Vic wasn’t happy. He was a man accustomed to being in control. He didn’t let things interfere with what he wanted. If they did, he eliminated whatever the problem was. Like his wife. And Allen.
He didn’t spend much time thinking about it, either, and never regretted it afterwards. He just did what had to be done and moved on.
But he’d heard from his contact in the police department that they were looking for him. Seriously this time. They wanted to talk to him about Allen.
He had the impression that if he hadn’t had something on the cop who was his source, the guy might have set him up, looking for an easy promotion. But the guy knew they’d both go down if Vic got caught; it was the only reason Vic still trusted him. The guy had passed the tip on to Vic, then told him he couldn’t talk to him again. Too dangerous. For both of them.
Vic was in the basement room underneath the bar, spending way too much time there. He was getting to hate the place. Even the broads the bartender sent down to keep him happy didn’t help. It was starting to feel like that cell he’d been kept in for a while, where he’d almost gone crazy. Being caged up was no way for a man to live.
Maybe he ought to just get the fuck out of this town. Nothing was keeping him here, except his customers, and he could find more of those, new ones, somewhere else. People always seemed to want what he had to sell. Hell, all he had to do was just pick up his meth stash from where he had it hidden and blow.
Except there was still a loose end. Geoff. The younger boy, Ralph, he didn’t know about, but he’d have heard something by now if the kid was still alive, somebody would be looking for Vic, wanting to give the kid back to him. Ralph! Who the fuck would name a kid Ralph? His old lady had. She’d been in the hospital alone when she’d had him; he’d been in town doing some shit or other, he couldn’t remember what. They’d asked her for a name for the certificate, and she’d said Ralph. Ralph! What a dumb fuck she’d been.
But he’d been checking the papers, talking to the people who might know something and owed him, and there’d been nothing about any kid named Ralph showing up, either dead or alive. He’d had to be careful, asking. Didn’t want to draw attention to himself or arouse any suspicions.
But he didn’t expect Ralph had lived through the night out in those woods. And even if he had, he was dumb as shit and probably wouldn’t be a problem. But Geoff….
Yeah, Geoff was a loose end that needed to be tied off. When Vic was getting started somewhere else, he didn’t need any nationwide bolos—be–on–the–look–out notices—following him. He’d have to build himself a lab again, but he’d already done it once. He didn’t want to be looking over his shoulder when he did it again, though, not when he was establishing a new customer base, getting settled in.
Vic finished his beer and grabbed another bottle from the case in the cooler. He twisted off the cap, took a pull from it, and lay back on the cot. It squeaked in protest under his massive weight.
That’s what he’d do, he decided. Somehow find Geoff, kill him and take off. No loose ends.
He’d find Geoff. He knew lots of people. The kid had to be around somewhere. Maybe someone at the little fucker’s school would know. Some of the kids who used were bound to know where he was at. They were the kind of kids Geoff would pal around with, the users.
He needed to start putting out feelers.
He picked up his sawed off baseball bat and tapped it against his thigh a few times, making a slapping noise, stinging his leg. Damn, he needed to get this done. He was going stir crazy. He had to get out of this room. It was getting to him.
»»»» 0 ««««
Todd and Andy got to the mall later than they’d planned. Todd had told Andy he wanted to be there first thing after it opened so there wouldn’t be a lot of people there yet. For some reason, he didn’t want a lot of kids from school who might recognize him see him shopping for clothes. He expected Andy to tease him about that, but Andy knew better than anyone what being shy felt like, and he understood. He never said a word.
But, they’d gotten up that morning much later than either had planned. Geoff had learned by now and didn’t bother getting breakfast started for them till he heard them coming down the stairs.
“Hi, guys. What do you want this morning? Waffles, pancakes, French toast, omelets, corn beef hash, anything. Gorgeous Geoff’s Grill is open for business!” His cheerful grin reminded Todd what a disgustingly happy morning person Geoff was.
Monica, doing the few breakfast dishes, snorted. Geoff ignored her.
Todd looked at Andy and rolled his eyes. “He’s like this every morning; I can’t stand cheerful in the morning,” he grumbled.
Andy laughed and sat down on one of the high stools at the kitchen bar. “It’s worth it if he fixes you breakfast, though.” He turned to Geoff. “Pancakes sounds good to me. Is there any sausage or bacon?”
