Only Child

don’t like homosexuals. They claim the Bible says they should all be killed. It wasn’t about gay schoolteachers; they hate them all. This was just a convenient excuse.”

“What happened?”

“Well...nothing, I guess. They picketed a little bit, and they sent some nasty letters, but Mr. Strethlend kept his job. In the end, all they did was, they took their own kids out of school.”

“Freaks.”

“They are. I was just telling—”

“No. I mean, that’s the word you were looking for, before. ‘Pedophile’ is a fancy word, but it means how people feel, not what they do. People who go after kids, they’re freaks. Understand?”

“Okay...”

“What’s wrong, Lottie?”

“You just looked...scary, for a minute.”

“Sorry.”

“That’s all right. Probably just a trick of the light.”

“I don’t know how to do it,” the kid said.

“Neither do I, Ace.”

“Then how am I going to—?”

“Well, I think you’re supposed to walk around it a little bit, kind of get an idea of how it’s laid out. Like you did before.”

“Okay...” the kid said. He put the putter the pro in the golf shop had assured me was the right size for a kid his age and height over his shoulder and walked all around the perfectly manicured green with only the light from my flash to guide him. The Brains of the Outfit sat on his haunches, observing quietly.

“It kind of...slopes,” the kid said. “Right here...See it?”

“Not me. It just looks like a little uphill, that’s all.”

“No, it’s off to the left. You see how it sort of...rolls, I guess.”

“If you say so.”

The boy kept pacing, checking the terrain. Once he sighted down the length of his club.

“Ready to take a shot?” I finally asked him.

“Sure,” he said, taking a stance over one of the three regulation balls I’d bought in that same shop. “Does this look right?”

“Ace, let me tell you, partner; I wouldn’t have a clue. How does it feel?”

“Okay, I guess. It’s hard to see with that flashlight.”

“Just look at the pole.”

The kid nodded, took a breath, let it out, and stroked the ball. It climbed the hill, banked to the left, and disappeared. The dog’s ears perked up at a faint sound.

“What was that?” the kid asked.

“Let’s go see.”

The white ball sat at the bottom of the cup, like a pearl in an oyster.

“Ah, was it really worth it, all that?” Lottie asked me, late that night.

“It wasn’t so much. The club only cost—”

“Not the money, Burke. Breaking into the golf course in the middle of the night just so you could see if Hugh —”

“There’s nothing to break into. It’s just like a big field, with no fence.”

“But it’s still against the law.”

“Probably. But it’d only be trespassing, not a burglary. And they never would have charged Hugh with anything.”

“Yes, I understand that. But why couldn’t you have taken him in the daytime?”

“Well, first of all, I’m not a member,” I told her. Then I gave her a wink, switched to talking out of the side of my mouth, said, “Besides, this way it was a caper, see?”

The next time I came back, The Brains of the Outfit was wearing a red ribbon tied in a bow around his thick neck, thoughtfully chomping on a thick slab of what looked like raw steak.

“It’s Boo’s birthday,” the kid informed me.

I piled them both in the Plymouth, and we hit the pet store. Found a truly outrageous leather collar with chrome studs, and half a dozen chew-toys.

The next morning, I found the two of them under the tree. The Brains of the Outfit was stretched out, nose to the ground, a mournful look on his face.

“He’s sad,” Hugh told me solemnly.

“Why?”

“Because of his birthday. He loves his birthdays. But that was yesterday, and it’s over.”

“Oh...”

“That’s all right,” the kid said, confidently. “I know what to do.” He knelt next to his pal, scratched behind one ear. The way I used to do with my Pansy. “Don’t be sad, Boo,” he said softly. “It’s still your birthday. Okay?”

The dog picked his head up and grinned.

That night, while I was talking to Lottie, the kid came into the living room, The Brains of the Outfit at his side.

“I want to tell you something,” he said to me.

“Shoot.”

The kid’s face made it clear he wasn’t going to talk in front of his mother. “Go back in your room, Hugh,” she said. “Burke will be there in a minute.”

When I went back, he and The Brains of the Outfit were in bed. I sat down on the edge.

“I don’t know where Vonni was going, the day she...the day she didn’t come back,” he whispered. “But she told me it was going to be her big day.”

“Her big day?”

“Yes. Vonni told me, when it was over, she was going to start being famous.”

“We’re not going to see you again, are we?” Lottie asked, late that same night.

“I...I honestly don’t know. It depends on...things I have no control over.”

“Hugh really likes you.”

“We’re partners,” I said.

“Don’t partners see each other once in a while?”

“Some do. Some can’t. He’ll understand.”

“Yeah,” she said, with the first bitterness I’d ever heard in her voice. “Hugh’s gotten real good at understanding.”

“Lottie, could I...say something to you?”

“What?”

“Is Lewis really the guy?”

“He could be. But, with the way Hugh—”

“If Lewis wants it bad enough, there’s one thing he could do.”

“What are you talking about? He’d do anything, I know he would,” she said. The “He’d fucking better!” subtext came across like a fire ax through old drywall.

“He needs to learn to play golf. He doesn’t have to be any good, just good enough to take Hugh.”

“You mean real golf? But how is Hugh going to learn himself? All he knows how to play is that—”