Evolution (7 page)

“So … I stuck the pumpkin on my head and banged on her window.”

Richard nodded. “You know if she’d died, you could have been charged with her death.
You could have gone to reform school, if not jail.”

“Yeah, well … at least I wouldn’t be here anymore.”

“Is it really that bad living here?” Richard asked impatiently.

Jeff looked up at him, his eyes damp with unshed tears.
“Yes.”

Oh, God.

The kid looked away, his mouth drooping.

Richard wasn’t sure how to counter that response.
He struggled to come up with a reply. “Two wrongs don’t make a right,” he said at last. “Deep down you had to know that pulling this stunt would only get you into more trouble.”

“What have I got to lose?” Jeff asked, looking up at Richard with those puppy-dog brown eyes.

Not much
, Richard admitted to himself.

“Your mom—”

“
Our
mom,” Jeff countered.

“Our mom,” Richard corrected himself, “asked me to take care of you. I admit, this isn’t the best situation, but I’m just a single guy with an incredibly responsible job. I’m involved in life-and-death situations every day.
I didn’t sign up for this—and I know you sure as hell didn’t, either. But we’re stuck with the situation. I know it’s hard, but I’m asking you to cut the old girl some slack. She is old. She’s not nice, but I don’t think you really want to hurt her or anybody else. I’ve spoken to her. She’s promised she won’t bug you again. Can I have the same promise from you?”

“I’ll behave,” Jeff agreed, “as long as she does.”

Richard nodded. “I can’t ask for anything more. And for God’s sake, tell me when you’ve got a problem. I can’t read minds, you know.”

Jeff shrugged.

“Okay, I’ve
got
to get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“If you’re here.”

Richard studied the boy—the half-brother who was nothing like him—and turned away, opening the bathroom door, closing it and crossing the room to exit to his own bedroom, and then closed that door, too.

He stood in the dark for long moments thinking about what his grandmother and Jeff had told him about the night’s events.
Then he turned on the bedside lamp, drew back the spread on his double bed, grabbed one of his pillows and pressed it against his face to muffle the sound as laughed his head off.

***

THE FIRST NOEL

Curtis Johnson noticed something different about the boy that morning. A brightness in his muddy brown eyes, and just the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Merry Christmas Eve,” he said as he commandeered a cup of coffee from the pot on the counter.

“Same to you, Curtis.”

“Finish your breakfast,” Helen growled at the boy.

Jeffrey scowled at the plump white woman dressed in chef’s attire—the uniform she was required to wear. He shoveled the last mouthful of oatmeal into his mouth and let the spoon clank against the heavy china bowl. Curtis knew the boy didn’t like the sticky gray goo, but Mrs. Alpert insisted that Jeffrey eat whatever food was put before him. And he did
it without complaint, albeit with disdain.

“You can wipe the table off, too,” Helen commanded from her post at the counter, where she was already working on ap
petizers for the elderly Alperts’ Christmas Eve repast.

“What’re you doing tonight, Curtis?” the boy asked, taking his bowl to the sink, letting the warm water r
un, and filling it to soak.

“Going to my oldest son’s house for dinner, then to church. How about you?”

“Richard said we’re going to dinner at some fancy restaurant, and then later we could go to a movie—my pick. Then we’ll go to midnight mass. Tomorrow we’re going to open presents and maybe play some basketball—that is, if we don’t get snow. He said we’d spend the whole day together.”

The look of joyful anticipation in the boy’s eyes had been a long time coming. It had taken months for the brothers to begin to bond, but now they played one-on-one out in the drive at least once a week, and sometimes went out for a burger. As the boy had no other family, it was good to see him enthused about spending time with his older brother—his guardian. “Sounds like fun. But I’m surprised you’re going to church. Mr. Richard never did that before.”

“We’re going to my mom’s church. It’s kind of a tradition. I think she’d like that.”

Curtis nodded.

“Yeah. I thought this Christmas might suck, but ... I think it’s going to be pretty good,” the boy said, his voice bordering on husky. He didn’t often show any hint of emotion.

“It’s sure going to be a Merry Christmas this year,” Curtis agreed.

Helen looked up from her work and glared at the boy. “I thought I told you to wipe the table.”

#

Richard Alpert slammed down the phone with a mixture of triumph and regret. Triumph because he’d just been handed the keys to the ER—the resident in charge for the next twenty-four hours, something he’d been angling for for months. Regret because he’d made promises to Jeff for their first Christmas together. Being a physician meant accepting certain sacrifices. And it wasn’t as though the kid was ... well, a kid any more. At fifteen, Jeff hovered on the edge of manhood. He’d just have to understand.

