“Oh my God, man! You’re a Rattler. Nobody messes with a Rattler. I can’t believe you’re a Rattler. I thought you were just a cop! I can’t believe it. A cop Rattler.”
Doug lowered his arm, shocked that he’d lowered his guard so completely that he’d forgotten not to expose his wrist. He’d left the wristband off as a precaution, in case he needed it in his search for Jeremy. He’d forgotten it wasn’t there.
“I’ve been a lot of things that might surprise you, son. But the point is, I got out. I can help you get out, too. It’s up to you.”
Jeremy deliberated for another minute or two. He ate a couple of Doug’s fries, as if testing the waters. And then he reached across the table, holding out one very clean, young hand.
“Friends?” he asked solemnly.
Doug took the skinny fingers into his, forcing himself to shake the boy’s hand and let it go. He was filled with an unfamiliar urge to pull the boy into his arms and hug him. Jeremy smiled, and Doug finally had a glimpse of what caring was all about.
* * *
DOUG WANTED TO TELL Andrea about his weekend, about Jeremy, but it was precisely because he’d spent the weekend with Jeremy that he kept silent. He knew she wouldn’t approve. He knew, too, that nothing was going to stop him from keeping his promises to the boy.
He had a few rough minutes at school, afraid that Andrea would see the miraculous change in Jeremy, afraid that he’d somehow favor him over the other kids. But other than a couple of covert, private glances, Jeremy behaved pretty much the same as always. The only difference was that, though Jeremy never participated in DARE lessons, Doug now suspected that the boy had been paying attention all along.
He took Jeremy to K-Mart for some new clothes on Wednesday. They weren’t designer duds, but they were new and they fit. Jeremy not only thanked Doug, which was a shock in itself, but he offered to wash Doug’s car for the rest of his life. Doug wished again that he could share these victories with Andrea. Though he wasn’t sorry to be spending time with the boy, he wished the three of them could do things together, even though he knew that wasn’t possible.
“You got a girlfriend?” Jeremy asked the following Saturday afternoon as he and Doug waited in line at the movies. Jeremy was looking at a young couple about his own age who were chewing gum and holding hands.
“Sorta.” Doug answered as honestly as he answered all of Jeremy’s questions. His idea of a girlfriend was a woman in his bed, which he definitely hadn’t had in a while. But he did have kind of a relationship with Andrea—surely they were friends, at least—and she was a girl.
“Is it Officer Parker?” Jeremy asked in a teasing voice.
“Why do you ask?”
“You guys look at each other kinda funny sometimes.”
“I didn’t think you ever looked at us.”
“I look. I listen sometimes, too. But some of that stuff ain’t for real. I mean, look at that stupid teddy bear. Like he could really make me feel warm all over when the heat’s been turned off again.”
Doug was relieved they weren’t talking about Andrea anymore, but he didn’t like the turn of the conversation.
“You got something that does keep you warm?” he asked.
Jeremy shut down.
Doug took a deep breath, wishing they weren’t in the middle of a movie line. “It’s okay, kid. I could name a thing or two that kept me warm nights. But the problem with my solution was that it gave me more problems. Bigger ones.”
“You know? You know I’m a user and you’re still here with me?”
“I suspected, Jeremy. It’s kinda hard to live where you live for eleven years and not get sucked in.”
“I don’t use nothin’ hard, Doug. I swear it. I just smoke a little pot now and then. It’s easier to go home when I’m high.”
Doug forced himself not to react. He leaned one shoulder against a cement column outside the theater, sliding his hands into his pockets.
“It was easier for me, too. Until the pot wasn’t enough.”
“You tried harder stuff?”
Doug was stuck. If he said yes, would Jeremy run out and try it, too? But what kind of chance would he be taking if he lied to the boy?
“It’s not the answer, Jeremy. You said you’d trust me, and you gotta trust me on this. It’s not the answer. Listen to what we’re telling you in school. Arm yourself with alternate choices, with ways to reduce stress, with answers to gang pressure. Those are the tools that are going to get you out of there. You’re already well on your way. We’re going to be learning about the importance of support systems next week and you’ve already gotten yourself one of those.”
Doug punched Jeremy lightly on the shoulder, letting his arm fall around the boy’s shoulders for a minute to propel him forward as the line began to move.
“You aren’t going to turn me in, are you?” Jeremy asked just before the lights went down and the movie started.
“Stay off the stuff and I won’t have any reason to make that decision, will I?”
* * *
ANDREA MISSED DOUG. He hadn’t made some excuse to see her outside of school for over two weeks. She knew she’d have to live without him very soon anyway, since his first semester was over in just a matter of weeks and she’d have no more reason to see him every day. But she wasn’t ready to give him up yet.
She became so obsessed with the idea that he’d found a girlfriend that she finally had to ask him. His denial was curt, to the point and not very friendly.
Something was up with him. She was sure of it. But if it wasn’t a girlfriend, what else could it be? Was he turning back into to the solitary man he’d been when she’d first met him? Had he ever really stopped being one? Had she just thought he was changing—losing her perspective in her desire for his kisses?
