because we went camping instead of farting around at the shore like she wanted. At the shore they had hospitals. Camping has trees, and if your mother thinks I don't miss him, she's dumber than I think.'
Don stood, but Norman froze him with a sideways look.
'You don't like to hear me talk about your mother that way, and to tell you the truth, I don't like to hear me say it. She's a hell of a woman, Don, a hell of a woman. So when she gets back from wherever the hell she went with that slick, greasy idiot, I'm going to put it to her-make a choice, Joyce. You either got to stick with your family, or stick with him.' He shook his head slowly and sucked at his teeth. 'I think it was my news that made her do it though. I got to give her that. Up until now she was keeping it all quiet and careful. My fault, I guess.'
'What news?' Don whispered.
'I'm going to quit at the end of the year.'
'What?'
'Don't shout, boy. I'm your father.'
'Quit? You mean ... quit school? Your job?'
You're drunk, he thought; you're drunk, you're drunk!
'Damn right. Told her this afternoon. Falcone, the board, they can take the school and every kid inside and shove it where the sun don't shine, you'd better believe I'm quitting.'
'But why?'
'My father told me that the only way you can make it in this world, walking on shit the whole time, is by making money. And he was right.
You can't live like a human being unless you have money. Lots of money.
I sure as hell ain't gonna make it as a principal, now am I? No way in hell.'
Don tried to find a way to breathe and leaned hard against the railing.
'What are you going to do then?'
'Ah, you haven't been listening to your mother, son. You haven't been watching the way Garziana's been treating me lately.'
'Garziana? Mayor Garziana?' Punch drunk; somehow he was punch drunk; he had to be, or else he wouldn't feel like laughing.
Norman nodded, looking at his hands as if expecting the glass to still be there. 'I'm going to run next fall, Don. Your mother thought I was kidding when I told her the first time. But I've been thinking about it, thinking hard, and I've been taking a look around to see what Garziana has for himself. He has it good, son. He has it damned good for a little shittown like this.'
Don took hold of the railing and pulled himself to the porch.
'She thinks I'm crazy. She made a good point though- that the real money won't start coming until I've been in office a few years. Means a little sacrifice here and there; the job itself doesn't pay shit, but it'll be worth it in the long run, no question about it. I got it straight from the horse's mouth.'
'School,' Don said hoarsely. 'What about ...'
'You got any prospects for scholarships?'
'Oh, no, please, Dad. No, please.'
'Y'know, I think ... I wouldn't be surprised if she thought I clobbered that poor kid last night for what he did to my car.'
Don looked wildly to the front door, looked back and saw his father watching him. 'You were in my room!' he accused, not caring how drunk Norman was.
'Damn right I was. I got nosey. It's my goddamned house and I wanted a closer look at all your little buddies in there, try to figure out where the hell your head is at. I got to admit I still don't know, but I do know you're not very smart, Don. You shouldn't have left those keys on your desk.' He turned slightly and leaned an elbow on the top step. 'I'm not stupid, Donald. Don't you ever think I'm stupid. I don't know what you were thinking of when you didn't tell me about Tar, but I know you thought I was going to kill that little sonofabitch. Why did you do it? Were you going to do it yourself?'
Don turned away from the laughter that began as a chuckle and ended in choking. He opened the door, dizzy and wanting to run for the bathroom.
'Were you?' Norman persisted. 'Jesus, I hope you aren't starting to believe all that crap about being a hero. You know as well as I do you didn't do it.'
He gasped, but didn't look back.
'Nope,' Norman said. 'That wasn't you. That was a crazy kid, not my kid.
Five seconds of crazy doesn't make you a hero.'
Don wanted to faint, to get away into the dark.
'You go on in,' Norman said kindly, thinking the pause was a wait for him. 'I'm going to sit here and sober up a bit. Can't go to the big game like this, right? It'd make a bad impression. Folks don't like their mayors drunk in public. Besides, maybe your mother will come home. Maybe not. Personally I hope she-'
'Shut up!' Don yelled. He whirled around, his books scattering in the foyer, ripples of faint red at the corners of his vision. 'You shut up!'
'No, you grow up!' Norman yelled back. 'It's about time you grew up, boy, and stopped thinking that your daydreams are going to make things better around here.' A finger pointed spearlike at his chest. 'I'll tell you something, son-if you don't break out into the real world real soon, you're going to be in serious trouble. All that crap about taking care of those poor helpless animals, all that wailing like a two-year-old just because your mother cleaned some baby toys out of your room-you better grow up, Donald. You better open your eyes and learn a few things about what it's really like, out here in the real world.'
Don slammed the door. He kicked aside a book that nearly tripped him and plunged up the steps, slipping twice, falling onto the landing and yanked himself up into the hall. He leaned against the wall and stared down it at his parents' room, at his room, looked over his shoulder at Sam's room, and he sobbed.
'Don?' Norman called from the bottom of the steps.
'Leave me alone!' he shouted. 'Just leave me alone!'
'I just wanted you to know there's sandwiches on the counter in case you want to eat before you leave for the game.'
'Jesus Christ,' he screamed, 'will you leave me alone!'
He fell into his bedroom and picked up the desk chair, held it over his shoulder while the tears drenched his cheeks, threw it against the wall while his knees grew rigid.
'Leave me alone!' he said loudly.
An arm swept books and pencils off the desk.
'Leave me alone,' he whispered.
He grabbed a stuffed hawk from a shelf and tried to wring off its head, then hurled it at the window and winced when the pane cracked and the bird bounced back to rock slowly in the middle of the floor.
'Leave me alone. Just ... leave me alone.'
Footsteps in the hall that neither faltered nor paused. The shower drummed. The toilet flushed. Something made of glass shattered on the bathroom floor.
Ten minutes later the front door slammed, and Don jumped up from the bed and ran into his parents' room, pulled aside the drapes, and looked down at the street. Norman, in slacks, sweater, and sport jacket, was turning onto the sidewalk. He didn't look back, didn't look up, and stopped with hands out when Chris backed the red convertible out of her garage. They exchanged words. Norman shook his head politely. Another exchange with Chris flashing her best smile. When he shrugged, she waved briskly at him and grabbed her pompons from the front seat, dropped them in back and leaned over to open the passenger door. Another wave, and Norman shrugged, walked around the back of the car, and slid into the passenger seat.
When they drove off toward the stadium, Chris had both hands on the wheel and his father was staring off to his right.
Don backed away from the sill and returned to his own room, picked up the hawk and laid him gently on the bed.
'I'm sorry,' he said.
Downstairs it was dark. After switching on the living room lamps and the small chandelier in the foyer, he saw the note tacked to the inside of the front door.
