Robert Parker - Family Honor

“Why we stopping here?” she said.

She was getting positively chatty.

“It will give us a chance to talk,” I said.

“Oh please,” Millicent said.

I was quiet. The river was black and apparently motionless in front of us. It didn’t look like it was moving past us, flowing east darkly, and without surcease.

“Why did you run away?” I said.

“I don’t get along with my parents,” Millicent said.

“Why not?”

“They’re creepy,” she said.

I nodded.

“You don’t miss them.”

“No.”

“How about school?”

“I hate school.”

I nodded again.

“I never much liked it either,” I said. “You miss anybody at school?”

“No.”

“Do you miss anyone at all?”

“No.”

“Does anyone miss you?”

Millicent didn’t answer.

“What do you think?” I said.

“About what?”

“Do you think there’s anyone who misses you?”

“How would I know? My parents hired you to find me.”

“Do you think that means they miss you?”

She was quiet again. But it was different. She was thinking about the question.

“No,” she said. “It just means they worry what the neighbors think.”

“Could be,” I said. “Do you like one of them better than the other?”

“No.”

“Do you dislike one more?”

“No. I hate them both.”

“Why?”

“I told you. They’re creepy.”

“Give me a for instance,” I said.

“My mother fucks everybody,” Millicent said.

She checked me from the corner of her eye to see how I took the news.

“I bet that’s hard to think about,” I said.

“Don’t you think that’s creepy?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Why do you think it’s creepy?”

“For crissake, a married woman, her age?”

“How do you know this?”

“I know”

“How?”

“I see her come home sometimes. She’s, like, drunk. Her makeup is all messed up. Her clothes are, you know, like crooked.”

“This is suggestive,” I said. “What’s your father’s reaction.”

Millicent laughed a little ugly humorless laugh.

“He acts like she’s not doing anything.”

“Maybe he’s right.”

Millicent shook her head. She was eager now. Nothing like the chance to share grievances to encourage conversation.

“No,” she said. “I found pictures.”

“Your mother and other men?”

“Yes.”

“Who took the pictures?” I said.

She was silent. I could tell she’d never thought about that.

“I think they maybe took them themselves.”

“Sexual situations.”

“Oh yeah,” Millicent said.

“How’d you find the pictures.”

“I was snooping in her room.”

I nodded.

“Your mother have her own room?” I said.

“Yes. That’s kind of creepy, I think.”

I shrugged.

“Your father know about the pictures?” I said.

“I left them where he’d find them.”

“And?”

“Next time I looked they were gone. But he never said anything.”

“Maybe he said something to your mother.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Millicent gave me a scornful look. The scornful look of a fifteen-year-old girl is as scornful as it gets.

“He’s scared of her.”

“Why?”

“Jesus, you ask a lot of questions.”

“I do, don’t I. Why is he scared of her?”

“I don’t know, he just is.”

“Maybe he loves her and he’s afraid if he makes her mad she won’t love him.”

“You think he doesn’t fool around?” Millicent said.

Her tone suggested that she was trying very hard to speak clearly to an idiot.

“I’d guess he did,” I said. “Does he?”

“Sure.”

“It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love her.”

“How can you love somebody and fuck a bunch of other people?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But I know it’s done.”

“You married?”

“Divorced,” I said.

“So who are you to talk?”

I wasn’t talking. She was. I smiled at her.

“Sonya J. Randall,” I said.

“Your first name is Sonya?”

“Yep.”

“Gross,” she said. “What’s the J. for?”

“Joan. What made you run away when you did?”

“I told you, my parents are creepy.”

“But you’ve found them creepy for a long time, Millicent. Why did you run now?”

She looked away from me and shook her head.

“There must be a reason,” I said.

She continued not to look at me.

“I got fed up,” she said. “That was the reason.”

She was lying and I knew it, and she probably knew that I knew it, but there was nowhere to go. I’d already pushed her as hard as I dared. Maybe a little harder.

“If you think of another reason,” I said, “I’d be pleased to know it.”

Millicent didn’t say anything. We looked at the river for a while.

Finally, without looking at me, she said, “I won’t stay at home.”

“You prefer sex with strangers?” I said.

“Being high helps.”

I looked at the river some more. The black water moved effortlessly toward the harbor as it had in 1630. Except in 1630 you could probably drink it.

“Let’s compromise,” I said. “You don’t have sex with any strangers for a while, and I won’t drag you home.”

She thought about that.

“So where am I supposed to live?” she said.

“With me.”

I was talking on the phone to Julie. It was nearly noon. Rosie was sitting on my feet under the desk. Millicent was asleep on the floor at the other end of the loft on an inflatable mattress I kept for guests.

“She’s staying with you?” Julie said.

“Un huh.”

“Do you have any idea what a crimp that will put in your sex life?”

“How much crimpier can it get?” I said.

“It’s already crimped?”

“Big time,” I said.

“I’m crushed. I spent several minutes every day envying you.”

“Spend the time finding me a nice guy who’s good-looking and straight.”

“You’re after my husband?”

“Besides Michael,” I said.

“Oh. I guess that’s kind of hard. Have you met anyone?”

“A pimp named Pharaoh Fox,” I said.

“Pimps can be fun,” Julie said. “How long is she going to stay with you?”

“At least until I find out why she left.”

“You don’t believe she just got fed up?”

“No. She was lying about that.”

“You’re sure.”

“I’m a licensed investigator,” I said.

“Of course. How are you going to find out?”

“I’m a licensed investigator.”

“You know, some kids leave home to punish the parents.”

“I know.”

“So that the more degrading and shocking their circumstances, the more horrified the parents are. And the more horrified the parents are, the more desirable the circumstances.”

“Sort of like suicides,” I said. “‘See what you’ve made me do.”’

“Do you like her?” Julie said.

“No.”

“Why not.”

“I can’t say.”

“Because you don’t know or because she might hear you?”

“The latter.”

“Is she angry and hostile.”

“Yes.”

“Hates her parents?”

“You bet.”

“And every other adult.”

“I’d guess so.”

“Including you?”

“More or less, though I think there’s some puzzlement.”

“Because you don’t give her the adult party line?”

“Something like that.”

Julie laughed.

“You’ve never bought the adult party line yourself, Sunny.”

“And my mother certainly has tried to sell it to me.”