A crushing amount of time later—though it may have been less than five minutes—Seth came out again, literally towing Henry by one wrist. He towed the boy over to the couch next to August and physically sat him down.
“I know you’re not going to talk,” Seth told his brother. “So, fine. Don’t talk. But we’re all in this together, so sit there. While we do this. Like it or not. I don’t like it either, Henry, but that’s not the thing, and you know it.”
Then Seth sat on the other side of August. Which August knew would give Wes the distinct impression of three against one. But it was a mistake August didn’t know how to correct.
Then he took it a step further in his mind and thought, Just because Wes doesn’t like it, doesn’t make it a mistake. The three-against-one impression was an accurate one. That’s what an intervention is, he thought. That moment when everybody else is on one side and you’re on the other. That’s how you know it’s time to change. Because you’re fresh out of support.
“Shit,” Wes hissed, not quite under his breath. “I knew I wasn’t gonna like this.”
“Dad,” Seth said, “it would really be good if you could just listen.”
In the ringing silence that followed, it felt clear to August that this was a level of directness Seth had not used with his father in the past. He could see something rise up in Wes, that instinctive alpha-dog reaction. Then Wes glanced at August, and August watched him tamp that instinct back down again.
Wes put his feet up on the coffee table, one ankle crossed over the other. Then he had to undo that and cross them the other way when the ankle monitor interfered.
“Fine,” he said. “I have a feeling I know where this is going, but . . . talk away.”
“When Mom left—” Seth began.
“Wait. Mom?” Wes interjected. “Where does your mom fit into this?”
“Dad. You’re not listening.”
“Sorry,” Wes said, his embarrassment appearing strangely genuine.
“When Mom left, we never talked about it. Ever. At all. That was five years ago, and I still don’t know where she went. Or why. I still don’t know if she left because she had another . . . you know . . . guy . . . or if she had something she wanted to do with her life that she couldn’t do at home.”
Seth paused.
After several seconds of silence, Wes asked, “Am I supposed to talk here?”
Seth only nodded.
“She had both.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, anyway. What I’m trying to say—oh, wait. I forgot to do something.”
Seth went silent and closed his eyes. August glanced at Wes, who was watching his son’s face with some confusion. August was not confused. He knew exactly what Seth was doing. He was asking for the right words.
“Okay,” Seth said a few seconds later. “What I’m trying to say is, all I knew is that we weren’t the most important thing to her. I’m just a kid, and maybe I don’t know as much as you, or maybe I don’t know much at all, period. But I really think a person’s kids should be the most important thing to them. But if you’ve got stuff you want to do and you just walk away and do it and never see them again, then they’re not. I mean, we’re not. We weren’t important enough to her.”
“I don’t see what—” Wes began.
“Dad.”
“Right. I know. Sorry. Listen.”
“And then you stayed with us. I know that. I know you’ll say you stayed and didn’t go off after anything else. And I know it’s true. But it’s not all true. Because as soon as you were done with work, you’d go off to the bar and leave us home by ourselves. Sometimes for hours and sometimes for all night. I was seven. I wasn’t old enough to look after a kid who was two, and I knew it. And you should’ve known it, too. I wouldn’t have known what to do if the house was on fire, or somebody tried to break in, or Henry was choking or something.”
“None of which happened,” Wes interjected.
“But that was just luck. You didn’t control that none of that happened. You just got lucky and it didn’t. August says we’re responsible for everything we do, even if we take a risk and nothing bad happens, because it could have. We don’t get to feel good that it didn’t. It’s just by luck that it didn’t.”
Wes’s eyes came up to August’s, and he sat back and crossed his arms in front of his chest defensively.
“I said that about an entirely different situation,” August said. “I was talking about myself at the time.”
A pause while everyone gauged whether Wes had anything to say. When he remained silent, Seth took over again.
“And then you got put in jail for it, and we had to go to Aunt Patty’s, which was sort of okay, because at least we were okay there. But it still sucked, because it meant you left us. First Mom left us for whatever. Then you left us because drinking was more important than us. And then you did it again. And then Patty said this was the last time, which I still think sucked, because she was mad at you, not us, because we were always good when we were there. It sucked that she took it out on us that you wouldn’t stop, but she warned you she would. So Henry and me, we figured you wouldn’t do it again, because we’d have no place to go if you did. But you did. And we had to go to this place where kids go when they’re orphans, because you cared more about drinking. We weren’t the most important thing to you.”
Seth stopped. Then sighed. A long silence fell on the proceedings.
When it became too awkward, Wes said, “Is that it?”
“I don’t know,” Seth said. “Maybe.”
Wes looked at Henry, who did not look back.
“What about you, Henry? You want to yell at me, too?”
Henry predictably declined to respond.
Wes looked to August, his eyes smoldering. “What about you? You want to add anything?”
It might have gone better if he didn’t, and August knew that. But he glanced down at Seth, who looked up at him with the most pathetically pleading eyes. He’d promised to support Seth. Which probably involved opening his mouth. Besides, the idea of a successful intervention—which August had never really expected this one to be—was to break down the offending family member’s defenses. And that was clearly not yet accomplished.
