Finding Jake (12 page)

“I wanted to talk to you about this. Jake, sometimes, he doesn’t always fully engage in class.”

My chest hurt. Up until that moment, no teacher had ever spoken negatively about Jake. In past years we had been told that he always helped other students, that he never said anything negative to anyone, and that he was a general joy to have in class. Once or twice a teacher had mentioned that he shied away from groups, but not in a critical way. More with a smile that said,
That’s just our Jake
. Ms. Jenkins caught me totally off guard.

“Wow,” I said. “What do you mean?”

“For example, last Thursday.” She cleared her throat. “We performed a class play on the plight of Rosa Parks. I assigned roles to each of the students, randomly, mind you. Jake was supposed to be the bus driver. When it came time to read his lines, though, he wouldn’t do it.”

”What do you mean ‘he wouldn’t do it’?”

“Just that. He didn’t read his lines. Even after the appropriate encouragement.”

I lost track for a second, trying to figure out what she meant by “appropriate encouragement.”

“Mr. Connolly?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, I know he doesn’t like a lot of attention.”

“I see,” she said, nodding gravely. “Jake is a shy kid. I’ve noticed that.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. “He’s not shy. He has lots of friends.”

Ms. Jenkins leaned back, as if assessing me. I fidgeted, and the door to the classroom opened. Rachel burst in, crisply attired in her business suit. The tension broke, making room for all new tension.

“Mrs. Connolly, glad you could make it. I’m sure you’re so busy”—she looked my wife’s business suit over—“with work and everything. I just don’t know how you do it all.”

Rachel and I stood together out in the parking lot. The telltale crinkle in her left brow told me she was pissed. At what, I hadn’t decided yet.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Did you hear her? What the hell was that about?”

“I know.” I let out a huge breath and the tension left my shoulders. “Can you believe she called Jake
shy
?”

Rachel’s head tilted. “He is, Simon.”

My eyes narrowed. “What?”

“He’s shy. At least when he’s in groups. But he’s doing great. He has his friends and they have fun. That’s all he needs.”

My mind spun. She’d never said that before. I did not agree, either. In fact, her comment made me angry. Jake was not shy. Judgmental, maybe, but not shy. When he was uncomfortable, he got quiet. That was it.

“That’s not at all what I was talking about. You know she’s married, right?” Rachel asked.

“Huh?”

“All that crap about
Ms.
Jenkins. She’s married, for Christ’s sake. And she calls me
Mrs
. and she has to comment on how I’m too busy.”

“She did?”

Rachel scowled. “You are so oblivious sometimes. You know, this isn’t easy, for either of us. You think I don’t know why you get insecure with the guys in the neighborhood, or why you coach everything? It’s hard on me, too. Every day, I feel guilty. Every story I hear about the kids doing something fun, a little part of me aches. But we decided this is what works best for us, right?”

I nod. “I guess we did.”

The next day, the kids had a day off. More parent/teacher conferences were scheduled; I was still reeling from ours. Jake and Laney didn’t wake up until after Rachel left for work. They padded into our room together, whispering. Already awake, I lay silently on the bed, my entire body growing warm, a silly grin spreading across my face.
I loved to hear them talk to each other when they didn’t know I was listening.

“Alex said I had a fat face,” Laney said.

“He’s stupid,” Jake quickly responded.

“Yeah.”

“You want me to talk to him?”

“No.” She sounded incensed. “I told him he was short like a fire hydrant.”

“Good one. What’s up with that kindergarten kid that keeps licking the window?”

“He’s not right.”

Jake laughed. I tried not to. I felt their little eyes on me.

“Maybe we should just turn on the TV,” Laney whispered.

Jake spoke nicely to his little sister. “Nah, I’m hungry. Plus, it’s a day off. You want to play swords while Dad makes breakfast?”

“Sure, yeah.”

I turned my head, still smiling. “Hi, guys.”

“Hi, Dad!” they screamed together, jumping up onto the bed. Jake snuggled in on one side and Laney on the other. I did not want to move. I knew that someday this would all end, that it would be uncool to snuggle with Dad. So I absorbed and savored every second like it was my last.

