Connor rapped his knuckles on the door and pushed it open. The hospital room was dark, the lights off, and the window shades drawn. He could see Theo lying in the bed, motionless under the covers.
It’s like he’s crept back down those stairs into the basement and given up.
He waited for an acknowledgment, a hello, a “go the hell away,” but nothing was coming. Fine, he thought as he hung the bag of clothes he carried on the hook on the back of the door. I’ll show him how annoying big brothers can be.
He took two steps across the small room and whipped open the blinds, letting a burst of sunshine flood the room. The boy on the bed flopped his arm over his face and scrunched it up against the blast of light with a groan. Connor turned and grinned. With a singsong voice, he chanted, “Come on, sleepyhead, we’ve got to get you ready.”
He said nothing for seconds and then mumbled a reply. “For what?”
“Jaxon’s funeral. You’ve got to dress up and go be miserable with the rest of us. It’s what adults do.”
“I’m not going.”
“Oh yes, you are. And don’t tell me you don’t have clothes because I even went by the Goodwill and bought you some.” He slipped the plastic cover off the hanging clothes. “A pair of slacks, a white shirt, a sport coat that isn’t hideous—well, not totally—and a tie. And, yeah, you’ve gotta wear a tie, but you’re gonna look slick, dude.”
The boy peeked from under his arm at the clothes before squeezing his eyes shut again. “I told you, I can’t go.”
“Yeah, okay, the sport coat probably is a reject from a TV weatherman, but it’s what you get for leaving the shopping to me. Every girlfriend I’ve ever had told me I dress like crap, and some of them wore hiking boots more than I do.”
“The coat’s fine, but I can’t go.”
“And why not?”
“Didn’t they tell you who I am?”
“Yeah, sure, you’re Theo. Now get out of bed.” He clapped his hands for emphasis.
“McGregor. Ted McGregor. How can I go to Jaxon’s funeral when the filthy scum who killed him is my father?” He turned his back toward Connor. “You must hate me.”
“Hate you?” Connor sat on the bed and rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder, feeling him flinch at the touch. “I hate Matt McGregor. ‘Filthy scum’ doesn’t come close to describing what I think of him. I can teach you a whole list of vocabulary words to describe him that probably weren’t in your dictionary. But here’s the thing—you aren’t him.”
The mumbled reply sounded resigned. “How do you know? I mean, it’s genetics, right? I might turn out like him.”
“Sit up. Look at me.”
Theo refused to roll over, so Connor stood and grabbed the controls dangling off the rails. He pressed a button, and the mechanical whir filled the air as the head of the bed began elevating. When it became impossible to continue lying down, the younger boy sat up and faced his visitor. The covers dropped off his shoulders and to his waist, revealing the patchwork of scars and fading bruises on his chest. Connor pointed at them. “You think you’re going to turn into a monster who can do that?”
Theo pulled the sheet up to his chest, hiding the marks as best he could. “It’s possible.”
“Yeah, it’s possible, genetics or not. It’s also possible you could take all the crap that happened to you and use it to help others who’ve been through things like it.”
“But…”
“You know my father, right?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“A recovering alcoholic and drug addict. Never showed up for anything on time, and that was when he got there at all. When my little brother disappeared, that man was so high he didn’t come down for days. He didn’t even know Jax was missing. Do you think I’m like that?”
The answer was quiet. “No.”
“It’s not like half my friends at school weren’t smoking weed or going to keggers on the weekend. They gave me tons of grief for not joining in. I went to the parties and had fun, but I wouldn’t touch that stuff. You know why? Because I decided the one thing I never wanted to be in life was my father, some guy too high to show up when his kids needed him. Some idiot who would rather hang out with other druggies than his own wife and family.”
Theo’s eyes grew wide. “I thought you liked him.”
“I do. Now. Sober. Showing up when he tells me he’s going to. He made mistakes—tons of ’em—but he’s different now. I’m not going to screw up like he did.” Connor gripped Theo’s wrist in his hand and beamed his prankster smile. “I’m going to screw up in totally new ways.”
Theo couldn’t help a slight grin at Connor’s patter, but he shook his head in resistance. “You’re stronger than me.”
“Are you freaking kidding me? You’re way stronger than me. You survived all those years in that place. I never would’ve made it.” He sat down on the side of the bed and draped his arm over Theo’s shoulder. “Besides, if it’s genetics, maybe you’ll be more like your mom.”
“Oh, great, a prostitute.”
“Sheriff Newman told me all about her, and you know what I see? A really strong woman you should be totally proud of.”
Theo turned his head, an eyebrow raised as if he was confused.
Connor continued, “She’s being held by those whack jobs and finds herself pregnant. So she gives birth—no hospital, no drugs, no doctor, nothing, but she does it anyway. And then she takes care of you—nurses you, feeds you, takes care of you when you’re sick, all while she’s growing weaker. You’re alive because of her.”
“Yeah, okay, but I meant before that.”
“Before? Just proves how smart she was.”
“Smart? How do you figure that?”
“Think about it. You ever see Matt with books? Any books in the house at all?”
Theo thought about it. “An old Bible was all I ever saw, but don’t think he ever touched it. I don’t think he could read.”
“But you had books.”
“Not from him. The other kids must’ve had ’em when he took them.”
“Yeah, sure, little kids’ books. I can see some kid sitting around a park in the summer with a book in his hands, because that’s the kind of thing Jaxon would’ve done. And then when Matt entices the kid into his van, the books come along.”
Theo shrugged, so Connor continued. “But a dictionary? Even Jaxon wasn’t enough of a bookworm to take a dictionary to a park or while he was out playing. So if it wasn’t one of the kids’, then it had to be hers.”
“Why would she…?”
“She was enrolling in a community college, right? They found her knapsack. The dictionary you used had the mark of a used bookstore in Knoxville, so it makes sense it was in her book bag. She was trying to make a life for herself, despite all the crap that had happened to her. You know how much strength that takes? How smart she must’ve been? I’m thinking you’re more like her.”
After a quick squeeze of the boy’s shoulders, Connor stood. “See, I think you’re wicked smart when it comes to words. You know more dictionary definitions than I ever will. But who you become, who you are… that takes a lot more than just genes. I know that, and I got a C in biology. Barely.”
Connor started laying clothes across the foot of the bed, smoothing wrinkles as he went. When he looked up expectantly, Theo said, “I still can’t go.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t need a reminder of him there.”
Connor stopped and stared. “It’s Jaxon’s funeral. The whole thing is a reminder of him, that he killed him. We’ll be thinking of that monster the whole time.”
Theo hung his head. “I’ll just make it worse.”
“Don’t you get it?” Connor leaned across the bed and stared directly into the boy’s eyes. “When I look at you, I think of Jaxon’s friend, a really strong guy who survived all that crap and made my brother’s time there bearable. Frankly, you’re probably the one decent thing that comes from Matt McGregor’s existence. So yeah, I want you there. And you’re going even if I have to drag you in that silly hospital gown with your skinny ass flapping in the breeze.”
He stood and lifted the sport coat, studying the checked pattern of bright colors. “So get out of that bed and into the shower, because we’ve got to get you into this monkey suit. We’re gonna need something to put a smile on people’s faces.”