December Boys (Jay Porter Series)

by Joe Clifford

  I got up from my chair and hugged her.

  “I always held out hope he’d get straight.”

  “We all did.”

  The nauseous stench of microwaved leftovers swamped the kitchen. I got up and dumped my dinner in the trash. Gave her a moment to collect herself. I stood at the sink, rewashing the same spot on a dish.

  “I had this fantasy,” Kitty said. “Your brother would call me up one day and he’d sound like the Chris I used to know, back before we both got so fucked up. There had been a time when we were regular people, y’know—maybe ‘regular’ isn’t the right word—but we weren’t what we became. And he’d tell me he figured it out, had gotten straight, kicked for good and was ready to start living again. I’d be able to hear it in his voice, and I’d say he should fly out for a visit, and he’d say he’d love that. I don’t know how he’d get to my house from the airport—that wasn’t part of the fantasy—but he’d knock on the door of our house in Joshua Tree. The sun would’ve just set, and the sky out there, you have to see it, the way horizons wash rosy pink, how pretty saguaros and pepperbushes can be, the desert sky like nothing you’ve ever seen, and I’d let Jackson answer the door, and Chris would be able to tell right away. Like you did.”

  Jackson ran back in the room. Now comfortable with the surroundings, he was grinning, happy, a well-adjusted little boy. The way Kitty cradled him, the warm, protective smile, you could feel the bond, the love. I couldn’t comment on the morals involved, whether or not telling my brother was unethical. But she’d done the right thing. If Chris found out, he would’ve hopped a Greyhound and shown up at her door, strung out, deluded, wanting to play the hero. And if Kitty tried standing on that chair to pull him up, two more lives would be ruined.

  Kitty stood to leave. “I’ve got to get him to bed. We fly back tomorrow afternoon. Out of Boston. Cheapest flight, y’know?”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “I figured we’d grab a motel on the Turnpike.”

  “Don’t. Stay here.”

  “I don’t want to be a bother—”

  “It’s no bother.”

  With my invitation Jackson had already run off into the other room to play with the toys.

  “Are you sure?” she said. “We show up out of the blue. I dump all this on you. You probably need time to process—”

  “It’s not a problem.”

  I turned around and watched Jackson playing on the floor. When he glanced up at me, our eyes met, and I got to stare into my brother’s eyes once more.

  “I have plenty of nights to spend alone.”

  “Well, if you’re sure—”

  “Please. We’re family.”

  “Okay, let me get Jackson ready.”

  “You guys take the bedroom.”

  “Jay, you don’t have to—”

  “You take the bedroom. I sleep on that couch half the time anyway.” I wasn’t lying. Most nights, whenever the movie or ballgame would end, I’d pull the blanket down and crash there.

  I fetched their bags from the rental car. While she readied Jackson for bed, putting on pajamas and brushing teeth, I fitted the mattress with clean sheets and brought out fresh towels. I told my nephew how nice it was to meet him. I gave him a hug and kiss goodnight, and left them to their bedtime stories.

  After she’d finished tucking him in, Kitty joined me on the porch, where I leaned over the railing smoking cigarettes. Above the mountain, a giant white moon lit up the night sky, exposing farming flats and stone walls, the cow fields of my hometown.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Told you. Not a problem. My pleasure.”

  “I mean more than just letting us sleep here.”

  I nodded I understood, and we remained still, looking out over the valley, listening to the soft winds of Lamentation.

  “Can you do me a favor?” I asked.

  “Anything.”

  “Tell me more about my brother.”