“Whatever you want. But maybe I won’t cook enough for that grump next to you, just for you and me.” He grinned at Todd, who scowled back, not even bothering to look embarrassed.
They didn’t get out of the house till after noon. They’d been ready to go earlier, but Mr. Mortensen had stopped them. He said he had to speak to Todd privately, and had taken him to his study.
Todd hadn’t known what to expect, but it sure wasn’t what he got. His father told him that Geoff’s clothes were looking a little worse for wear, and told Todd to buy him some things while he was getting his own stuff. He gave him some money, more than would be needed.
Then Todd had had to get Geoff’s sizes and find out what he wanted, and Geoff had been stunned, and pleased, but had protested about them buying him clothes, and that had all taken time. When that was all taken care of, by the time they actually left the house and got to the mall, Monica driving them, it was early afternoon and the place was full. It seemed to Todd that every kid in town must be there.
“Where should we go?” he asked Andy.
“There’s a lot of stores here that are good. We need to browse through them, see what you like. They have an A&F outlet here, and a Gap, and Old Navy, and a Buckle. And they have a Hot Topic store that has some great tee shirts, too.”
They started walking, dodging through the crowds in the wide corridors, looking around. Todd and Andy both walked closer to each other than what would have been normal for most teenage boys; they were both out of their element in the mall and felt it. When they were in Abercrombie & Fitch and looking around, Todd suddenly thought of something. He stopped and asked, “How come you know about all these stores?”
Andy shrugged. “I’m sort of invisible at school, but I do listen. I’ve heard other kids talk about these places. My mom gets me stuff from Old Navy. I don’t come here myself.” He looked up a little sheepishly at Todd. “I guess I don’t really like shopping any more than you do.”
They cruised around the mall, and eventually, in the Gap outlet, Todd found some stuff that he thought might be OK. He took two pairs of jeans into the dressing room, while Andy waited outside.
A couple of minutes later Todd walked out, a questioning look on his face. Andy looked at him, and Todd turned around once so all sides could be seen. When he turned back, Andy was blushing.
Todd’s eyes lit up. “I guess you like them, huh?” he said, and couldn’t help himself. He broke out in a laugh, and then Andy was laughing too. “Yeah,” he said, “I guess I do.”
From that point on, whatever he tried on, Todd simply looked at Andy’s face when he stepped out of the dressing room and he knew if it looked good or not.
They finally finished sometime late in the afternoon. They’d bought shirts, pants, shoes, the stuff Geoff had agreed they could get for him, and Todd was exhausted. They stopped at the food court and had burgers before he called for a ride home. After he’d done that, they collected all their bags and headed for the parking lot where he’d arranged for them to be picked up.
They pushed through the doors and were walking towards one of the benches in the courtyard when Todd was pushed from behind. “Hey,” he cried out as he stumbled forward, only barely managing to maintain his footing. When he turned around, he saw Frank Ryan standing on the sidewalk, grinning at him. It wasn’t a pleasant grin; it was triumphant.
“What do we have here? The fag and his boyfriend!”
Todd felt the fear arise he always felt when confronted like this. But he felt something else too. He felt anger, an anger he’d always had but somehow had suppressed and ignored. He also felt something he hadn’t before: an instinctive need to keep Andy out of harm’s way. Almost unconsciously, he dropped the bags he was holding and took one step, one step that put him between Frank and Andy.
“What do you want?” he asked, his voice not nearly as shaky as he’d thought it would be.
“What do I want? I want some payback for that little suspension you got me. You don’t have anybody to run to this time. You’ve just got me to deal with.”
Frank took a step forward, and the two boys were facing each other. Everything Geoff had taught him was circling through Todd’s mind. He was supposed to run, but he couldn’t, not with Andy there. He was supposed to outthink his opponent. It didn’t seem like he’d have much time for thinking.
Todd raised his fists and found his balance, turning slightly, just as he’d been taught over and over. Frank looked at him and laughed. Frank was taller, heavier and stronger. What he saw in front of him was a short, thin boy with fear in his eyes, holding his hands up in front of him. As though that would do any good!