She’d almost convinced herself he was purposely avoiding her when he showed up on her doorstep one Sunday afternoon.
“Hi,” she said, wondering if he could tell how glad she was to see him.
“I missed you,” he said, leaning one shoulder against her door frame. Those didn’t sound like the words of a man who preferred to live in a vacuum.
“I missed you too.”
“You wanna drive out to Alum Creek?”
“Yeah.”
“You wanna take a blanket and make love out there?”
“Yeah.”
He shot away from the door frame, penetrating her with his intense brown gaze. “You do?”
“Yeah. But I can’t.”
He leaned back against the door. “You wanna tell me why not?”
“You know why. I drove my last lover away. I can’t go through that again.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Andrea shrugged. “It amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it?”
“Nope. If you can’t, you can’t. If you won’t, you can. I just have to convince you to.”
Andrea laughed. It was so good to be with him. “I’ll let you know which it is when I figure it out.”
“So we going to the creek?”
“You still want to?”
“I always want to,” he said with a suggestive grin.
He was back. And though she knew it was wrong, Andrea wanted him to stay.
* * *
ANDREA WAITED for Doug after school on Monday. Thanksgiving was just over a week away and she had gone around and around with herself deciding whether or not she should ask Doug to spend the day with her. She wouldn’t be going to her parents’ house. She wasn’t going to force her little brother out of his own home on a holiday.
And as far as she knew, Doug would be alone, too. She was afraid to spend the day with him, afraid of her traitorous heart, but she hated even more the thought of Doug all alone at a time when everybody had someone.
She looked around the deserted school-yard, wondering where he was. She’d thought he was right behind her. She was about to go back inside, to see what was keeping him, when she saw him out on the playground. He was
watching Jeremy Schwartz shoot baskets. And right beside him stood Coach Peterson.
Andrea was a mass of conflicting emotions as she watched the scene unfolding before her. There was a thrill of elation so acute it almost hurt as she realized that Doug had opened his heart enough to continue trying to help the skinny blond boy. But there was also fear.
Andrea had seen Jeremy’s kind before. The boy was as hard as they came. He was sullen and disrespectful. Andrea would bet her life that he was already a regular user. She knew the signs, and Jeremy had all of them. He lied, his grades had dropped, he had no straight friends, he took no part in school activities, his attention span was sporadic, he had fits of anger and his eyes alternated between being glassy and bloodshot.
Andrea was frightened beyond belief that Doug had set himself up for disillusionment the very first time he opened his heart. But she was also filled with anger. She’d told him about the other kids that could suffer if he did this very thing. Any of the other boys could have come outside and seen Doug standing out there with Jeremy. Why hadn’t he listened to her? Why was he jeopardizing everything?
She drove home, changed out of her uniform, left it lying across her bed and pulled on a pair of blue jeans and a black thermal sweatshirt. She slipped into a pair of tennis shoes and headed back out, not bothering even to run a comb through her hair.
She met Doug just as he was pulling into his apartment complex. She had to take several deep breaths before she got out of her car, reminding herself that he was only going to get defensive if she blasted him.
“This is a nice surprise,” Doug said as she caught up with him at his parking slot. He ran his liquid gaze from her head to her toes, saying more with his eyes than he did with his words. His scar was barely visible.
Andrea fought against the heat that flowed through her, the weakness just being near him caused in her. She had to concentrate on the job at hand. She had to keep things in perspective. She fell into step beside him as he headed toward his apartment.
“I needed to talk to you for a sec.”
“Shoot.”
“It can wait until we get inside. How come you’re so late getting home?”
“I had to stop by the cleaner’s.”
Andrea knew he was lying. She knew it not just because she’d seen what he’d been doing, but because he looked away from her when he spoke.
“So where are your clothes?” she asked, glancing down at his briefcase, the only thing he was carrying.
“I was dropping them off, not picking them up.”
He was so smooth it scared her. This was a side of Doug she’d never met before—a man who could lie through his teeth without missing a beat. How much more was there that she didn’t know about? How much more had he concealed with all his vague answers and closemouthed conversations?
He went into the bathroom to change. Andrea looked around the room, noticing once again that it was the most impersonal apartment she’d ever been in. There wasn’t even a pair of shoes by the door or a book on the coffee table.
She sat down on the brown tweed couch that pulled out into his bed at night, wondering again where Doug had come from. There were no pictures hanging on his walls, no snapshots sitting on his tables. She didn’t even know if the furniture belonged to him.
The bathroom door opened. Andrea’s breath caught in her throat when she looked over and saw him standing in the doorway.
He was wearing a pair of faded black jeans—and that was all, except for the wristband that he never seemed to take off. His hair was mussed and his chin was dark with the day’s worth of stubble. He looked more like one of the rough characters she would expect to meet in a redneck bar than the respected policeman she knew him to be. And still she wanted him.
“What’s up?” he asked, lowering himself to the couch beside her.
She tore her hungry gaze away from the dark hairs curling over his chest, from the firmly defined muscles his uniform usually hid, from the scar on his shoulder, and met his hooded eyes. He knew something was up. He was retreating from her.
“I saw you,” she blurted out. It was nothing like the calm words she’d rehearsed.
