Woot! I got a reviewer, which is more than I expected because, let's face it, it's not the largest of categories. So thank you Red Rogue! And here's the new chapter!
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own 'em.
--------------------------------------------------
Reid came down a few minutes later, dressed in the gray sweatpants and t-shirt I had left him. Even though they were the smallest I had, they were still quite loose on him, and he had obviously taken the liberty of hunting around my room, because he was pulling on one of my sweatshirts. I forgot he got cold easily.
He sat at the table, and I brought over a plate of biscotti's and shortbread cookies along with the two mugs. He had chosen the seat next to the foot of the table, obviously in hopes that I would sit on the opposite end, but I pulled out the chair at the end of the table. It was the reason I had let him sit first; I didn't want him avoiding me.
He stared at his coffee a bit and then spoke, actually meeting my eyes.
"My neighbor lives down the lane from my house. She noticed that my mother had been gone for awhile, so she called the police and said that I was an unsupervised minor. The police tried contacting my mother, but they couldn't reach her. They made me find a place to stay tonight. I knew that they wouldn't want me at Joe's, so I pretended to call here and then came over."
It couldn't be that simple. I knew it wouldn't be, else he wouldn't have struggled so hard, so I merely picked up a shortbread cookie and bit into it, not saying anything but keeping my eyes on his face.
Reid sighed in surrender. "It's not the first time this has happened," he elaborated, "and because of the length of her absence, they may get the social workers involved."
"Social workers?" I asked, incredulous. I had always assumed that they were only called in for cases such as abuse or neglect. "How long as she been gone?" I demanded.
Reid shifted. "Three weeks." He was lying.
"That's what you told the cops, isn't it?" I asked.
"Yeah."
It was odd, talking to Reid like this. The only other conversations I ever had with him were usually centered around me yelling at him for using, him making crude comments about drugs, women, or the appearance of other people, or the rare question on homework.
"How long has she been gone?" I asked.
"It's none of your business," he snapped.
Ah, there was the old Reid. I had spoken too soon.
"Reid, how long? Let me remind you that I will keep you in this house until I get satisfactory answers, so, one more time: how long has your mother been gone?"
Reid's shoulders slumped, almost in defeat.
"Four months."
It took a moment for it to sink in and then I could only stare in shock. Four months?
"When did she leave?" I asked, wondering how I had missed this.
"Fifteenth of July."
"She's been gone since July?"
Reid shrugged. "She's been gone before," he said.
"For longer than four months?"
Reid flushed, looking down. I knew that was a yes.
"How long?" I asked.
"She's been gone five before," he said.
"When?"
"Winter and Spring last year," said Reid.
"Any other times?" I asked.
"What are you?" asked Reid. "My fucking social worker?"
"No, but I'll tell the social worker if you aren't straight with me."
"Fuck you, Danvers!" Reid shouted, jumping to his feet. "Do you realize what's going to happen here? I'm seventeen! I will be for a while yet and if they suddenly find out that my mother's been playing hooky and bringing home strange men, they'll take me away and send me to my step-dad!"
I remembered his step-dad. When we were thirteen, Reid's mom remarried to a man named Philip. It turns out that the man was really just trying to get close to the Ipswich power and while the four of us managed to stop him, we couldn't report him to the police. Luckily, Reid's mom got sick of the man who was fond of slapping her, and they divorced.
"They wouldn't," I said. "I mean, he hit your mom, he's abusive."
"She never told the court that," said Reid. "And if I tell them, they'll just think that I'm making things up to stay in a house where I can do whatever I want."
I was silent; he had a point.
"Fuck this," Reid muttered. "Joe's probably here by now. I'm going to catch my ride."
I suddenly realized how very put together Reid's plan was. Normally, I wouldn't want him to hang around for longer than was necessary, so I would let him walk outside. When he didn't return, I would assume that his ride had come, when in all actuality, he would be walking. I would never suspect him because walking in the rain for eight miles was just a thing that my image of Reid Garwin didn't do.
"Sit down, Reid," I said. "You're not walking to Joe's house."
"I know I'm not. He's giving me a ride." His voice dripped with falsehood.
I leveled a look at him. "Don't lie to me, Reid. You're terrible at it. Joe was never at Nicky's; he was never giving you a ride."
