I looked at Ben and wiggled my eyebrows.
“Wanna see it again?”
“Bring it!”
I did it again. Faster. This was male bonding at its finest.
I stepped aside so he could square up.
“Don’t try the combos yet. We’ll work into it. Give me a right front rolling to the right roundhouse, okay?”
He did it. He was awkward rolling into the roundhouse, but he had good power.
I said, “Now from the left.”
He kicked from the left. I gave him a small adjustment as he rolled, and this time he was smoother.
I said, “I heard you and your mom had a moment.”
His expression immediately closed.
“I guess.”
He kicked from the left again but kicked too quickly. He immediately kicked from the right, but didn’t square up.
My voice was even and quiet.
“Breathe. Always breathe. Stay within yourself.”
He kicked. He kicked again. They were sloppy. He kicked hard, but they landed weak. He kicked twice more before he spoke.
“She’s driving me crazy.”
“She’s worried. Not saying it shouldn’t bother you. Just saying.”
“She told you about the letters.”
“Uh-huh. You mind?”
He kicked.
“You should hear them, Mom and Berteau. They act like there’s something wrong with me and if I don’t feel what they think I should feel I’m gonna go psycho.”
“About your father?”
“All of it. Him, the box, those guys, what happened. I don’t want to talk about it all the time. Mom wants to talk about it. All. The. Time. Maybe Mom should be in therapy instead of me.”
“You think they’re projecting?”
He kicked hard again. He launched a beast of a spin kick and barely brushed the bag with his toe.
“I’m sick of it.”
“Don’t blame you. I’m sick just hearing about it.”
Ben stared and suddenly laughed.
I said, “Buddy, feel what’s true to you. If you want to talk about this stuff, or anything, twenty-four-seven, I’m yours. If not, then not, but I’m here.”
I wondered if Corbin Schumacher had ever said such a thing to Joshua. He probably hadn’t.
Ben rested a hand on the bag. The air was cooling. Being out on the deck felt good. He picked at a patch.
“They expect me to care. I don’t.”
“Their expectations are another box.”
“Yeah.”
“You went through some pretty heinous stuff.”
“Not that. The letters. Him.”
Richard.
Ben stopped worrying the tape and tapped the bag with a soft rhythmic tap-tap-tap as light as water dripping from a faucet.
“I hardly ever think about him. I don’t love him or hate him or miss him. I don’t feel sorry for him. I feel sorry for Mom. He’d get in her face, all red and shouting, and scare her so bad. Mom’s tough, but he was awful.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say. I nodded and felt I should’ve been able to offer more. Ben was small back then, a little boy.
He said, “Like now, when I remember him, you know what I feel?”
“Tell me.”
“Nothing. He’s something that happened a long time ago and he’s gone.”
I touched his head.
“I need to ask you something.”
He made a small smile.
“Sure. Twenty-four-seven.”
“You and me. Are you okay with my role in putting Richard away?”
Ben seemed surprised.
“Are you serious?”
“I wonder, sometimes. I want us to be good.”
Ben shook his head as if he didn’t understand what I had asked or why I asked it.
He said, “I love you. We’re way more than good.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
I nodded again.
“That’s good.”
Ben suddenly hugged me and held tight. I hugged him back and saw Lucy at the sliding glass door. She didn’t come out. She watched us and traced a heart on the glass.
34
The jambalaya was excellent. After dinner we put away the leftovers, loaded the dishwasher, and settled in front of the television. We were deciding what to watch when Lou Poitras called.
I said, “Lucy and Ben are here.”
Lucy spoke loudly.
“Hi, Lou!”
Poitras said, “They’re in town?”
“For a couple days.”
“Lemme speak to her.”
I handed Lucy the phone. They only spoke for a minute, but Lucy laughed at something he said. Probably about me. She and Lou had hit it off the moment they met, and Lou and his wife and Lucy and I had enjoyed getting together. She passed the phone to Ben and Ben eventually passed it back to me.