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Authors: Chris Bohjalian
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He was glad for the woman that Terry was coming home the next day. She might not have been the happiest person on the planet, ever, but at least she didn't wake up in the night and start crying when Terry was home. Terry didn't respect him the way Laura did, of course, and he had a feeling the man didn't especially care for him. He didn't let him get away with nearly as much as Laura did. But it was still pretty clear that Laura was better off when he was there.
Alfred turned over the pillow and fluffed it. Maybe, he thought, when Terry was back he could figure out a way to ask him about the girls. He wasn't sure how--the subject would most likely make them both pretty uncomfortable--but at least it would give the two of them something to talk about for a couple of minutes. He might even be able to use that somehow with the man. Make him believe they were friends.
Outside his window, the clouds in the sky were breaking up and the moon was starting to appear. It would emerge for a couple of long seconds and make the clouds around it look like gray smoke. He thought it was full.
He considered going downstairs and seeing if one or both of the cats wanted to sleep in his bed. He'd had the idea before, but the animals seemed pretty set in their ways and he'd never tried bringing them upstairs to his room. They slept, as far as he knew, near the woodstove in the den, in what was actually a dog bed Laura had ordered by mail. Because they'd been together their whole lives, they slept almost in a single ball, so at first glance it was hard to tell where one cat ended and the other began.
He didn't go downstairs, however, because he knew Laura would hear him. Instead he remained under his quilt and tried to take comfort in the notion that he was warm and fed, and these two people--Laura and Terry--didn't seem to drink and had never once hit him. He glanced briefly around the room, surveying the unfamiliar toys and clothes that had been amassed for him by these grown-ups, and the new paper they'd put on the walls just before he arrived. It was yellow with thin blue and white stripes, and he had a feeling that if he peeled away a corner, he'd see something underneath that was flowery and pink. He knew this room had belonged to one of those girls--maybe even to both. It seemed big enough for two people.
But the house had a third bedroom that Terry and Laura called the guest bedroom, and that one had recently been redone, too. Maybe it had belonged to one of the twins.
For a moment he savored the fact that this was the second place in a row where he'd had his own room. Sometimes he couldn't believe his luck in that regard.
New wallpaper. What he guessed were new curtains. A new throw rug. These people were generous, no doubt about that.
Still, they'd had girls their whole lives and it was clear they weren't quite sure what to get a boy his age. Laura, anyway. But then, she always seemed to be the one who felt like opening up her wallet.
He hadn't told them he was too old for Legos, but he guessed they'd figured it out since he hadn't gone near the box they'd given him. Same with those odd plastic cars that you could twist and turn into robots and bugs and reptilian-looking monsters.
He decided a BB gun might have been fun: After all, Terry sure had his share of guns in that case down the hall. There were two rifles locked in there most of the time, the one with which he liked to hunt and the one that had belonged to his father that he never used. Only Terry's father's gun was in there right now, since Terry had brought his own rifle with him to deer camp.
And then there was Terry's sidearm. A 40-caliber Smith & Wesson Sig Sauer with a bullet in the chamber and twelve more in the magazine in the handle. Now, that was a cool-looking gun. He'd seen rifles before, but never a pistol. One time Terry took out the bullet and the magazine and let him hold it. They were having breakfast and Terry was in his uniform, and he took
He was glad for the woman that Terry was coming home the next day. She might not have been the happiest person on the planet, ever, but at least she didn't wake up in the night and start crying when Terry was home. Terry didn't respect him the way Laura did, of course, and he had a feeling the man didn't especially care for him. He didn't let him get away with nearly as much as Laura did. But it was still pretty clear that Laura was better off when he was there.
Alfred turned over the pillow and fluffed it. Maybe, he thought, when Terry was back he could figure out a way to ask him about the girls. He wasn't sure how--the subject would most likely make them both pretty uncomfortable--but at least it would give the two of them something to talk about for a couple of minutes. He might even be able to use that somehow with the man. Make him believe they were friends.
Outside his window, the clouds in the sky were breaking up and the moon was starting to appear. It would emerge for a couple of long seconds and make the clouds around it look like gray smoke. He thought it was full.
He considered going downstairs and seeing if one or both of the cats wanted to sleep in his bed. He'd had the idea before, but the animals seemed pretty set in their ways and he'd never tried bringing them upstairs to his room. They slept, as far as he knew, near the woodstove in the den, in what was actually a dog bed Laura had ordered by mail. Because they'd been together their whole lives, they slept almost in a single ball, so at first glance it was hard to tell where one cat ended and the other began.
He didn't go downstairs, however, because he knew Laura would hear him. Instead he remained under his quilt and tried to take comfort in the notion that he was warm and fed, and these two people--Laura and Terry--didn't seem to drink and had never once hit him. He glanced briefly around the room, surveying the unfamiliar toys and clothes that had been amassed for him by these grown-ups, and the new paper they'd put on the walls just before he arrived. It was yellow with thin blue and white stripes, and he had a feeling that if he peeled away a corner, he'd see something underneath that was flowery and pink. He knew this room had belonged to one of those girls--maybe even to both. It seemed big enough for two people.
But the house had a third bedroom that Terry and Laura called the guest bedroom, and that one had recently been redone, too. Maybe it had belonged to one of the twins.
For a moment he savored the fact that this was the second place in a row where he'd had his own room. Sometimes he couldn't believe his luck in that regard.
New wallpaper. What he guessed were new curtains. A new throw rug. These people were generous, no doubt about that.
Still, they'd had girls their whole lives and it was clear they weren't quite sure what to get a boy his age. Laura, anyway. But then, she always seemed to be the one who felt like opening up her wallet.
He hadn't told them he was too old for Legos, but he guessed they'd figured it out since he hadn't gone near the box they'd given him. Same with those odd plastic cars that you could twist and turn into robots and bugs and reptilian-looking monsters.
He decided a BB gun might have been fun: After all, Terry sure had his share of guns in that case down the hall. There were two rifles locked in there most of the time, the one with which he liked to hunt and the one that had belonged to his father that he never used. Only Terry's father's gun was in there right now, since Terry had brought his own rifle with him to deer camp.
And then there was Terry's sidearm. A 40-caliber Smith & Wesson Sig Sauer with a bullet in the chamber and twelve more in the magazine in the handle. Now, that was a cool-looking gun. He'd seen rifles before, but never a pistol. One time Terry took out the bullet and the magazine and let him hold it. They were having breakfast and Terry was in his uniform, and he took
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