When they finally grew fidgety, we got up. I started making breakfast and the two took their seats at the counter. The phone ringing startled me and I splashed some of the egg I scrambled out of the bowl. I looked at the clock. It was only 8:30.

“Hello,” I answered looking at the caller ID.

“May I please speak to Jake,” a young voice asked.

“Sure, hold on.”

I thought it was Max, Jake’s football buddy, but when I checked the ID, it read
Unavailable.
I handed the phone to Jake and listened in as I continued to make breakfast.

“Hey. Yeah. Let me ask my dad.”

Jake did not cover the receiver when he spoke to me. “Can I go to Doug’s?”

I motioned for him to cover it, but he just shrugged. I took the phone from his hand and did it myself.

“Doug?”

“Yeah, I went to his birthday. Remember?”

Jake liked to think me senile (though he didn’t know the word for it yet).

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Why not, Dad?”

He did not whine. Jake never whined, but his flat tone caused me to second-guess my decision all the more.

“Tell him you’ll call him back.”

I gave Jake back the phone and he did as asked. After the call ended, he asked me again.

“I think we’ll go to the park today. And Laney will want you there.”

“I don’t want to go to the park,” Laney chimed in, sitting beside Jake. “I want to go to Becca’s house.”

“I just think we should hang out together today. That’s all.”

“But I told Doug that we could finish the fort.”

Again, Jake’s tone hinted at an absence of emotion behind his plea. He simply stated a fact, like his mother might in the courtroom. Knowing him as I did, I got it. I could see his disappointment.

“We’ll see. Let me call your mom and then I’ll decide.”

He appeared fine with that. A terse nod and Jake buried his head back into the football book he’d read about a dozen times. I considered my motives as I scrambled Laney’s eggs. She liked them barely cooked, with a sprinkle of cheese.

Other factors complicated my decision. Tairyn had, in fact, called earlier inviting Laney over. I really had no excuse, but something itched at the back of my mind. I could not admit to myself, particularly considering the lesson that had led to Doug
and Jake being friends, that I simply did not like the kid, or for that matter, his father. I’d run into him a couple of times since the birthday party and we’d shared, at a conservative estimate, three words.

I set Laney’s plate down in front of her and grabbed the phone. Walking back into the den, I dialed Rachel’s office.

“Hey there,” she answered.

“Question. Should I let Jake go over to the Martin-Kleins’?”

Rachel paused before answering. “Did they invite him?”

“Yeah.”

“How about you have him over to our house? Then you can get to know him better.”

“That’s a good idea,” I said, although I thought I knew him pretty well already.

“Why do you think he shouldn’t go over?”

“That kid’s crazy.”

“How do you know?”

“Karen said he goes to the guidance counselor, like, every day.”

She laughed. “So now you’re listening to Karen? I seem to remember last month you called her a wolverine trapped in the body of a mime.”

“I said that?”

“Yup.”

I smiled. “That’s a pretty good one.”

“I didn’t get it,” she said, deadpan.

“She’s a vicious animal that can only passively act out her insecurities and loathing.”

“Anyway,” Rachel said. “Do you know the kid?”

“I know his parents. His dad is a weirdo.”

“By your own admission, you’ve said a total of seven words to the guy. Maybe he’s just
shy
.”

I caught the change in tone on that last word. It cut me. I knew she referred to my reaction after the parent/teacher conference. My
lack of response to her opinion chafed Rachel still. A stealth argument had brewed since the day before. I wanted no part of it.

“I’ll take him over then. No biggie.”

“You don’t have to.” Her voice reverted to a more genial tone, one I hadn’t heard since the morning before the conference. “You could bring the kids in for lunch.”

“No, it’s all right.”

Once I answered, I regretted it. I should have just said yes. I knew she cherished any time she could get with the kids. Plus, I didn’t even want Jake to go to Doug’s. I really don’t know why I didn’t take her up on her offer. Maybe it was the
shy
comment.

I picked Jake up early that afternoon. Once again, he waited outside with Doug. I took a good look at the kid this time. He appeared nondescript. Clean, well dressed, but not in an awkward way. I still couldn’t put my finger on my misgivings. He did look up when my car rolled to a stop, watching me. I felt there was something calculating behind his expression, his thin lips, his soft stare through hard eyes. Shaking my head, I thought about what Rachel often said to me, that I assigned adult intentions to children.

