(go back to Part Five here)

Ronnie walked beside his mom, across the parking lot toward their apartment. When he moved there with her in May of that year, the goody-two-shoes son coming to settle in with his mommy, he never dreamed that by October he’d be tangled up in such a mess. In a little over a month, he would turn 16.

If I already had my license, I could go out and date girls closer to my age, instead of these girls Matt brings around.

This time, though, it had nothing to do with Matt and his concubines. He knew it was no excuse for what he’d done. Hell, an eighth-grader would have been an improvement. In his laziness and his inability to control his urges, he had almost taken advantage of a young girl.

And, for all anybody else knew, shoved her down a flight of stairs.

His mom’s arm was around him. Under normal circumstances, he never would have allowed that in public. Things definitely were not normal, and it didn’t look like they would be soon.

“Trena’s dad must hate me,” he said.

“I don’t think so, honey. He’s pretty pissed off. And so am I. But I don’t think he hates you.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to screw things up for you. I want to be there so we can see how she’s doing. I kind of want him to see me at least checking up on her, you know?”

“Did you and her dad know each other before tonight?”

“Not really. Sometimes when me and Matt were out riding our bikes, I’d see him coming home from work. I said ‘hi’ to him. That’s about it.”

Susan opened their patio gate and let Ronnie go first. “Did he know you were hanging around Trena?”

“Well, I wasn’t, really. I mean, I saw her at the pool sometimes, and sometimes me and Matt hang out with this other kid who’s in her grade.”

“Matt and I. You mean Craig?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s a good kid.”

“That’s what people used to say about me.”

——-

Susan wanted a cigarette more than anything at that moment. The Nicorette gum calmed her craving for nicotine, but she had found no substitute for the physical act of smoking. Kojak had succeeded with lollipops, but she wanted to keep all her teeth.

She really thought she’d lucked out when Ronnie decided to come live with her instead of staying behind with his older brother and his father. Compared to her firstborn, little Ronnie would be much easier to manage, and usually was more willing to help her with household chores.

My kingdom for a damn cigarette.

She sat in her recliner as Ronnie flopped on the couch. He lay there sighing, occasionally slapping the couch cushions in frustration. Clearly the boy was tormented.

“I think you should make an appearance, but let’s give her family some time to cool off a little. You go rushing in there now, and you’ll make things worse.”

He sat up and turned to her. “So, what do we tell them? Everything?”

“Let’s wait and see what Trena thinks.”

“Even if she can talk, how am I going to talk to her alone?”

“Don’t worry about that right now. Let’s just go over everything that happened. That’s the only way I can help you.”

The truth was, she would do anything to keep her son safe, to the point of breaking the law. She once told him that if the draft were in use when he turned 18, she’d put him on a plane to Canada rather than see him go to war. The same went for his older brother, who would be forced to register in March.

She rocked slowly in the recliner, the old chair creaking and squeaking as her baby boy unfolded the night’s events. Although she sometimes joked with him about sex, it made her uncomfortable to hear him say, in less direct terms, that he had been horny. That he had almost acted on it with such a young girl worried her. Is he getting out of control? Is he going to be one of those sex offenders we always hear about?

Her dog, Snapper, a Jack Russell Terrier, jumped up and settled between her left thigh and the arm of the chair. She thought about people who had pets but not children. They never had to worry about whom the dog tried to hump, and most people laughed at that kind of thing. His kind were almost expected to commit a disgusting, debased act here and there.

“So, see, I stopped,” Ronnie said. “But then she fell.”

“Thank God.”

“What?”

“I mean, that you stopped.”

She got up and walked to the rolltop desk in the corner of the dining nook. The stash of liquor that she got in the divorce lurked in the bottom cabinet, waiting for just such an occasion. She drank only a few times a year, usually on holidays, but without cigarettes, she needed a familiar vice to settle her nerves.

Snapper followed her into the kitchen. His mooching ways were known throughout the Batson family, and his food radar never missed.

As the ice cracked under the stress of warm rum and Coke, she considered what Ronnie said earlier. Making an appearance now might not be a bad idea.

After taking a couple swigs standing up, she walked to the couch and sat beside him. “In about 15 minutes, we’re leaving for the hospital. But I need you to drive.”

(continue to Part Seven)