IAN, AGE TWELVE
Ian hovered outside his parents’ room. He felt no shame eavesdropping on their conversation. After what happened at the motor lodge yesterday, Ian had a list of questions longer than the roll of film he’d developed early that morning.
Inside their room, he could hear his dad cautiously asking his mom questions. She cried, choking on words that didn’t make sense to Ian. Words like bounty hunter and payment. He knew what a bounty hunter was. He and Marshall had watched the movie Unforgiven about a bounty hunter in the Old West. They carried guns and hunted down robbers and murderers.
Who did Jackie want to find?
“Stop hiding your wallet,” Ian’s dad pleaded.
“No.” His mom hiccupped. “I’ll drain the accounts . . . max the cards . . . ruin us.”
“Then we’ll leave out the money. We’ll make it easy to find.”
“No.” She cried out the objection. “You work enough hours because of me. I need you home. Ian . . . Ian needs you more than me. He feels responsible for me. I hate that he thinks he has to take care of me. We’re not being fair to him. You’re not being fair to us.”
Ian peeked around the doorjamb. His mom sat on the bed, her legs folded underneath her skirt, head bowed. His dad faced her, one leg bent, the other on the floor as he leaned toward her. Their bodies silhouetted against the bright window behind them, the space between them the outline of a heart. His mom was breaking his.
Sarah showed Stu the pictures Ian had taken. She’d removed them from the darkroom in the basement before Ian could hide them. He’d kept his word with his dad not to tell his mom anything about what had happened at the motel. His dad worried how she would react should she learn what Jackie had done in the motel room. Ian suspected his mom already knew. Her clothes had been askew and her makeup smeared. She had a different scent on her, musk and sweat. His stomach had coiled whenever he smelled it. He would have kept the car window rolled down as they drove home had his mom not complained of being cold. She couldn’t stop shivering.
They’d left immediately after Ian got off the phone with his dad. Ian’s mom drove several miles until she had to pull over, she was shaking that bad. She washed her face in the dirty bathroom of an old gas station while Ian purchased Skittles and Milky Ways with the change he found between the car seats and in the ashtray. His mom ate half her Milky Way, murmured her thanks, and whispered the words, “I wish you hadn’t come.” She could barely look at him. They both cried.
They drove the rest of the way home in silence. When they reached the town limits, the car idling at a stop sign, his mom looked over at him in the front passenger seat. “You’re a good son, Ian. I hope you grow up to be a good man.”
Ian nodded and looked away. He discreetly wiped his eyes. Good men didn’t cry. They were strong. But Ian wasn’t feeling very strong at the moment. He didn’t have the strength or nerve to tell her thanks. Because she wouldn’t stop chanting, He’ll be a good man. He’ll be a good man. She repeated it as though she had to convince herself. And it creeped him out.
Sarah handed the photos to Stu one at a time. As they studied the images, her complexion took on a greenish hue, reminding Ian of the murky pond on their property. She gave Stu the last picture, the one Ian guessed was the photo he’d taken right after she’d left the hotel room. His doe caught in the light. His mom burst into tears.
Stu put aside the photos on the floral quilt and tried to soothe her. When she’d quieted, he showed her a handful of folded notepapers. “I found these in your drawer.” He gestured at the vanity table. “Are you communicating with Jackie?”
Sarah shrank away.
“Has she written you back?”
She shook her head.
“Do you know what you want with a bounty hunter? Who are you looking for?”
“I can’t say.” A fresh wave of tears flowed. Her body quaked. She buried her face in her hands.
Stu reached for her. His hand hovered alongside her head, hesitant, before gently resting on her greasy hair. Sarah lowered her hands in her lap. Stu’s thumb drifted over her cheekbone and she flinched.
“Sarah,” he said in a tone one would use for an injured animal.
She turned her head away from his touch, tucking her chin into her shoulder.
“I love you. Let me help you.”
Ian couldn’t watch them anymore. His parents’ exchange gouged a hole in his chest. He pressed his back against the wall and stared at the ceiling, blinking back the burn.
His parents’ mattress creaked and the floorboards groaned. A drawer slid open, then closed. Booted footfalls approached the door, and whispered instructions reached him. Ian flew to his room, landing on his back on the bed. He opened a book, pretending to read when he heard his dad coming down the hallway.
Stu stopped in Ian’s doorway, his shirt wrinkled and untucked, face unshaven. The blazer he wore faded at the elbows. His aftershave smelled stale. He’d arrived home after midnight and hadn’t slept.
He raked a hand through his unkempt hair, a mannerism Ian had picked up from him.
“I’m taking your mother to the hospital.”
Ian sat up, dropped his feet to the floor. “Will she be all right?”
“I’m not sure. I hope so.”
“When’s she gonna get better?” Ian so wanted her to be normal like Marshall’s mom. He had to believe she wouldn’t be like this for the rest of his life. He grew weary and timid from wondering who he’d come home to after school or from hanging with his friends. He hated feeling that way.
Stu tucked his fingers into his front pockets and came into the room. “I don’t know if she can get better. But, let’s talk about yesterday—”
“Why did Jackie go see that man? What does he want with her? What did he do to my mom?” The questions tumbled from Ian. He stood up, his stance rigid. He wanted answers.
“I’m trying to figure that out.”
