Billy's Bones (14 page)

“Of course.”

Kevin had been over every night that week, but he’d called every day to ask if it was okay. And every day Tom had said, “yes.” It would probably take a few weeks of this for them to decide that it was always okay for Kevin to come over.

Kevin brushed a finger lightly against Tom’s cheek again. “I’ll see you.”

T
OM
’
S
appointment was late. So he sat down at his desk to finish his sandwich and brought up a web browser. He typed “Kyrie eleison” into Google, figuring it would bring up thousands of useless links, a hopeless rat’s maze to get lost in.

But he was wrong.

The first few links were to Wikipedia articles, but the first video link that came up wasn’t to some orchestra playing Mozart or Brahms. It was a rock video from 1985, when Kevin would have been nine years old: “Kyrie” by a band called Mr. Mister.

A chill came over Tom as he listened to the song. It was vaguely familiar. He assumed he must have heard it on the radio a lot the year it came out, as Kevin probably had—they were the same age. But it wasn’t until he got about two and a half minutes into the song that his breath caught in his throat and he brought a trembling hand up to tug at the dark hair on his chin. For just a couple of lines, all the instruments stopped abruptly, while the lead singer and the other members of the band—all men—sang:

Kyrie eleison down the road that I must travel,

Kyrie eleison through the darkness of the night.

Without music.

Thirteen

“Y
OU
can’t know if that’s it until Kevin listens to it,” Sue said reasonably.

Tom was in her office during a brief respite between clients. He’d downloaded a bootleg copy of the song onto his laptop and played it for her.

“What if he freaks out?” he asked. “I can’t tell him he needs to get control of himself and then deliberately start pushing his buttons to see what might make him have another flashback.”

“For all you know, the two of you could be cuddling in bed watching a movie one night, and that song could start playing on the soundtrack,” Sue said. “If it
is
a potential trigger for him, he needs to learn how to handle it in a controlled situation—not just stumble blindly along until he bumps into it by chance. If he’s aware that what he’s about to listen to may trigger unpleasant memories and feelings, and he understands that he’s in a safe environment, and those memories no longer have the ability to harm him, he can begin to desensitize himself to the trigger.

“But having said that,” she added, “I really don’t recommend you tackling this on your own, Tom. You haven’t had much experience with PTSD and, as all three of us keep pointing out, you’re not his therapist—you’re his lover. Wait until we’re back in my office next Friday afternoon.”

Tom had to admit that was probably the best way to handle it. Unfortunately, things didn’t quite work out that way when he and Kevin were alone in the hot tub later that night.

“So have you found my song yet, counselor?” Kevin asked bluntly. He was grinning, clearly assuming the answer was “no.” There hadn’t been any time, after all. The idea that a simple Google search could solve the riddle in less than five minutes seemed preposterous.

Tom could have evaded the question, but he was terrible at that. And he was even worse at outright lying. So he said, “I don’t know. I might have found some possibilities….”

Kevin gave him a quizzical look with one eyebrow raised, which Tom couldn’t recall ever having seen someone do in real life before. “What did you find?”

Tom hesitated but realized it was too late to backpedal. “There was a song that was popular on the radio… it came out in 1985. You would have been nine.”

Tom stopped talking because Kevin’s demeanor had changed suddenly. All the humor had faded from his expression, and he was holding up one hand partly in front of his face, as if to ward off a blow. He’d obviously been bluffing when he’d asked if Tom had found anything. He hadn’t expected Tom to call his bluff.

“Are you okay?” Tom asked.

“I’m fine.” Kevin climbed out of the hot tub and reached for his towel. “I’ve just got to use the bathroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He was gone a lot longer than a minute. When he did finally return, Kevin had a couple of beers in his hands and handed one to Tom. He climbed back into the water and took a big swig from his bottle. “Hey!” he said with a grin, “Are you still looking for a dog?”

“A dog?” Tom hadn’t really given it much serious thought yet. “Well, I want one, yes. But I’m still furniture hunting.”

“Lee has a black Lab pup, about a year old, that he’s looking for a home for. He had two others, but they’ve been taken.”

Tom knew this was largely an attempt to derail the conversation about the song, and he had no doubt Kevin knew he wasn’t fooled by it. But that was fine. Tom didn’t want to deal with another panic attack right now anyway. So he went along with the change of topic. “I don’t know if I’m really ready for a dog yet.”

“He’s awful cute,” Kevin said, his eyes twinkling. “And Lee can’t keep him forever. He already has four other dogs.”

“I don’t have time for a dog,” Tom protested. “I have to work during the days.”

“Everybody has to work. Nobody has stay-at-home wives—or husbands—anymore. They still get dogs. You just crate him while you’re at work.”

“Isn’t that cruel?”

Kevin couldn’t answer right away because he had his beer tilted to his lips, but he shook his head. Then he swallowed and said, “Dogs are den animals. They like being in caves and holes in the ground. For a short time anyway—sure it’s cruel if you leave him in there all the time. But as long as he’s in a cool spot with a comfortable mat, a bowl of water, and a chew toy, he’ll be fine in there while you’re working. Once he settles in, and you can trust him not to piss in the house or chew shit, you won’t have to crate him anymore. For now, I can stop by in the middle of the day and walk him.”

That would, of course, mean Kevin would have his own key. Things were probably heading that way, but… it seemed awfully fast. “Why don’t
you
adopt him?”

Kevin looked uncomfortable at that. He glanced away before replying, “He needs someone responsible to look after him. I can barely take care of myself.”

“So you’re admitting you’re irresponsible,” Tom said, “but you want me to trust you to come walk my dog every day?”

