James stayed at school after the meeting with Principal Harris.
When his father walked out of her office, he didn’t even give James a glance. The man’s fury as he was leaving the school was apparent to James. Staying at the school as long as he could that day was certainly warranted. Knowing he’d eventually have to go home that evening was the scariest thing he could imagine. His father would put the blame on James for how he was gutted in Ms. Harris’ office; there’d be no question about that. But it was for later. He worried about it—and about his horn, too. The last time he’d seen that was when his father had snatched it from his hand when they’d arrived home from Freddie’s. It was probably in the house somewhere.
It occurred to him that, even if the Social Services was supposed to show up now and then and check on the horn, it still wasn’t safe while his father had it. He could still sell it, then claim James had lost it. The only way to be sure it was safe was for him to go back and get it.
It should be safe to do that if he went at the right time, which would be while his father was at work. He should go back then, get the horn and bring it to school. It should be safe locked in the band room. If he couldn’t do that, he could let Mrs. Ford hold it for him, but that would make it impossible for him to practice every day. Either way, he had to get it back.
His father never went to work till noon. People didn’t buy used cars much in the morning. James would have to wait till after lunch to go get it.
> > >
Frank went home from the school. He was in a temper, as usual. A woman! A woman talked down to him! Was there no end to his humiliation? What sort of life was this?
He needed to get away. That was a good idea. Go somewhere else and start over. He had no use for his wife and even less for James. What was he hanging around this town for? There was nothing here for him. They were renting the house, so he’d lose nothing by just leaving. And, come to think of it, he’d be leaving his debt with the loan sharks behind as well.
Thinking that gave him another thought. Take his clothes—he didn’t own anything else he needed—but take that horn, too. He could sell it wherever he landed and use the money he got for a nest egg.
Why wait? Go now, he thought. He went and got two suitcases and threw what clothes he had into them. His wife came in while he was doing so.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“I’m leaving.”
“Leaving? As in not coming back?”
“Exactly. I’m kissing your sorry ass goodbye—and James’, too.”
“But what about money for us? The rent. Food?”
“Time to fend for yourself. I’ve carried you for way too long already. And by the way, go fuck yourself.”
He shut the suitcases and carried them out of the room, bumping her hard enough on the way that she fell to the floor. He was headed for the garage when there was a hard knock on the front door. Frank glanced at it, then kept going toward the door to the garage.
The front door burst open. Two large men stepped into the house.
“Suitcases, huh?” the larger of the two said. His smile was ugly. “Got here just in time, huh, Moe?”
“You don’t think he’s running away without paying Mr. Todd, do you? He wouldn’t do that. Wouldn’t be honest, and Mr. Todd would be very upset. Bad, bad thing, upsetting Mr. Todd! No, Jerome. I think what he’s doing is taking some stuff to the pawn shop. Probably get just enough money to pay the vig again this month.”
“Is Jerome right, Frank?” Moe asked, stepping closer. “That’s what the suitcases are for? Anyway, too late for niceties. Too much vig, not enough principal. Mr. Todd’s getting worried that he won’t get his money back without a little reminder of how much he wants it back. All of it. How important that is. Very bad to worry Mr. Todd. He doesn’t hold onto any worries. He passes them on.”
Frank was looking scared now. He was feeling that, too.
“Mr. Todd told us we should remind you he’s waiting for the principal. These little bits you’ve been paying are getting boring. Not good to bore Mr. Todd. About the only way to make him happy is to pay him back. Mr. Todd being happy is good. Anything else, bad. You need to come along with us. You need to see why anything else is bad. Mr. Todd wants us to do that, and what Mr. Todd wants, we deliver.”
Frank shuddered. He knew what this meant. He was going to get a beating. Probably be laid up after that, meaning he’d lose his job, meaning he’d be unable to pay even his vig. He began to shake.
Frank was a bully when he could be, and like many bullies, a coward in the face of someone bigger and crueler than he was. Now, he felt sweat forming. He didn’t want what was coming. But what he wanted was no longer in his control.
He did think of something. Out of desperation, he said, “Hey, wait a sec. I have something. It’s worth more than what I owe, and you can have all the money it’ll bring. It’s a valuable French horn. You can have it. Right now. Wipe my slate clean.” His voice had a begging tone.
