Scott Turow - The Burden of Proof

"Pardon me?"

"Come on. Get your clothes off."

"Thank you, Sam. I do not care to get into the hot tub."

The boy gaped. "You have to. Sonny says I can't go in without a grownup. I'm only five years old, you know."

"Yes," said Stern. He stood a moment and stared at the moon, just rising and visible through the fingerlet branches of the trees of the ravine. He had lost control over most everything sometime ago. In the dark, he kicked off his shoes and loosened his belt.

As life had repeatedly shown him, there was usually something to other people's pleasures. However suspect it seemed, the hot tub was enchanting. Little foggy wisps rose in the moonlight and the ihin evening air was genre as a breath. His large body felt lighter, submerged in the dark.

Stern sat on a bench inside the tub and Sam crouched beside him to keep his chin above the water's level.

"When is Sonny gonna get up?"

"Soon, Sam. She must have been very tired."

"She's going to have a baby," said Sam. It was the first mention he had made of the subject. "So I understand," said Stern. "Is she sick?"

"No," said Stern.

"You said she was sick."

"No, I said I Wanted to be-sure she was not sick." What would he tell his father of what he observed? Or Sonny, for that matter? For the moment, that concern, like many others, seemed capable' of passing. "Do you go to Sonny's,work?"

"In a fashion."

"Sometimes, if someone does something bad, the good people have to tell them they did something bad."

Stern thought of adding a defense perspective but answered finally,

"Yes."

Sam suddenly stood straight up, shining like a fish in the moon's light. He hung his head over the edge of the tub.

"Uh-oh," Sam said.

"What?", Stern feared that the tub might be leaking. "No towels."

Together they groaned in the dark.

It was Stern who, after a brief disagreement was appointed to return to the cabin. Wearing only his boxer shorts, he saw in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door that his seat was sopping. He could hear Sonny a few feet away, grumbling a bit in her sleep.

Sam was wrapped and dried and placed in his pajamas. Before going to sleep, he demanded a story. In his backpack was a comic book depicting a protracted battle between two television characters, a blond hulk and a hooded creature who resembled a skeleton. They were dressed in medieval costumes but were located in outer space in the distant future and traded threats. The blond triumphed; that much had not changed.

The boy lay down, then drew himself up again, full of the familiar curiosity of bedtime.

"Sandy," he said, "does good always win?"

"Excuse me."

"Does good always win?" the boy repeated.

Stern was not certain if this was apropos of the story or their conversation before. He nearly asked what Sam was referring to but restrained himself with the thought that it was unseemly to be evasive with a five-year-old. Marta used to venture questions like this. Peter did as well, probably, but in his case they were put.solely to his mother. "No," Stern said finally. "Not always."

"It does on TV," the boy said. This was offered in part as refutation.

"Well, it should win," said Stern. "That is what the television is showing you."

"Why doesn't it win?"

"It does not always lose. It wins often. But it does not win evehe good people have to tell them they did something bad."

Stern thought of adding a defense perspective but answered finally,

"Yes."

Sam suddenly stood straight up, shining like a fish in the moon's light. He hung his head over the edge of the tub.

"Uh-oh," Sam said.

"What?", Stern feared that the tub might be leaking. "No towels."

Together they groaned in the dark.

It was Stern who, after a brief disagreement was appointed to return to the cabin. Wearing only his boxer shorts, he saw in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door that his seat was sopping. He could hear Sonny a few feet away, grumbling a bit in her sleep.

Sam was wrapped and dried and placed in his pajamas. Before going to sleep, he demanded a story. In his backpack was a comic book depicting a protracted battle between two television characters, a blond hulk and a hooded creature who resembled a skeleton. They were dressed in medieval costumes but were located in outer space in the distant future and traded threats. The blond triumphed; that much had not changed.

The boy lay down, then drew himself up again, full of the familiar curiosity of bedtime.

"Sandy," he said, "does good always win?"

"Excuse me."

"Does good always win?" the boy repeated.

Stern was not certain if this was apropos of the story or their conversation before. He nearly asked what Sam was referring to but restrained himself with the thought that it was unseemly to be evasive with a five-year-old. Marta used to venture questions like this. Peter did as well, probably, but in his case they were put.solely to his mother. "No," Stern said finally. "Not always."

"It does on TV," the boy said. This was offered in part as refutation.

"Well, it should win," said Stern. "That is what the television is showing you."

"Why doesn't it win?"

"It does not always lose. It wins often. But it does not win every time."

"Why not?"

"Sometimes the other side is stronger. Sometimes both sides are good in part." Sometimes neither, Stern thought. In the midst of this, he could not keep himself from thinking of Dixon. He looked at the boy. "Sam, who talks to you about this, about good winning?"

"It's on TV," said Sam innocently. He had no notion that he had engaged in an abstraction. "How much does good win?" he asked. "A lot?"

"A lot," said Stern. He had meant to answer, As often as it loses. But he felt this was inappropriate and perhaps not even correct. There was no place for brutal honesty with a child. Everyone felt that. It was taken in the Western countries as a rule of nature. So we raise our children with love and comfort for a future they can only find disappointing. He told Sam it was time to sleep.

"Thank you for keeping me company, Sam."

"Sure." He lay down and popped up again. "Wait a second."

He clambered from the bed, searched his bag, and came back with a small stuffed bear and a yellow piece of blanket.

Passing by, he kissed Stern as naturally as if he had been doing it forever, and then right before Stern's eyes laid himself down and was instantly asleep.

A child asleep, a woman asleep, and Mr. Alejandro Stern in sole waking possession of a still home. It had been many years since he had felt this particular'pleasure. He sat at the cable-spool table and ate a bowl of strawberries, listening to Sam's husky breath and, now and then as a distant counterpoint, a sighing sob from SonnY. Oh, he was pretending. He knew that. Nothing was truly hidden from himself. But he was enjoying it far to much to depart. He again wandered outside to the veranda. His wet underwear had begun to chafe, and after some reflection, he retrieved his towel inside, undressed once more, and hung his shorts on the branch of a tree, hoping the breeze would dry them before the long ride home. Then he resumed his place in the hot tub.

The moon had risen fully and loomed over the ravine, full of tricks and magic. All his troubles waited for him in the city, in the daylight.

For just this instant, watching the wisps wraith off the water, he was free.

It was only a few minutes before he heard the screen door bang.

"There you are." Her voice in the dark came from somewhere behind him.

He turned in one direction, then the other, and still did not see her.

"I thought you'd left until

I saw the car. How long was I asleep?"

About five hours, he told her.

"Oh God." Sonny was at the corner of the porch, keeping her distance in an effort to be discreet. "I'm so sorry. What did you do with Sam all that time? Did you feed him?"