said 'You're taller' or 'You're bigger.' Or 'You look like Mom.' But that would have been worse. She wasn't supposed to be here, anyway.
He pointed behind him with his thumb. 'That's my dog.'
Jasmine looked around him. 'Black and white. Is she a border collie?'
'Beats me.'
'What's her name?'
'Dog.'
Jasmine looked back at him. 'You're the same,' she said.
Blackburn thought he knew what she meant. 'You still hate me.'
She shrugged. 'I don't know you.'
'But you said I was the same.'
'You are.' She glanced at the house. 'Want to see Dad?'
Blackburn stared past her. 'He isn't dead yet?'
'No.' Her scowl darkened. 'How'd you know he was sick?'
'Saw his name in the hospital lists in the Wichita paper. But when I went to the hospital, they said he'd left. They wouldn't tell me what he was there for.'
'I'm surprised that you cared.'
'Oh yeah,' Blackburn said. 'I care.' He took a few steps toward the house, then stopped. 'Is Mom here?'
'God, no.'
'Any idea where she is?'
Jasmine gave him a sharp look. 'We've been in Seattle for years, Jimmy. I'm a senior at the University of Washington.'
'Outstanding.' He started toward the house again.
Jasmine came along. 'I would have graduated this spring, but I took incompletes so I could come down here.'
'Why'd you want to do that?'
'Because he doesn't have anyone else.'
Blackburn stepped onto the porch. 'Of course he does.' He nodded to his reflection in the storm door. Dad wouldn't like his haircut. 'He has me.'
Jasmine touched his elbow. 'Jimmy. Are the police after you?'
'I don't know,' he said. It was the truth.
Jasmine closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she looked different. Softer. 'I haven't seen you in so long,' she said. 'I guess I should at least give you a hug.' She put her arms around him and pressed close.
Blackburn didn't like it. He pushed her away, and she looked at him, blinking.
'Dog!' Blackburn called. Dog jumped from the Hornet and came running. Blackburn opened the storm door, and Dog sped into the house. Jasmine gasped.
Blackburn went inside.
The house smelled of ham and potatoes. Blackburn found the old man at the kitchen table, swiping at Dog with a butter knife. He was wearing blue work pants and a red plaid shirt. His face was still florid and stubbled, with the same broad nose and small, pale eyes. But he was skinnier, and he breathed with a phlegmy wheeze. His sparse hair had turned gray. Patches of scalp were visible, like dead leaves seen through mist.
'Hi, Dad,' Blackburn said.
The old man glanced up, furious, and then looked back at Dog. 'Get it out of here,' he said. His voice shook. It wasn't as deep as Blackburn remembered. 'Get the son of a bitch out of my house.'
'Just 'bitch,' ' Blackburn said.
Jasmine came past him and grabbed Dog's collar. Dog bolted. Jasmine lost her grip, and Dog collided with the old man's chair. Dad bellowed and tried to stab Dog in the neck, but his hand hit the edge of the table. The knife spun away and clattered on the linoleum. Dog whirled and ran from the kitchen.
Dad sat hunched over, gripping his hand. Jasmine reached toward him, but drew back when he started banging his fist on the table. Plates and glasses jumped. Then Dad swiped his arm across the tabletop, flinging a Pyrex bowl of salad. It would have hit Jasmine in the face, but Blackburn knocked it away. It slammed into the sink and shattered.
'Who let a dog in my house?' Dad yelled.
Blackburn squatted before his father. 'She followed me home, Daddy,' he said. 'Can I keep her?'
Dad's eyes focused on him. Blackburn waited, letting the old man stare.
The old man raised a hand and smacked his son in the mouth.
It was a harder blow than Blackburn had expected. His head jerked. He probed with his tongue and found that his teeth had cut into his lip.
Then he hit back. He had been saving it. Dad and his chair went over onto the floor.
Jasmine rushed to help him up. 'What's the matter with you?' she shouted at Blackburn. 'Can't you see he's sick?' She eased the old man into his chair again.
Blackburn stood. 'What are you sick with, Dad?'
Dad glowered. His cheek was red. 'Not a damn thing. I can still whip your ass any day of the week.'
'So you aren't sick?'
'I just said I ain't. Ate some bad meat is all. They pumped my stomach and let me go.'
'That's not true, Daddy,' Jasmine said.
Dad looked at the table and muttered.
Blackburn sucked on his lip for a moment and then left the kitchen. Dog was waiting at the front door. Together, they went outside. Blackburn took a pair of wirecutters from the Hornet and walked to the telephone junction box on the west side of the house. After severing the cord, he returned to the driveway and let the air out of the tires of the GMC and the Celica.
Jasmine came outside as he was finishing with the Celica. 'Jimmy! Just what do you think you're doing?'
Blackburn stood. 'Giving the family time to get reacquainted.'
He looked toward the house. Dad was staring out through the storm door. Blackburn supposed that he should count the old man as Number Sixteen, but he couldn't help thinking of him as Number One. And it only made sense that Number One would be the hardest.
As Blackburn started across the yard, the old man withdrew from the doorway, fading like a ghost.
Blackburn opened the storm door and gestured for Dog to go inside again. Dog did so, avoiding Jasmine.
'You know he doesn't like dogs,' Jasmine said.
Blackburn said nothing. He went into the house and held the door open behind him so Jasmine could catch it. He was trying to be considerate.
Dog scurried back and forth across the living room, sniffing the tattered couch and recliner. Then she stopped in the center of the green carpet and squatted.
Dad emerged from the hallway to the room that had been his and Mom's. He