The ghost of a smile returned to Richard’s lips. If he could prove his mettle to old Dr. Issacson, show he was the best, knew the most, could handle personnel and patients, he’d be in a prime position to call the shots on his next assignment. Maybe stop pulling the night shift
; maybe settle into a schedule that gave him regular hours. That would be better for everyone. For him, for Jeff, and for his non-existent social life.

Now to tell the family. First up, his grandmother. In comparison, telling Jeff would be a piece of cake.

He pulled down his sweater, straightened it, and headed for the master bedroom, which also doubled as his formidable grandmother’s sitting room. He tapped three times on the heavy oak door and waited.

“Come in.”

Richard ducked his head inside the door. “Grandmother?”

“Oh, darling Richard, come in my boy, come in.” The old toad of a woman sat in a gold brocade wing chair, moving her swollen ankles propped on a matching ottoman to give him room to sit.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked, and settled at her feet.

“Oh ... better. I’m sure if I rest a bit more I’ll be fit to entertain the Bensons tonight.” She cocked her head toward him, her eyes growing sad as she reached for his hand. “I do wish you were going to be here. But you will join us tomorrow morning before we leave for Toronto, and that will be enough.”

Richard looked away.

“You did say you’d be here, Richard.” Her voice had hardened.

“Grandmother, I’ve been called into work at the hospital. I probably won’t be back before you have to leave tomorrow morning.”

She raised one gray eyebrow. “But what about your promises to the boy?” After almost a year she still couldn’t bring herself to call his younger half-brother by his given name.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint Jeff, too.”

“Oh, dear,” she said solicitously, but there was a trace of a smirk lingering around her lined mouth. “And he was so looking forward to it.”

#

In the past, holidays hadn’t held much meaning for Jeff and his mother. There was never much money, and nothing much to celebrate. Holidays at the Alpert’s home weren’t all that much different.

Fourth of July they’d left for the mountains.  Bliss!  Well, almost.  Helen was only gone for one of those weeks. Curtis had done the honors in the kitchen and barbequed almost every night. His steaks and pork chops were good—really good. He should have opened his own restaurant. Labor Day had been like any other.  Boring.

The first real holiday at the Alperts’ wasn’t much of a holiday at all. Sometimes when eavesdropping, you heard things you didn’t want to know—but as Jeff was nearly invisible to the staff—they spoke without regard to his feelings. It seemed that in years past, the elderly Alperts had hosted a lavish Thanksgiving affair for Mr. Alpert’s lawyer buddies and their wives. This year, they didn’t want to acknowledge Richard’s half-sibling so had opted to dine with friends with the excuse that hosting a large dinner was taxing.  Ha! The old lady didn’t lift a finger to help prepare any meals, but just approved menus and, he heard, hired people to cater such affairs.

When the big day rolled around, Richard had to work, and with everyone gone Jeff watched football on the big TV in the living room all day. Richard had made sure there was deli turkey and cranberry sauce, and really the day hadn’t been much different than any other Thanksgiving. If his mother was in a good mood, she’d roast a chicken, but most Thanksgivings she’d drink too much, pass out, and it was peanut butter and jelly for their holiday feast.

At least the Alperts had a color TV.

But Christmas was supposed to be different. The house was decorated to the nines with holiday greenery, a huge tree in the living room with loads of twinkling lights, and Mrs. Alpert’s snow globe collection was taken down from the attic and spread around the house.  Of course, Jeff was told “Don’t touch!” but when no one was looking, he gave them all a shake, making sure to leave a few fingerprints.

Seated at the kitchen table, Jeff studied the newspaper movie listing in front of him. He’d love to see the latest James Bond film, but would Richard prefer something a little more sophisticated? He ran his finger down the column of type and pondered the plethora of ads. This was supposed to be his evening. But maybe if he picked something Richard liked, they’d do this again. Maybe even once a month. That would be okay. That might even be cool.

Richard burst into the kitchen, shrugging into his navy pea jacket, and headed for the door.

“Hey, kid, something’s come up. We’re going to have to change our plans for tonight.”

“Where are you going?” Jeff asked.

“Work.” Richard fastened the buttons on his coat, avoiding Jeff’s gaze. He looked guilty.

“You said you had off until Friday.”

“Yeah, well, not any more. I got called in—the ER’s shorthanded and I’m low man on the totem pole. I gotta run. I promise, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” he said, and patted Jeff’s shoulder. In an instant he’d turned and grabbed his keys from the brass rack on the wall.