He raised one eyebrow in question, saying nothing.
“With Jeremy. And Peterson.”
She waited for him to defend himself, to tell her to mind her own business, to go to hell. But he continued to watch her with his piercing brown eyes until she felt like she was the one who was in trouble.
“I warned you to stay away from him, Doug.”
“I remember.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Nope.”
“He’s a user, Doug. All the signs are there.” She forced herself to speak evenly when she badly needed to yell, to force some sense into him.
“Isn’t that why we’re there—to steer kids straight?”
“It’s more like to keep them straight. And yes, maybe, to steer the occasional user toward other choices. But Jeremy’s not an occasional user. I’ve seen his kind before. You’re setting yourself up for a fall and risking the faith of the rest of the class in the process.”
Doug stayed calm as long as he could. He listened to Andrea. He tried to hear fairly. He already knew he’d made a mistake that afternoon by sticking around with Jeremy and Peterson. Andrea had been right there. He’d risked hurting the other boys, making them jealous, losing their trust. But when Jeremy had agreed to shoot for Peterson only if Doug came along, he hadn’t been able to refuse. Jeremy’s best hope was basketball. It could set him up for life. It offered not only a time-consuming outlet for his energy, but the potential for scholarships, and a future.
“We have only so much time in each class, Doug,” Andrea continued. “Sometimes it’s just too late.”
He couldn’t take any more.
Doug shot up off the couch, walked angrily toward the door and then wheeled around. He stopped in front of Andrea, leaning over with one hand on the back of the couch behind her shoulder, the other on the arm of the couch beside her, trapping her.
“It’s—never—too—late.” He said each word separately, leaving her no doubt that he meant each one.
He pushed away from the couch with such force that it scooted backward a couple of inches. He walked over to the window, forcing himself to calm down.
He was so filled with frustration he was ready to explode, but he knew it wasn’t all her fault. Part of it was from wanting her for so long, being around her every day, having nothing but cold showers for company. But another part was a frustration that was all his own making. It was born of his past, and it lived with him each moment that he dared consider a life with Andrea.
He turned around, finding her in the same position he’d left her in. She wasn’t crying, but she looked as if it wouldn’t take much to make her start. His time was up.
“If there were a ‘too late,’ I wouldn’t be here right now,” he said, knowing that he was killing any chance he’d ever had to be this woman’s lover.
“What do you mean?” Her lips barely moved as she spoke. She sat stiffly on the couch, as if trying to ward off any blows, physical or emotional, that he might throw at her. But she didn’t look frightened. Doug was thankful for that, at least.
“I took my first hit of acid when I was seven. I’d been alone with my dad for a couple of years by then. I didn’t think I’d make it for another two. I was addicted by the time I was eight.
“And you know that skit Steve and I did? Most of it wasn’t fiction. Only his name wasn’t Steve, it was Chuck, and there were no little kids or an older brother. And it wasn’t my first time with drugs, only with the magic white stuff. I was eleven. Jeremy’s age. By the time I was twelve I’d done it all. Needles, pills, pipes—you name it, I knew it. And I didn’t care who I had to hurt to get it. And you know why?”
Andrea looked up at him, her eyes filled with pain. She shook her head.
“Because it hurt me more not to have it.”
Doug slumped down
on the couch, as far from Andrea as the old piece of furniture would allow. He wasn’t going to give her the chance to scoot away from him.
“How badly did you hurt them?”
Doug knew what she was really asking. He supposed he couldn’t blame her. “No one ever spent the night in the hospital as a result of my handiwork, or the morgue, either.”
He saw the relief in her eyes, and for once was thankful for the truth. But there was more. He had to tell her or she’d never understand.
“For my twentieth birthday I threw a party. It was on the roof of an old warehouse, and the invitations were few, but mandatory. After fifteen years on ghetto streets, I’d earned myself a reputation. I had power. Everybody brought presents, just like I’d told them to—blue ones and yellow ones, capsules, pills and vials. I provided the syringe.”
Andrea cringed, but she didn’t look away from him. She held his gaze as boldly as everything else she did. Doug had never wanted her more than he did while he sat there watching his chances slip away.
“The party turned out to be even more than I had envisioned. Sometime after midnight, I hallucinated that I was on a flying trapeze. I’d had dreams of running away with a circus when I was a kid. I suddenly thought I could fly across the street to a telephone pole. It was breathing, you see, and I wanted to check it out. I flew, all right—right off the rooftop. It was four floors up.”
Tears were sliding down Andrea’s cheeks. Doug didn’t even know when she’d started to cry. He’d been lost in memories, reliving that night, wondering at just what point it had been too late for him.
He crossed his arms across his chest, staring at the blank TV set. Andrea watched him, her tears falling down her face unchecked.
“What happened?” Her gentle words were almost his undoing.
“I landed in a dumpster, but I still broke more bones than I knew I had. The only good thing was I was so high I didn’t feel any pain. Not until the next day, when I came to in the hospital. I hallucinated for six more days after that.”
“How did you get into the academy with a record like that?” Andrea asked. He’d wondered when she’d get around to the question.
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