P. Parrish - Thicker Than Water

Benjamin was standing in the hallway in his pajamas. He gave Louis a curious glance, then disappeared down the hall.

Susan waited until she heard a door close. “There’s something else, too.”

“What?”

“Sandusky told me today he’s seeking the death penalty for Cade.”

Louis was silent for a moment. “Any way around it?”

“I don’t know. He might reconsider if Cade pleads and saves him the trouble of a trial.”

“Cade will never do that.”

“Sometimes the thought of death can quickly alter how you look at life, even if it’s behind bars.”

She stacked the papers neatly on the table and put the markers on top. She ran a hand over her hair, staring vacantly at the coffee table. A toilet flushed and a moment later, Benjamin reappeared.

“Nite,” he muttered.

“I’ll be there in a minute, honey.”

Benjamin went back to his bedroom. The phone rang. Susan went into the kitchen, switching on the light.

Louis glanced down the hall. He could see the open door of Benjamin’s room.

“Dammit,” Susan said into the phone.

He looked toward the kitchen.

“I’m not on call tonight.” Susan was leaning against the doorjamb, head in hand. “Don’t you throw this up at me again.”

Louis looked back at the hall. Benjamin had ventured out and was listening to his mother. Susan hung up, her back to Louis.

“You okay?” Louis asked.

She nodded stiffly. “Idiot.”

“Who?”

“My boss,” she said, facing him. She saw Benjamin. “Get dressed, Ben. You’re going to April’s.”

Benjamin let out a whine. “I don’t wanna. I hate April.”

“Get dressed. You have to go. I have to go see a client.”

“I can stay alone,” he said.

“Benjamin, don’t argue, please,” Susan said, ripping the scrunchie from her hair. “Get dressed and pack up your clothes for tomorrow.”

Susan swept past Benjamin and disappeared down the hallway. Louis watched the boy as he slumped against the wall. Apparently he had been wrong; there was no Mr. Outlaw around. Not tonight, anyway.

“I’m not going,” Benjamin yelled.

“Don’t be a butt, Ben,” Susan yelled back. “Get dressed.”

Benjamin sank down to the carpet, burying his head in his arms. The kid looked miserable, pulled up into a tight little ball. Louis watched him, listening for tears, but he wasn’t making a sound. The Handel stopped abruptly.

“Ben!” Susan called out.

Louis stared at the kid, shaking his head.

Oh man. . don’t do this. You don’t even like kids.

Louis rose and went to the hallway. “Susan? I’ll stay with him,” he called.

Benjamin looked up at him. Susan came out of her bedroom, brush in her hand but still in her robe.

“What?” she said.

“I said I’d stay with him. No sense in dragging him out at this time of night.”

Louis looked down at Benjamin. The gratitude on the kid’s face was almost painful to see.

“I can’t ask you-”

“I don’t mind,” Louis said, motioning toward the sofa. “I’ll just sit here and watch TV. It’s no problem.”

“No, it’s not right.” She disappeared into her room, half-closing the door.

Louis looked at Benjamin. “Sorry, buddy.”

With a sigh, Benjamin dragged himself up off the floor and trudged off toward his room.

Louis could hear them both rustling around in their rooms. Finally Susan reappeared, wiggling her arms into a beige jacket. Her hair was pulled back into a knot, and she had put on lipstick.

“I’ll only be an hour,” she said.

“I thought-”

“I changed my mind. Make sure he’s in bed by ten and that he brushes his teeth after you give him that pudding in the fridge that he’ll con you out of ten minutes after I leave.”

“Okay,” Louis said.

Benjamin had come back out. He had put on jeans and T-shirt but was still barefoot.

“You can stay here,” Susan said to him.

“Yes!” He made a pumping motion with his scrawny arm.

“But don’t give Mr. Kincaid any lip, you hear?”

She was stuffing things into her briefcase. “You have my pager number. I’ll be at the jail.” She paused. “You look tired. If you feel like it, take the sofa. There’s a blanket in the closet at the end of the hall.”

“Thanks.”

She started to the door.

“Susan?”

She turned.

Louis hesitated. “I’ll find Hayley Lieberman.”

She nodded and opened the door.

“Take an umbrella,” Louis said, “it’s getting ready to rain again.”

She stared at him for a moment, then grabbed the umbrella.

“Thanks,” she said softly. Then she was gone. Louis locked the door behind her and stood looking out the window, watching her old Mercedes chug off into the darkness.

He turned. Benjamin was standing there, staring up at him.

Louis looked at his watch. “You got a half-hour. What’s on?”

Benjamin scrambled onto the sofa, dug the remote from under a cushion and started punching it. A.J. Simon was giving his slob brother Rick grief as they drove down yet another San Diego freeway in pursuit of yet another dirtbag.

“You like this show?” Louis asked, sitting down next to him.

Benjamin shrugged. “It’s junk. I’d rather watch Miami Vice. Mom won’t let me. Too much drugs.”

Louis nodded. “Where’s your bathroom?”

Benjamin pointed down the hall.

Louis started down the hall toward the bathroom, but then paused. Her bedroom door was open. He took a step, trying to see inside without being too obvious.

It was painted an off-white, with a ceiling border that swirled with browns and deep reds. The furniture was old, borderline antique. Her bed was unmade, the comforter a big, billowy thing that matched the border. There was a pile of black clothes on the floor, something lacy looking, and a wad of pantyhose.

He spotted the tape player on the bureau, and could pick up the strong scent of vanilla. He saw a candle burning on the night stand.

“Hey, Benjamin,” Louis called.

“What?”

“Your mom left a candle going in her room. Come here and blow it out.”

“Your legs broke?”

“Just get in here, please.”

Benjamin went in and blew out the candle. He gave Louis a “you’re nuts” look and started off to his own room.

“I thought you wanted to watch TV?” Louis asked.

Benjamin gestured to his clothes. “Can’t sleep in this.”

Louis followed him to the bedroom and stood at the door.

“You don’t have to watch me every minute,” Benjamin said as he wriggled out of the jeans.

“Yes I do.”

“I’m not going to run away or something.”

“Well, I’m responsible. I’m not taking any chances.” Benjamin gave him another withering look.

Louis’s eyes wandered over the boy’s bedroom. It was beige, like his mother’s, with a brown spread, tan carpet and shelves of books and toys. The ceiling was studded with little green stars that probably glowed in the dark, and eight papier-mache replicas of the planets were strung from the ceiling. There was a small telescope at the window, Star Wars posters on the walls and a gleaming saxophone sitting in a stand. The room was surprisingly neat. Nothing like his own room back at the Lawrence house had been.

“Nice room,” Louis said. “Very neat.”

“I’m not a slob,” Benjamin said. He was buttoning his pajamas, one eye on Louis as he ventured farther into the room.

“You make those?” Louis asked, pointing at the planets.

“Yeah. Science project.”

“I thought there were nine planets.”

Benjamin shook his head. “Pluto is technically not a real planet. They think it’s really an asteroid. So I left it out. I only got a B because of it. But I’m right. It’s just an asteroid.”