Read Online Kevin O'Brien Bundle by Kevin O'Brien - Free Book Online
Authors: Kevin O'Brien
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putting on your best face, no matter what—I think you get that shit from your mom.”
Elvis’s own mother was a lost cause. With her drug and alcohol problems, her terrible taste in men, and her penchant for dressing like a slut, Mrs. Harnett would have been a terrific guest on The Jerry Springer Show . Chris rarely went over to the Harnetts’ place.
While he’d dated Courtney Hahn, his image-conscious girlfriend had wanted very little to do with Elvis. “I’m sorry, but how can you let yourself even be seen with him?” she’d asked at one point toward the end, when they were breaking up. “I mean, he’s a nice guy and all, but he’s poor white trash. You’d think he’d try to lose a little weight or dress in something besides farmer clothes . And when’s he going to get those stupid glasses fixed?”
One of Mrs. Harnett’s loser boyfriends had slapped Elvis for mouthing off to him, and he’d broken the hinge on his glasses. For the next three months, Elvis had silver electric tape bunched around the corner of his progressives.
Elvis couldn’t help that he didn’t have money for new glasses or new clothes. He couldn’t help that he was overweight from being raised on junk food. He never even ate a vegetable until he had dinner at Chris’s house. Elvis slept over at least once a week. Chris felt the overnights gave his friend a taste of what a fairly functional, normal family was like.
Just two weeks before his parents sat down with him for the talk , Chris had watched them at a block party at the Hahns’ house. They looked so happy, and it made him feel lucky—not only compared to Elvis’s situation, but also compared to his neighbors, Courtney and Madison. Madison’s parents had split up three years before; and as for Courtney, she admitted that her father could barely tolerate her mother. Chris could tell, too. Mrs. Hahn would act all lovey-dovey around him, and Mr. Hahn would hardly crack a smile. He’d get a sort of constipated, slightly annoyed look whenever she started to hang on him.
But at that party, Chris watched his parents sitting together on the floor by the Hahns’ fireplace. His mom looked especially pretty that night. Snuggled next to his dad, she whispered in his ear. His father chuckled and kissed her on the cheek.
Two weeks later, on a Friday last March, his mother called him at school on his cell, saying he shouldn’t make plans for the evening. She and his dad needed to talk with him about something. Chris wondered if maybe his mother had discovered the two adult DVDs he’d hidden in his desk drawer: Slutty Betty and Hot Meter Maids 2: Violation! He’d stashed them beneath a collection of old birthday cards, some of which were sent from his now-deceased grandmother. Had he no shame? His parents probably thought he was a major pervert.
But that wasn’t it at all.
He came home from school that Friday at 4:30 to find his dad sitting at the kitchen table with a scotch and soda. He wore his blue suit. His dad never came home from work before six—unless someone got sick or had an accident. Chris’s mom was pouring herself a glass of wine at the counter. It was kind of early for them to be drinking. The house was quiet, no TV blaring in the family room, no sign of his sister.
Hanging his coat in the pantry closet, Chris gave them a wary look and asked where Erin was. His dad hugged him, and said they thought it best Erin spend the night at Aunt Trish’s.
Chris didn’t understand. “Are you guys mad at me about something?”
His dad shook his head.
“We wanted to discuss this with you first—and then we’ll talk to Erin,” his mom explained. She sat down at the breakfast table.
Chris suddenly thought of something he hadn’t considered until just that moment: cancer. Panic swept through him. “Is somebody sick?” he murmured. “Is that what this is about?”
With a sigh, his dad shook his head again. “Nobody’s sick, Chris,” he said. “Sit down,
Elvis’s own mother was a lost cause. With her drug and alcohol problems, her terrible taste in men, and her penchant for dressing like a slut, Mrs. Harnett would have been a terrific guest on The Jerry Springer Show . Chris rarely went over to the Harnetts’ place.
While he’d dated Courtney Hahn, his image-conscious girlfriend had wanted very little to do with Elvis. “I’m sorry, but how can you let yourself even be seen with him?” she’d asked at one point toward the end, when they were breaking up. “I mean, he’s a nice guy and all, but he’s poor white trash. You’d think he’d try to lose a little weight or dress in something besides farmer clothes . And when’s he going to get those stupid glasses fixed?”
One of Mrs. Harnett’s loser boyfriends had slapped Elvis for mouthing off to him, and he’d broken the hinge on his glasses. For the next three months, Elvis had silver electric tape bunched around the corner of his progressives.
Elvis couldn’t help that he didn’t have money for new glasses or new clothes. He couldn’t help that he was overweight from being raised on junk food. He never even ate a vegetable until he had dinner at Chris’s house. Elvis slept over at least once a week. Chris felt the overnights gave his friend a taste of what a fairly functional, normal family was like.
Just two weeks before his parents sat down with him for the talk , Chris had watched them at a block party at the Hahns’ house. They looked so happy, and it made him feel lucky—not only compared to Elvis’s situation, but also compared to his neighbors, Courtney and Madison. Madison’s parents had split up three years before; and as for Courtney, she admitted that her father could barely tolerate her mother. Chris could tell, too. Mrs. Hahn would act all lovey-dovey around him, and Mr. Hahn would hardly crack a smile. He’d get a sort of constipated, slightly annoyed look whenever she started to hang on him.
But at that party, Chris watched his parents sitting together on the floor by the Hahns’ fireplace. His mom looked especially pretty that night. Snuggled next to his dad, she whispered in his ear. His father chuckled and kissed her on the cheek.
Two weeks later, on a Friday last March, his mother called him at school on his cell, saying he shouldn’t make plans for the evening. She and his dad needed to talk with him about something. Chris wondered if maybe his mother had discovered the two adult DVDs he’d hidden in his desk drawer: Slutty Betty and Hot Meter Maids 2: Violation! He’d stashed them beneath a collection of old birthday cards, some of which were sent from his now-deceased grandmother. Had he no shame? His parents probably thought he was a major pervert.
But that wasn’t it at all.
He came home from school that Friday at 4:30 to find his dad sitting at the kitchen table with a scotch and soda. He wore his blue suit. His dad never came home from work before six—unless someone got sick or had an accident. Chris’s mom was pouring herself a glass of wine at the counter. It was kind of early for them to be drinking. The house was quiet, no TV blaring in the family room, no sign of his sister.
Hanging his coat in the pantry closet, Chris gave them a wary look and asked where Erin was. His dad hugged him, and said they thought it best Erin spend the night at Aunt Trish’s.
Chris didn’t understand. “Are you guys mad at me about something?”
His dad shook his head.
“We wanted to discuss this with you first—and then we’ll talk to Erin,” his mom explained. She sat down at the breakfast table.
Chris suddenly thought of something he hadn’t considered until just that moment: cancer. Panic swept through him. “Is somebody sick?” he murmured. “Is that what this is about?”
With a sigh, his dad shook his head again. “Nobody’s sick, Chris,” he said. “Sit down,
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