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Fit to the Crime (3)
Sharon tried not to compare her children to one another. Even before Rusty had come into her life with his very specific set of needs, she'd had Emily and Ricky, who were two vastly different people in disposition and temperament. Sometimes, though, she found she couldn't help it. There were situations which elicited similar responses from them.
Earning her forgiveness was one.
There was a certain amount of good behavior she'd come to expect after she'd thoroughly explained to her children why they were wrong. Emily had once made her breakfast every morning for three weeks in a misguided attempt to win back car privileges after she lost them for being caught driving without a seatbelt. Sharon had held onto them for another two months until Emily matured enough to discuss the issue without stomping her feet.
Ricky was less stubborn than Emily. He was the sort of child who teared up the instant she raised her voice. His worst transgression as a teenager had been the time he'd been caught behind St. Joseph's with a group of friends and a joint. He hadn't been the one holding it, and to this day he swore he hadn't tried it. He hadn't made it through his first week of grounding. Three days later, he'd come to her, near tears, afraid that he was on the path to becoming his father. Sharon, who had been very careful not to insinuate exactly that in the lecture she'd delivered, had sat him down for another, calmer talk about making responsible choices. He'd done better after that.
For someone who'd been intent on trying her patience in every way possible, Rusty had turned out to be more like Ricky. He'd changed, as he'd learned to fight with her without lashing out in a blind emotional panic, but he always felt her disappointment keenly.
She wasn't sure that she'd ever been this disappointed with him before, or this angry.
It took her a day to realize what that meant to Rusty.
There were certain things she knew to expect. He was like Emily in that he always made a point of doing the chores where she could see him, and, like her, he always did them silently, sending remorseful looks her way every once in awhile. The wounded puppy expression was so similar, Sharon half-suspected that Emily had taught it to him.
And so, at first, it seemed to Sharon that his behavior was typical. Typical of all her children who were trying their best to lessen her anger and assuage their guilt, not realizing that only time could accomplish both. But there were subtle differences. Differences that came into focus when she came quietly into the dining room the next morning to find Rusty hunched over his laptop. She casually peeked over his shoulder before he knew she was there, to find him looking at apartment listings on Craigslist. He scrolled through them quickly, pausing every now and then to sigh heavily. She stood motionless for a few moments, pondering what to say, when he quite suddenly slammed his laptop shut and began to wring his hands together, still unaware that she was standing behind him. When Sharon made her presence known by saying "good morning" to him, he startled and spun around so fast he nearly knocked the laptop off the table, and scrambled to get to the kitchen as he muttered something about making breakfast.
He made their breakfast in silence, his head down, never sparing her a glance. That was different too, and Sharon found herself missing the wounded looks. When she thanked him for making enough breakfast for both of them – just because she was angry didn't mean she couldn't be civil – he mumbled something she couldn't hear and fled to the kitchen with the dirty dishes.
He left the condo shortly after that, barely whispering goodbye as he hurried out the door. Sharon spent the day at work with divided attention – at least the day was mostly filled with paperwork – and was disappointed to find an empty condo when she got home.
Still, Sharon was grateful for the time to think more directly about her approach. Things had to be done carefully with Rusty. When she heard a key slip into the lock, about an hour after she had arrived home, Sharon gently closed her laptop and turned to face the door.
He came in slowly and quietly, his face looking paler than normal, and stopped dead when he saw her.
"Hey." Sharon tried to sound amiable. There were things he needed to know, and her anger needed to be productive this time. "We need to talk."
Rusty cringed, his knuckles whitening against his backpack straps. He ducked his head too, staring at his shoes. It was real shame she saw when she looked at him, not anything feigned to win her sympathy.
And that he had very good reason to feel ashamed of himself didn't mean that she didn't feel a few twinges of pity. Time had taken the edge off of her anger, and she knew that, now that he understood, he would punish himself for her.
"I think I owe you an apology." She kept her voice soft, in complete contrast to how she'd sounded the day before.