“Sure,” August said. “Okay. Remember when you told me that Henry hadn’t said a word to you since he came back from the county home? You said you thought he talked to his brother, but you couldn’t prove it. I just want to add that Henry talked to me for most of this summer. I won’t say he talked my ear off exactly. But he talked. Which for him is a lot. Which means the only person he isn’t speaking to is you. And if it were me, I’d take that seriously as a parent. I’d figure that meant there really is a problem. And since it’d been going on before the guy who doesn’t drink anymore came into the picture, I would figure the problem predates him. And I wouldn’t try to convince myself that this could all be put off on the outsider.”
Wes took his feet off the coffee table. Sat forward. Placed his head in his hands. For a long time. So long that Seth looked up at August for answers. August had none, so he just shrugged.
Finally the hands came down.
“Well, this is some kind of bullshit,” Wes said.
August felt Seth tense and coil at his side, and he placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder to calm him.
“No,” August said. “It’s not. It’s the damn truth. Your son’s trying to tell you the damn truth.”
“No, it’s some bullshit,” Wes said. “And I’ll tell you why. Because I’m stuck in the house with this damn ankle monitor, and my responsible son just threw me a curve ball, telling me he’d shop, but not for what I want. That came as quite a shock, you know? So first he fixes it so I literally can’t possibly drink for the next three months, and then he sits me down and tells me I shouldn’t. When I couldn’t if I tried. Which is sort of adding insult to injury, don’t you think?”
“How did you think Seth was going to buy alcohol for you? He’s twelve.”
/> “I could’ve arranged it. Guy at the liquor store’s a friend of mine. I could’ve sent Seth with my ID.”
“Which is totally illegal.”
“So’s driving over the speed limit, but everybody does it.”
“So, you’d order your son to drive over the speed limit because of something you want from him?”
“I’m done here,” Wes said, and swung to his feet.
“Dad, wait!” Seth nearly shrieked it.
“What, Seth? What? Why is nothing I do ever good enough? What do you want from me now?”
“I want to know what happens at the end of the three months.”
Wes stood still for a few seconds, chewing on the inside of his lip.
Then he said, “Tell you what. You got a point about the drinking and driving. God knows I’ve caused enough trouble with that for you guys and me both. So when this damn thing comes off . . .” He kicked at the monitor with the toe of one boot. “I’ll go out and get a stock at the store and keep it here at the house and not go out at night. Okay? Two or three good drinks a night won’t hurt anybody if I’m not out on the road. Right? That’s all I ever needed was just a couple to let off steam, you know? Calm me down. Now . . . are you ready to get off my case about this, Seth? Is that gonna be good enough for you?”
“How slow do you drink?” Seth asked.
August couldn’t tell if it was a serious question or a sarcastic complaint.
“What’re you talking about?” Wes asked.
“You were gone for four, five, six hours. All night. And you were only drinking two drinks?”
Wes sighed. “All right, maybe sometimes I had more. But that doesn’t mean I always have to. I’m saying I’ll keep it to two or three. Now. I ask you again . . . is that good enough for you?”
“I don’t know,” Seth said.
“Well, it’s gonna have to be.” Wes broke his statuelike pose and headed for the door. “I’m going out for a smoke.”
And he did.
Seth sat blinking for half a minute or so. Then Henry got up and stomped off into the back of the house again. Seth looked up at August.
“That didn’t exactly take an hour or two, did it?”
“No. That might have been a new record.”
“I don’t know if it went okay or not.”
“Me neither,” August said. “Come on. Help me get all your stuff out of the rig.”
“And then you’re going?”
August looked at Seth’s face and saw the visual version of what he felt in his gut. It seemed so cold and final to drive away. Like a lifeline being severed too hastily, and without looking back.
“Want to have lunch in the rig with Woody and me before I go?”
Seth sighed a sigh that seemed to deflate him but was clearly full of relief.
“Thanks, August,” he said. “I’ll go get Henry.”
When Seth showed up at the back door of the rig a few minutes later, he did not have his brother with him.
“Where’s Henry?” August asked as Seth let himself in.
“Inside. I can’t get him to do anything today. I told him it was his last chance to say good-bye. But it’s like he’s a robot and the switch got turned off. He just won’t do anything.”
“Wow. That’s too bad. He’s going to come out and say good-bye to me, isn’t he? I hate to leave without saying good-bye.”
“I don’t know,” Seth said, sitting down at the little dinette table. “With Henry you never can tell. Is that okay, what my dad promised? If he doesn’t drive, and he keeps to two drinks a day, that’ll be okay. Right?”
“I hope so,” August said, and took down a can of tuna fish for their lunch.
“So you don’t think it will be.”
“I think it could be, and I hope it is.”
“You have to tell me the truth, August. You have to tell me what you really think.”
August paused before opening the can. Turned to look at Seth. Leaned back on the counter. In case this took a while.
