Brian rolled his eyes and let out a groan that he’d been unable to stifle. He sat still for a moment hoping nobody had heard, and then began formulating rhetorical questions. I’m a technocrat, Sarah. I work for companies that sell goods and services to the government. They’re regulated and watched. How could you send me a letter like this at my office? And what about you, Sarah, you overconfident, presumptuous moron? You’ve spent the past two years trying to become a lawyer. Conspiring to hide fugitives is a felony. Even if this guy really were in the witness protection program, he would have to be a criminal to know anything about criminals. How’s that career going to work out for you now?
He had fumed and fretted for at least an hour and then packed up some work and left the office with everyone else, but he didn’t go home. He drove his Audi all over Irvine and Costa Mesa and the Palos Verdes peninsula for about three hours before he realized he was hungry and stopped for a hamburger. Now he was home, having solved nothing and knowing nothing new except that his mother had lost her mind.
As he walked up to his dark apartment building he saw two people, a couple, walking along the sidewalk from the visitors’ parking area as though they wanted to intercept him. Here they are, he thought, two FBI agents coming to interview me about my crazy mother. Maybe he could get a job running the IT section of a clothing company or a grocery chain. He stared at the two.
They walked under a streetlamp, and he recognized the walk, the shape of the shorter one.
Then he heard the voice. “Brian!”
His mother. No matter where he might have been—in a blizzard in Antarctica or the bottom of the ocean—that voice would have entered his brain and traveled the thousands of neural pathways it had built early in his life. He walked more quickly to avoid having an illegal conversation in public under a streetlamp, swiveling his head to be sure there were no witnesses nearby.
He beat them to the door and said, “Wait a second while I get this open.” He pushed the door inward and stepped aside to get them off the steps, and then shut the door behind them. He hurried to his apartment door and let them in.
He locked the door and said, “Sarah let me know you might be coming.”
His mother hugged him. He tolerated it, but he couldn’t bring himself to wrap his arms around her as though he approved of her being here.
She released him. “This is Peter. He’s my—what? Boyfriend seems to still be the only word we have.”
Hank Dixon stepped forward and held out his hand to shake Brian’s and Brian gave the hand a perfunctory pump and released it. Hank didn’t react to the sudden reversion to the name that had been blown, but it told him there must be something to worry about. He watched Brian scurry to the front windows to tug on the strings to be sure the blinds were closed as tightly as possible. Then he folded his arms in front of him.
Hank said, “Well, I’m sure you two would like to talk, so I’ll leave you alone. I’ll be in the car.” He went out the door and closed it.
Brian said, “Sarah seemed to think you were afraid you might be followed.”
“That’s true,” said his mother. “It’s all a problem that goes back a lot of years. The police will take care of it. But for now at least, please don’t say anything to anyone about us.”
Brian’s mind was slapped backward by the enormity of the gap between his mother’s understanding of this situation and his own. He actually gave an incredulous chuckle. “Oh, I can assure you your secrets are safe. I’ll never say a word about this to anyone.”
Brian went to lift one of the blinds and watched the man walking toward his car. Brian felt a bit better. He said to his mother: “What exactly is your relationship with this guy?”
“I know you’ve had girlfriends, Brian. What was your relationship with them? I hope it was improper.”
“I’m not the one who’s the problem here,” he said.
“Neither am I,” she said. “I didn’t come to ask you for help or approval. I just dropped by for a brief visit.”
“For what purpose?”
“Purpose? You and I haven’t seen much of each other in the past two or three years. I wanted to give you a hug and tell you that your mother loves you before we disappear into the night.” She saw that he wasn’t smiling. “I can see I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry. I know you like stability and certainty.”
“If you knew that, then it might have been nice if you and Dad had seen fit to stay together, or at least keep up some appearance that we were a family.”
“When your father replaced me with a newer model a few years ago, I gave him the chance to change his mind. He didn’t, so blame him. I met this guy, as you call him, six months ago. You’re not a child. You’re twenty-six. And I’ve been single for years.”
“Right,” said Brian. “But if you don’t think having people like this around puts your adult children at risk, then you’re mistaken. I have a security clearance, at least until they find out you’re hanging around with a man who doesn’t feel the police are adequate to protect him. Sarah, who’s just wasted two years learning to become a lawyer, may feel she has less to lose.”