Chapter 2

Eric Prince woke up, that night, with a straining bladder. He climbed from bed, and made his way to the shut door.

A straight-backed chair was propped under its knob, a precaution he always took when he went to bed in the deserted house. Though fifteen, and too old to be afraid of staying alone, he liked the secure feeling that came from having his door barred.

As he removed it, he wondered vaguely if his mother was home yet. He had no idea what time it might be. When he opened his door, though, he saw that the hall light was still on.

Mom would’ve turned it off.

She must still be out. Eric’s worry came back, the same worry that fluttered in his stomach every time Mom went out on a date – that he would wake up, in the morning, and she would still be gone. He’d wait and wait, but she would never come back.

Maybe she had run away with a handsome stranger she met in a bar. Eric would get a postcard, a week later, from a distant city.

Or she’d been killed in a car accident.

Or the worst of all – a worry that started after he read an old paperback called Looking for Mr Goodbar – she’d met a terrible man on one of her dates, and he had slaughtered her.

Chief Boyanski would come to the house. ‘Son, I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you. ’

Then Eric would be alone. An orphan. Nobody, in all the world, to take care of him. Maybe he could be like The Little Girl Who Lived Down The Lane, and stay alone in the house …

These thoughts upset him, driving his grogginess away so that he was completely awake when he pulled open the bathroom door and saw a naked man urinating. Eric jumped back, yelling. The startled man flinched.

Eric ran for his room, clenching his muscles to keep his own pee inside. He was almost to the door when his mother stepped into the hall.

She blinked in the brightness, and tied the belt of her threadbare flannel robe. Her hair was mussed. She looked confused. ‘Eric, what’re you doing up? ’

‘There’s a man in the john! ’

‘Oh. That’s only Sam. ’ She smiled sadly. ‘He must’ve given you quite a scare, huh? ’

Eric nodded.

Down the hall, the toilet flushed.

‘Sounds like he’ll be right out, ’ Mom said.

‘Who is he? ’

‘A friend. ’

She’s naked under that robe.

Eric looked away from her. ‘Night, ’ he said, and went into his room. He shut the door and stood in the darkness.

‘Damn, ’ he heard a man say. ‘I’m sorry about that. ’

‘It’s okay, ’ said Mom. She sounded depressed. ‘Something like this was bound to happen, sooner or later. ’

He heard them walking away.

‘Maybe I’d better leave, ’ the man said.

‘No, don’t. Please. ’

‘Shouldn’t you have a talk with him? ’

‘It’ll wait. This wouldn’t be a good time, anyway. ’

He heard the soft bump of a shutting door. If they were still talking, Eric couldn’t hear them.

He opened his door. The hallway was deserted and dark. He walked silently to the bathroom, and locked it in case the man came back. Standing over the toilet, he freed himself and started to urinate.

The man had stood right here, naked, just like he owned the place. And he had such a big thing. Had he really been putting it into … Sure he had. The thought of it made Eric feel sick, as if he’d swallowed a milkshake too fast.

He flushed the toilet.

He walked back to his bedroom, and opened the door. Without stepping inside, he shut it. The noise sounded loud in the stillness.

As silently as he could, he left the house by the back door. He hurried through the chilly, wet grass alongside the house. Mom’s VW in the driveway. A bigger car was parked at the curb.

Eric stared at that car for a long time, wondering about the man who owned it, the man in bed with Mom even at this moment. Fucking her. It sounded so dirty and exciting, like jacking off only a hundred times better. He’d day-dreamed a lot about doing it, and imagined it was the neatest thing in the world especially if the girl was someone beautiful like Miss Bennett, or Aleshia Barnes. Even if the girl wasn’t beautiful, it’d be great just getting to see her naked, getting to touch her breasts. He could hardly imagine what it would feel like to touch someone’s breasts. They must be so smooth …

He looked down. His penis was poking erect through his pajama fly. He slid his fingers down it, trembling. Then he quickly covered it. This was no time to get all horny.

He rushed to the VW, and ducked beside it. Peering over the hood, he saw that the windows of Mom’s bedroom were dark. He crept to the rear of the VW. Squatting beside it, he looked both ways. The road was clear, and he saw no activity at any of the nearby houses.

No ex

cuse to wait.

He dashed down the driveway to the rear of the other car and ducked behind its trunk. On hands and knees, he dug into the curbside debris. His fingers pushed through soggy leaves, twigs, something slippery that writhed away. And then he found a triangle of glass from a broken bottle.

Just the thing.

Gripping it firmly, he pressed the shard against the shiny surface of the trunk, and dragged it down. The sound, like fingernails scraping a blackboard, made him cringe. But it didn’t make him stop.

He cut a huge X into the top of the trunk. When he finished, he ran a finger along one of the furrows, and smiled.

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