“You never know what’s going on,” Ian yelled. “You would if you were home more often. I bet if you were here, Jackie wouldn’t have gone to see that man and Mom would be OK.”
“No one can tell your mom what to do when she’s Jackie,” Stu firmly replied. “I’ve tried. Lord knows, I’ve tried.”
“No, you haven’t!”
“Enough!” Stu bellowed. To Ian’s mortification, sobs volleyed from his chest. Why, oh why, did he have to cry in front of his dad? Stu pointed a finger at Ian. “What you did yesterday—”
“I was trying to help her,” Ian defended before his dad could reprimand him. After yesterday’s pay-phone call, he knew it was coming. He’d been expecting it. Ian roughly dragged his sleeves across his eyes. He smacked his chest. “I make sure she’s safe and doesn’t get hurt.” And he’d done a horrible job in that department. He and his mom were both hurting today because Ian had failed to get the keys from Jackie. “It’s my fault she went to see him,” Ian sobbed. “I’ll try harder next time. I know I’m stronger than Jackie so I should be able to stop her next time.”
“That’s not your job.”
“Then do yours!” Ian’s guilt shifted to anger faster than his mom shifted personas, flaming his disappointment in his dad. Stu had failed them.
Stu raised a fist. Ian flinched, but he stood his ground, his muscles so tense he felt the beginnings of a headache.
Stu swore loudly, then lowered his arm. “Do not take that tone with me. That’s your warning.” He showed Ian his fist.
“Or what?” Ian challenged. “You’ll hit me? You’ll ground me? I’m stuck here already. You’re never home. I take care of her because you don’t.” He took a step forward. He might be only twelve, but he was taller than his mom. Stronger and faster, too. He’d been exercising a lot lately, running on the school’s track team. He could do one hundred sit-ups and almost fifty push-ups. In another couple of years, he might be as tall as his dad. Maybe taller. “I know she won’t admit it, but Mom wants me to take pictures. She asks to see them all the time. I know she wants me to help because she can’t rely on you. You don’t care about her.”
His dad saw red. His cheeks turned purple and he raised his fist again. Ian braced for the blow. He deserved it. He’d been pushing his dad’s temper, testing them both. He couldn’t help it. Yesterday had scared him. He’d been fighting that fear all night. What if Clancy had physically hurt his mom? Or worse, murdered her?
Stu shook out his hand and put some distance between him and Ian. He locked his hands behind his neck and circled the room before coming to a stop in front of the closet on the opposite side of the room from Ian.
“I care about your mother. More than you can imagine,” he said quietly, his tone carrying a note of anguish.
“No, you don’t.” Ian shook his head as he spoke the words. “You’re always leaving us, and when you’re home, you spend the whole time in the basement. You don’t want to be with us. You hide now when Jackie’s around.”
“Because she doesn’t want me around.” He swore. “Ian, just—”
“My pictures will help Mom keep Jackie away.” He hiccupped. Tears dampened his face, dropped off his chin. “Then, maybe . . . maybe you’ll stay home with us.”
Ian roughly wiped his face. He hated crying. He gritted his teeth and tightened his fists, focusing on his anger to staunch the flow. Movement in the doorway yanked his attention. “Mom?”
“Hi, Ian.” She smiled and went straight to the corner where Ian kept the plastic bin of LEGOs. She dragged the bin to the center of the room. It scraped across the wood floor. She sank to her knees and removed the lid. “Do you want to build a starship with me?”
“What are you doing, Sarah?” Stu looked down in horror at his wife. “We have to go to the hospital.”
Sarah scooped a handful of bricks and spread them out on the floor. “Maybe you can build a space station and I’ll do the starship. Is that something you want to do, Ian?”
Stu’s face turned white. He gripped Sarah under her shoulder and lifted her off the floor. “Sarah, we have to go.”
“No.” She twisted from his grasp and scooted out of reach. “I want to play with Ian.”
“Sarah.” Stu reached for her again. She smacked away his hand.
“That’s not Mom. It’s Billy.” Ian had told his dad about Billy, but Stu hadn’t met Sarah’s newest alternate personality, or what the doctors referred to as alters, yet.
Stu visibly swallowed. He dragged a hand down his mouth and chin, unsure of what to do. Ian hadn’t seen his dad look this uncomfortable. He watched Sarah separate the bricks by size and color. His eyes sheened. He lowered until eye level with Billy. “Sarah, the doctor is waiting for us.” He spoke calmly and slowly.
Billy shook his head.
“How about you bring some LEGOs with you?” Stu negotiated. “You can play with them on the drive over.”
Billy pushed a brick with a fingertip, considering the request, then finally nodded. “I want to make two starships.” Billy scooped LEGOs onto his skirt, then stood, holding the skirt hem in a makeshift bucket.
“Go wait for me at the car,” Stu instructed. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
“I want a juice box.”
Stu looked at the floor. “I’ll get you a juice box.”
Billy smiled and left the room.
Stu remained in his crouched position until Ian heard Billy go out the front door. His dad slowly stood, knees cracking. He roughly cleared his throat and walked to the door, where he stopped and turned back to Ian.
“So, that was Billy?”
Ian nodded.
“I think it best you understand that Jackie will never go away.”
“Don’t say that.” Ian shook his head. “You lie. Mom will get better.”
“I don’t think she can. Billy isn’t another person inside your mom. Neither is Jackie. They are your mom.”