Everybody's Son Page 11

  It took David almost forty-five minutes to get to the projects. He drove down the narrow streets slowly, careful not to hit the parked cars, not wanting to risk any kind of altercation in an unfamiliar neighborhood. Even with his windows rolled up, he could feel the reverberations of jarring music blasting from nearby cars. He took in the general disrepair of the roads and buildings and marveled that Anton had survived this blight as well as he had. He began to look for building 1301, knowing that Anton was waiting for him at a bus stop in front of it. Just then he saw the boy’s forlorn shape, saw him sitting hunched on the bench of the covered bus stop, leaning his elbows on his knees. A stout, middle-aged woman was the only other person at the stop, although a cluster of young boys hung out not too far away. David saw Anton look up and recognize the car and give a little wave. All of his bitterness against the boy’s thoughtlessness melted away at that wave. He pulled up in front and leaned over to unlock the passenger door. “Hi, Anton,” he said. “Get in.” The boy smiled. He threw his backpack in the backseat and climbed in.

  “And who would you be?” The woman was leaning into the car window from Anton’s side, glaring at David.

  David glanced at Anton, his right eyebrow raised in inquiry. “She says she’s a friend of Mam’s,” the boy whispered to him, his irritation at the woman showing on his face.

  “I asked who you were,” the woman said again, louder this time. She looked at Anton. “Boy, you knows better than to get into a car with a strange man.”

  “He’s not a strange man,” Anton yelled. “I told you, he’s my dad.”

  The honorific shot through David like a bolt of electricity. For a second the air between the man and the boy crackled. Then David turned toward the woman and smiled. “Thank you for watching out for my son,” he said politely. “Good night.” The look he gave the woman was so intense and imperial that she backed away from the car, muttering to herself.

  They drove out of the housing division in silence. After they were on the main road, David put his arm around Anton and cradled him. “Hello,” he whispered. “You all right, son?”

  Anton nodded and began to cry. David let him. After a few moments the boy began to confess. How he’d gone to the school library and found an area map. How Pascal, the school janitor, had told him which two buses he had to catch to reach his old neighborhood. How he’d eaten his sandwich while riding the second bus and how scared he’d been because the only other passenger had alcohol on his breath and kept asking for money. How he now understood that his mam was still in jail and not at the old apartment, like he’d assumed. How he’d used his last quarter to call FM from the pay phone across from the bus stop. How, when the hairy man who now lived in their old apartment had opened the door, it had smelled weird, so unlike the nice scent of lavender that FM sprayed around their house. How tired he was and how glad he was to see David. How sorry he was for the trouble he’d caused David and FM.

  David chewed on his lower lip, half-listening to the boy, busy as he was talking to God. Okay, he said. You’ve punished me today for what I did to that woman. Abuse of power, you could call it. And you reminded me of it by taking Anton away from me today. Made me stare into the void again. But there’s no going back now, is there? There’s only moving forward, so here’s my promise—I will atone. I will more than make up for what I’ve done to Juanita Vesper. And I will do it by giving Anton every tool that I can to make him the best possible man he can be. But let me keep him. You took away James, and although I felt like clawing at the skin of the universe, I did nothing. Didn’t I? Didn’t I? When Pappy said to me after the funeral, “His will be done, son,” I listened, didn’t I? I let Thy Will Be Done. So this much you owe me. Let me keep the boy. Not even for my sake. But his. There are things only I can give him. Not even Delores. She’s too afraid to push him to the heights I know he’s capable of. And isn’t that a kind of racism? To believe that a boy from Roosevelt has to be left unchallenged? But I know what this boy is made of, God. And I can help him. Let me help him.

  Anton was still talking, the boy’s voice soft and teary. But what David heard was the humming of his heart as he replayed again and again the sweet moment when the boy had scrambled into the car. The word “Dad” rang like a bell in his head and guided them home.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  So how’d it go? Did she accept the check?”

  Connor flashed David a look as he sat down in the armchair beside him. “Of course. In the end. But man, she sure put up a fight.”

