Six Bad Things_ A Novel - Charlie Huston [49]
—See, now they’re both in here.
He turns to me.
—We try to keep them out at meals, but your mom.
—Now don’t start that, you feed them from the table all the time.
—I? I feed them?
As he says this, he’s sneaking a scrap of bolognese from his plate and slipping it to Big Dog. Mom slaps his shoulder.
—See, see, there, now you have to give some to both of them.
—See what? I didn’t do anything.
And he tosses a bit of meat to Little Dog. Mom throws her hands up in the air.
—You, you encourage them and.
Dad’s laughing now.
—I don’t encourage anything, you’re seeing things. See, Hank, your mom is seeing things.
He leans over and kisses her on the cheek. She shoves him away.
—Pest.
—You like it.
—I do not.
He leans over to me and stage whispers.
—She likes it.
I shove my linguine around the plate and think about Dylan Lane threatening these people.
—But no one else asks about me?
Mom stops playing with the dogs and goes back to her dinner. Dad sets his fork down.
—We don’t talk about you, Hank. We don’t talk about you to anyone. We don’t talk about you with each other anymore. We had to stop.
He picks up his fork and takes a bite and chews it hard. Mom looks up at me, tears floating in her eyes.
—It hurt too much, Henry. We. And there was nothing to talk about. We didn’t know anything.
I smile at her, at my dad.
—It’s OK, I understand.
We all eat for a minute. Mom wipes some sauce from her lips.
—Wade calls sometimes.
—Wade?
—Your friend from high school.
—I know. Last I heard he was in San Jose.
—Yes, he moved there, and then a few years ago. You remember his mom died so young?
—Yeah.
—Well, his father passed a few years ago and Wade moved back here with his family. They’re living in his old house.
—Right around the block?
—Uh-huh. And he was so sweet right after all the trouble. He came over, and I hadn’t seen him since I don’t know when, and he’s such a grown-up I didn’t recognize him. And then we didn’t hear from him for awhile and then I ran into him at the market and he started stopping by every now and then to see how we are, if we need anything, if we’ve heard anything.
Wade, my old housebreaking partner, the guy who liked to go into houses where people were still at home and awake. He always was a sneaky fucker.
BIG DOG and Little Dog sleep upstairs with Mom and Dad and, both being half-deaf and half-senile, they don’t raise a fuss as I slip out the back door. I walk over to the fence and boost myself over into the yard behind ours. I edge along the fence until I get to the next fence down, and boost over again. If I’m remembering this right, it should be the third house down after this one. I hop another fence.
Dog.
It’s a big fucker. It runs up to me out of the darkness, skids to a stop a foot away, and starts barking like hell. I sprint to the next fence; halfway there I get clotheslined by a clothesline. Who has a clothesline anymore? I scramble to my feet, the dog barking at my heels, run to the fence, and vault over into the next yard.
Dog.
It’s a terrier. The first dog is still on the other side of the fence going apeshit. All the other dogs on the block are starting to join in. The terrier yaps at me as I make for the next fence, then it leaps forward, bites at my ankles, and gets a mouthful of my pants cuff. I hop across the yard, trying to shake it loose, but the little ratter has a good grip and isn’t letting go. I make it to the fence and a light pops on inside the house. I cock my afflicted leg back, kick out with all my might, and hear the cuff tear. The terrier flies off and I jump the fence before he can scramble back at me.
I fall into some bushes. I can hear the terrier raising hell and bouncing off the fence as he tries to get through it to kill me. The porch light comes on in the terrier’s yard. I hear a sliding glass door open and then a woman’s voice.
—Digby! Digby, shut up. Shut up! Come here and shut up.
And so on. I lie in the dirt while she collects Digby and takes him inside, and then wait while the other