Linwood Barclay - Lone Wolf

The Bug comes to life with its distinctive, throaty roar. She puts the wipers on, then backs out of the drive.

That’s when I notice that one end of the belt to her raincoat has become caught in the bottom of the door, and is dangling down, swinging an inch above the wet pavement.

I run from my room and descend the flight of stairs in two jumps, burst out the front door, run past Dad standing in the driveway, and after my mom’s car, screaming, “Your belt! Your belt!” But Mom does not look back, and then the Volkswagen turns the corner and is gone.

Standing there, in the rain, I cry enough tears to drown the world.

I came out of dad’s study and walked past him and Lawrence at the kitchen table. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Dad, not directly, anyway. I reached into the fridge, found some orange juice, and poured myself a glass.

“Lawrence here was saying,” Dad said, “that you don’t really choose to be gay. You’re born that way.”

I said nothing. I looked at Lawrence, who was smiling at me.

“That’s kind of interesting, don’t you think?” Dad said. “Maybe it doesn’t make a lot of sense to pick on gay people if they can’t help it.”

“That’s very charitable,” Lawrence said.

“Well,” said Dad, who’d evidently detected some sarcasm in the air, “you know what I mean.”

I leaned up against the counter. “You’re not joining us?” Dad asked, nodding toward an empty chair. “What’s with you?”

“Nothing,” I said.

“It’s this Leonard thing,” Dad said, happy to provide me with an excuse for my unwillingness to participate in the conversation. “I’m upset, too. Shit, I’m the one, I guess, who’s going to have to find some sort of family, have them come up here and pick up his car and his stuff. Hey, where’s Leonard’s backpack?”

“My car,” Lawrence said. “I can go get it for you.”

“No hurry. I just don’t want to forget about it.”

“What do you want to do?” Lawrence asked me. I was looking at the floor, and when I didn’t say something right away, Lawrence said, “Hello? Earth to Zack?”

I raised my head slowly. “So, Dad,” I said, “I finally remembered Lana Gantry.”

Dad looked around. “Hmm?”

“From when I was a kid. I didn’t remember her at first, but it came back to me today. All kinds of memories.”

“Oh,” Dad said. “Okay.”

“She and her husband, they used to come over, right? I can remember you guys barbecuing in the backyard. Coming over to play cards, watch stuff on TV.”

Dad made an effort at trying to recall. “Yeah, yeah, I think we did, now that you mention it.”

“I seem to remember you guys laughing, having a good time. There was even a time, I think, when I walked into the living room and you were all playing charades.”

“Charades,” Lawrence said. “People really did that, huh?”

I said, “You all seemed to get along really well. You and Lana, you were friends years ago before you reconnected up here.”

Dad swallowed. “We all got along very well.”

“So, what happened? Did they move away?”

“That’s what Lana told you the other day,” Dad said. “Weren’t you listening? They sold their house, moved away, and years later, I ran into Lana in town here, and we kind of renewed old acquaintances. Her husband’s long since dead, you know.” Getting a bit defensive. “And your mother’s been gone a long time, too, Zachary.”

“Did I say something?” I said. I looked at Lawrence. “Did you hear me say something?”

“Hey, man, I don’t know where you’re going with this.”

“I’m entitled to a life,” Dad said. “Who I see is none of your goddamn business.”

“Did I say it was? Of course, who you see now is none of my business. I couldn’t agree more. But what about when I was a kid? Still living at home. Under your roof. Would it be any of my business then?”

Dad’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. He was getting ready to say something, but then stopped himself.

“Tell me about Orville,” I said. “I’m a bit curious about him. You go out of your way to defend him sometimes. Have you noticed that? You tell me I’m being too hard on him. Why do you do that? What do you care? What’s he to you?”

“He’s Lana’s nephew,” Dad said quietly. “I just want you to show a bit of respect, that’s all.”

“Is that really what he is? Lana’s nephew? She’s his aunt?”

Now it was Dad’s turn to be sarcastic. “That’s sort of how it works, Zachary. If you’re my nephew, I’m your uncle, or aunt.”

“It’s not possible that he’s something other than Lana’s nephew?”

Dad stared at me, hard. “Zachary,” he said slowly, “I don’t know what you’re thinking, or what you’re getting at, but you need to leave this alone. It’s none of your business. It’s not any of your concern. I’m telling you, don’t go stirring up all kinds of shit. It’s not going to help anyone.”

I looked Dad in the eye. My mouth felt dry.

“Here’s my other question,” I said. “About Orville.” I took a breath. “What exactly are you to Orville?”

“Zachary, for Christ’s sake, what the hell are you talking about?”

“I guess what I’m wondering is, if Lana’s not exactly his aunt-”

“I never said that.”

“-if Lana’s not exactly his aunt, and I’m just supposing here, isn’t it possible that you’re more than just some citizen of Braynor that Orville’s sworn an oath to protect?”

Again Dad started to say something, then stopped himself.

“I sent Sarah a picture of Orville,” I said.

“You what?”

“On the computer. I told her that ever since I’ve arrived, there’s been something about him that seemed familiar to me. Couldn’t put my finger on it.”

Shouting. “You had no business using my computer!”

“Dad, I’ve been using it since I got here. And I didn’t snoop around in it. I downloaded the picture into it. That’s what I sent Sarah. And you know what she said? I felt like an idiot when I read her note, it suddenly seemed so obvious.”

Dad waited, thinking he knew what I was going to say, but not sure. Lawrence was looking pretty interested, too.

“She said he looked just like me. That we could be brothers.”

Dad glared at me, and then, in a flash, he swept his arm across the top of the table, sending his and Lawrence’s cups and plates and cutlery and the salt and pepper shakers and napkin holder crashing onto the floor.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” he bellowed. “Mind your own fucking business!”

Lawrence had jumped back in his chair when everything hit the floor, and now he was on his feet, looking at Dad, then at me, then back at Dad again. He stooped to start picking things up off the floor.

“Leave it!” Dad said, and Lawrence straightened. No one moved, no one said a word for several moments.

Dad eyes were welling up, and he put his hands over them so we couldn’t see.

“Dad,” I said.

He took one hand away and waved me off, then put it back over his face. Lawrence took a step toward me, caught my eye, and said quietly, “Come on. Let’s take a walk.”

I felt this was the wrong time to walk out, that we were on the verge of something here.

“Dad, I just want to know-”

“Get out,” he said to me. The tone suggested he was not in a mood to debate it.

I slipped out the door with Lawrence. We started walking, with no particular destination in mind.

“Well,” said Lawrence. “I don’t know whether I’ve had a chance yet to thank you for inviting me up here. I’ve only been here for, what, three hours, and we’ve already had a guy killed by a bear and you’re having a family meltdown. What’s happening after dinner?”