Frank reached out to grab Todd’s shirt, planning to yank him up off his feet and hit him in the face two or three times. Todd juked sideways and Frank grabbed air. Frank took a half step forward and reached again, slightly off balance. Todd took another step sideways, and when Frank followed, Todd stepped back closer to him, then pretended Frank was the heavy bag he so hated hitting. He pivoted his weight, put his shoulder behind it, and with all the force he could manage, pumped a short right hand up into Frank’s lower ribs, following through for maximum effect.
Frank gasped. He hadn’t been braced at all. He’d never dreamed Todd would hit him. He bent over, feeling the adrenalin–fueled blow, bringing his face down to the level where Todd’s follow–up left landed squarely on his nose.
Todd stepped back then and watched Frank collapse to his knees. Both hands were covering his face and he was screaming in pain.
Andy’s eyes were as wide as Todd had ever seen them when he turned to look at him. “Come on,” Todd said, and stooped to pick up his fallen bags containing the new clothes. “My father’s probably out there waiting.”
Andy was beside himself. As they walked away, he asked in an awestruck voice, “Did Geoff teach you that?”
Todd nodded and kept walking. He didn’t feel like talking.
When they were in the car, Todd found himself shaking. He wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t scared any longer. But he couldn’t stop, and his father noticed. Todd didn’t seem to want to talk about it, however. He didn’t want to talk about anything, and Andy had to tell Mr. Mortensen what had happened. Andy’s account wasn’t all that coherent, however, and began with the two boys buying their last item. They were almost home by the time he’d made himself entirely understood with Frank having been decked. Mr. Mortensen wanted to go back and have Frank arrested, but Todd finally was able to persuade him not to. He wanted to go inside and sit down, not spend time in the police station, being questioned and writing out reports.
Mr. Mortensen finally acquiesced. The boys both went up to Todd’s room, and shortly thereafter Geoff joined them. It took some doing, but he finally got Todd to tell him what had happened. Now that the shock and adrenalin had worn off, Todd found talking about it helped him relax a little. It didn’t hurt at all that Geoff was acting like the proud father of quadruplets, and kept gleefully asking to hear everything about it again and again, wanting to know every little detail, while Andy was sitting listening to Todd with a look of wonder and adulation in his eyes.
»»»» 0 ««««
They had steak for dinner that night. Monica had been planning spaghetti, but Mr. Mortensen, thinking about what he’d heard and feeling distinctly sentimental about Todd—and something he’d never felt before: fatherly pride—had insisted on steak. Monica had gone to the butcher shop with him, and he’d picked up rib eyes, prime and an inch thick. His boy needed some rare beef, he decided.
Dinner was festive. Mr. Mortensen had bought five steaks and asked Monica, politely, to eat with them. He’d recently taken to asking her to do that more and more frequently. With Monica included, everyone in the house was at the table together. Geoff couldn’t stop playing up Todd’s courage and prowess. He kept asking Andy to describe it because Todd appeared to be having a fit of shyness and was hesitant to say much of anything, and Andy was doing a great job of re–telling the story, making the story last about twice as long as the fight had actually taken, making it more dramatic every time he retold it.
Mr. Mortensen said at one point, “Todd, it’s a good thing we’re having steak. The way you keep blushing, you need the extra blood in your system!”
Geoff had loved that.
They all went into the family room after dinner. Todd’s comments had grown progressively fewer during the meal. No one had noticed, other than Andy. When they were all sitting, relaxing, Andy was the first to speak. It was the first time he’d ever started a conversation at Todd’s house; he’d always waited to be asked a question before joining in.
Now, however, he looked at Todd, saw he was still uncomfortable, and spoke up. His voice was soft, but everyone listened.
“Todd, are you OK? You haven’t said a whole lot. We’ve all been praising you, and you deserve it, but I’d like to know what you feel about what happened this afternoon. You haven’t really said much. Do you want to tell us?”
Todd looked at him, and then smiled, a little wanly, a little thankfully for being given the chance.
“I’ve been trying to figure that out. You guys are all trying to make out like I was a hero or something, and it didn’t feel like that at all. Nothing like that. I don’t want to pretend. I like what you guys are saying. It feels really good to know I have all you supporting me as much as you do. But I feel like a fake, too, because I don’t think I deserve what you’re saying.
“I was scared when I knew I had to fight him. I couldn’t run away.” He started to glance at Andy, but then didn’t, looking down at his hands in his lap instead. “I had to fight, and I did, but since I was scared, I don’t think I deserve all the praise you’re throwing at me. I don’t think a hero would have been scared. The only reason I could do what I did was because of all the practice I had with Geoff. If anyone deserves the credit, he does. What he taught me really helped. But it didn’t stop me from being frightened of Frank.”