Moe looked at Jerome. Jerome laughed, an ugly sound. “What the fuck do we want with a French horn? We’re not in the commodities market, Frank. We’re in the muscle market. We do what we’re told. If you can get some money for whatever that is, do it, and pay Mr. Todd. Why haven’t you done that already?”
Frank remained silent. His brain seemed empty, unable to form words.
“See, we’re not here to bargain, Frank. What we do is teach people like you the cost of doing business with Mr. Todd. When you’re late, mate, you get a date. With us.”
While Jerome was talking, Moe had been advancing on Frank. He stopped in front of him. Frank was shaking. Moe punched him hard in the stomach, and when Frank doubled over, he hit him again, this time hard in the face.
Frank’s knees buckled, and he started to collapse. Moe caught one arm; Jerome was there by then to catch his other arm. They dragged him out of the house and unceremoniously threw him into the trunk of their car and slammed the lid.
They were supposed to work him over, bust him up a little, then dump him somewhere, still alive but hurting. Maybe they did that, maybe they did more than they’d intended, but just what happened to him remained unknown to anyone not in Mr. Todd’s circle. Frank Madison simply disappeared. It was as if he’d never been.
No one really missed him.
> > >
James came in after lunch when he was sure his father wasn’t home. He stopped when he arrived because his father’s car was there. He made his way to the rear of the house, keeping out of sight as well as he could. His mother was in the kitchen. There was no sign of his father.
He opened the back door and asked his mother, “Is Dad here? His car is.”
She told him she had no idea where Frank was, but she no longer cared. She said that he’d packed two suitcases and told her he was leaving her, but then a couple of men came, and when she came downstairs, he was gone; the suitcases were still in the living room. She didn’t know what was going on, but she’d made a decision.
“I don’t have any money to pay the rent, James. And even if your father comes back, I’m done with him. He told me to fuck myself. Well, fuck him. I’m leaving. And you’re coming with me.”
James was barely listening to her. He was scared, but not about his father. His only fear was that his horn might have disappeared along with his father. While his mother was still talking, he swung the door open and ran to the den. The horn was still there. He took a deep breath and let it out.
Back in the kitchen, he found his mother was now sitting at the table. She had a glass in front of her with a brown liquid in it. James knew what that was. This scene had too much familiarity.
“James,” she said, looking at the drink and not him. “He said he was leaving. I think he meant it.” She seemed to have forgotten she’d already told him that. But he wasn’t sure she was talking to him; maybe it was just to herself. “I don’t know about the suitcases, but maybe he went for a beer with the guys I heard him talking to, and maybe he’ll be back for the suitcases and leave then. The thing is, I can’t stay here any longer, either with or without him. My parents are old. Maybe they’d like someone to take care of them. In any case, that’s where I’m going to go. Right away. I’ll pack up things to take; you have to do that, too. Take everything you want as we won’t ever come back here. Get your things now because we should be gone before he returns.
“We’ve got a long drive ahead of us. All the way to Kansas.”
> > >
The doorbell rang, and Mrs. Ford answered it to find a bedraggled, forlorn James standing on the stoop, his horn in its case on the ground next to him. “James,” she said. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve come to say goodbye. And to bring you back the horn. I won’t need it any longer.” Then, unable to stay composed, James broke down and began sobbing.
Mrs. Ford stepped out and put an arm around James’ thin shoulders. “Come into the house.” She took the horn and steered him into her studio, feeling he’d be more comfortable there than in the more formal living room.
She got the story from him in bits and pieces. The more he spoke, as he heard the words himself, the more his situation became clear to him. It was hopeless. He broke into tears several times before he was finished speaking. She heard it all and then had him lie down on the couch and told him she’d leave him for awhile and to come find her in the kitchen when he was able to. To take as long as he needed. When he was ready, they’d talk.
“But James,” she said before leaving him, “this will work out. We’ll find a way. We will.”
She left him alone to get himself back under control and went to the kitchen, where she made a phone call.
> > >
James eventually came out of Mrs. Ford’s studio and into the kitchen, where he found a surprise waiting for him.
“Freddie!” James looked at him, then accusingly at Mrs. Ford. He felt betrayed. He was devastated by the events of the past couple of days, and now, when he was at his lowest, Freddie was here to witness him at his worst.
“I invited him over, James. We both have things to say to you.”
“You might have told me.” As soon as he said it, he was embarrassed. She’d been nothing but wonderful to him. Now he was criticizing her?
He quickly said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that!”
