George Pelecanos - The Way Home

“You all right?” said Ladas.

“Yeah,” said Chris. “When my dad comes, don’t speak on any particulars. Just tell him I’m inside.”

He walked toward the bungalow, using his damp T-shirt to wipe away the sweat that had broken on his face.

Thomas Flynn arrived shortly thereafter and parked Amanda’s SUV sloppily on the road, one set of tires up on the curb. He jogged across the yard to the front porch of the bungalow, where Andy Ladas sat, working on another beer and a smoke. Flynn was winded and his color was up. His shirttails were out, covering the. 38 he had holstered at the small of his back.

“Is Chris all right?”

“Yes,” said Ladas.

“What’s happening here?”

“Couple of guys were talkin to Chris outside.” Ladas cut his eyes away from Flynn’s. “That’s all I know. They’re gone and he’s fine.”

Flynn went into the house. He stepped to the door of Chris’s apartment and turned the knob without knocking. It was a small place consisting of a bedroom, living room, kitchenette, and head. From behind the closed bathroom door he could hear the run of a shower. Flynn had a seat in a cushiony chair. He looked up at the crowded bookshelves. On the small table beside him lay a bookmarked copy of Wartime by Paul Fussell.

The shower shut off. Soon Chris stepped out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist.

“Dad.”

“Everything all right?”

“I’m good.”

“You’re so good, why’d you send me that code?”

“Can I dry my hair off and put some pants on?”

“Go ahead.”

“There’s beer in the refrigerator, you want one.”

Flynn found a bottle of Budweiser and uncapped it while Chris changed. He drank off a good piece of it standing up and finished it sitting in the same chair.

He’s taking his time, thought Flynn. He’s figuring out his story and his lies.

Flynn went back to the refrigerator and got another beer. He was drinking it when Chris stepped barefoot into the room, wearing jeans and a wife beater. His hair had been towel dried and left uncombed. The look on his face was clever and annoyed, as it had been when he was a teen. As if he was expecting a tongue-lashing from his father, was prepared to take it, and would give up nothing in return.

“Well?” said Flynn.

Chris pushed hair back behind his ears. “Couple of dudes came by to speak with me about somethin. I thought there was gonna be trouble, but I was wrong. I apologize for bothering you.”

“What did they want?”

“I owe them money,” said Chris. “I get into these card games sometimes. Texas hold ’em, like you see on ESPN. Only these are played in basements around town. I was into those two for a coupla thousand dollars.”

“Bullshit.”

“It was a card debt.”

“No, it wasn’t. You’re lying. Don’t forget who you’re talking to, son. I had years and years of experience watching you lie to me. You don’t look any different to me right now than you did when you were sixteen.”

“I’m telling you how it was. I don’t know what else to say.”

“Say the truth. You sent me that signal. If it was nothing, you could have handled it yourself. If you needed just a little help you could have called the police. Shit, the station house is right up the street.”

“I wouldn’t call the police,” said Chris.

“I forgot,” said Flynn. “You don’t talk to the po -leece.”

“That’s not necessary,” said Chris, and he left the room to get himself a beer.

When he returned, his father was staring down at his shoes.

“I’m sorry,” said Flynn. “I was out of line.”

Chris dragged a chair beside his father and had a seat. Flynn popped the knuckles of his left hand with his right.

“Calm down, Dad.”

“Okay.”

“You know I’m tryin.”

“I do.”

“I go to work every day. I pretty much play by the rules. But you know, some things, some of the bad habits I picked up along the way, and especially the experience of being locked up-”

“I know. It’s hard to shake.”

“Me and Ali went out to Pine Ridge today. Ali had some work stuff to take care of out there, and I joined him. Bein back in my unit, looking into my cell, it hit me kinda hard. It’s tough to get that monster off your back. Wasn’t easy for Ben, either.”

“You telling me that you and Ben slipped back into some criminal thing?”

“No. I already told you; Ben didn’t do anything wrong.”

“So those two men were here because of a card debt.”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit,” said Flynn.

The two of them sat there and drank. Flynn finished his and went to the fridge and got another. He caught a look from Chris as he retook his seat.

“You should slow down,” said Chris. “You gotta drive home.”

“Fuck that,” said Flynn. “I’m a grown man, and you sound like your mother.”

Flynn took a long pull from his bottle.

“I’m not comin in for a few days,” said Chris. “I need some time off.”

“How you gonna pay your gambling debt if you don’t work? What about the vig? Isn’t that what you guys call it?”

“There is no vig.”

“On account of there’s no debt. ’Cause this card game thing is bullshit.”

Chris chuckled. “You can’t let it go, can you?”

“That’s all right,” said Flynn, his eyes a bit unfocused. He drank off more of his beer. “You’ll tell me the truth when you’re ready, I guess. I don’t wanna pressure you or nothin like that.”

“Can I say something else?”

“Go ’head.”

“When I come back to work, I’m not wearing that polo shirt anymore. I’ll wear anything you want, but not that. Me and Ben, we never liked those things. They reminded us of our uniforms at the Ridge. Is that all right?”

Flynn could not look at Chris. He said, “Yes, Chris. It’s fine.”

Chris cleared his throat. “I’m…”

“What?”

“I’m thinking of taking a class or two, spring semester, over at Montgomery College. American history.”

“That’s nice,” said Flynn. And because he was his father, he added, “What would you do with that?”

“Just check it out and see what happens, I guess,” said Chris. “Maybe work toward a teaching degree. I dunno. Things are gettin kind of serious between Katherine and me. If I’m gonna be, you know, responsible for someone else… I’m sayin, I don’t want to be installing carpet all my life.”

“I don’t want that for you, either.”

“Anyway.”

“Yeah.”

Flynn got up and went to the kitchenette and stood over its sink. He drank deeply of his beer, took a breath, and finished what was left. He placed the bottle along a row of empties on the counter and walked toward the front door.

“I’m outta here, Chris.”

“Dad?”

Flynn stopped walking. “Yeah.”

“Thanks for coming. When I called, I mean.”

Flynn stared at Chris, his eyes sad and knowing. Now would be the time to say the words that needed to be said, but he could not. He waved and walked out the door.

Chris stared at the bottle in his hand. He drank from it, his chest heavy with emotion.

Flynn stood at his bar cart and poured three fingers of Beam into a rocks glass. He sipped at the bourbon and felt it bite as Amanda came into the dining room. Her eyes traveled over him and flickered away.

“I’m just having one before bed,” said Flynn.

“I didn’t say a word.”

“What would Jesus have done, Amanda? If he’d had a son like ours, I mean. Do you think Jesus might have a drink once in a while, just to take the edge off?”

Amanda hugged her arms. “What happened?”

“Nothing. I got there and whatever was going on was over. Chris says he’s in a little trouble over a gambling debt.”