Is This Tomorrow: A Novel (6 page)

Chapter Five

As soon as Ava left his bedroom, Lewis threw back the covers. He was still in his clothes and all his senses were ramped up to alert, as if he were wired for an emergency. Every noise, every feeling, could mean Jimmy was near. He hadn’t put on his pajamas because he might have to leave the house any moment, and he’d need his clothes and shoes, so he could move fast. His thoughts kept roller-coastering. How could Jimmy be gone? He dug his fingers into his arms.
It should have been me.

He could hear his mother clattering pots, moving about the house cleaning, the way she always did when she was upset. She wasn’t sleeping, either.

“Jimmy.” Now he said his name out loud as if he were calling him. Jimmy had been in his room just the day before and right now Lewis could be breathing in the same air that Jimmy had breathed. He traced his hand along the bedspread because he had read that cells slough off all the time and maybe he was touching Jimmy’s. He thought of how weird it was that when people left, the world didn’t come spilling in to fill up the hole where they had been, the empty space just stayed there. When his father left, he had first told himself his father was just away at one of his sales conferences, and that he’d be back, with a trophy and little gifts for both Ava and Lewis, cups with the name of the city on them, or snow domes, which Lewis kept on a shelf in his room. He didn’t know where his father was now or why he wasn’t coming back, except that somehow it must be his fault. Just like Jimmy was.

Who’s next? That was what one of the neighbors had said, her hand fanned across her mouth as if she didn’t want the words to escape. Are any of our children safe?

The house was quiet. His mother must have stopped cleaning and gone back to bed. Lewis couldn’t breathe. He threw the covers off, sweating. Shadows crowded his room. He went to the window and looked out at Rose and Jimmy’s house across the street. All the lights were on, but he couldn’t see anyone.

He hadn’t liked it when Ava had hovered over him, but that was because he didn’t want her asking him about Jimmy, finding out that Lewis hadn’t met him when he was supposed to. But he didn’t want to be alone in this room, either. Shivering, he padded to Ava’s room, opening her door. She was sleeping, the covers curved over her head. He lay on the floor beside her bed, on the rug, facing her, so he could see her chest rise and fall with breath. He had read that the moments before sleep were like hypnosis and you could give yourself a command. He told himself he would wake at six, before she was up. She would be the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes, and then he could quietly get up and leave before she even knew he had been there.

T
HE NEXT DAY,
he was already at the breakfast table, pouring Sugar Frosted Flakes into a bowl when Ava came in, dressed in a suit. He looked at her, surprised. “You’re going to work?”

“Yup, and you’re going to school,” she said. She opened the blinds to the windows so dust sparkled in the light stream. “I can’t not go. I can’t afford to make them think they can do without me.” She peered out the window. “I want you to walk to school with a group of the other kids, though. Don’t go by yourself.”

“I’ll wait for Rose,” Lewis said. “She can walk with me part of the way.”

“Honey, she’s probably not going to school today,” Ava said.

“I should go talk to her,” he said.

“Let her alone right now,” Ava said. “There’s still police at the house now, and you need to get to school, just like I need to get to work.”

He wasn’t hungry, but Lewis ate the cereal because otherwise his mom would nag him about waste, and then he walked outside with her. She turned to him. “Lewis,” she said slowly. “You have to walk with a group to and from school. I want you to come home and lock the door. Don’t go outside.”

“Mom,” he said, but she shook her head. “You lock that door,” she repeated. “That’s where you’ll be the safest, right in this house with the door locked.” Ava’s anxiety seemed to spark off her like static. She scanned the street. The parents were all outside with the kids, forming them into groups, smaller kids together, then older kids. She put one arm about Lewis’s shoulder. “Come with me,” she told him, and they walked over to Mrs. Hill, who was holding on to Barbara, her kindergartner’s hand, while herding the other kids into a line.

“Are you walking the kids to school?” Ava’s voice was tight as a wire.

“I most certainly am.” Mrs. Hill nodded at Lewis. “Lewis, would you like to walk with us?”

“And will you walk him home, too?” Ava said.

“As long as he’s waiting out front of the school with the other kids.”

Ava took her arm off Lewis’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.” Then she turned back to Lewis. “Come right home after school,” she told him. “If anyone calls, tell them I’m home but I have to call them right back. Don’t answer the door. I’ll call you from work.”

