FOUR
Maybe he was just unused to sleeping in a building without a few thousand people. The bedroom was definitely nice enough-it was Kyle's, and he knew it like his own front yard. Shawn had been pleasantly surprised at being allowed to sleep in it. At first his uncle had cleared his throat, looked around, and offered to make up the couch for his nephew.
Shawn had shrugged. "Whatever, Uncle Tommy. I could sleep on the floor."
He was that tired. And, unbeknowst to him, he looked it. "Where's Aunt Linda? I'm not going to bother her or anything?"
Tom's reply had been short. "No."
"Okay." Shawn's face softened at the look in his uncle's eyes."Don't worry about it. Things have a way of working out."
"Ya. Just a long day at work." Tom started toward the bathroom, then hesitated in the hall. Maybe he should get the kid a couple more blankets. But when he looked around the corner, smooth doorframe under his fingers, Shawn had turned away. Toward the colorful pictures adorning every space along the walls. He reached toward a snapshot of his mom-Tom groaned inwardly. His long lost nephew was studying the latest Gifford Family photo.
Joe hugging Susan, Colin at her side. Danny was included in the embrace, Joe's free hand upon his shoulder. Susan looked so happy in that picture. Almost a perfect family. Colin-well, Tom had always marveled at the resemblance between his sister's firstborn and her adopted son. Emotionally, Shawn had been replaced. But it was different, now that he was back. 4400 or not. Susan had broken into tears when Tom assured her Shawn was really alive.
How to explain to Shawn? Tom stepped forward, the words on his lips. But what was there to say? Shawn was, after all, sleeping in his uncle's house, on a living room sofa. His nephew's slender finger traced the portrait. Lifting it down, wiping the dusty glass on his sleeve. Tom hastily made good his retreat, knowing his presence wouldn't be welcome. Or, too uncomfortable to deal with it. What had he always promised himself? If-when-Kyle woke up, he'd never brush him off again. Remember to be there for his son, not caught up in a world of rough and ready, forgetting the more sensitive side of things.
Tom beat his sink in frustration. Susan had always said Shawn was more like him than his own child. That was why they never hit it off. It had been easier to talk to Danny. "Hi, Uncle Tommy. Wha'd ya bring me? Shoot any bad people today?"...
His nephew had slung himself upon the couch, barely remembering to remove his shoes. He hadn't bothered with the blanket, stuffing it under his head for support. Shawn's eyes were half closed when Tom returned, squeezing the life out of a pillow.
"Here. Forgot this."
"Thanks." Shawn didn't bother to fully wake, burying his head in the fat whiteness. It smelled familiar, Aunt Linda's laundry soap. The recollection almost made him smile.
"Comfortable? If you're not-"
"No, Uncle Tommy. I'm good." Sleepily.
"Are you sure?"
"Ya. This is great." Mumble.
"Your mom really can't wait to see you. She just wants everything to be perfect, now that you're back. So give it a few days here."
Shawn nodded. "Thanks, Uncle Tommy."
Stubborn, pig headed kid. Always ready to put on an act. Tom was secretly grateful, he hadn't quite relished the prospect of a heart to heart. Diana was better at that.
"Shawn-"
"Hm-m?"
"Why don't you take Kyle's room."
That brought the wide, dark eyes open. Shawn frowned. "Are you sure?"
"That couch never was any good for sleeping."
"It'll do fine. I appreciate you letting me stay here."
Tom nodded. His nephew looked like he was about to fall on his face. "I'll see you tomorrow. Just-"
"I'll leave everything exactly as it is." Shawn gave his uncle an understanding glance. "I'm waiting for him to come back, too."
X
In the patterned moonlight,things looked different. Strange, and yet somehow the same. Shawn picked his way through the litter of his cousin's belongings, reaching out to examine a hockey stick. Remembering. They'd nearly beaten each other's brains out with that thing. And the scattered books. One of them was still face down, it's pages opened to where Kyle had left off. Shawn almost righted it, then stopped himself in time. The Baldwin's had a life in here that was still the same... as the last day they'd heard their son's voice. "I'm heading out with Shawn." Something like that.
They'd grabbed the beers, concealed in a paper sack. Down to the water, to watch the moon rise and the waves shimmer with stars.
It had been chilly.
Shawn hugged his tee shirt closer, remembering once more the caress of the damp air on his skin. Mocking laughter.
"We were just sitting there, having a few beers-" he spoke the words aloud, as if the saying might relieve the ache. Guilty ache of not knowingwhat happened next.
I can't remember.
He'd tried so hard, his head had pounded for hours afterward. That was when Uncle Tommy had told him.
The first person he'd met from home.
Well, Uncle Tommy seemed changed.Shawn was grateful, and hoped it would stay that way. Someone needed to look at him like he belonged. He mattered. Someone cared. It would take that much to keep him from running.
To what he didn't know.
Shawn sighed. It was 2 a.m.
"What am I doing?"
X
Tom listened to the rhythmic creaking of the floorboards. The kid had better get some sleep, he looked like crap. And Baldwin didn't plan on babysitting a sickrelative tomorrow.
He couldn't get to bed. Maybe it was the sounds of someone stirring in that room that had lay so still, so Kyle-for the past three years. Tom almost imagined his son was above him, cramming for some paper. The only thing missing was the faint thump thump of the bass, speakers muffled bythe floorboards.
Tom wished music would come throbbing downstairs, and he could yell impatiently to turn it down. Go to bed.
But it remained silent, save the gentle sound of footsteps.