Rusty's head came up briefly with wide eyes filled with shock and confusion. He quickly bowed it again. "Wait, but Sharon – like, you were totally, totally right about everything, and I–"
"Oh, that's not what this conversation is about, don't worry." Considering the top of his bowed head, she frowned. She still couldn't believe... "But there were some things that I think I was too angry to make clear to you during our first conversation, and for that I am sorry."
She watched Rusty swallow, his fingers still clenched tight around those straps. "Like... what?"
"That I love you, for one."
The first time she'd told him, she'd been angry then too. What had he been thinking, hiding those letters from her? Hadn't he realized how much danger he'd been in?
But, sometimes, the most important thing was that he know.
He didn't seem to know how to respond. She could tell he hadn't expected it. He looked down and away from her, but she could see his wide eyes from where she stood. She'd hoped he would relax but he just seemed to wind himself tighter, shoulders curling forward, and he tugged the backpack higher up towards his neck.
That wasn't the reaction she was hoping for. "We should've talked more yesterday." She hadn't wanted to say anything she couldn't take back.
Rusty's voice was small. "Sharon, I'm sorry."
She tried to hide her rekindled aggravation at hearing it again, because they needed to talk about more important things and that seemed to be the only thing that he was willing to say. With a wave of her hand, she indicated the couch.
"Come here," she said, stepping away from her desk. "Sit with me."
Rusty edged closer. He fit himself into a corner of the couch, his backpack piled between them like some kind of shield. Sharon watched him fiddle anxiously with one fraying strap. That the backpack had something to do with his other mother was painfully clear. Someday, she wanted to know the entire story.
"I think you understand why I'm angry with you," she said quietly. She shook her head before he could apologize again. "I know you're sorry. Let me finish. I'm angry with you, yes. But Rusty, love isn't something for you to earn through good behavior." Her eyes landed on the backpack again. "At least, not my love."
Ricky and Emily always felt properly ashamed when she got this angry at them. Rusty doubted her love.
She could strangle Sharon Beck.
"I messed up so bad, Sharon."
"I'm certainly not disputing that," she said. "But there are fair and unfair consequences to everything, and I think that what you're feeling now is disproportionate."
He gave her a confused look. "What I'm feeling?"
Sharon drew one leg up onto the couch, lacing her fingers together against her knee. "What have you been thinking about, since yesterday?"
"Like..." He fidgeted. "Everything you and TJ and the Lieutenant said. What I did was wrong. And selfish. And I'm sorry."
"Not to mention illegal." He flinched a little at the reminder, but she wasn't saying it to be cruel. She needed him to understand. "But what else, Rusty?"
"I... what did you mean?"
Sharon clasped her fingers together in her lap. "Why were you looking at apartment listings this morning?"
Rusty flinched. "I... I – I..."
"It's all right," she said, because he could stammer for awhile. She could see his breathing turn shallow too, and she didn't want him to panic. "But I need to know why. Did you think I wouldn't want you here?"
Rusty stared at his lap. "Like the lieutenant said. I could've gotten you fired. Or – or arrested."
"Probably not arrested." Sharon hummed. "That wasn't an answer."
"I didn't think that, exactly," he said. "But... sometimes, I think about my other mom, and then I just start feeling like... and I screwed up so bad, Sharon."
"You did." Sharon rubbed the center of her palm with a thumbnail, trying remember to hold her hands still. "Do you know why I'm so angry with you?"
Rusty hesitated. "I took advantage of your trust," he said at last, squeezing his eyes shut.
"No – well, that too," she acknowledged. "We're not done talking about that. But Rusty... what I'm not sure you understand is that I'm worried." Quietly, she added, "Do you realize it took me months to sleep through the night again after Stroh escaped?"
Rusty looked at her uncertainly, like he wasn't sure what Stroh had to do with it but didn't want to ask.
"And now," she continued, "you telling me that you were planning to meet with someone dangerous, not to mention breaking the law – Alice's life matters, but so does yours."
"I know that, Sharon."
"You have worked so hard the last three years," she said. "I've watched you. And to see you now do anything to endanger your future…"
He was quiet for a long time. "I guess I never really looked at it that way."
Sharon rubbed her forehead. "How do you think I would feel, visiting you in jail?"
There was a long pause.