He stopped and cleared his throat, then met Geoff’s eyes. “The training did make a huge difference. Everything we talked about and worked on in the basement, it all helped. I knew what to do and how to do it. That’s the only reason I got through the fight.”
He stopped then, but the others could hear in his voice that he had more to say, and waited.
He looked back down before he resumed. “It’s funny, I guess. I never did lose the fear. But it didn’t stop me like it always has before. I didn’t freeze up this time. And something else.” He raised his eyes again. “Geoff, you told me some guys like to fight. They enjoy it. Some of them. I didn’t enjoy it at all. I hate the training, and I hated the fight. Even hitting him, knocking him down, didn’t feel good. I hated it, even if I had to do it.
“But there was one good thing. I was upset and shaking afterwards, but even then I felt something. I felt better about myself. I’d protected myself, I stopped a bully from hurting me, and that gave me a feeling I haven’t had before. I was proud of myself, I guess.”
He sat up straighter, and looked up, at all of them. “I don’t want to get in any more fights, and I’ll still try to avoid them. But knowing I can fight back, and maybe stop the guy, it’s a strange feeling. Brand new. And good. I want to keep working with you, Geoff, too.” He suddenly laughed. “Even if I do hate it.”
Geoff got up, walked over to Todd, pulled him to his feet and hugged him. When he let go, he said, “Congratulations. You can thank me if you want to, but the bottom line is, you changed today. You pushed past the fear you’ve always had and did what you’ve been working on, we’ve worked on together. To actually do it, that’s special.”
Mr. Mortensen spoke then. “Todd, everyone feels fear. Not everyone can deal with it. That takes inner courage, not something that anyone can teach you. You can give Geoff the credit for preparing you, and he certainly deserves that. But you get the credit for the hard part, ignoring the fear and doing what you had to do.”
Todd was stunned. His father wasn’t only complimenting him, he was doing it from his own heart.
After that there’d been a few moments of silence while everyone digested what had been said, and then, more to change the subject and the mood in the room than anything else, Todd asked Andy to get the photo album he’d brought with him this time.
Andy got it out of his backpack and handed it to Mr. Mortensen. He thanked Andy and sat down on one of the sofas before opening the book. He expected to see some snapshots and was amazed at what he found instead. Seeing the expression on his face, Geoff put down his cue and joined him, sitting next to him on the couch.
There were all sorts of pictures in the album, buildings, sunsets, people, animals, nature studies, but they all had one thing in common. Each photograph was remarkable in its own way. Each one caused the person looking at it to stop, to look harder and longer before starting to turn the page, then stop and look again. They were not just photographs. Each one was a work of art.
Andy was playing pool, and joking with Todd about how bad he was, and pretending not to be watching the two on the couch at all, but he was. He couldn’t help it. He was very proud of his pictures, and cared deeply what others thought of them. But he was also shy and would never be forward enough to ask anyone’s opinion of his work.
Eventually, Mr. Mortensen closed the album and set it on his lap. He looked up. Andy quickly looked away, back at the table, and took a quick shot, which he missed badly.
“You took all these?” Mr. Mortensen asked, the respect he felt obvious in his voice.
“Yes, sir.” Andy turned to face them, set his cue down, and without realizing it, stepped a little closer to where Mr. Mortensen and Geoff were sitting.
“He developed and printed them too,” Todd said, and moved to join them all at the couch. The pride in his voice was unmistakable.
“They are amazing.” Mr. Mortensen was looking intently at Andy. “I can hardly believe what you have here. Has anyone else seen them?”
“Just my parents. They tell me they’re very good, but they have to, don’t they? They’re my parents.”
Andy’s innocent statement hit Mr. Mortensen very hard. The way Andy’d said it and the innocence in his eyes showed there was nothing recriminating in it at all, but that’s what Mr. Mortensen felt. Deep recrimination and deep shame for his treatment of his own son. And, feeling it, he felt something else, too: a strange sort of elation. Right then, he knew he was different now. Dr. Schwatrz had told him he was making progress. Now he could see the evidence of it himself for the first time. He’d never have felt these emotions a month ago. Probably not two weeks ago.
