‘Well?’ Liz asked.
‘It’s a deal. I’ll be gone in an hour. Probably less.’
‘No!’ Bobby cried. When he’d awakened this morning he had been resigned to Ted’s going
— sad but resigned. Now it hurt all over again. Worse than before, even. ‘No!’
‘Be quiet,’ his mother said, still not looking at him.
‘It’s the only way, Bobby. You know that.’ Ted looked up at Liz. ‘Take care of Carol. I’ll talk to Bobby.’
‘You’re in no position to give orders,’ Liz said, but she went. As she crossed to the bathroom, Bobby saw she was limping. A heel had broken off one of her shoes, but he didn’t think that was the only reason she couldn’t walk right. She knocked briefly on the bathroom door and then, without waiting for a response, slipped inside.
Bobby ran across the room, but when he tried to put his arms around Ted, the old man took his hands, squeezed them once briefly, then put them against Bobby’s chest and let go.
‘Take me with you,’ Bobby said fiercely. I’ll help you look for them. Two sets of eyes are better than one. Take me with you!’
‘I can’t do that, but you can come with me as far as the kitchen, Bobby. Carol isn’t the only one who needs to do some cleaning up.’
Ted rose from the chair and swayed on his feet for a moment. Bobby reached out to steady him and Ted once more pushed his hand gently but firmly away. It hurt. Not as much as his mother’s failure to help him up (or even look at him) after she had thrown him against the wall, but enough.
He walked with Ted to the kitchen, not touching him but close enough to grab him if he fell. Ted didn’t fall. He looked at the hazy reflection of himself in the window over the sink, sighed, then turned on the water. He wet the dishcloth and began to wipe the blood off his cheek, checking his window-reflection every now and then for reference.
‘Your mother needs you more now than she ever has before,’ he said. ‘She needs someone she can trust.’
‘She doesn’t trust me. I don’t think she even likes me.’
Ted’s mouth tightened, and Bobby understood he had struck upon some truth Ted had seen in his mother’s mind. Bobby knew she didn’t like him, he knew that, so why were the tears threatening again?
Ted reached out for him, seemed to remember that was a bad idea, and went back to work with the dishcloth instead. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Perhaps she doesn’t like you. If that’s true, it isn’t because of anything you did. It’s because of what you are.’
‘A boy,’ he said bitterly. ‘A fucking boy.’
‘And your father’s son, don’t forget that. But Bobby . . . whether she likes you or not, she loves you. Such a greeting-card that sounds, I know, but it’s true. She loves you and she needs you. You’re what she has. She’s badly hurt right now — ‘
‘Getting hurt was her own fault!’ he burst out. ‘She knew something was wrong! You said so yourself! She’s known for weeks! Months! But she wouldn’t leave that job! She knew and she still went with them to Providence! She went with them anyway! ‘
‘A lion-tamer knows, but he still goes into the cage. He goes in because that’s where his paycheck is.’
‘She’s got money,’ Bobby almost spat.
‘Not enough, apparently.’
‘She’ll never have enough,’ Bobby said, and knew it was the truth as soon as it was out of his mouth.
‘She loves you.’
‘I don’t care! I don’t love her!’
‘But you do. You will. You must. It is k a.’
‘ Ka? What’s that?’
‘Destiny.’ Ted had gotten most of the blood out of his hair. He turned off the water and made one final check of his ghost-image in the window. Beyond it lay all of that hot summer, younger than Ted Brautigan would ever be again. Younger than Bobby would ever be again, for that matter. ‘Ka is destiny. Do you care for me, Bobby?’
‘You know I do,’ Bobby said, beginning to cry again. Lately crying was all he seemed to do. His eyes ached from it. ‘Lots and lots.’