"Probably how I feel when I visit my mom." Rusty stared at his lap again, twisting one of his shirt tails around his index finger. "Like... I'm always afraid that I'll get there and she'll have been in a fight or something, or gotten in trouble somehow. There's a lot of weird rules in jail."
"There are," she agreed. Rusty would not do well in jail. "And what about at your funeral? How do you think I would feel then?"
She choked on the last word.
Rusty looked horrified. "I'm sorry!" She hadn't especially wanted him to say it yet again, but it gave her a moment to compose herself. "Like... I'm just really, really sorry. I don't know what else to say, Sharon."
Sharon clenched her jaw as the edges of her vision grew blurry. "I know you are." Her voice was too thick. She swallowed as hard as she could and cleared her throat. "You don't have to say anything else. You need to start thinking, because if anything ever happened to you I would never forgive myself."
She wasn't sure if he understood yet, that he was her child just as much as the other two, and he didn't lift neatly out of her life.
If she thought about that any longer, she really would cry.
"I am also, of course, disappointed you lied to me."
"I know." Rusty shrank back. "I should've been there to help."
"Not only that," she said, "but Rusty, we were trying to catch two very dangerous killers before they could execute the only witness to their crime. You misused the resource that was supposed to speed that process up and, by doing so, potentially exposed him, his family, and countless members of the LAPD to unnecessary danger. Including me."
"I'm sorry." Rusty blurted out another apology, then cringed. "Sorry. I would never intentionally – I swear I didn't know. And I didn't know that you could get in trouble for what I did."
"There is that too." Sharon ended up speaking to the top of his head again when he wouldn't look at her. "I have worked very hard to get to where I am."
"I know, Sharon."
"The respect of my fellow officers is not something that I take for granted," she went on, calmer now. It was easier to be angry. "Neither is my position. I thought you understood that, but you jeopardized both in doing what you did, and that... hurts." That was harder to admit than she liked. She'd built up a certain amount of resistance over the years to revealing that sort of vulnerability, especially to the person who'd disrespected her. "I understand that you didn't know that, but you knew that you were lying. Didn't you?"
"Yes." His voice was small. "I thought..."
"Yes?" she prompted, when he didn't finish.
Rusty hesitated. "You'll be upset."
Sharon almost snorted. She caught herself just in time to remain stern, biting down on the inside of her lip to keep it from twitching. She raised an eyebrow.
"More upset, I mean." Unaware that he'd almost made her smile, Rusty continued staring miserably down at his lap. "Because you're right. I knew. And I thought about not doing it, but then I did it anyway and... I'm not really sure why."
He was right. She was more upset.
Sharon sighed. "Thank you for telling me."
In response, he lifted his head just enough to look at her from beneath his eyelashes. Sharon was doing her best to keep her face controlled, but she could only imagine what her expression looked like. She couldn't have been failing too badly, though, because he brought his head up the rest of the way.
"There's something else I think we need to talk about."
What little calm there was in his face was quickly replaced again by distress. Sharon shook her head. "No," she said. "This isn't something that you did, not really."
"What is it?"
"Alice," Sharon said. "We need to talk about why she's so important to you, and the effect it's having on your behavior."
"Dr. Joe and I talked about that already."
"I think further discussion is warranted, don't you?" She waited for him to nod. "I have – up until now, that is – been very proud of the work you've done, but you haven't been acting like yourself since you started looking into her. Do you know what I'm talking about?"
"I..." Rusty hesitated, stretching out the silence as he struggled to come up with something. "I guess I've been... more focused. And – and more honest. About myself."
"That wasn't quite what I meant." Sharon pursed her lips. "Though... I am glad that you feel comfortable being this open about yourself." She hadn't forgotten how terrible she'd felt, explaining that he had to testify while he'd teared up, certain that no one would ever like him if they knew. "But is there anything else?"
"And I've been thinking about my life more," he told her, sounding sure of himself for the first time since he'd confessed to her. "And my priorities. And–"
"Those are all good," she said. "How about in relationship to... other people?"
"My relationship to Alice?" He faltered when she shook her head. "Or... wait, do you mean TJ?"