Jake beamed when he saw me. A wide smile on his face, he gave what looked like a hearty thank you and good-bye to Doug and ran to my car. He jumped in and I could see he was excited.

“You should see our fort. It’s awesome.”

“Your fort?”

“Yeah,” he said. “We worked on it all day.”

“Where is it?” I asked.

“In his backyard, kinda. There’s woods back there and a pond, so it’s a little past.”

“Can you see his house from there?”

“I dunno,” he said.

He went on to describe in ecstatic detail the building he and
Doug worked on. It did sound cool, but I felt uneasy the entire time. When Rachel got home that evening and the kids made it to bed, I brought it up.

“They couldn’t even see his house,” I said.

She smiled. “Simon, Jake’s a boy. That’s what boys do. You raised him right. I trust him. You have to let him grow up a little bit. What’s going to happen?”

I couldn’t answer that. My brain could. It flashed gruesome pictures of dismemberment, debauchery, defilement, every awful
de
word I could imagine. That’s how I knew she was right. I had to ease up. Not just for the kids’ sakes, but for my own, too.

DAY ONE

When I leave the old church, I drive straight to the Martin-Kleins’ house. When I turn into the neighborhood, I know right away that I will not get close to the house, at least not in the car. Police vehicles block off the street starting at least five houses down the way from the Martin-Kleins’. The cordoned-off area begins just past that and a line three deep of people stretches across the street and up onto people’s yards. A nervous energy permeates the scene.

I park the car and get out. As I do, I notice the doll conspicuously resting on the backseat. People turn and look at me. Most recognize who I am. They look distraught and angry, and a murmur passes through the crowd. More eyes track me as I take a step toward the yellow police tape.

Reporters with cameras move toward me. I imagine the shot, me standing outside Rachel’s car, a creepy one-eyed doll in the backseat. Even I have enough sense to back away. As the cameras near, I turn and rush back into the car. They film me driving away.

I pound the steering wheel, frustrated by being balked. I drive past the neighborhood three times, but nothing changes. So I turn my attention to everywhere I have ever known Jake to be. I pass the football field, his friends’ neighborhoods, Max’s house (which looks empty), even the grocery store for some reason. I find nothing. While I meander through the neighborhoods surrounding the school, my phone rings. It is Rachel.

“They found the hotel.”

“Who?”

“The media.”

“I figured—”

“No, Laney is down in the lobby. Alone.”

My heart sinks. “Why? How?”

“The elevator’s taking too goddamn long. I’m going to the stairs. We didn’t know. She wanted a water.”

“I’m coming.”

I race out of the neighborhood and onto the highway. I enter the city in less than five minutes. From three blocks away, I see the news vans laying siege to our hotel. Like the crenelated parapet of a white watchtower, they line every street bordering the Marriot.

I swerve over to the right lane and turn, slamming Rachel’s car into the first spot (legal or not) that I see. Once the car stops, I tear the keys from the ignition and bull my way out of the door. At a full run, I cross through an alley and end up across the street from the hotel. I expect a throng of reporters. Instead, an eerie silence greets me, scaring me to the core.

I pry the lobby doors open to get inside faster. I see the mass of bodies, like hopping vultures vying for carrion. Although I cannot make her out, I somehow know Laney is at the center, Rachel trying to shield her from the frenzy.

“Hey,” I shout.

My shoulder barrels into the back of one of the cameramen. Someone curses and I push him (I think it is a male) out of the way.
I see my daughter for the first time, her eyes wide and glistening with tears. Rachel is with her, holding her close.

“Daddy,” she calls out.

I elbow someone, then sweep my daughter and wife up as if hiding them under a wing.

“Mr. Connolly! Mr. Connolly!”

Green lights flash to life, like devilish spider eyes, threatening and surreal. I hold Laney tighter and she presses against me. I feel her shaking.

“I just wanted a water.”

“Leave us alone.”

“Are you surprised by what your son did?
”

“Were there warning signs?
”