“All right. Here’s the truth of what I think. If your dad’s an alcoholic, he’ll make a lot of promises about cutting down. But he won’t keep them. Because . . . well, that’s more or less the textbook definition of an alcoholic. Someone who knows it’s time to cut down but can’t. So I think it’s going to be a few months before we know how that’s going.”
“Hmm,” Seth said. “I hate things like that.”
“Everybody does,” August said.
Then he made them a couple of sandwiches. And it felt strange to make two. Instead of three. It struck him that next time there was a meal to be made, he would only make one. But it felt uncomfortable and bad, so he put it out of his mind as best he could.
Chapter Six:
GOOD-BYE
“I feel bad leaving you here,” August said.
He couldn’t remember if he’d already said that twenty or thirty times before, or if the rest of the times had all been in his head.
“It’s fine, August.”
They sat on the motor home couch, a huge black trash bag between them filled with both boys’ clothes and belongings. There were more belongings than when the trip had begun. August would have to carry it in. It would be too much for Seth. So August would have to see Wes one more time.
“It’s not the best place in the world for a kid to be.”
“True,” Seth said. “It’s not the best place. But it’s our place. It’s where we live. We didn’t expect you to fix that, August.”
“Right. I guess I have to stop doing that. You don’t even know my last name, do you?”
“I think I heard you say it once, but now I forgot.”
“It’s Schroeder.”
“I wouldn’t have any idea how to spell that.”
“I’ll write it down for you.”
August took his blank journal down from one of the cupboards. The one he’d intended to use to chronicle every moment of the summer. The one he hadn’t written one word in. He tore off the first blank page.
“I’m writing down my name and my address. And my phone numbers. Home and cell. And . . . do you have Internet?”
“I do! My dad just got me a nice new computer for my schoolwork. Well. New to me.”
“I’ll write down my e-mail then, too.”
“Do you Skype? I Skype with a friend from school. That would be cool if we could talk on video. And it doesn’t cost like the phone. Put down your Skype handle.”
“I don’t have one,” August said. “But I’ll get one when I get back. I’ll start an account and e-mail it to you.”
“Cool.”
August handed Seth the sheet of paper, and he studied it carefully, as if it were his job to memorize it on the spot.
August took out his wallet and sorted through the bills. He still had the fifty Wes had given him, because it was vaguely inconvenient to break a fifty. He tried to hand it to Seth, who just stared at it.
“What’s that for?”
“It’s what women in the old days used to call mad money. Once upon a time, when a woman went out on a date, the man was driving and the man was paying. So the woman would bring some mad money in case it didn’t go well. If she had to walk away, she could call a cab or something. It’s for safety. You could take Henry and walk to the nearest pay phone and call me. You could even get on a bus to the next town and call from there. Where your dad would never think to look.”
“I’m not sure why we’d have to do all that.”
“Just in case,” August said.
Seth continued to stare at the bill. “I really don’t feel right taking your money, August.”
“It’s not mine. It’s part of the money your dad gave me for your food. We didn’t quite spend it all. It’s really yours. Just promise me you won’t use it for anything else.”
“I promise.”
He slipped the bill out of August’s hand and into his shorts pocket. “You’re forgetting something, August.”
“Wh
at am I forgetting?”
“You really don’t know?”
“Oh! The pictures.”
“Right. I want to show my friends at school.”
“I’ll put them on a DVD for you.”
Seth watched in silence as August booted up his laptop, downloaded the last shots from the photo card, and popped a blank DVD into the slot. He brought up the folder of all the trip photos, and the thumbnails stared back at him from the screen. Seth got up and looked over his shoulder as he scrolled through them.
“Damn, you got some nice shots,” August said.
“They do look pretty good, don’t they?”
A long silence as the DVD began to burn.
Then Seth said, “It already doesn’t seem totally real that we got to do all that.”
“You sit here while the DVD burns,” August said. “I’ll go carry all your stuff into the house.”
Wes stood smoking in the doorway, just like before. August stopped and faced him, the trash bag slung over his shoulder.
“I know you think you’re better than me,” Wes said. Without meeting August’s eyes.
“No. I don’t. You’re right around in the same neighborhood I was in about two years ago.”
“Well, there,” Wes said, his eyes coming up to meet August’s. “Right there. You just said it. I’m where you were two years ago, and you’re much better now.”
August cut his eyes away to indicate that he didn’t care to fight.
“Wes, I know you think this was all my doing . . .”
“Not really,” Wes said. “Let’s face it. Seth was always voted most likely to stage an intervention on his own dad. It’s just who he is. He wants the world to be a certain way. Everything in order. Tries to get all his ducks in a row all the time. And of course it never works. Unfortunately he thinks I’m one of his ducks. I don’t know which is worse: the way he thinks he can run all our lives better than I ever did, or the times I worry he might be right.”
August relaxed a little. Felt one side of his mouth twitch into a half smile.
“Maybe you can pool your resources and work it out.”
Take Me With You Page 18