"No," Sharon said quietly. "I mean acting as though other people don't matter beyond the extent to which they are useful to your story."
"I – I don't..." She thought she could see comprehension dawning faintly, as he shook his head and his voice rose in agitation. "I don't think that, Sharon. Sharon. I don't think that."
"Maybe not," she said sadly. "But when you chose to run this background check, you prioritized your story above the well-being of your family and friends."
She'd finally found the right words to strike a chord within him. Rusty's eyes widened and he sat back, still shaking his head. "I... no, Sharon, Sharon, I'm not... Sharon..."
She could measure his distress by the number of times he said her name. When his eyes welled up with tears, she was expecting it. His face crumpled a moment later and he squeezed his eyes shut, turning his face away from her like he was hoping she wouldn't notice the tear that escaped and slid down his cheek.
Sharon swallowed hard herself and stretched an arm out to him. When he shook his head, she sighed. "I expect a lot from you," she said. "I do from all my children. I don't expect perfection."
He stayed where he was for a moment. Sharon let her arm hang in the air between them. She almost scooted closer, then caught herself before she could. She couldn't remember if she'd ever touched him while she was angry. She was sure that everyone else who had hadn't been gentle with him.
Rusty came closer slowly, giving her half a dozen anxious looks to be sure she hadn't changed her mind, and then he shifted his backpack down to the floor and let her arms go around him.
Sharon pulled him close against her, fingers lacing together behind his back as she squeezed him hard. Rusty clung to her ribs with his head on her shoulder, sniffling.
She wanted to protect him from everything. Even himself.
"I don't know why I did it," he said, speaking into her hair. "You were right. I knew I shouldn't have. But I did, and I almost got you into trouble and – and I'm sorry."
Sharon tightened her arms when she felt him tense, holding him closer instinctively.
"No," she whispered. "You're all right. I've got you."
He stayed where he was longer than she expected. He seemed to need the reassurance, and it was good for her too, to have this moment of stillness to just hold onto him and breathe.
When he sat up, she let him go slowly.
"Are you all right?"
"Yeah." His eyes were dry, but he scrubbed at his cheeks with the heel of his palm. "No. I feel worse about this than anything else I've ever done. Like... anything. Ever."
"There's a difference between things that you've done and things that were done to you," she reminded him. That was usually what he meant. "Remember that."
"I know."
"Let me ask you something," she said. "Has Dr. Joe ever used the term survivor's guilt with you?"
He shook his head.
"You have a couple of eggs," she said. "Some break. Others don't. When you have people instead of eggs, sometimes we feel guilty for surviving circumstances that others did not."
"No," he said. "I see where you're going, and I don't feel guilty."
"Or undeserving."
He was quiet for a long time. "I guess it's like you said," he told her finally. "Luck's important."
"It wasn't all luck." That was what she needed him to understand. "You didn't have to call 911 that night. You did that because you knew it was the right thing. You didn't have to work as hard as you did in school, or at your job, or even now with this vlog. You are where you are now because you've worked for it. I've watched you do it."
"You helped."
"Some," she said. "Mostly, I offered you things you didn't have to accept."
"You didn't have to offer them, either." He was starting to look guilty again. "Sharon, I'm–"
"I know," she said. "Just think about it."
"I will."
"Good," she said. "Thank you. What about projecting? Do you know that one?"
"Yeah," he said. "I know that one."
"And?" she prompted. "What do you think?"
He was quiet for a long time. Sharon watched him, not pressing because she wanted him to really think about it for himself.
"I think maybe Dr. Joe was trying to tell me this the other day," he said finally. "I didn't listen to him, either. I probably should've."
"Probably," she agreed.
"It's just, at the time, I thought... and I was thinking about something else." He flushed. "About whether or not to give you and Andrea those messages."
"Ah," she said. "That you did the wrong thing now doesn't mean I'm any less proud of you for doing the right thing then, you know. I know that was hard."
"But it shouldn't have been," he said. "Because, like, Sharon, you are way more important to me than the vlog or Alice or any story or... anything, almost. You're my mom."
