The prodigal spy

“I’ll be there in a minute, honeybun,” his mother said absently, and Nick, dismissed, went out and closed the door. At first he could hear nothing, then a quiet undertone of voices, a moan. He had to know. He crept back to his room, then through the door of the connecting bathroom, the way he did to fool Nora, watching her vacuum. But now the spy game was real. The door to his parents’ bedroom was open just a crack, and at first he heard only conspiratorial whispers. Then their voices rose, his mother’s a kind of wail.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t,” his father said. “I couldn’t.”

“ Now?” his mother said, inexplicably.

“I didn’t know it would be tonight. I’m sorry.”

“No, I don’t believe any of it,” his mother said, and Nick could hear a cry beginning in her voice. “What about us? What about us, Walter?”

“I’m sorry,” his father said quietly. Then, more audibly, “Come with me.”

“Are you crazy?” his mother said. “You must be crazy. Everything-” She broke off, sobbing.

“Livia, please,” his father said.

“Don’t touch me!” she shouted, and Nick froze.

For a moment he heard nothing, but he didn’t dare push the door open. Then his father was talking, so quietly that Nick missed the next exchange.

He heard his mother take a quick few steps. “No, you can’t,” she said. “It’s all-Walter, this is crazy. You can’t-”

“Livia, I have to,” he said calmly. “Come with me.”

“Go to hell,” she said, almost spitting the words.

“Livia, please,” his father said.

Nick heard a new sound, then realized she was hitting his father’s chest. “Go,” she said. “Go.”

“Believe me, I never thought-”

“Never thought,” she said, her voice unfamiliar with scorn.

“Never. I love you.”

Now his mother was crying.

“I’ll call tomorrow. The way I said.”

“I don’t care,” his mother said faintly.

“Don’t say that.” Nick heard his father move toward the door, then stop. “You are so beautiful,” he said softly.

For a moment there was absolute silence. Then, “I hope you die,” his mother said.

Nick heard the door close. He rushed into the room and saw his mother sink onto the bed, her head drooping, as if the crying had made her limp. His stomach heaved. Once he had seen a man lying on the sidewalk downtown, people surrounding him and calling for an ambulance, and he’d felt this same fear, of life stopping before he could run away. Then he heard his father below, and he bolted from the room, clumping down the stairs and racing along the hall until, breathless, he caught him at the back door, his coat already on.

“Nick,” his father said, turning, dismayed.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to go away, Nick,” he said, bending down to face him. “Im sorry.”

“I got rid of the shirt,” Nick said.

“You did?” he said, not understanding.

“Fifteen and a half, thirty-three. Like the lady said. I got rid of it. They’ll never find it. You don’t have to go.”

“Nicku,” his father said, holding him by the shoulders. Nick watched his father’s eyes fill with tears. “My God. I never meant any of this to happen to you. Not you. Do you believe me?”

“You don’t have to go.”

“I can’t explain. Not now. I wouldn’t know how.” His father got on one knee, his face level with Nick’s. “I’ll never leave you. Not really.” He paused. “Would you do something for me? Make sure your mother’s all right?”

Nick nodded, but what he heard was that his father was really going. Nothing would stop him now.

“Don’t go,” Nick said quietly.

“Could I have a hug? Would you do that?”

Nick put his arms around his father’s neck, smelling the smoke and aftershave.

“No, a real one,” his father said, clutching him, drawing him tighter and tighter, until Nick felt that he was suspended, without air, holding on for dear life. They stayed that way until Nick felt his father’s arms drop. When he finally let go, he looked at Nick and said, “Okay,” like the handshake of a deal.

He got up and went to the door.

“You need your rubbers,” Nick said, pointing to the shiny formal shoes.

His father gave him a weak half-smile. “It’s all right. It doesn’t matter.” Then he opened the door and started down the stairs, leaving Nick to close it behind him.

Nick watched through the pane of the mud room door. His father didn’t go to the garage but headed across the courtyard to the alley. His shoes made holes in the snow, and even after he was out of sight, pausing only once at the corner to look back, Nick stared at the footprints, waiting for them to fill with new snow until finally every trace was gone.

Upstairs his mother was still crying, slumped over on the bed in her pretty dress like a stuffed doll. When she saw Nick, she opened her arms wordlessly and held him.

“Where did he go?” Nick said, but his mother didn’t answer, just sat rocking him back and forth, the way she did when he was hurt. Finally she wiped her eyes, reached back to undo the clasp of the garnet necklace, and let it fall slowly into her hand. She sat looking at it for a moment, then closed her hand over the bright red stone and got up to put it away with the rest of her things.

Chapter 2