Usually, he wouldn’t let her kiss him good-bye in front of anyone, but today, he reached for her. He held on. “I’ll see you later,” she said, like it was a promise.

He watched her leaving, getting into the car. Another neighbor, Mrs. Carter, came over to talk to Mrs. Hill, and though they were standing away from him, he could see how they were watching his mother, shaking their heads. “A woman just shouldn’t be alone,” said Mrs. Hill. “Something terrible can happen.”

Mrs. Carter looked over at Dot’s house. “Something terrible already did,” she said.

It was strange going to school without Jimmy. Lewis walked in the group, not saying anything, but no one else was talking, either, not even Mrs. Hill, who kept staring into space, frowning. When he got inside the school, he walked by Jimmy’s classroom and when he saw Jimmy’s empty desk, he shut his eyes. That day the school had an assembly in the gym and Mr. Girard, the assistant principal, told them what to do if someone came near them, how to act. You were supposed to kick, especially in the groin. You could also try to gouge out an eye. “If you’re stuck in a car trunk, kick out the back lights,” he said, and Lewis felt a bolt of terror, imagining Jimmy in a trunk, and then himself. How would you know what the lights looked like? How would you know how much air there was to breathe? He tried to calculate it in his head, but his mind went blank. It was the first time Lewis paid attention in an assembly, the first time he thought this might be something he could learn. “If you see a strange car, get the license plate number. Be smart,” said Mr. Girard.

But being smart had never done Lewis any favors. Plus, what kind of knowledge could possibly save you against someone who was twice your size and three times as strong, or someone with a gun? The more he thought about it, the sicker he felt.

The school made all the kids sign in and out on a big pad of paper, one for each grade. Everyone had to have someone walking them home. Mrs. Hill was standing outside waiting, a group of kids already around her. When she saw Lewis, Mrs. Hill waved. “Will your mother be home from work when we get there?” she asked. “Because I don’t think you should stay in the house alone. Not with all this going on.” She peered at him so intently, Lewis felt a flash of shame. “She’s there,” he lied.

They walked down Putney Lane, shaded by the thick rows of trees along the path. None of the kids were speaking. “Isn’t this a pretty day?” Mrs. Hill said brightly. She kept up a patter about the weather until they turned right onto Warwick. Then, she began leaving kids off at their doorsteps, waiting until she saw them safely inside.

By the time she got to Lewis’s house, there were only a few kids left. Mrs. Hill turned to Lewis. “Okay, then, we’ll see you tomorrow morning,” she said. He felt her watching him enter his house.

Lewis used to love coming home to an empty house on the days Ava was working. He could do whatever he wanted, although he never really did that much, just watch TV or read. But the whole house felt different when he was the only one in it, as if he were in charge. Today, he felt anxious. He ticked off in his mind the things that made him safe. Window locks and a deadbolt. His mom would call every hour. There was a squad car right outside Rose’s house, but he kept worrying. What if someone had picked the lock and was hiding out in a closet? He turned on all the lights, and the radio, and the TV. Then he grabbed a baseball bat from his room and went slowly from one end of the house to another, checking under the beds, swallowing his fear to open the closets. When the phone rang, he grabbed for it.

“It’s me. Everything okay?” Hearing her voice made him relax.

“Totally fine.”

She called him two more times. He could hear typewriters clacking behind her, and once a man yelling, “If I wanted it a half hour late, I would have said a half hour late.” As soon as she hung up, he wished she would call again.

He devised elaborate plans. If someone came in, he would run to his closet and hide behind the winter coats. If they smashed a window, he would head for one of the doors. He got out the J–K encyclopedia volume and read about jujitsu, trying a few kicks, slicing the air with his sneaker.

Ava was home by five, bustling into the house, calling “Lewis!” and he felt himself relax. She had a bag of groceries in her arm. “Come on,” she said. “Keep me company.”

That night after supper, they sat on the porch. The squad car was gone, and all the lights were on in Rose’s house. Outside, some of the fathers, big, burly men towering over their kids, were watching them play outside, their arms folded as if they were standing guard. Lewis thought about what Mrs. Hill and Mrs. Carter had said, how terrible it was to be a woman alone. He had this horrible thought. A scary thing had happened and it had happened to the only other fatherless boy on the block.

“How tall was Dad?” he blurted.

His mother startled. “Why do you want to know that?”