“These are really wonderful, Andy.”
Andy was glowing. He loved compliments as only someone whose life was filled with self–doubts could. “You really think so?”
“You bet I do!” Todd could hear enthusiasm in his father’s voice that he couldn’t remember having heard before. “Can you tell me about some of them? What you were trying to accomplish? Because I can tell, these photos weren’t taken with you just seeing something and pressing a shutter release. These had thought and planning and purpose involved in them. Each one. Here, tell me about this one.”
He leafed through the book till he came to a picture that had been taken at a playground, a young kids’ playground. In the picture, there were three kids in a sandbox, two boys and a girl. What was of interest were the expressions the kids wore. They were about four years old, and their expressions were all so different. One of the boys had a shovel, and he was concentrating fiercely on digging with it. His expression was serious, focused and intent. The girl sitting next to him was holding a pail and reaching out with it, obviously wanting the boy to put his shovelful of sand in it. While the boy’s focus was clearly on what he was doing, all by himself, the girl was focused on the boy, and on getting him to interact with her, to share in his activity. She was looking at him with a hopeful, wanting look. As much as he was entirely into what he was doing, she was into getting him involved with her.
While the picture showed the personalities and focus of the those two, it was the third boy that made the picture come alive. Because while both the other children were occupied totally with their own thoughts, the third boy had something else entirely in mind. His expression was mischievous. His eyes were alive and expressive. He too had a pail, but his wasn’t empty. He’d gotten it about two–thirds full of water, somehow, and he was moving forward, behind the other two, and you knew, you simply knew, what he was about to do. You felt his anticipation, you felt his heart beating faster, you felt the gamut of emotions he was experiencing. You felt him ready to pour that water over his unwary victims, ready to run away, laughing so hard you knew they’d catch him, if they tried.
Looking at that picture, it was impossible not to smile. Anyone seeing it was transported into the scene, completely taken by what each child was thinking and feeling, with the anticipation of what was about to come. Looking at the boy with the water, his expression, brought laughter and glee to anyone seeing the picture.
“How did you do this? How could you capture this moment? It makes me think of a Norman Rockwell painting. And, well, I have the feeling that you saw things, and did things that aren’t obvious to me, because the picture makes me feel things that most pictures, no matter what they’re of, don’t. Can you explain how you accomplished it?”
Andy grinned a little bashfully. “Most people don’t ask me things like that. I almost never have to talk about my pictures, or explain them. But I don’t mind. As long as you don’t think I’m showing off, or boasting or anything like that.” He frowned briefly, then looked directly at Mr. Mortensen, his eyes sincere. “I’d hate that.”
“No! I wouldn’t ever think that. You should be really proud of these pictures, Andy, and talking about them will let us all share in what you were thinking, and how you created them. You’ll be sharing a little of yourself with me, with us, and we’d all appreciate that.”
Andy smiled at him. Todd looked at his father, and for the first time in his life, saw why he’d been a success in business. He’d never seen this side of him, the smooth, charismatic, empathetic side.
Andy sat down on the couch, on the other side of Mr. Mortensen from Geoff. He let Mr. Mortensen continue to hold the book, and started pointing at things he was talking about.
“OK. There’re a lot of things that make up a good picture. When you’re serious about photography, and take lots and lots of pictures, it’s just like anything else, you learn what works, and what doesn’t. First, look at the shadow that falls partly across this boy.” He pointed at the boy with the shovel. “See how the shadow seems to complement, to enhance his determination, his focus? The shadow adds contrast to the sand and his features, and that contrast makes him a little separate from the girl, almost in his own world, and that contrasts with the fact the girl wants to join with him, and helps sell the fact he’s oblivious of her.”
Andy paused and looked up at Mr. Mortensen. “Actually, that shadow was hardly there in the sandbox. I made it a lot darker when I printed it. I blocked out everything but the shadow and when I printed it, I printed that 12 seconds longer than the rest. I knew it would have the effect it did.”
He sat back for a moment, then asked Mr. Mortensen, “Tell me, when you look at the picture, first look at it, where are your eyes drawn?”
Mr. Mortensen looked away a moment, then back at the picture. He did this a couple of times, then said, “It doesn’t seem to matter where I look, I end up looking at the boy with the water. Are you telling me that’s for some reason other than he’s going to cause trouble, and that I can see that coming?”
