Eleven

Rick arrived early on Thursday, carrying a bouquet of flowers. “I thought these would look nice on the table.”

I stared at the multicolored mixture, too stunned to even react for a moment. “Wow. Thanks.” Flowers? From Rick? Even though they were just to make the place look nice for Kurt, I knew the gesture was way out of his comfort zone, and I appreciated them all the more for it. He really was going to try. Once I finally recovered my senses enough to remove the vase from his hands, I went to arrange it on the table, removing the flowers I’d already set there. I placed them on the coffee table in the living room.

“I guess I should have told you I was bringing those, huh? It would have saved you some money and effort.”

I flipped my hand dismissively. “A girl can never have too many flowers.”

He turned and walked toward the window. “I’m terrified, Alisa. I want this to be for real.”

I nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. We waited then, mostly in silence. It wasn’t hostile, or even awkward. I think we were both simply too nervous to make small talk.

When I saw the rusted junker pull into my driveway, a joy pulsed through my veins like I can’t begin to describe. I thought of all the times I’d heard the story of the prodigal son, in Sunday school as a kid, then in sermons as I’d gotten older. Looking back, I realized that even as an adult I’d always focused on the son and his journey back, the courage it took to return home defeated. Only in this exact moment did I fully understand the depth of the father’s love and pain as he stood watching down the road day after day. I thought of the part where he saw his son coming when he was still far off, and as I looked at the tired red car in my driveway, I understood every bit of his elation at the first glimpse of his son. Tonight, I was certain part of that ancient father’s spirit must be with me. The only thing missing here was the fatted calf, but for Kurt, beef stroganoff was probably even better.

My fingers pressed against the handle, prepared to fling the door open, when I felt Rick’s hand on mine. “We have to be responsible, Alisa. Do not, under any circumstances, give him money.”

His words sucked the joy right out of me. “Why would you say something like that? Our son is back. He’s turned his life around. Why would you want to belittle him by making the comment you just made?” I took care to keep my voice soft, for fear that it might carry to the driveway, but everything inside me wanted to scream.

“I know my son. That’s how I can say it.” His eyes had dulled to that look I’d grown so accustomed to. What had happened to the man I used to know, the same man who had been standing in this living room just moments ago? The one who even dared to hope a little? At that moment, I began to realize we might not be able make it through the evening without Kurt realizing we were separated.

I jerked my hand off the handle and Rick took the hint.

“At least give him a chance.”

“I will give him a chance. I’m just not going to give him any money, and I don’t want you to give him any, either.”

There were plenty of reasons from Kurt’s past that made this a valid concern, I knew it. But I was willing to put all those bad things behind us and move toward a new future with the son who had returned to us. I jerked the door open and ran to meet him, never looking back at the man who used to be my husband. “Kurt, oh, sweetie.” I threw my arms around him and he hugged me tighter than he’d ever hugged me in his whole life. He didn’t let go.

“Oh, Mom, it’s so good to see you.” He continued to hold me. “I’m so sorry, so sorry.”

I held on for as long as I could, before emotion forced me to pull away. The sting of tears was prickling my eyes, and I would not ruin this moment by crying. I didn’t want to be a weak female. I wanted to be his strong mother who was here for him and would support him no matter what happened. His hair was closely shorn, his face a bit pale, his body painfully thin. The last four years of hard living made him look older than his twenty-one years, but I had no doubt that he would reclaim his former charm after continuing with a sober life. I intended to do all I could to assist him with that.

“Well, look who we have here.” Rick’s voice was firm but not unfriendly. He stuck out his hand and Kurt shook it. It was beyond me how men could shake hands at a time like this, even if they were only a step away from estranged. “Good to see you, Kurt.”