Mrs. Ford smiled. “It’s fine, James. You’ve been hit with too many things all at once. But Freddie’s here to help, just like I am.”
Freddie saw how upset James was and went over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Sit down. We have a lot to talk about. We all want the same thing here. That’s for things to be better for you. For you to get what you want.”
He moved James to a chair, then went back to his own. Mrs. Ford took over.
“Freddie and I were already talking about your situation before what’s happened today. We both want you to be happy. We’ve—well, Freddie, really—thought of something that you probably would like and that might be best for you. The thing is, it’s not something we can control at the moment. This latest news—your mother taking you to Kansas—is out of the blue and comes before we’ve had a chance to look into what we need to do to make sure Freddie’s plan is feasible.
“But we can tell you what we’re starting to work on, and you can approve it. Or maybe you won’t even like it, and we’ll have to think of something else, this time including you in the discussion. Now, I think Freddie should explain as this is his idea. Freddie?”
James’ eyes switched from Mrs. Ford’s to Freddie’s.
Freddie, for all his confidence, looked a little uncertain. He realized he’d been figuring out how to save James, and that doing so was presumptuous. He didn’t want to seem like a know-it-all to James, and perhaps this would come across that way. He was sticking his nose into someone else’s business; there was no doubt about that.
Well, he thought, at least my intentions were good.
He took a quick glance at Mrs. Ford, who smiled at him and nodded her head.
That was all the boost he needed. If she supported him, he couldn’t be too far off track. “James, I know how much playing the horn means to you. And it sounds like your ability to continue with your lessons with Mrs. Ford was in serious jeopardy even before this Kansas crap happened.”
He blushed and said, “Sorry, Mrs. Ford, but it is crap!”
Then he turned back to James. “I knew you were worried, and I figured out a way to help you. But I needed Mrs. Ford’s help and so talked to her. She agreed, and we were just starting getting it all arranged when all this happened. Anyway, what my plan was, was this. We were going to find a way to get you enrolled at my private school. I know what you’ll say, all your reasons why that’d be impossible, but we were going to find a way to make it happen.”
He rushed on before James could interrupt. “But now I can at least ask you, would you like that? Not the possibility, but actually being in, going to that school. Being a boarding student there, playing in their orchestra; they have a band, too, but I’m sure you’d prefer the orchestra, and you could probably do both if you wanted to.”
James looked shocked and opened his mouth to speak. Once again, Freddie preempted him. “The school does offer scholarships. It does look for, actually seeks, exceptional students, too, and you’re obviously exceptional. You’d have to audition, but you can do that in your sleep. What do you think? Can you get behind this? Would you be happy going to my school, living there? Playing in the orchestra? Forgetting all the obstacles. Obstacles, smogstacles! We can work on those. But there’s no point in doing this if you don’t want to.”
James was shocked. He’d been getting more and more despondent thinking of moving to a place where he was pretty sure there wasn’t even a band to play in and certainly no horn teacher. The town where his mother’s parents lived was a small one, more of a tiny village, really, and it existed to support farmers, mostly wheat and corn farmers. It didn’t have a high school; it shared one with three other small communities. Even then, it was a central school without any music program. Kids left school for the day when classes were over and headed back to farms to do chores. He’d heard all about it from his mother. It was where she’d gone to school. Thoughts of that school were part of his deepening depression.
Was this a way out? He glanced back and forth at Freddie and Mrs. Ford and found his voice. “I’d love the opportunity. But I don’t know if my mother would let me stay here. She might feel responsible for me, though she never much has before.”
“I can talk to her,” Mrs. Ford said. “I can be convincing when I try. That’s no place for you, and I may be able to make her see that. I’ll call her and ask her to come here. Perhaps being here would be better than talking to her in her kitchen. There, she’ll only be thinking about leaving. Here, I’ll force her to think about you and your future. If you want, I can call her right now.”
James opened his mouth, closed it, and then nodded.
> > >
Mrs. Madison was very uncomfortable sitting in Mrs. Ford’s sumptuous formal living room. The entire neighborhood had intimidated her as she’d driven to the house. Mrs. Ford, however, had been very congenial and gone out of her way to welcome her. But then she’d taken her into the living room, and seeing it—it was about the size of the entire downstairs floor of her house and was furnished with pieces that belonged in a museum—had undermined the effects of Mrs. Ford’s warm hospitality.