“Wait, you said we’d go—”

Richard paused at the door, looked back. “I know, but I have to go—sick people need me. You understand, don’t you?”

How many times had their mother said that to Jeff every time she’d had to disappoint him? And he never had understood.

“Jeff?” Richard pressed.

Jeff looked away. “Yeah. Sure.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, kid. Merry Christmas.”

The door closed with a bang.

“What if I need you?” Jeff said. He stared at the door for long moments before he crossed to the window to watch Richard enter the garage from the side door. A few moments later, the automatic door rose. Taillights flashed as Richard started the car and the sleek red Porsche backed out.

“I hope you get a flat,” Jeff groused, scrunched up the newspaper and threw it at the trash bin, missing it by inches.

He heard Curtis come in through the pantry entrance and looked up to see him peel his gloves off before hanging his cord jacket on a peg. “It’s a cold day.”

Jeff slumped in the maple kitchen chair.

Curtis entered the kitchen, stepped over to the coffee pot on the counter, but the maker was switched off; the pot was empty and clean. “Do ya think Helen would get mad if I made another pot?”

“Probably,” Jeff muttered. “She screams at me if I leave a crumb on the counter.”

The old black man raised an eyebrow. “Screams?”

“Well, her voice might not be loud, but she screams.”

Curtis’s smile was almost infectious. Almost.

“Where was Mr. Richard going?”

“Work.” Jeff couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “He promised we’d do cool stuff tonight and tomorrow. He promised me. Grownups always lie to kids.”

“I never lied to you,” Curtis said.

“Yeah, well, then you’re the only one.”

Curtis rested a dark hand on Jeff’s shoulder. “I’ve known Mr. Richard almost his whole life. He’s a good man. He feels a great responsibility toward helping people. That’s why he took you in. Not many young men would have done that. But being a doctor is important to him, too. My nephew is training to be a doctor and he has to put in ungodly hours just like Mr. Richard. It’s part of the territory. Something you just gots to get used to, Jeffrey.”

Jeff pursed his lips and nodded. “I don’t care. I don’t need him, anyway.”

#

Sleet pellets pinged off the windows as Jeff lay in his bed, listening to Christmas carols on the battered little radio his mother had given him as a Christmas present several years before. Had it been the last gift she’d given him? He wasn’t sure. Some nameless choral group started in on a version of
Silent Night
, making the carol sound more like a dirge than a lullaby.

Yeah, this Christmas would suck after all.

He folded his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling where the shadows of bare branches danced, backlit by street lamps and unhampered by the huge lighted evergreen wreath that donned the side of the house outside his window.

Dinner had been a solitary affair in the kitchen, eating a cold plate of cottage cheese and fruit cocktail Helen had rustled up for him while the elder Alperts and their equally ancient friends had first feasted on hors d’oeuvres and then dined out with more of their wizened old cronies. Good, he liked the house better when he was its only occupant.

He’d checked the calendar and figured out he was stuck here for another two-point-five years until he was eighteen—and considered an “adult.” He could deal with that. There were worse places. Terry Rydinger from school was with his fourth family in five years, and his horror stories of the foster care system had made Jeff realize that he actually had it pretty good.

No one demanded that he do any chores ... well, except for the petty kitchen jobs Helen wanted done. No one was molesting him or smacking him around, either. The fact that nobody much cared about him gave him the freedom to more or less do as he pleased. That he had nowhere to go, besides school, didn’t really enter into it. He’d always considered school a haven, and volunteering for the yearbook staff had been a smart move. He had a place to go, a desk of his own, free use of a school camera and all the film he wanted. So what if he had no close buddies. He never had before, anyway.

Still, his mind kept circling away from the hurt of Richard’s betrayal. Why had he ever believed that tall bastard’s lies that they’d spend Christmas together? Richard seldom had time for him. Why had he wanted it to be different? Why had he wanted to connect with this person—the brother—he barely knew? Why should one day in December be any different from any other day?

Nope, being disappointed was just plain stupid. And it would never happen again. He wouldn’t let it.

Jeff turned off the little radio, set it on the bedside table, and rolled onto his side. No sense wasting the batteries.

‘
Sleep in heavenly peace’ the song had said. He doubted he’d do that.

He thought about the pile of unopened gifts under the Christmas tree with his name on them. Richard had paid for them, but Jeff knew it was Curtis who had picked them out. Richard was, after all, too wrapped up in his career to notice much of anything.