Andy grinned, and for a second, Todd saw him look just a little smug. It went away quickly, but Todd saw it. It made him realize just how proud Andy really was of his work and his ability.
“Yeah, there is a reason your eyes are drawn there. And I did do it intentionally. Can you study the picture, really closely, and tell me what I did. You can see it. It’s right in front of you. But I tried to make it invisible. See if you can find it.”
Mr. Mortensen looked at Andy, then grinned. “A challenge, huh? OK.”
He studied the picture. So did Geoff. Finally, Geoff sat back and said, “I don’t see anything. Just the picture. But I do tend to look at that kid more than anything.”
Mr. Mortensen looked longer too, but in the end, he was just as baffled as Geoff.
Andy looked pleased. “I’m glad you can’t see it. You will when I tell you. But I tried to hide it. I really like things that are subtle. Almost invisible, but are important and make a difference. Maybe because I tend to be that way myself, or maybe I’m sort of that way because I like things like that. I’ve never been able to figure out which came first.”
He stopped then, and Mr. Mortensen had to encourage him to tell them why their eyes were drawn to the impish boy.
“OK. I’ve read books and magazines about photography. There’s lots of stuff about perspective, and about distorting it. You can do that either taking the picture or in the darkroom. I used distortion in this picture.”
He reached over and pointed. “Look at this boy, then at the other two kids, then back at this boy again. If you look closely, the kid with the water is just a little bit in sharper focus. It’s really subtle. I did it by opening the F–stop real wide, cutting my depth of field almost to nothing because the kids are close together, but I got just what I wanted, and then tweaked it just the slightest bit when I printed it. Your eyes seem to want to focus on what’s sharpest in the picture, even if you’re not really aware of the difference.”
Mr. Mortensen studied the picture a bit longer, and a big grin came onto his face. “I can see it. That’s really clever! And you did that on purpose?”
“Well, yeah.” Andy chuckled a little self–consciously.
Mr. Mortensen shook his head, still grinning. “Amazing.” He studied the picture a moment longer, then asked, “What else?”
Andy settled back in the cushions. “Well, I was looking for an overall effect that this was somehow taking place in a separate world, a world with just these three kids in it. I thought, to do that, I should have something to make it more magical, more like a fairytale. I thought that would keep any other reality out, you know, like a fire engine going by in the street, or the day being hot and bees buzzing around, or anything extraneous like that which would be distracting . I’m probably not saying it well, but I knew what I wanted. So, I got down lower than I would normally get, and found an angle where the sun was reflecting off some of the grains of sand. See the speckles, all around the kids? There aren’t a lot of them, but what’s there seems to transport them, somehow, into a magical world all their own. I don’t know that I really pulled it off, but I wanted it to be almost subconscious.”
Mr. Mortensen nodded. “More subtlety, huh?”
Andy nodded, a smile on his face.
Mr. Mortensen studied the photo again for a moment, trying to think how to ask what he most wanted to know. Eventually, he asked, “OK, one last thing. How did you get such a perfect picture, showing everything in it? You’ve explained how you brought out what you wanted emphasized, what effect you were looking for, but not how you were able to get three kids to do what they’re doing, and capture it at exactly the right moment.”
“That’s trickier,” said Andy. “And harder to explain, too. I think anyone who takes lots of pictures, pictures of people and animals, things that are alive and move, they have to learn patience and how to anticipate a shot. I saw the kids playing. Young kids always make great subjects because they’re so animated, so focused on what they’re doing, and they show what they’re thinking if you really look at them. Adults learn to hide their emotions; kids don’t do that. Not at this age at least. They haven’t learned yet they have to. I saw them playing. Kids always make great pictures. I got out my camera, then figured out what effects I wanted. I just set the camera up and I positioned myself accordingly, and waited. When the moment came, I was ready.”
Mr. Mortensen looked over at Andy. Then he looked up at Todd. He was an intelligent man, and appreciated intelligence when he found it in others. He looked at both boys, and finally he said, “You’ve said an awful lot there, and it wasn’t just this picture you were talking about, was it?”
Andy blushed. He dropped his head, hiding his face. Finally, he glanced back up. He didn’t say a word, didn’t answer the question, but Todd could see a faint, enigmatic smile.
