Chapter Eight

I LEANED OUT of my seat a little to look through the lace curtains hanging on the sitting room window beside us. Shauna Bulger had withered in her seat. We both knew who was standing out there in the garden. I could smell her son Henry’s cologne through the window, and his new girlfriend’s cackle was unmistakable.

“Without Dad around, she’ll be hopeless,” Henry continued. “The man decided everything for her. She was like a little barnacle stuck to the side of a whale. Now the whale’s dead. She’ll float for a while but eventually she’ll sink.”

“Oh maaaaan. You’re so bad, Henry.”

“What? You know it’s true.”

“Maybe I should—” I started to get up. Shauna flicked a thin hand toward me, locked me in place with her hard eyes.

“Sit, Bill,” she said.

I sat. We listened.

“In two years, Mom will be crazy,” Henry went on. “Inactivity messes with old people’s brains. Starts flicking the light switches off one by one. I’ve seen it before. When she’s crazy enough, we’ll stuff her in a home and she’ll be dead by Christmas.”

I felt my nostrils flare. My nails bit into the fabric of the armchair.

“We’ll put a home gym in the garage,” Henry said. “This can be your studio. We’ll have to leave the windows open for a while. Get the old-woman stink out.”

I shot up in my chair.

“Don’t.” Shauna shook her head at me. “It’s not worth it.”

“The little prick’s got some attitude on him,” I managed. I just about had to cough the words up through my throat, which was tightened with sudden rage.

“He’s just being an idiot.” Shauna looked suddenly tired, her chin resting on her palm. “Nobody’s going to stuff me anywhere, Bill.”

I’ll make sure of that,I thought. I made my excuses, slipped out to leave Shauna with her understandably dark thoughts. On the back porch of the house I ran into Nick, who was balancing a stack of food on a plate that would have been a polite amount for three or four people. “You were right about the food, Bill,” he mumbled through a mouthful of cookies. “Those Irish, huh?”

“Come with me,” I said. Nick must have understood my tone, because he put the plate down and was at my heels as I headed out and rounded the corner to the sitting-room windows. Henry Bulger had his arm around a fish-lipped blond girl with a tan no one could conceivably get in Boston or anywhere near it. I grabbed Henry and tugged him away from the girlfriend just as Nick stepped in to distract her.

“Hey! Henry! Look at you! All grown up! Come over here, would ya? I want to have a little chat with you!”

Henry grabbed at my hand as I gripped his arm. “Whoa, Bill, slow down a minute!”

I marched the jerk around the back of the house and slammed him into the wall of the brick garage. I gave him a slap upside the head that made him yowl with pain and humiliation like an angry teenager.

“Ow! What the fuuuuu—”

“I was just listening to you filling the girlfriend in on your little string of predictions,” I seethed. Henry tried to push past me, but I shoved him hard into the bricks again. “You were just saying your mom’s lights are going to start flicking off one by one now that Pop’s not around. Tell me more about that!”

“Oh shit,” Henry said. He put his hands up, gave me his father’s grin full of big, square teeth. “Bill, come on. I was only joking.”

“That’s good! That’s good!” I nodded. “Because I’d hate to have to put your lights out. And believe me, that’s exactly what I’d do if I believed what you said back there. Those weren’t the words of a loving son. You sounded more like a vulture circling above a wounded deer, waiting for it to roll over and die.”

“Jesus.” Henry’s grin was ugly and hard now, his eyes everywhere but on mine. “Look, man, I’m here with my new lady. I was trying to impress her.”

“Yeah, she looks like a real catch. Better keep an eye on that one.”

We looked over to where Nick was distracting Henry’s girlfriend from our little meeting. Nick was pointing to the trees at the end of the long driveway, sweeping his hand over the horizon. The girl was nodding, now and then glancing at Nick’s biceps straining against the sleeves of his shirt.

“Bill, Bill. I’m just emotional, OK?” Henry put his hand on my shoulder. I slapped it off. “My dad just died. I didn’t mean any of that stuff! There’s no need to spread this around, OK? I’m just talking trash. And this girl’s different from the rest of them, OK? She’s an artist.”

“Henry, let me just leave you with a prediction of my own,” I said and poked Henry hard in the chest. “Right now, your priority is charming the kind of woman who’d let you talk about your own mother like that. Like she’s an old dog you’re getting ready to abandon on the side of the highway. Well guess what? You keep going down this path, and you’re going to arrive in a world of hurt, my friend.”

I saw the truth of my words flicker behind Henry’s eyes. All his arguments and defenses faltered on his lips.

“Let’s see if I’m wrong, huh?” I said, as I walked away.