“We should call him,” he said, and she looked at him. “Why?” she asked.

“If he knew this was going on, I bet he’d come back.”

Her mouth tightened, the way it always did when he mentioned his father. She stood up, brushing off her skirt. “We should get inside,” she told him. “You have school tomorrow.”

He got into his pajamas and brushed his teeth. He heard her in the kitchen, the whistle of the teakettle. Later, when he was in bed, he thought he heard her crying. He got out of bed and opened his door, but the house was quiet.

He missed Rose. He went to the window and stared down the street. She had the front bedroom, the same way he did, and her room faced his. Her blinds were drawn; everything looked dark.

Chapter Six

Friday, when Ava got up for work, she went out onto her porch to see if anything had changed at Dot’s house. The squad car was there again, and she saw Hank Maroni strutting around, ordering people out of his way.

Mrs. Hill came into view, followed by a chain of children. “Lewis! Mrs. Hill’s here!” Ava called through the front door. Lewis stumbled out onto the porch, his hair barely combed, his shirt misbuttoned. He was upset, anyone could see that. The more she tried to reassure him that Jimmy would be back, the more distant he got. Ava watched Lewis join the group, walking away from her, and for a moment she thought, What if I don’t see him again? “Lewis!” she called, and he turned and then she smiled weakly. “Have a great day,” she told him. She took a snapshot of him in her mind. His lashy eyes. The tilt of his nose.
I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself.

She waited until he was gone from her sight and then walked down the driveway to her car. She was just about to get in when she saw one of the cops walking toward her. He smiled. “You’re Ava Lark?” he asked and she nodded. He held out his hand. “Larry,” he said. “Can I ask you some questions?” He had a notebook under his arm, and she looked past him to Dot’s house.

“I already spoke to the police,” she said.

He nodded casually. “Purely routine,” he said. “We’re talking more thoroughly now to all the neighbors. Thought we’d start with you since your son was Jimmy’s best friend.”

“I have to get to work,” Ava said, and the officer nodded. She thought of how Richard, her boss, made it a point to walk the halls, snapping those damn suspenders of his, slicking back his hair, so greasy she bet his head would leave an imprint if he leaned against a window. He liked to make sure everyone in the typing pool was at her desk and working at nine sharp. “If I can get here on time, so can you,” he said, though he lived five minutes away, while most of the typing pool had a long commute.

“I can’t be late,” she said and the cop looked at her with sympathy.

“I can call your boss for you, if you’d like. He’s probably heard what happened on the news.” The news. She hadn’t turned on the radio or the TV, hadn’t seen a paper. For a minute she didn’t know what to do. Would it be worse for her to have the policeman call, like the parent of an errant child? At least Richard would have to believe her excuse then. Ava smoothed down the skirt of her dress, and when she bit down on her lip, she tasted the waxy pink of her lipstick. “Would you call?” she asked and he nodded. She touched his arm. “What are you going to tell him?

“That it’s routine. That we’re talking to everyone.”

She relaxed. She let him inside, embarrassed by the dishes in her sink, gave him the number and listened, leaning against the refrigerator. His voice was pleasant, official. “Of course,” he said, before hanging up.

“Was he mad?” Ava said and the cop frowned. “Why would he be?” he said. “Let’s go sit down. This won’t take long.”

Up close, Ava saw he had a tiny little cluster of freckles on the bridge of his nose. He was so young, she thought. He couldn’t have been more than twenty and here he was talking soothingly to her. She glanced at his hands. No wedding band. She didn’t know why, but the phrase
fancy
free,
like a sad refrain, flitted into her mind.

He sat in a kitchen chair, motioning for her to sit, too. “What can you tell us about Wednesday, Ava?” He said her name as if she were a friend.

“I already told the police—”

“Tell me again,” he said, as if it were his shortcoming that he couldn’t remember.

“I went to work at around four. I had to be there at five. When I got home, the kids weren’t home yet.” She heard her own breathing.

Larry nodded. “Tell me about Jimmy,” he said. “I understand you were friends.” He picked up his pen and tapped it on his yellow pad.

There. There it was. A lonely kid comes to her house and she had kept him company and suddenly she was guilty of something.

“He was my son’s friend,” she said. “He was always at our house.”

“But sometimes he was at your house when your son wasn’t here, isn’t that right?”

Larry’s gaze was impassive. “Lots of kids hang out in lots of houses,” she said. “It’s all open doors here.”