  David exhaled, the knot in his belly untying itself. “Whew. I’m glad that’s over. Who did you end up sending to deliver it?”

  “One of Smithie’s clerks went, I think.”

  David looked up from the armchair to flash a smile to one of the club regulars as the man walked by. He waited until they were alone again and then turned his attention back to Connor. “I just wish we could’ve left Dee out of this completely.”

  Connor shook his head brusquely. “David. We’ve been over this ten times already. It’s safer this way. I told you, Smithie was more than willing to cut Juanita a check himself. I mean, it’s only five grand, right? But this way, it’s cleaner. Out in the open—Delores, out of gratitude and concern for Anton’s birth mother, writes her a check that hopefully will allow her to restart her life now that she’s out of prison. It’s beautiful, really.”

  He knew Connor was right, knew that his friend had looked at the situation from all angles and given him the best advice, but still David felt fretful. Juanita Vesper was apparently planning to move back to Georgia, and as far as David was concerned, it couldn’t happen soon enough. The money would cover a plane ticket and anything else she needed to get situated down south.

  “Where is she staying right now?” he asked.

  “With a friend,” Connor said. “And before you ask, no, she’s not at Roosevelt. So even if Anton were to try, he wouldn’t be able to find her.”

  David took a sip of his sherry. “He’s not going to try,” he said, forcing a confidence into his voice that he wasn’t sure was justified. “He—he’s accepted what’s happening.” He looked at Connor’s open, guileless face, and the lie was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. “Anton just told me last night how much he’s looking forward to the adoption going through.”

  He tensed, waiting to see the skepticism on Connor’s face, but his friend merely nodded. “Hopefully, he won’t have to wait long.”

  David lifted his glass. “I’ll drink to that. Cheers.”

  They clinked their half-empty glasses and sat back in the plush leather chairs. David felt a sudden urge for a cigarette. He pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket and tapped it with his index finger, as if tapping ash from a cigarette. Looking up, he caught Connor smiling at him.

  “What?” David said.

  “What is it?” Connor’s voice was bemused. “What are you agitated about now?”

  “Nothing.” He looked around the room, with its Oriental rugs and wood-paneled walls. “It’s just that . . . I don’t know, Connor. I kind of wish we had made the check out to her. I mean, handing someone like her a check made out to cash? She’s a junkie, for Christ’s sake. She’s liable to lose it, and God help us if it falls in someone else’s hands . . .”

  “David. Calm down.” Connor snapped his fingers. “Look at me. We’ve got this taken care of, okay? Why did you think I insisted that you call that kid—what’s his name?—Solemn, Solomon?”

  “Ernest.”

  “Yeah, Ernest. Him. Why do you think I had you call him to say you wanted to help Juanita get settled in her new life?”

  “Yeah, but he said it would be a mistake,” David snapped. “And we ignored his advice.”

  Connor looked exasperated. “Yeah, but it gives us cover, right? She can’t ever claim this was hush money, because look—” He flung out his arms dramatically. “We told the goddamn social worker we were doing this.”

  David ran his fingers through his hair. “I
just want to put it all behind me.” He leaned forward so that his knee was touching Connor’s. “I don’t want to have to look over my shoulder the rest of my life, worried that some guard or warden will someday spill the beans. About that night, I mean.”

  “David, look,” Connor started, but David interrupted him: “No, you don’t understand. Some party folks came to see me this week.”

  “Who?”

  David made a dismissive sound. “Never mind who. The point is, Tufts has told them in confidence that if he wins again next year, he won’t run for governor again. So his seat will be open in ’98.”

  Connor let out a low whistle. “And they want you to run?”

  “They’re probably talking to a bunch of other guys, too.” David shrugged. “Hell, 1998 is an eternity away. A lot could change between now and then.”

  “Sure,” Connor agreed. “But the party obviously wants you to start considering this.”