She couldn't not smile at that. "I am," she agreed. "That means that it's my job to teach you to make the right decisions on your own, for yourself, and to help you when you don't."
"I don't know how to fix it."
"This isn't something that you can fix. It's done. All you can do now is to do better in the future." She paused, wanting him to look at her for this next part. "And, Rusty, I know that you're better than this."
He nodded rapidly, his head bobbing up and down. "I'll be better," he promised, his voice wavering. "I swear. I'll never do anything like this again, ever."
"I believe you." He hadn't backed away after letting go, and she reached up, gently touching his cheek with her thumb. "One more thing. Being your mother is a gift that I did not expect to be given, and I am grateful for it every day."
"Sharon..." Rusty's voice dissolved.
The second hug was less desperate than the first. He didn't cling to her quite as much, and she didn't clasp her hands together behind him. Instead, he fit his head against her shoulder and she curled one arm around his back, her other hand stroking his hair.
"I know I've already said it like a thousand times–"
"Rusty–" She couldn't bear to hear another apology.
"No, but you don't understand," he insisted, his shoulders tensing beneath her hand.
"I do," she promised, pulling back enough to press her lips to his temple. "I know. We're going to be okay."
He relaxed again after that, and she held on until his breathing slowed to match hers.
"Better?" she asked, when he pulled away.
He nodded.
"I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but believe it or not, a little bit of guilt can be a good thing."
"I don't see how."
"I'll explain." She paused. "I'm not proud of this."
That caught his attention.
"You know how I feel about rules." That got a smile out of him, quickly hidden though it was. "I've always been that way. I cut class once in high school. Hear me out," she said, when Rusty gave her a look. "I'm trying to illustrate the point. I was seventeen. It was the Friday before a long weekend, and some of my friends who'd gone off to college the year before were home visiting. They wanted to go up to the beach, but it was a long drive and if we'd waited until after school, we wouldn't have had enough time before dark."
"So you went," he said.
"I did," she confirmed. "I snuck out after lunch. My friends and I had a great time, my parents didn't suspect a thing, and I'd almost forgotten about it by the next Tuesday when I went back to school. Neither of the teachers whose classes I'd skipped said anything. I thought I'd gotten away with it... until the very end of the day. When I was leaving, my history teacher – her name was Ms. Donovan – asked me to stay for a minute."
"Did you get in trouble?"
"Worse," Sharon told him. "She wanted to know if I was feeling better, because she assumed I wouldn't have missed class for any other reason. I should've told her the truth. I knew it then, too, but I knew that if I did, she would be disappointed. Maybe enough to change her mind about writing me recommendation letters for college. Maybe enough to tell my parents. So I lied and told her I'd been feeling sick, and she believed me. I never did tell her. I felt awful about it, but I never did it again because I remembered that feeling. What you did was obviously more serious, but that was the lesson I wanted you to learn from all of this, do you understand?"
Rusty nodded his head.
"I want you to remember what you're feeling right now so that, in the future, this will help you to make better decisions. What I don't want, the last thing that I will ever want, is for you to worry that your having made a mistake, even such a serious one, means that I love you any less, or that there is ever anything that you could ever do to make yourself unwelcome in my life." She hated how his nod this time was less certain. "Rusty..."
"I get it, Sharon. Like, I know that. But sometimes... I feel like..." He shrugged. "Sometimes, I feel like you might. Even though I know you won't. I used to do it more."
Sharon's head tilted. "When?"
"When I was turning eighteen," he said. "When my mom came back. Before the adoption. In case you changed your mind," he explained, and Sharon felt her throat swell shut. "I didn't really think you were going to. Just – sometimes... My mom changed her mind about me. Sometimes it helps me to remember that if I'm not here, it won't be like before."
He misunderstood her silence, and twitched apprehensively. "I guess that doesn't make it sound better."
Sometimes when he told her these things, she could feel her heart bruising.
Sharon laid her hand on his arm.
"I was lucky," she told him. "When Jack lost our savings, I had a good job. Even with his debts to pay back, we were all right. But the first six months, the first year, really, were very hard, financially, and after, even when I knew that I didn't need to worry anymore, I couldn't sleep at night without knowing exactly how much money was in the bank."