“But not your door, I understand.”

“I lived in the city, in the Back Bay,” she said. “I’m used to locking my door.” She saw the flicker of surprise, that someone who had lived in the Back Bay might be reduced to living in a shabby house like this one. “Sometimes he came over when Lewis wasn’t home and he wanted to sit around and wait for him. I always said it was fine. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Was it the way of the neighborhood to play games with the kids?” His face stayed friendly.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m asking because some of the mothers said they’ve seen you in the backyard playing cards with Jimmy. For hours, they said. Seems like a long time to be with someone else’s kid.”

“What mothers? Who did you talk to?” She tried to remember seeing speaking with a cop, but all she could remember was the chaos, the way everyone seemed to be running around.

He raised one brow. “Does it matter?”

“We both liked playing checkers. We both loved gin rummy.” Ava tried to think of what the other women did. When she saw them, they were always spilling the kids out of their homes, urging them to go play, get outside, take their bikes. They took them back in to refuel them with Kool-Aid or Twinkies. They scrubbed dirty knees and put on Band-Aids, and then they sent them right out again, like their houses were one big revolving door.

“We all took care of the kids,” Ava repeated. “We helped them with their homework, played games.” She knew it wasn’t really true. She didn’t want to mention the time she had overheard two kids talking and one of them said she wasn’t allowed to go to Ava’s house because her mom thought it was dirty. “Plus she’s divorced,” the kids whispered. “You know what that means.”

She knew the stories about her and they were all horribly exaggerated. Lewis had taken bread sandwiches to school once when she hadn’t had time to go to the store, and suddenly he was a charity case. Yes, Lewis wore clothing from Morgan Memorial, but everything was cleaned and pressed, with every button sewn. What was so terrible about economizing, especially when she was trying to save enough to buy her house?

Who knew how stories got started? When she had begun to hear the rumors, she had felt sick. The mattresses in her house, which she knew were old, but were still clean, were supposedly stained with pee. As if she would have stood for that! Neighbors said there were roaches in her kitchen, though all she really had were the occasional ants and when she saw them she wiped every surface with white vinegar and water. She was a Jew and the neighbors said that all Jews had money, and if she seemed poor, it was because she must just be cheap, which was something else all Jews were.

“The neighbors say you keep to yourself,” the cop said.

“That’s right.” Ava didn’t tell him how hard she had tried to socialize. She had thrown a party the week she had moved in, making invitations out of some of Lewis’s colored construction paper and slipping them in all the mail slots. As soon as the women arrived, in slacks and casual dresses, Ava, in a shiny violet dress, perfume spritzed on her pulse points and at the nape of her French twist, knew she had made a mistake. She had decorated the backyard with candles and red Chinese lanterns. “Isn’t this different?” one of the neighbors said through a forced smile, and Ava felt stung. She stacked up
45
s on the record player so people could dance, but the only person who asked her was one of the husbands and when she felt his hand slide low along her hip, she pulled away, leaving his hand in midair, and soon after that, his wife was at his side, her eyes gleaming slits, and the party was over.

“Any reason you might know for Jimmy to run away?”

Ava shook her head. “He wouldn’t run away.”

The cop leaned forward. Here it comes, she thought. “Let me be frank, Ava,” he said, swirling her name around in his mouth like a cube of sugar. “Some people have said you were a bit too close to Jimmy.”

Ava frowned. “He’s my son’s best friend,” she said. “My house was his second home.”

“Would you say that he’s your friend, too?”

“He’s a boy and I’m a grown woman. You can’t possible think—”

“I don’t think anything. I’m just asking questions.” He scribbled something on the pad. “Did he ever tell you about other grown-ups he knew?”

“No,” Ava said. “I don’t know what other grown-ups he knew.” She felt sweat prickling down her back. “Why are you asking me these questions? Do you want to search my house?” Larry put the pad of paper down and his gaze grew more intent.

Larry cleared his throat. “Ava,” he said, and it suddenly bothered her that he was calling her by her first name, that he wasn’t giving her the respect of calling her Mrs. Lark. “Of course you’re not a suspect. But you’ve had boyfriends. A lot of different ones, people said. Who knows how well you really knew them?”

“I knew them. And they didn’t come over during the day or when Lewis was home,” Ava said, and then she flushed, realizing how that sounded. “I just didn’t want my son to meet anyone until I knew it was going to be something,” Ava said. “Some things didn’t work out.”