A flush. "And what makes you think you know that?"
"He called and said he couldn't find a car, and that he was sorry you would have to walk, but you've done it before, so it's no big deal."
A deeper flush.
"You're staying here tonight, I've already told Joe, so sit down."
He did, crossing his left arm over his stomach and resting his right elbow on that arm, his right hand coming up to cover his lips. It was a typical Reid response whenever he came up against something he wasn't expecting, didn't understand, or was merely surprising. I don't think he even realized he did it.
I thought for a bit before speaking.
"What are the odds that the social workers will become involved?"
"If you don't say anything," said Reid, giving me a dark look, "then they won't get involved what-so-ever. They have more important things to deal with than a seventeen year old from a wealthy family. They've got abusive parents and what not to lock up. I just go down, tell them that my mom had an emergency and called me a few nights ago to say that she'll be home soon. Then, they let me go."
"It sounds like you've done this before," I said.
Reid shrugged. "Once or twice," he said, unconcerned. He sipped at his coffee and he seemed to relax at taste of the hot liquid.
"So, what?" I asked. "You just stay at your house?"
"Yeah," said Reid, shrugging again. "The maid comes once a week to clean up and the yard is taken care of. All I have to do is laundry and cook and do the dishes. I could just leave them out for Celia to clean, but the mess bugs me."
"When is your mom going to be home?"
"Don't know. She didn't say."
"Well, where did she go?"
"France, maybe? Not really sure."
"You're not sure."
"Not exactly."
"Does she ever tell you where she's going?"
"Most of the time, when she just leaves for a month or so, she'll just be gone before I wake up or before I come home from school. She used to leave a number when I was younger if she was going to be gone longer than usual, but she stopped a few years back."
"Mm-hmm," I said, frowning at that. What sort of mother just leaves her kid at home without any warning? "Does she leave you at home a lot?"
"She's away more than she is at home. When I was younger, she would hire a sitter for different weeks, so no one would know how long she was gone. This one time, she actually had the sitters rotate, because she couldn't find any new ones. I think the sitters suspected something, but they didn't say anything because they got paid good money and got to stay at the house for a week. When I was ten, she stopped hiring babysitters because she was afraid they would steal things. She would give me a bunch of cash and told the maid to make sure I wasn't getting into trouble. She was gone three months straight that time, then she came back for a week or so, and then back to Venice."
"Venice?"
"She's usually in Europe. That or the Caribbean."
I didn't know how to respond to that. Hey, man, sorry to hear that your mom is never home and just runs off like a teenager. That must suck, always being in the charge of babysitters. I hope they at least let you stay up past your bedtime. I changed the subject.
"Why were you out so late? Did the police have to question you?"
"Nah, that was my fault. I was at Nicky's until twelve and found the cops camped out at my house waiting for me to arrive."
"I'm sure that gave them a real good impression of you."
A flash of indignation in the blue eyes and I realized how my words had sounded.
"I didn't mean it like that," I said quickly.
My hasty retrace seemed to mollify him, but Reid had always been one who could go from completely happy to enraged to happy again at the blink of an eye. It was no wonder now why he seemed to be so unstable. With his mother randomly checking out like that for who knows how long, his mood swings were no doubt a reflection of his erratic home life.
"Well, stay here for tonight," I said. "The guest room is always ready and then I'll take you to the station in the morning."
"You serious?" asked Reid.
"Yeah, sure," I said. "I'm doing nothing, might as well make sure that you get this settled out."
I sounded off-hand. Somehow letting Reid know that I was concerned for him would feel like losing, would give him the upper hand, and I couldn't let that happen.
"Cool," said Reid, also trying to play it down. I could tell, however, by the lighter color of his eyes that he was pleasantly surprised.
"Alright, bed," I said, drinking my tea and then standing. "We've got an early day tomorrow."
"I'm going to stay up a bit," said Reid. "Not tired yet."
"If I have to wake you up tomorrow, you can kiss your ride good-bye."
"I'll be up," said Reid.
I nodded and left him sitting at the table, clad in my too-big clothes, and I felt a strange tug in my heart and I wondered vaguely if this was how an older brother would feel.
---------------------------------------------------------
Hey! Like it? Love it? Leave a review! Loathe it? Hate it? Tell me what to do.