Kevin turned back to him and flashed him a smile. “I can be responsible for an hour or two out of the day, counselor. But all the time? That’s a tall order.”

They went back and forth like that for a bit longer until Tom finally agreed to go with Kevin to see the dog the next day, if that was okay with Lee. Tom had a bad feeling that, if he had a hard time saying “no” to Kevin right now, he’d find it impossible to say “no” to Kevin and an adorable black Lab puppy when they were teamed up against him.

T
HE
dog was named Shadow, and he was beautiful. He hadn’t quite grown into his big head and paws, though Lee said he was already over seventy pounds. His big ears and nose gave him an adorably goofy look, but he had a sleek, jet-black coat, and he promised to grow into a handsome pooch. As soon as Lee let Tom and Kevin into the large dog pen in his backyard, the four adult dogs—all purebred black Labradors—mobbed them for attention, but Shadow sat off to one side, knowing he couldn’t compete with the other dogs. Still, he wagged his tail frantically, hoping the humans would come over to pet him. When Lee lured the other dogs away to another part of the pen, Kevin crouched down and started rubbing behind Shadow’s floppy ears. The pup succumbed to full-blown puppy ecstasy, and the two ended up wrestling in the dirt for a couple of minutes. The two of them were already old friends since Kevin had visited several times after Shadow was born.

Tom’s introduction to the pup was a bit more sedate, but Shadow wasn’t at all shy and responded to Tom’s pets and scratches by lapping at Tom’s face with enthusiasm.
God knows where that tongue has been
, Tom thought. But he knew it was a lost cause. He was no match for an affectionate puppy tongue.

“He’s a good boy,” Lee commented when they had Shadow out of the pen on a leash, pulling a bit to sniff around at exciting clumps of grass and dandelions. “But it costs a fortune to feed these guys.”

Lee was a big man, over six feet tall and getting a bit broad in the middle. His features were coarse, with a heavy brow over a large nose. Kevin had mentioned that Lee had been in the Marines, way back, and he still kept his hair in a buzz cut. Not someone Tom would want to run into in a dark alley. But he was friendly enough, and Tom was pleased to see no trace of animosity between him and Kevin over Tracy’s defection.

“Normally, I sell the pups,” Lee went on, “but since you’re a friend of Kevin’s, I’ll let you have this little guy for nothing. Just so long as you treat him right.”

Tom sighed, resigned, as he watched Shadow and Kevin going at it again, wrestling affectionately in the lush green grass. They were both adorable, and the combination was deadly.

“Thanks,” he said.

T
HERE
was an Agway in Lancaster, about fifteen minutes down the road, so Tom drove there with Kevin riding in the backseat, keeping Shadow calm on his First Ever Car Ride. The puppy handled it well, with only a bit of whimpering, which Kevin soothed away. By the time they pulled into the Agway parking lot, Shadow was an old pro, sniffing excitedly at the top of the window Kevin had rolled down a couple inches.

They were allowed to take the dog into the store, and Tom insisted on holding the leash this time. If Shadow was going to be his dog, then they’d have to bond. It was great seeing the bond the puppy already had with Kevin, but Kevin’s role in Tom’s future was even more uncertain than Shadow’s at the moment. Although he didn’t like to think about it, a year from now, Tom and Shadow might be on their own.

Still, there was a wonderful feeling of family as the three of them walked through the store, picking out the largest dog crate they could find and three dog beds—one for the crate, one for the bedroom, and one for the living room—along with food, bowls, and an assortment of chew toys.

Tom picked up a stuffed mallard and squeezed it. The toy gave out a low
honk!
and Shadow’s ears immediately perked up. “Do you like this one?” Tom asked, amused by the dog’s intently focused expression.

Shadow raised himself up until he was balancing on just his hind legs, sniffing at the duck as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever come across. When Tom playfully bumped the dog’s nose with it, Shadow immediately snapped it up in his jaws.

Honk!

Tom laughed. “You like that one?”

Honk! Honk!

“Okay, you can have it.”

Honk! Honk! Honk!

And so they walked to the counter, Shadow cantering in front of the two men, honking at everybody they came across along the way to make sure they fully appreciated his prize. He was Shadow, the Mighty Duck Hunter, and he’d just made his first kill!

The pup refused to be parted with the stuffed mallard, even long enough for Tom to pay for it, so Tom had to snap the tag off in order for the price to be scanned. The three of them returned to the car with Shadow carrying the duck in his mouth, and the men had to listen to him joyfully honking all the way home.

“I think you’ve created a monster.” Kevin laughed, sitting in the front seat this time since Shadow was entirely preoccupied with his new toy.

Honk!

“As long as it makes him happy,” Tom said. “But I may have to take it away from him at night, or we’ll never get any sleep.”

Honk! Honk!

A
PART
from his newfound duck obsession, Tom discovered Shadow had a couple of other eccentricities. His entire life, thus far, had been outdoors in a large pen. Therefore, he wasn’t housebroken. The moment they brought Shadow into the house, the dog lifted his leg on one of the boxes in the dining room. Kevin handled it by interrupting what Shadow was doing and quickly bustling him outside. Since he seemed to have a handle on the training part of it, Tom stayed behind to clean up the mess.

What have I gotten myself into?

The other eccentricity was discovered later that evening. They’d all been hanging around in the lower part of the house—setting up Shadow’s crate in the dining room and allowing the dog to familiarize himself with his new surroundings—and walking Shadow around the yard. When it grew late and Tom decided he’d like to hang out in bed for a while to read before going to sleep, he and Kevin went upstairs and called to Shadow.

He didn’t follow.