“I see,” he said. “And you’re divorced.”

“That’s not a crime. I’m allowed to date.”

“So, these boyfriends, how many were there?” He tapped her arm with his pencil and her arm sprang back.

“None of them would have touched Jimmy.”

“Did I say that?” He wrote something down again. “Mrs. Lark, could you get me the names and numbers of all your boyfriends? We just want to ask them some questions. Nothing major. Same as we did here with you. It would be really helpful.”

He pushed the pad to her. “I don’t remember the phone numbers,” she said, “I’d have to look them up.”

He nodded, still friendly. “That’s okay. Just give me the names and we can find them.” She hesitated and he nodded encouragingly. He rolled the pen across the table and when she picked it up, it still felt warm from his hand.

The faces swam up in her memory. Each name she wrote down conjured little bits of things, like different patches on one big quilt. Tom Sullivan. She had met him getting gas for her car. He had soft, pillowy lips that he would brush along her collarbone. Richard Meserve had been her accountant one year. He brought her flowers every date but then he yelled at a waitress for not bringing the water fast enough, and after that Ava didn’t want to see him again. None of her relationships had lasted very long. Not when they found out Ava wasn’t the good-time girl they expected. Ava wouldn’t pack up and take off for a weekend away because she had a son. Ava wouldn’t stay up drinking until two because she had to work. Ava wouldn’t peel off her dress and get right down to her skivvies after a first date. Ava wasn’t what they wanted, but they, too, had disappointed her.

“Did any of them ever meet Jimmy?”

“No. And they never met Lewis, either. Except for Jake, and that was after Jimmy was gone.” She hated saying that:
gone.
She felt a pang, remembering Jake’s dressy clothes, his gift. He had really tried. None of her other boyfriends had been terribly interested in Lewis as anything but a detriment.

There were five names, and then six. Three a year, that wasn’t so many. She didn’t feel a single thing about any of them until she got to Jake, and then she began to tremble. She wrote out his name and it was all she could do not to touch the letters with her fingers, not to rest her face along the page. She pushed the pad across the table to Larry.

He took it and studied the names. “That’s quite a list.” He stood up. “That’s all, Mrs. Lark. Just call us if you have any news, or you think of anything that might help us.”

She stood up, glancing at her watch. Nine thirty. She was a half hour late to work. Even though the cop had called, Richard might still be furious. How was she going to explain what had taken so long? She thought of her in-box with all the invoices about claw-footed tubs and pedestal sinks she had to type, and she felt exhausted. She’d have to stay late to make up the time.

A
S SOON AS
Ava walked into the office, Charmaine glanced at her. Betty tapped her watch. “I did some of your work,” Betty said to Ava. “Richard wanted it right away.” She held up the razor blade the women used to scratch mistakes from the carbons. “Lot of errors, Ava,” she said. Ava couldn’t tell if she was smirking or not. “Thank you,” Ava said. “I had an appointment.”

Betty shrugged. “No skin off my nose. Long as you’re here now.”

Richard hadn’t told them, then. It was one less thing for them to gossip about in the break room and thank God for that. She took off her coat and hung it up. Just as she had thought, her in-box was piled with papers. There were scribbled notes on her desk of the things Richard needed her to do, some of them with sharp little exclamation points after them, like stab wounds. She uncovered her typewriter and sat down.

Then Cathy began talking about Maureen, a secretary in accounting who had run away and gotten married over the weekend and had called the office to announce she was quitting without notice. “Can you imagine?” Cathy marveled. “She said to just chuck her things.”

“Why didn’t she at least stay for a party?” Betty said.

“I’m so jealous of her I could spit,” Charmaine said.

Ava kept silent. She couldn’t imagine having that luxury of quitting. She put a piece of paper into the roller, and Richard appeared. The other women straightened up, and Cathy fluffed her hair. Ava’s fingers froze on the keys. “Could you come into my office, please?” he said to Ava. He wasn’t smiling. The other women were watching her. She felt their stares, like a film on her body she wanted to scrub off. She walked into Richard’s office, sitting in the chair he pulled out for her.

“I’ll work late to make up the hours,” she said.

Richard waved his hand and sat down, putting his feet up on the desk. “First time in my life an officer of the law called me,” he said.