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blood that he couldn't tell if it were a raccoon or skunk or something else. All that was identifiable were strings of intestines. It looked like the remains of an animal that had exploded on the asphalt. |
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Rabid Rocky strikes again, he thought. |
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Terry and Matty must not see this. Calvin unraveled the hose under the kitchen window. Could one raccoon do this? Maybe it was a pack attack on some hapless creature. Like that story the other day about domestic dogs wilding on the Cape. Killed some woman scientist. |
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He hosed the scraps down the asphalt driveway and into the sewer just feet from his property. He washed the backyard until he was certain nothing was left. By the time he had finished, his shoes and pants were wet from the spray. They would be dry by morning, and Terry would never know. |
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He pulled himself up the steps and into the house. The place was dead still. The green glow of the micro clock said eleven twenty-seven. He drank two glasses of bottled water, then headed upstairs. Before he went to bed, he ducked into Matty's room, guided by the light from the outside bathroom. |
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Matty was sleeping deeply, a raspy snoring sound coming from his chest. Calvin bent over and pulled the covers around his shoulders. He could make out the length of his body in the bed, and it shocked him how big Matty seemed. He felt a rush of love for the boy. He remembered how he used to lie down with him and tell him stories before going to sleep. How long ago that seemed. |
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Suddenly he felt a rush of sorrow and guilt. He had been so self-absorbed that he hadn't noticed him growing up. It was like looking at a stranger asleep in Matty's bed. You're a lousy father, Calvin told himself. Your son's suffering a condition that's tearing him up. He needs the comfort and consolation of his dad. He's frightened and he needs you. Well, he would start doing things with him, take him to Canobie Lake Park, fishing, catch a few movies, go bowling. Take him to the field to play some catch. He couldn't lose touch with him. In a couple years, he won't want to be seen dead with you . . . |
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He kissed the boy on his forehead. We'll get better. I promise. I promise. He left then and crawled into bed. Terry was sleeping soundly on her side with her back to him. |
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