»»»» 0 ««««
After Andy had gone home, his mother having picked him up, Mr. Mortensen asked Todd to come into his study. When they were both seated, Todd on the couch, his father in a chair facing him, Mr. Mortensen said, “I got to know Andy better tonight. I thought maybe you’d be interested in my opinion of him.”
Todd gulped. “Uh, yes, I would.” He waited, and realized how nervous this made him.
“I’m very impressed with him, and with you, too. You figured him out, didn’t you? You knew there was a lot more there than meets the eye.” Mr. Mortensen smiled, and Todd relaxed.
He blushed as he answered. “I think you’re giving me too much credit. He spoke to me before I spoke to him. He was the one that made the first move for us to get to know each other. But I’ve spent time with him now and gotten to know him, and yeah, I’ve seen the way he thinks. He’s really smart, and really talented, and really shy.” Todd blushed a little stronger. “I like all those things about him.”
Mr. Mortensen leaned forward and laid his hand on Todd’s shoulder. “I’m glad. I’m glad you two are friends.”
Todd took a deep breath. “That really makes me happy. Thank you. And thank you for approving of Andy. That means a lot to me.”
“I not only approve of him, I’m going to see about hiring him to do some work for the company. He takes the best pictures I’ve ever seen!”
Todd grinned. Mr. Mortensen watched, and then came to a decision.
He sat back in his chair before speaking. “Todd, I have something that I need to tell you. I want to apologize for how I was. I know, it’s nowhere near enough, saying a few words and thinking that makes everything OK. Words don’t mean anything compared to how I treated you for such a long time, but I want you to know, I see now what I did, and how terrible it was. And I’m working hard at changing. You said you wanted us to be a family. I never cared before, but I want that now, too.” Mr. Mortensen’s voice had become shaky, and he stopped for a moment to compose himself. He finished by saying, “Thanks for giving me the chance.”
Todd smiled, but his father was right. The abusive conduct had gone on too long for Todd to simply excuse it by accepting an apology. He was very grateful his father had been changing over the past few weeks. But he wasn’t about to wash it all under the rug just because his father was finally apologizing.
“Thanks for saying that, but I really need more. I don’t understand why you acted like you did. You say you can now see why you did. But why couldn’t you see it when you were doing it? I know you’re changing. Mr. McCluskey insisted you do, and because he threatened to ruin your career if you didn’t, I know you’ve been trying. I don’t think you’re faking this new attitude, and I really like it, I so want you to be like this, but I have to wonder. It’s like there are two different people, the past you and this one. It seems like magic. You’ve changed. But I want to understand, and I want to know it’s real. Why were you like you were? How could you have changed so much?”
Mr. Mortensen slid forward in his chair, closer to Todd. “I’ll tell you what I can. You deserve that. You insisted I see Dr. Schwartz, so I did. I resisted him in our first sessions, but he’s very good, and I knew I had to make some effort at least. Mr. McCluskey was very clear on that. And, somehow, even though I accepted myself as I was, I knew I wasn’t like most people. They have lives outside their work, and I didn’t. I was totally committed to my job, and even while I was living like that, I could see how obsessive it was. I didn’t mind being obsessive, it got me where I wanted to be, where I needed to be, but I realized it wasn’t normal.”
He raised his head and stared into Todd’s eyes. “On some level, I knew I wasn’t treating you well at all. But my focus on my job was everything, and it prevented me from feeling bad about that.”
“But if you knew you weren’t normal, why didn’t you try to change?”
Mr. Mortensen grimaced. “Because I had achieved what I wanted in my life, and my perspective was screwed up by then. Dr. Schwartz was able to get me to step back and look at myself, and I was finally able to see some of my flaws and why I was like I was. And when I began really looking at myself, I was finally able to see just how unbalanced I was. And to begin trying to change, because looking at what I was, how I was treating you, I saw how much I needed to do that.”
He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. When he started speaking again, it was in a different voice, a softer one. Todd could hear the pain in it.
“When I was a kid, my father ran a company. He’d started it by himself. He was short, like I am, like you are. I think some short men are driven to prove themselves. He sure was. He always had an inferiority complex, I guess. But he built his own business, and back then employment rules were much different from how they are today. There weren’t enough jobs to go around, and some business owners took advantage of that. He was an ogre at work, demanding, unfair, vicious, a real bastard. And when he came home, he was the same way.
