The Tenth Justice - Brad Meltzer [78]
Carrying his packed-to-capacity nylon bag, Ben followed Lisa and his mother into the house. When they reached the living room, Mrs. Addison called out, “Michael! They’re here!” From out of the kitchen, Ben’s father appeared, dressed in jeans and a beat-up old Michigan T-shirt.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Addison. I’m Lisa.”
Taking Lisa’s hand, he said, “Please, call me Michael. Mr. Addison’s my dumpy old dad.”
His hair was longer than Lisa had expected. It must be the old-hippie thing, she thought.
“Why don’t you bring Lisa’s bags upstairs,” Ben’s mother said to Ben. “I wasn’t sure how you two wanted to do the sleeping arrangements, so…”
“Mom, we’re not even dating,” Ben said.
“Well, excuse me, Mr. Bachelor,” Ben’s mother said. She turned to Lisa and added, “He says you two aren’t dating, but he hasn’t brought home a woman since Lindsay—what was her name?”
“Lindsay Lucas,” Ben and Lisa said together.
Smiling, Ben’s mother said, “I see you’ve already had this discussion.”
“I refuse to explain,” Ben said. Grabbing Lisa’s bag, he walked toward the stairs. “I’ll be right back.” Walking up to his old room, Ben inhaled the smells of his childhood. It felt good and familiar and safe to be back, he decided. As with every other visit home, he marveled at the illusion that everything around him had gotten smaller—from his old bed, to his old desk, to the Albert Einstein poster on his wall. After a quick trip to the bathroom, he put Lisa’s bags in the guest room and then walked down to the kitchen.
“Awwwww,” he heard Lisa say as he entered the room. “You were so cute!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ben said. “Baby pictures already? What’d it take, two whole minutes? That’s a new record for you, Mom.”
“Leave her alone,” Lisa said, still engrossed in the photos.
“You should see some of the home movies we have,” Ben’s father added.
“Don’t even think of it, Dad,” Ben warned. “Home movies have at least a one-night waiting period.”
“So tell me more about Ben as a little kid,” Lisa said.
“Tell her about the time I lit Jimmy Eisenberg on fire.”
“Oh, shush,” Ben’s mother said. Turning back to Lisa, she continued, “He was so bright. He learned to read when he was two. And by the time he was four, he used to read Michael’s articles.”
“He found a spelling mistake in one of my final drafts,” Ben’s father said proudly. “Tell Lisa about the time you found him up on the roof.”
“Now that’s a story,” Ben’s mother said. “When Ben was five, it was late one night, and I couldn’t find him. I was frantic—”
“Mom, you were frantic?” Ben asked.
“I was frantic, looking everywhere for him. I was pulling my hair out. Suddenly, I hear this sound on the roof. Let me tell you, my heart dropped. I ran up through the attic and opened the door to the roof, and there’s Benjamin, wearing his little pajamas and holding a rope in his hand. So I scream, ‘Benjamin, what the hell do you think you’re doing out here?’ And he says to me, ‘Mommy, I was just trying to lasso the moon.’”
“Awwwwww,” Lisa said. “Ever the little over-achiever.”
“Oh, well—show’s over,” Ben said, leaving the kitchen. “Good night.”
“Benjamin, come back here,” Ben’s mother said.
Scanning through the pictures, Lisa looked up and asked, “Is this little guy your brother?”
“Yeah,” Ben said with a smile. He then looked over at both his mother and father.
Confused, Lisa was silent.
“That’s Daniel. He passed away when he was twelve,” Ben’s father said. “He had leukemia.”
“I’m sorry,” Lisa said. “I didn’t know.”
“And now you do,” Ben said, trying to make Lisa feel comfortable. Standing behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”
“He was a terrific young man,” Ben’s mother said proudly. “You would’ve really gotten along.”
“Thanks,” Lisa