Sue Grafton - U Is For Undertow

Greg said, “We’re in exile for the afternoon. Shelly’s tired and needs a nap.”

“I’m happy to have the company. Have a seat,” she said.

Greg was clueless when it came to entertaining Shawn. On the occasions when he was left in charge of the boy, he usually brought him into the house and left it up to his mother to provide him with paper and colored pencils or the Tinkertoys she’d had stored in the attic since Greg was his age.

Deborah had wanted to talk to him and now that she had the chance, she wasn’t sure how to go about it. She hardly knew what to make of him these days. He was tall, slim, and fair-haired, a younger version of his dad. He’d been a good-hearted kid with an easy disposition. He’d made A’s all through school though the good grades hadn’t come easily for him. Because he struggled so hard, she thought his achievements had been meaningful to him. Perhaps he’d only excelled out of a desire to please his parents. Until he left for college, there was no sign of rebellion or defiance. He wasn’t oppositional and there was nothing in his behavior to suggest he was disenchanted with the life his parents had provided.

Shelly was a revelation. Clearly, this girl embodied attitudes he’d been harboring for years without the means, or perhaps the courage, to express them. Bringing her home, he was sending a message: This is what I want and what I admire. Deborah could only hope he’d realize how far off track he was. She’d tried to be accepting of Shelly, for his sake if nothing else, but everything about the girl was repugnant.

Of course, Shelly didn’t approve of Deborah any more than Deborah approved of her. She was smart enough to avoid Patrick altogether, sensing he was an adversary she’d regret taking on. She disdained their lifestyle and made little effort to disguise her animosity. For Deborah, tact and good manners were the ballast that kept social interactions on an even keel. For Shelly, being blunt and abrasive was proof she was being authentic. Without the buffer of mutual courtesy, Deborah was at a loss, and though she hated to admit it, she was afraid of the girl.

Greg went into the refrigerator and found a container of leftover spaghetti with meatballs that he proceeded to eat cold.

Eyeing him, Shawn said, “I’m hungry.”

“What about Velveeta,” Deborah said with a quick look at Greg. He was responsible for enforcing Shelly’s food laws when she wasn’t in the room. Deborah had given up trying to make sense of Shelly’s rules, which were arbitrary, capricious, and nonnegotiable. Greg shrugged his approval, so Deborah opened the package of Velveeta and handed Shawn a slice. He wandered into the living room, engrossed in pulling off pieces and dropping them in his mouth like a baby bird. He wasn’t allowed to watch television, and Deborah hoped he’d find a way to amuse himself without getting into trouble.

She filled the sink with soapy water, tucking in the dirty bowls and utensils before she took a seat at the table. She knew Greg didn’t want to have a heart-to-heart talk, but she had him cornered and he seemed resigned.

“I’ve been thinking about Shelly and I realized I didn’t know anything about her family. Where’s she from?”

“ Los Angeles. Tustin or Irvine, I forget which,” he said. “Her family disowned her when she was fifteen and got pregnant with Shawn.”

“That’s too bad. It must be hard for her.”

“Nah. They didn’t get along anyway, so it was no big deal. She says they’re a bunch of pigs with their heads up their butts.”

“I see.” She hesitated and then plunged on. “I’m not sure this is the time to bring it up, but your father and I are curious about your plans. I wondered if you wanted to discuss the situation.”

“Not particularly. Plans for what?”

“We assumed you’d be looking for a job.”

She heard Shawn giggling and she looked over to see him round the corner from the living room, stark naked. He dashed into the kitchen with a certain brash confidence, whooping and leaping to claim their attention. Deborah looked over at him coolly as he shook his bottom at them and galloped away. She could hear his bare feet slapping down the hall as he ran around the house, circling through the living room, dining room, kitchen, the front hall, and back through the living room. Clearly, Greg had learned to block out the child’s shrieking, which Shelly, of course, encouraged as freedom of expression.

“A job doing what?”

“You have a family to support. At the bare minimum, you have to have income and a decent place to live.”

“What’s wrong with the bus? We’re doing fine. Unless you begrudge us the parking space.”

“Of course we don’t begrudge you the parking space. Don’t be ridiculous. All I’m saying is that once the baby’s here, you can’t go on living like vagabonds.”

“Shelly doesn’t want to be tied down. She likes being on the road. Lots of our friends do the same thing and it’s groovy. You gotta go with the flow.”

“What will you do for money? Babies are expensive. Surely, I don’t have to tell you that.”

“Mom, would you just cool it with this stuff? I’m twenty-one years old. I don’t need your advice. We’ll take care of it, okay?”

Deborah let that one roll off her back and tried again. “Could you at least give us an idea how long you plan to stay?”

“Why? You want us out of here?”

Shawn tiptoed into the room, like a cartoon character, with exaggerated steps. Deborah watched him creep up on Greg with his hands out in front of him like claws. He let out a fake roar and gave Greg a swipe. Greg growled and grabbed at him. Shawn screamed with laughter as he galloped toward the dining room. “You can’t catch me! You can’t catch me. Nah, nah, nah.” He stopped and made a face, fingers wiggling at his ears. Off he went again. Deborah absolutely could not stand the child.

She said, “Why are you being so argumentative? That’s not like you. I’m trying to get a sense of your intentions if it’s not too much to ask.”

“Who says I have to have intentions?”

“Fine. You have no plans and no intentions. We do. We’re willing to have you stay here until the baby’s born, but it can’t be permanent.”

“Would you get off that stuff? I said we’d take care of it and we’ll take care of it.”

Deborah stared at him, struck by his refusal to address reality. This was the first time she’d understood how immature he was. He had no idea what he’d gotten himself into. He’d adopted Shelly’s worldview, but without foundation or depth. Maybe it was the same form of parroting that had gotten him through school. “I don’t understand what you see in her.”

“Shelly’s cool. She’s a free spirit. She isn’t all hung up on material things.”

“The way we are. Is that what you mean?”

“Mom, you don’t have to be so defensive. I didn’t say that. Did I say that?”

“You’ve been looking down your noses at us since the day you walked in. Shelly despises us.”

“That’s not true.”

“Of course it is. Why don’t you just admit it?”

“You despise her so why don’t you admit that? Take a look at yourselves. Dad works to make money so you can buy, buy, buy. His employees scrape out a living at minimum wage and he reaps the profits. Are you proud of it?”

“Yes, I am. And why not? He’s worked hard to get where he is. He provides jobs and benefits for hundreds of people who’re devoted to him. Most of them have been with him for over fifteen years so they must not feel too downtrodden.”

“Shit, have you ever really talked to those guys? Do you have any idea what their lives are like? You pat yourselves on the back for doing good deeds, but what does that amount to? You and your hoitytoity girlfriends have ‘charity luncheons,’ raising a pittance for whatever tidy little cause has taken your fancy. What difference does it make in the overall scheme of things? None of you put yourselves on the line. You’re safe and you’re smug and you wouldn’t dream of dirtying your hands with the real problems out there.”