considered me old enough now not to shoot myself by accident, and not depressed enough to shoot myself on purpose.
“What’s for dinner?” he asked warily. Mom was an imaginative cook, when she bothered, and her experiments weren’t always edible. I was surprised, and sad, that he seemed to remember that far back.
“Steak and potatoes,” I answered. Charlie looked relieved.
He obviously felt awkward standing in the kitchen doing nothing; he lumbered into the living room to watch TV while I worked. I think we were both more comfortable that way. I made a salad while the steak cooked, and set the table.
I called him in when dinner was ready, and he sniffed appreciatively as he walked into the room.
“Smells good, Beau.”
“Thanks.”
We ate in silence for a few minutes. It wasn’t awkward. Both of us like quiet. In some ways, we were good roommates.
“So, how did you like school? Make any friends?” he asked as he was taking seconds.
“Well, I have a few classes with this guy named Jeremy. I sit with his friends at lunch. And there’s this girl, McKayla, who’s friendly. Everybody seems pretty nice.” With one outstanding exception.
“That must be McKayla Newton. Nice girl—nice family. Her dad owns the sporting goods store just outside of town. He makes a good living off all the backpackers who come through here.”
We ate in silence for a minute.
“Do you know the Cullen family?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“Dr. Cullen’s family? Sure. She’s a great woman.”