Kurt nodded. “Good to see you, too, Dad.” I wondered if they were both remembering the last time they were together. If Kurt was picturing the hard set of his father’s face as he heard he was no longer welcome in this house. If Rick was picturing the pain that dulled Kurt’s eyes in spite of the defiant expression. If either remembered Kurt’s final words that I sometimes still heard during the darkest of my dreams: “I’d rather die than ever come back here.”

The scene was still so real and vivid to me, it could make me physically ill if I thought about it for too long. After today, I planned to write it off as simply a bad dream that never really happened. My reality was starting right here, in this very moment.

“Where’s Short Stuff?” Kurt looked toward the house as if expecting Caroline to come running out at any moment.

“She’s at softball practice. Her friend Jenny’s dad will drop her off at the house in about twenty minutes.” I didn’t tell him how Caroline had cried when she found out she wouldn’t be here to greet him. I also didn’t tell him that Rick had insisted Caroline not be here in the beginning, until we “check this whole thing out.”

Kurt’s eyes looked tired, empty almost, as if the spirit had been sucked right out of him. An uneasy sensation gnawed at me as we turned toward the house. What if he turned and ran? Well, I would not let that happen. As we walked through the front door, I linked my arms through his and squeezed tight. I planned to clamp down for dear life if he tried to so much as slow down. It was hard enough to know that he would be leaving here in a few hours to go live with my sister. Only the knowledge that she loved him almost as much as I did made that fact bearable.

Kurt took a step inside the door, then stopped. He looked all around as if seeing his childhood home for the first time, nodded occasionally, and took a few deep breaths. “I’d forgotten how much I missed this place.”

I started to say something along the lines of “It hasn’t been the same without you,” but I didn’t want to say anything that he might take as an accusation. Instead, I said the only thing I could think of. “Let’s sit in the living room for a little while. I’ll bring in some chips and guacamole, and we can spend a few minutes relaxing before dinner.”

I heard the sound of a car in the driveway and realized Caroline must have finished practice a little early today. She would be thrilled about that since it would mean more time with Kurt. I walked to the front door and opened it, preparing to call out a thanks to Jenny’s father and an offer to pick the girls up from practice next week. Only that’s not what happened.

When I saw the black car sitting in my driveway, I gagged on my revulsion. I looked at Rick, who sat in the living room with his son, not one trace of guilt on his face. How could he do that? I knew very well he had set this up. This was why he insisted Caroline go to softball practice. He didn’t want her to be here when the police arrived to question her brother.

“Who’s here?” Kurt asked.

I turned my gaze from Rick to Kurt, trying to keep my voice and expression calm, although I was nothing even close to it. “It’s a detective. He’s been wanting to talk to you for a while.”

“Talk to me?” His voice sounded so surprised. So innocent. He looked at his father and nodded, shoulders back. “I guess I better talk to him then.” He walked to the front door and met Detective Thompson on the front porch. He extended his hand as if he were applying for a job rather than talking to a detective. “I’m Kurt Stewart. I understand you’d like to talk to me.”

Detective Thompson nodded toward me. “I know you’re right in the middle of a reunion, so if I could ask a couple of quick questions, that would be great.”

Kurt nodded. “Fire away.”

“Did you know Rudy Prince?”

Kurt looked at me for a split second before he nodded. “Yeah, I know him.”

I noticed the way he used the present tense instead of the past. I hoped that Detective Thompson noticed, too. Kurt obviously didn’t even know Rudy Prince was dead, much less have played any part in it.

“Your friend Rudy was beaten to death a while back. We’re talking to everyone who was associated with the guy.”

“He was no friend of mine, and I didn’t associate with him. I bought drugs from him. In fact, I’m pretty sure I still owe him some money.” His voice was as flat as the look in his eyes. No emotion, no energy. I hoped it was the strain of rehab, not the permanent work of drugs, that had removed the spark from him.

“A little over a thousand dollars, according to his records.”

“Yeah, well, is that why you’re here—to collect the money? Do I need to pay that to his next of kin now?”