  A waiter walked softly into the room and David signaled him for another round of drinks. They waited until the man left and then David said, “Maybe.” He sat back in his chair. “Pappy will be disappointed, of course. He always thought I’d be senator someday.” Something flared in him. “But I don’t think I have the temperament to be a senator, Connor. I’d be too damn bored. I think I’d be a much better . . .” He stopped as a club member he didn’t recognize walked past.

  “You’d make a great governor,” Connor finished.

  David smiled absently. “Thanks. But I could be happy continuing to do what I’m doing, too. I love the law.”

  The waiter set down their drinks, nodded, and disappeared. “In any case,” David continued, “you can see why I’m concerned about the Vesper affair.”

  Connor locked eyes with David. “Nothing’s ever gonna come out,” he said. “And if, God forbid, something ever does, I’ll take the heat for it. I’ll fix it for you, I promise.”

  David cleared his throat. “You’re something else, you know that?” he said.

  Connor swung his arm and hit his friend. “Damn straight. And that’s why you’re buying the goddamn drinks tonight.”

  “You cheap bastard.”

  They grinned at each other. Connor raised his glass. “This news calls for a toast,” he said.

  “Connor, forget about it, will you? They were just floating a trial balloon, and like I said, I am perfectly happy in my current job.”

  “Bullshit. When the time comes, you will run. You know why?”

  “Why?”

  Connor grinned. “Because if you run, you’ll win. Yes, you son of a bitch. You’ll win.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  He cried like a baby. Like a friggin’ girl. Openly, unabashedly. In front of all of them. All of them—Connor, Jan, Dee, even Bob Campbell, who stared up at the ornate ceiling of the courthouse as if to escape David’s mortifying display of emotion. David didn’t care. He had eyes only for Anton. Anton and Dee. His new family. His newly constituted, newly minted family. Finally, finally, after all the waiting. He no longer had to feel defensive when he referred to Anton as his son, as if laying false claim to something that didn’t belong to him. Now, with the adoption papers in his pocket, he could put his arm around the boy and pull him close, daring any of them to give him the look that made him feel like an imposter. This was the freedom that the adoption gave him—the freedom to love his son openly, freely, without apology or explanation. He had loved Anton almost from the moment he had laid eyes on him, and it was only now, three years gone, that he could declare that love. It was false, what everyone always said about tragedy. Tragedy wasn’t not having someone to love. Tragedy was loving someone and not being able to express it.

  He couldn’t stop crying. Great heaving sobs right here in the courtroom, in front of all the people he loved most in the world. Dee was saying something, but he barely heard her. He sat on the wooden bench in the front row and sobbed while the rest of them milled around him. It was a private ceremony, Bob fitting them in at the end of his workday, probably impatient for David to get a goddamn grip on himself so they could all go home.

  David reached for Anton, pulling the boy onto the bench next to him. He felt he had something important to say on this happy occasion, some solemn promise to make, but each time he tried to speak, more tears flowed, as if he were talking in a kind of strange Morse code: Drip drip sob heave tear. “I’m sorry,” he mustered. “I . . . I . . . I . . .”

  From behind him, he heard an echo. “I’m sorry,” the voice said. “I . . . I . . . I . . .”

  He and Anton turned their heads at the same moment. Brad sat three rows behind them, holding his sides, convulsed with laughter. “I’m sorry,” he imitated David again. “I . . . I . . . I . . .”

  Anton looked at David with a frown, unsure how to react to this mockery of his father. “Bradley,” David heard Connor say. “Get over here. Right now.”

  Brad bit down on his lower lip and quieted his glee with considerable effort as he walked to where his dad stood. “I’m sorry, man,” Connor was saying, taking a step toward David, when they heard a new sound, barely audible. It came from Anton. A giggle. Staring at his dad, trying his best to tamp down the giggles that escaped like squeaky springs out of him. Anton turned his head, made eye contact with Brad, and a loud bubbling sound escaped from his lips, and then both boys were in stitches.

  David felt wounded for a moment, and then, watching the two boys so obviously teasing him, he felt the happiness of the occasion, like a sudden change in the weather. “You rascals,” he said, grinning.