“Can I offer you something? Tea, or perhaps something stronger? I have a lovely sherry, some aged port I’ve had favorable comments on, and I can make most cocktails. I pride myself on my Manhattans and my Old Fashioneds. I use cognac in those. Quite nice. I myself enjoy an afternoon cocktail. I was going to have a gin and tonic. What could I get you?”
She didn’t enjoy an afternoon cocktail, but James had told her that alcohol was his mother’s Achilles’ heel and that having a drink or even two almost certainly would increase the chances of getting her cooperation.
Mrs. Madison thought a drink might help settle her nerves. She asked for a gin martini, and Mrs. Ford smiled and said that was a splendid idea and she’d have one, too! What she actually did was make hers almost all water, and Mrs. Madison’ almost all gin.
Drinks in hand and sipped, Mrs. Ford came to the point. “James is worried that being in Kansas will disrupt his future plans. He’s also worried about not having any friends there and going to a school where he’ll be the only kid with the interests he has and no interest at all in farming. He’s been bullied here because of his interest in music and thinks it would be worse there. He also feels if you have to spend time taking care of the problems he’s having there, it would take away from your time looking after your parents. He would rather stay here but would need your blessing for that.”
Mrs. Madison finished her martini. The bottle along with one of dry vermouth and an ice bucket were on a trolley next to her. Without asking, Mrs. Ford stood, made two more martinis and handed one to Mrs. Madison and took her own back to her seat.
Mrs. Madison took a healthy slug, then asked, “But where would James live? How would he eat? I can only take care of him if he’s with me. I know he might prefer staying here, but I don’t have the money to pay anyone to look after him.”
“Yes, that’s the main problem here: James’ care. I’m glad to see you care so strongly about his future. It means you’re a wonderful mother. I know now you’ll do the right thing. As for money, you probably should sell your car or your husband’s car, or both if you have two. Use that money to ship whatever is in the house that you value and buy an airplane ticket. James says you rent the house, so just notify the landlord you’re leaving and reclaim any deposit you made when the rental started. The money you make from the car sale and the deposit, if that works out should cover all your moving expenses.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of selling the car! I was going to drive out, and, well, I really didn’t want to do that. With the money from the car, you’re right: I can fly instead. There’s nothing in the house I want except some clothes, and I can mail them to myself. This takes a load off my mind. But there’s still the problem of what to do about James.”
Mrs. Ford smiled. This was going to be easier than she’d imagined. “That shouldn’t worry you. I’ll see to it he’s well looked after. I’ve become very fond of James, I have quite a few important contacts, and I’m fairly sure I can arrange a scholarship at a boarding school for him. All I need from you is your signature for powers of attorney giving me in loco parentis rights including for any medical needs. I happen to have the paperwork for both of those; I’ve needed it in the past for other students, and I kept blank copies. If you’ll sign these, you don’t have to worry about James any longer. He’ll be in good hands, he’ll be happy, much more than living in Kansas, and you can focus on your trip and supporting your parents.”
James was in the kitchen, listening to this play out. He was discovering a new version of Mrs. Ford, one he hadn’t known existed. She was playing his mother with a skill he’d known she had on the horn, but one he hadn’t been aware she possessed in the social arena. He was reminded that she’d warned him to never play poker with her. He could now appreciate why.
She told Mrs. Madison to help herself to another martini while she hunted up the paperwork. She didn’t have to hunt; she’d had the papers ready before Mrs. Madison arrived. Mrs. Madison happily signed, Mrs. Ford did, too, and her cook witnessed the signatures.
James came in and gave his mother a cursory hug when she was ready to leave. Hugging hadn’t been part of their relationship. Then he said goodbye and went back into the kitchen before she was out the door.
Mrs. Ford told her she’d send someone right away to collect James’ things. When Mrs. Madison was gone, the three of them couldn’t stop smiling. They’d done it!
> > >
Sitting in the kitchen with celebratory drinks, Freddie couldn’t wait any longer. “James,” he said, his eyes as bright and eager as James had ever seen them, “it’s all arranged with my mother. You’ll be coming home with me, and you’ll live there until the school situation is all finalized.”
James was a bit shellshocked by all that had just happened. He needed time to digest everything: what he’d thought would happen and then what had. But he did realize he’d left a very dark place and had come back into the light.
He looked up at Mrs. Ford and Freddie. His depression was easing; they could see he was losing some of the fear he’d been holding onto when he smiled.