“You wanna trade for it?’ Jacob asked. He didn’t have to say he meant the chemistry set. They both knew what he meant.
Gamma had tucked them in and turned out the lights. They had to keep their voices down so she wouldn’t know they were awake. Because if she heard them she’d have to come back up and raise Cain.
“What’ve you got to trade?”
“My cat is about to have kittens. Trade you for a kitten. You can have your pick of the litter.”
“I should be so lucky. My grandmother would never let me keep a cat.”
“Not even in the garage?”
“She wouldn’t even let me keep the ant farm in the garage. And it was all behind glass. Hey. Maybe I could pick out a kitten but it could live at your house.”
“Not a chance. My mom says every single one has to be gone in six weeks. I’m lucky I get to keep the mom cat. I had to cry.”
“What else have you got to trade?”
“A baseball bat. But it has a crack in it.”
“Can you hit a ball with it?”
“Yeah, but one of these times it’ll pop right in half. Maybe not soon, though.”
“OK,” Nat said. “Deal.”
And they shook on the trade.
4 January 1968
The Issue
Next time he saw Jacob, it was the Monday after New Year’s Day. The first day of the new semester of school.
Jacob walked the half-block to stand at the curb and wait for the school bus with Nat. As he often did, if there was enough time.
“The bat popped in half,” Nat said.
“Already? Oh. Well. I’ll give you back the chemistry set if you want.”
“No, that’s OK.”
They stood in silence for a minute or two, watching their breath puff out in great clouds and waiting for the bus as if it were a hangman’s noose or a guillotine.
Then Jacob said, “I asked my mother. And she said you really were left out in the woods.”
“I know,” Nat said. “My grandmother told me. The day after Christmas.”
“Oh,” Jacob said.
That seemed to settle the issue between them well enough, so that it would not need to be raised again.
20 March 1973
Where
When Nat got home from school, Gamma was standing next to a packed suitcase in the living room. Already twisting a knit scarf around her neck.
“Where are you going?” Nat asked.
“Your Uncle Mick is in the hospital. His appendix burst. I have to take the bus to Akron to sit with his kids.”
“Where will I be?” he asked, hoping she would judge him old enough to stay at home by himself.
“I made arrangements with Jacob’s mother. She’s making that homemade chicken noodle soup you like so much for dinner. Now run quick and grab your toothbrush and a pair of pajamas, and anything else you think you’ll need, and hurry over there right now. I have to go.”
Nat sighed, and trudged up the stairs to his room. He pulled his red pajamas out of the drawer, threw them on the bed, grabbed his toothbrush from the bathroom, threw it on top, then rolled up the whole mess, wedging it under his arm.
He liked Jacob’s house well enough, but the situation made him feel he was being treated like a child — at nearly thirteen years old.
Gamma stood shifting from foot to foot at the bottom of the stairs.
“Can you possibly move any slower? You know I have to go.”
“Why can’t I go? I like Uncle Mick.”
“Because you have school. And besides, you’re too young to get into the hospital to see Uncle Mick, anyway. You’d only get to see his kids. And you don’t particularly like his kids, if you recall. But that’s not the main thing. The main thing is you are not going to miss even one day of school. Not with your miserable grades. Now here’s a key to the house. I put it on a string so you won’t lose it. So when you need to come home to get more clothes or whatever you’ll be able to let yourself in.”
She hung it around his neck. Didn’t even hand it to him and let him slip it on himself. Nat felt like a five-year-old holding still to have his mittens pinned to his snowsuit. It was putting him in an increasingly foul mood.
“So, is Uncle Mick going to be OK?”
Gamma’s slapped look. A face full of horror. “Well, of course he is. How can you even ask such a question?”
How can I not ask it? Nat thought. How can you not ask such questions? But of course he kept those thoughts to himself.
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“Oh, shit. Where’s my cat?” Jacob asked.
“I don’t know. Downstairs, I think.”
They were in bed, on lights-out. So neither was sure if they should move or not. And they spoke quietly.
“I have to get her in my room with the door closed. Otherwise my mom will throw her outside for the night. Especially when Janet is here.”
“Who’s Janet?”
“Her girlfriend she yaks and gabs and gossips with for half the night.”
“I didn’t know there was somebody here.”
“I’m not sure if she’s here. I just know she’s coming.”
“I’ll go find the cat,” Nat said. Mostly because he liked the cat, and wanted an excuse to pick her up again. She always purred when he picked her up. He liked to hold her to his ear for a moment, listening to that soft motor.
“I can be quiet.”
He padded downstairs.
Sure enough, Jacob’s mom had a girlfriend over. He could hear them talking in the kitchen as he searched the living room. He was able to gather that Janet had a gentleman friend. And that she was furious with him.
“Jacob, is that you?” The screechy sound of Jacob’s mother’s angry voice.
He hadn’t been quiet enough.
“No, ma’am,” Nat said, sticking his head through the kitchen door. “It’s me. Nat.”
“Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I was looking for Buttons.”
“Well, you better find her, too. Because if I find her first, she’s going outside. Janet is allergic to cats.”
Nat wondered whether Janet’s allergies explained the box of tissues on the table between them. Or whether Janet had been crying. Maybe it was both.
“You’re Nat?” Janet asked. As if it made you very famous and distinguished to be Nat. As if Nat were a truly unusual and remarkable thing to be.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Janet turned to Jacob’s mother. “Is he—”
Jacob’s mother shot her down with a look. A disapproving look and a slight shake of her head. As if to say, don’t. As if to say, under no circumstances finish that sentence.
Silence.
“Am I what?” Nat asked. Rather bravely, he thought.
“Nothing, dear. Run find Buttons and then go back to bed.”
Nat backed out of the room. Walked very slowly to the bottom of the stairs, where he knew he would be shrouded in darkness.
There he sat. And listened.
“So, that’s the boy.”
“Yes. That’s him. Poor little bugger. I feel so sorry for him.”
“I don’t blame you. Can you imagine? Your own mother. Trying to murder you.”
“Well, it wasn’t murder. Exactly. Bad neglect, I suppose.”
“Are you kidding me? You must be kidding me! Bad neglect would be if she never changed his diapers. It was freezing cold out in those woods. It’s a miracle he didn’t die. Does he even know the whole story, do you think?”
“I don’t know what he knows. His grandmother forbids everyone to talk about it. Jacob says he told him once, and that Nat said he knew, and didn’t act like it was any big deal. Denial, maybe. Or maybe he was too young at the time to understand. Jacob says the kids at school sometimes make taunting remarks. And that four or five times Nat’s gone home to his grandma and demanded to know what they mean.”
“How does Jacob even know that? Do they discuss it?”
“I think those were just the times he was right there. So you can imagine how often it must happen if he’s overheard it four or five times in the six or seven years they’ve been friends.”
“What does his grandmother say?”
“She lies to him. Says the people who say such things are mistaken. Or that he misunderstood.”
“That’s wrong, I think.”
“Well, what would you do? If you had a boy his age who had such a horrible thing like that in his past, what would you do? Would you tell him a thing so awful?”
A long silence.
“Whew. I don’t know. I’m just glad I don’t have to know.”
“Yeah. Me, too. Now get back to what you were saying about Geoffrey.”
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