Detective Thompson seemed surprised by the sarcasm. “I’d say you’re a lucky man in the debt department. Let’s see how well you do in the truth-telling department. I need the name of the rehab facility where you’ve been, and I need to know the date you entered.”

“I stayed at Serenity by the Sea, and I have no idea what date I entered. It was a couple of months ago. I think I went in on a Saturday, but I couldn’t say for sure. That time is mostly a fog I’d rather not look back through.”

Detective Thompson smiled amiably. “Yeah, I’m sure I understand that. Listen, I don’t want to hold up your dinner any longer. I just need an address and a phone number where I can reach you after I check out a few things.”

Kurt gave him my sister’s address and phone number. “I’m not sure what I can do to help you, but feel free to give me a call.” He said it with such conviction, such innocence, I was sure that Detective Thompson now realized he’d wasted his time in coming here.

We walked back into the house, and I glared at Rick, wishing we were alone right now so I could tell him exactly what I thought about his little stunt. He didn’t look at me, and instead sat staring at the carpet. I almost thought I saw a shimmer of liquid in his eyes. Good. Surely now even he saw how wrong he’d been. I turned my attention back to Kurt, determined to salvage this evening. “What would you like to drink?”

Kurt looked at me and his mouth dropped open. Then just as quickly he smiled and shook his head. “Thought you were offering me a martini there for a second, then I realized who it was doing the offering. Oh, Mom, it’s been too long.” He put his arm around my shoulders and grinned, and as he did I thought I saw a brief spark of his old self. “Do you have any cream soda?”

“It just so happens that I do.” Our entire pantry was stocked with every single thing I could remember Kurt ever liking, and cream soda had been his favorite since childhood. It would take weeks for us to eat through the leftovers, but I didn’t care. My son had come home.

One cream soda later, just as we seemed to be running out of safe topics to talk about, I heard a car pull into the driveway. This time I went to the door with a bit of trepidation. I reached for the handle, but the door burst open before I could touch it, nearly knocking me down.

“Kurt, Kurt!” Before I even realized what was happening, Caroline had crossed the room and flung herself into Kurt’s lap.

I rubbed my shoulder, took a step out onto the porch, and waved at the retreating car. “I’ll pick up Jenny after next practice.”

“No problem.” Her father waved out the driver’s side window as he pulled off.

I walked back into the living room to find Caroline with her arms wrapped around Kurt’s neck, murmuring, “I missed you, I missed you,” over and over again. Oh, how I envied a child’s lack of restraint right now.

Kurt put his arms around her and squeezed, his eyes closed. “I missed you, too, Short Stuff. I’ve missed you bunches.”

He kissed the top of her head. “So, what have you been up to? Have you gotten married or engaged or anything while I’ve been gone?” His eyes began to twinkle and his voice had regained some its former energy.

“Gross! I’m only ten.”

“Ten? Ten? You’re kidding me. You look so grown-up I thought you must surely be at least fifteen or sixteen.”

She preened with satisfaction at the comment, then leaned back and took his face between her hands. “I’m eleven years younger than you. Remember?”

“No way. That would make me an old man. Like thirty-two or something.”

“Twenty-one. Eleven plus ten is twenty-one.”

“That’s right.” He rocked her side to side and squeezed her. “I was just making sure you’re keeping up with math.”

I looked toward Rick, who was watching the exchange. He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and turned toward me. He looked at me evenly for a few seconds, gave the briefest of nods, then looked toward the floor. I knew that he was struggling not to break down, just like I was.

Caroline put her head on Kurt’s shoulder. “Please don’t use that word in my presence again.”

“What word?”

“M-a-t-h,” she spelled it out for him.

“Oh sorry, didn’t mean to offend.”

“You’re forgiven. This time.”

With every second of the exchange, more and more of the son I had known emerged from this shell of a broken man. I realized then that it would happen. It might take time, but Kurt was returning to me. To us. Every lost bit of him.