  Bob Campbell cleared his throat. “Well, I guess we should all be making our way home.”

  They rose. “We’re having a small celebration at home, Bob,” David said to his colleague as they walked down the marble steps that led to the parking lot. “Will you join us?”

  “Nah. Thanks, though,” Campbell replied. “Sophia is waiting at home with supper.”

  “Maybe some other time.”

  “Yup.” Campbell turned to leave.

  “Bob,” David said quietly. He stuck out his hand. “I just want to say—thank you. For. Everything.”

  The fierce, restless eyes softened. “You’re fine,” Campbell said, taking the proffered hand. “He’s . . . he’s a good kid. Congratulations to all of you.”

  David swallowed. “Thanks. I’ll never forget your kindness.”

  He stood staring after the older man for a second, then said to Connor, “Hey. How about if you guys give Dee a ride with you? I need to have a quick talk with Anton.”

  “No problem.”

  “We’ll see you back at the house.”

  BEFORE MARRYING DEE, David had thought of marriage as a legal formality, a piece of paper that changed nothing. And so he was surprised to find out it did. There had been a new tenderness, a responsibility that he’d felt toward Dee that had not been there the day before. Now he felt that same tender responsibility, that sense of permanence, as Anton slipped into the passenger seat.

  “How you doing, bud?” he asked quietly as he drove down the familiar streets.

  “I’m fine, David.”

  He smiled ruefully to himself. “I have to ask you something. A favor.” He glanced at the boy. “Any chance you could stop calling me David? And call me, y’know, Dad?”

  Anton nodded. “I meant to. I even do, to myself. I practice it. But sometimes it just slips out as David.”

  David nodded. “I understand. I . . . just try. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Anton gave him a quick bashful look. “Why were you crying today, Dad?”

  “Because I was happy.”

  Anton raised his eyebrow in the sly, teasing way that David loved. “So you cry when you’re happy? Do you eat when you’re thirsty? And stand when you’re tired?”

  David hit the boy playfully on his arm. “Wise guy.” He was quiet for a moment and then said, “Have you never been so happy that it made you cry?”

  Anton frowned. “I don’t know.”
<
br />   “Maybe it’s a grown-up thing.”

  “It must be,” Anton said promptly. “That’s why it makes no sense.”

  David grinned. “So I heard you and FM planned the menu for tonight’s party. She let you pick all your favorite things?”

  But Anton looked distracted. “David,” he said after a second, “if I’m gonna call you Dad, I should call FM Mom.”

  David let the slip pass. “I guess so. You okay with that, buddy?”

  It was so subtle, the iron that entered Anton’s body and voice, that David thought he might have imagined it. “Yeah,” Anton said. “It’s okay with me.”

  They rode in silence for a few minutes, and then David had to say it, even though it sounded corny, even though he risked giving Anton the giggles again. “Hey, listen,” he said. “You have a permanent home now, you hear? We love you. Nobody is going to hurt or harm you now. You understand? We’re gonna protect you the rest of your life.”

  “I know.” Anton’s voice was soft, serious.

  He’d had to say it. Even though Anton knew. Even though it was implied. Because it was like a wedding vow—something to be said out loud. Till death do us part.

  TWO DAYS LATER, he broke his vow to protect Anton against all harm. Anton had a soccer match on Saturday afternoon, and David and Dee sat in the bleachers, along with the other parents and grandparents. Several people had drifted up to the Colemans before the match began, to offer their congratulations. “I can’t believe how news spreads,” David muttered to Delores. “It’s like we still have a town crier.” She squeezed his hand and nodded.

  David was wiggling his fingers at a toddler in the row ahead of them when it happened. Even though he missed the sight of Anton running directly into the other player, he heard the sound, followed by the “Ooooh” of the crowd. By the time David’s head snapped back to look, Anton was lying on the field, his legs splayed. Beside David, Delores screamed. But David was already up, running down the bleachers and onto the field. When he reached Anton, the blank look in the boy’s eyes made him want to retch. “Call for an ambulance,” he yelled at the coach. “Now.”