“He was highly critical of me. The older I grew, the more scathing he became. I was worthless in his eyes because I was 14 and still in school. I had to be, of course. The law said I had to be, but that meant nothing to him. He’d been working when he was 14, and I was lazy and had no ambition at all, according to him, because I was just lying around the house goofing off all the time instead of out getting a job and making something of myself.
“By the time I was 15, I truly hated him. I don’t think I’d ever really liked him, but he was my father. Dr. Schwartz told me that kids, young ones, tend to accept their fathers, and if there is a problem, a boy tends to think the problem is his, not his father’s. That was the way I’d felt. By 15, however, I was seeing him for what he was, and I knew by then he was the problem, not me.”
He paused, and Todd knew he was remembering, not only the confrontations and fights, but how they’d made him feel. How destructive they’d been. He knew, because his father had done the same thing to him.
“Because I was older by then, and could see him for what he was, I was no longer simply letting him tell me how worthless I was. I had become defiant, and would yell back at him. The arguments were becoming fights. A couple of times, he hit me. Back then, it wasn’t like now. Fathers could get away with it then. The attitude was, spare the rod and spoil the child. It was part of the culture. I wasn’t spoiled, that’s for sure.” Mr. Mortensen stopped and gave a quick, bitter laugh.
“By the time I was 16, it finally got to be too much. He hated me as much as I hated him because I wouldn’t be broken to his will. He told me I’d never amount to anything, that I was nothing and never had been. And…” he stopped then, and when he continued it was in a deeply emotional whisper, “that I was a waste of good sperm. He actually said that. I’ve never forgotten. I told him it wasn’t good sperm, it was his sperm so it couldn’t have been any good. He got up to hit me then, taking off his belt, and I beat him to it. He was pulling his belt off when I hit him. As hard as I could, with years of anger behind it. I knocked him down. I told him I was leaving. From the floor, he yelled, ‘Good. Don’t come back. I never want to see your useless ass again. Ever. All the things in the room I let you sleep in are mine. Leave them. Get out. Get out!’ He was screaming by then, holding his jaw, still lying on the floor.
“So I walked out. I had an aunt and uncle in town, my mother’s sister and her husband. I went to stay with them. I lived with them till I finished high school, and got a scholarship for college. I was always smart, and now I was motivated, because, even if I never saw him again, I was going to prove to my father that I wasn’t worthless, and in fact, that I was better than he ever was. He owned a small business. I was going to run a large company. I would do it to prove myself to him. My entire focus was to beat him, to show him up.”
Mr. Mortensen stopped. He took a deep breath and Todd saw him unclench his fists. There were deep depressions which his fingernails had made in his palms.
When he’d regained some composure, Mr. Mortensen continued. “And that focus, that obsession to prove myself, changed me. It was all I ever thought about. It became my entire life. I let it control me. Nothing else mattered. Nothing.”
He stopped talking then. Todd waited.
“I understand it all now. Dr. Schwartz took me back through it. Everything I’ve done was only to get to the top of my company. I needed to do that. Then, when I got there, I had to stay. Nothing else was important.” Then, after a pause, in a smaller voice, “Including you.”
Mr. Mortensen opened his eyes then. And looked into Todd’s. Then he walked over and sat down next to him on the couch.
“As much as I hated my father, and as resolved as I was to show him I wasn’t what he said I was, I see now I’ve done to you what he did to me. I treated you terribly. It was never because of anything you did. It was always me, and my obsession to show my father he was wrong, and how that obsession changed me. I did to you what he did to me. I was only reaching for my own goals, and in doing so subjected you to what I had been subjected to.
“Except, there was a difference. You were stronger than I ever was. You didn’t do what I did, live your life trying to get back at anyone else. You remained a good person, no matter what I did to you. I’ve been watching you, and I’m so proud of who you are. What you’ve become.”
He opened his arms, and looked beseechingly at Todd. Todd hesitated, then a little stiffly moved so he was in his father’s arms, and let himself be hugged.
He thought it was a great story. But he wasn’t sure he believed it. Not entirely. Maybe. But he wasn’t the innocent he’d been. He was building his own life now, and didn’t take everything people said now as fact. He’d have to see more evidence that his father meant it. He hoped the man’s change of heart, of focus, was real. He wanted it to be. But, he’d keep watching.