He looked relieved that she understood. "It's like that. I think."
"And it will never be like before," she said, squeezing his arm. "I think if this incident has demonstrated anything, it's that you haven't outgrown the need for parenting. I want you where I can keep an eye on you." She tried to smile. "What?"
Rusty's face fell again. "Do you think I should stop looking into Alice?"
That was the question. Sharon gave him a long look. He stared back so earnestly. She tried not to sigh. "Rusty..." Part of her wanted to tell him that from now on, he was only allowed to make decisions she'd personally approved at least twenty-four hours in advance. "What do you think?"
She could tell he hadn't expected her to turn the question back around on him. Rusty gave her a look of vague alarm. "I feel like I'm so close," he explained. "And it feels wrong, no one knowing who she is. But I did mean it when I said that you were more important than Alice. All of you guys are. So if you don't want me to, then I won't."
"I appreciate that." Sharon considered him another moment. "I think I'm not ready to discuss this with you. No," she said, touching his arm again. "It's all right. I think you should take a couple of days to think about it yourself, and then we will discuss how to proceed with Alice."
That wasn't the answer he'd been hoping for, but it was the best she could do right now. "I have a better idea for tonight," she said. "Invite TJ over for dinner."
They could both use a distraction, and... honestly, she couldn't help feeling that their current predicament was at least partially caused by the two of them having each been so busy, the last couple of weeks. They would fix that, but first, she needed something that would pull Rusty out of his own head.
She'd thought TJ's presence would do it.
She guessed she'd thought wrong when Rusty gave her a suspicious look. "TJ? Why? Look, Sharon, I know you're mad at me, but none of this was his fault, really. He thought it was all a terrible idea."
"Yes, he seems like he's been a good influence on you," she agreed. She hoped TJ stuck around. "It's an invitation to dinner, not the Inquisition. It just seems like the two of you are becoming good friends, and I'd like to meet someone who's important to you."
"He's not important," Rusty blurted out. He paused, his cheeks turning pink when she raised an eyebrow. "I mean, okay, yes, he is important, but it's – I mean – no, but see – we're not dating."
He arrived at this conclusion and promptly turned scarlet.
"I know," she promised. "But he is your friend, isn't he?'
"I guess." The tips of his ears were red now. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Rusty, he's your friend. If you don't want to, we can forget the whole thing."
"It's not that," he said. "I just – I don't want him to get the wrong idea."
"Ah," she said. "And dinner would give him the wrong idea?"
"Maybe?" Rusty gave her a hopelessly confused look. "I like him, Sharon. I like him a lot, but I don't know if I like him... more than that. And I don't know how dating works, really. So... I want him to come, but not if he'll think it means something it... doesn't."
Somehow, her plan to cheer him up a little had gone sideways. "If it makes any difference to you, Emily and Ricky brought friends home for dinner all the time. And TJ has been here before."
"But that was different. That was work. He was helping me with Alice, or we were moving the lieutenant's stuff – oh," he remembered. "I guess he's still looking for his hat stand. It looks like a cactus?"
"I'll keep an eye out for it," she said wryly. "So... about dinner?"
"Maybe... do you think it'd be okay if we invited the lieutenant too?" he asked. "And Patrice? Because the other day, he said something about inviting us over for dinner. So then it would be... kind of like that."
"Kind of," she agreed, hiding a smile. "Go ahead and ask. I'm sure he wouldn't mind coming over if they don't already have plans. He never says no to a free dinner." While he was there, she'd invite him to take a look around for the hat stand himself.
Rusty reached down, hoisting his backpack up onto the couch. When she raised an eyebrow, he explained, "I'm going to ask TJ first."
"You're not going to text him?"
"I'm going to IM him. Instant messaging," he elaborated. "It's like texting, but on the internet."
"I'm aware." She didn't hide her amusement that time. "I did use the internet before you, you know."
Rusty gave her a sideways look. Then, wisely, he opened his laptop without responding. The screen that popped up was the one that she'd glimpsed over his shoulder that morning, the Craigslist page with the apartment listings.
He closed it.
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