Someone Else's Shoes Page 5

  “Is he okay?” Oliver didn’t wait to hear the answer. He tore the screen door open and raced inside, calling, “Dad? Dad?”

  “He’s fine, sweetheart! He’s sleeping,” Izzy’s mother called after him. Once he was gone, she admitted to Izzy, “I guess I overreacted to the situation.” Her mother’s shoulders sagged, and she whispered, “I was so scared, I called Michael.”

  “Dr. Gustino?” Izzy didn’t like calling her dentist by his first name, even if her mother was dating him. He wasn’t her friend.

  “I didn’t know who else to call. Michael had just picked Ben up from school—I guess the high school had a half day—and the two of them came right over.

  “Ben’s a strong guy for his age. While Michael and I were trying to figure out how to get the door open, Ben just went ahead and broke it down. He rammed his shoulder into it, and it came right off the hinges. And there was Henderson, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. I could tell he’d more or less forgotten there were other people in the world.”

  Izzy was startled. “Wait. Ben Gustino broke down one of our bedroom doors?”

  “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I was so scared when Hen didn’t answer me.”

  Izzy knew what her mother had been afraid of. Was Oliver afraid of that too? Surely Uncle Henderson wasn’t depressed enough to do the same thing Aunt Felicia had done, was he? Izzy wished she could shake her uncle and tell him to come back to life and take care of his kid, who was turning into a big screwed-up mess now. But kids couldn’t tell grown-ups stuff like that.

  “Anyway,” her mother said, “I’m so glad Oliver’s day went well. At least I don’t have that to worry about on top of everything else.”

  Izzy nodded.

  “Sit on the swing with me,” her mother said, walking back up onto the porch. “I need to unwind for a few minutes.”

  Izzy plopped onto the swing next to her mother, happy to hang out with her for a change. She’d loved swinging like this, just the two of them, when she was little. But the last few years, her mother always seemed too busy to do anything so slow and lazy.

  “Aren’t you going back to work this afternoon?” Izzy asked her.

  Her mother sighed and put an arm around her shoulders, giving her a little hug. Izzy was especially grateful for it because her mother had hardly said one nice word to her since she’d come home from Boston with the silver shoes three days ago.

  “Nancy is covering for me this afternoon. I’m glad we have enough room for Henderson and Oliver to stay with us, but being the caretaker for both of them is harder than I thought it would be. I’m wiped out. And I have to come up with a decent dinner for company tonight too.” She toed the floor, and the swing glided back and forth.

  “Who’s coming for dinner?”

  “Michael and Ben. I wanted to thank them for their help. Really, it was above and beyond for them to race right over here. I told them to come back at six, and I’d feed them.”

  “Ben too? I thought he hated us.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because he leaves every time we show up. And besides, he’s kind of awful. Cookie’s brother and Pauline’s sister both know him, and they said he’s scary mean.”

  “Oh, honey.” Her mother leaned her head against Izzy’s. “Ben’s not a bad kid. I know Michael has had some problems with him. He’s angry that his mother moved so far away after the divorce. I don’t think he’s seen her in several years. Any child would act out in a situation like that.”

  How is that so different from my situation? Izzy thought. Sure, she could visit her dad once in a while, but he didn’t even act like her father anymore, which was probably going to get even worse after the stupid baby was born. Would her mother think it was no big deal if she started throwing baseball bats at people’s heads, like Ben apparently had?

  And something else didn’t seem quite right about all this. “How come Dr. Gustino had to pick Ben up after school? Can’t he walk home?”

  Her mother grimaced. “I guess Ben’s grounded. Michael has been picking him up to make sure he goes straight home after school.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Izzy, even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you. That’s between Ben and Michael.”

  “So tonight he’s grounded at our dinner table,” Izzy grumbled. With haunted Uncle Henderson and miserable Oliver. What next?

  “It’s nothing for you to worry about,” her mother said. She gave her a final squeeze and removed her arm. “I’m looking forward to getting to know Ben a little better.”

  Well, Izzy wasn’t, but obviously she didn’t have any choice in the matter.

  * * *

  She’d just taken a bag of vegetable scraps out to the compost bin when a car stopped in front of the house. Dr. Gustino got out first and waved to Izzy. She smiled at him but didn’t go over. Her eyes were glued to the open passenger-side door, out of which a broad-shouldered teenager slowly appeared. He had black tattoos running up one arm, and there was a scowl on his face. As he walked slowly and deliberately around the car, Izzy could see his shoulder muscles rolling under his T-shirt. Like a lion, she thought. He thinks he’s in charge.

  Izzy’s mother came down the front steps and gave Dr. Gustino a hug, but no kiss. Izzy figured she would have kissed him if both their kids weren’t right there. Ben stood a few yards away, glaring at his father.

  “Izzy!” her mother called. “Come over here a minute.”

  Ugh. Izzy dragged her feet as she approached.

  “You know Michael,” she said. “And his son, Ben.”

  Dr. Gustino gave her a big grin that showed off his perfect white teeth. Izzy dared a quick glance at Ben, who looked kind of like his dad except more bulked up. They both had thick, dark hair that was almost black, but Dr. Gustino’s was clipped and tamed, whereas Ben’s hung down onto his neck and fell over his forehead like a horse’s mane. But the thing that really made the father and son look alike was their eyes. Their eyes were so sharp, Izzy thought. As if they were looking at you with razor blades.

  Not that Ben was looking at Izzy anymore. He was busy looking at their house, inspecting the downspout that was broken off halfway to the ground, the porch steps that sagged on one end, the crooked screen door with the missing hinge. Suddenly Izzy saw the house through Ben’s eyes. It was an ugly old monstrosity in need of a good carpenter and a coat of paint.

  “Come on in,” her mother said. “I didn’t have time to prepare anything elaborate, but I made a big salad, and I’ve got water on for pasta.”

  “Sounds great to me,” Dr. Gustino said. “Better than our usual fare, huh, Ben?”

  Ben grunted, and the four of them trooped inside.

  Dr. Gustino followed Izzy’s mom to the kitchen, but Ben wandered around the parlor and the living room, examining everything as if the place were a crime scene. Izzy watched him from a distance as he picked things up and turned them over. The little wooden clock that hadn’t worked in ages. The elephant statue with the chipped ear. Was he looking for price tags? Maybe he was thinking about stealing something. Or probably he was just a snoop.

  When Ben noticed her watching him, he made a quick movement as if he might come after her, and she jumped back a foot. He snort-laughed, which made her feel stupid.

  When dinner was ready, Oliver led his father downstairs by the hand, both of them looking as vacant as condemned buildings. Oliver pulled his chair as close to his father’s as possible and sat down, keeping his eyes on Ben, who was seated across the table from them. Oliver didn’t seem to be frightened of the unexpected guest, just curious.

  Ben peered at Uncle Henderson with half-open eyes. “Hey, dude. Sorry about your door. I can fix it sometime if you want.”

  Izzy’s uncle raised his head as if he’d heard the sounds but wasn’t sure where they came from. Finally he nodded at Ben and said, “Oh, sure.” Kind of an all-purpose answer, Izzy thought, when you weren’t listening to what people were saying. Ben went back to
forking up his dinner.

  Izzy picked at her food, furious with herself for letting Ben frighten her earlier, for acting like a scaredy-cat in her own house. Just because the kid had a bunch of weird-looking creatures drawn on his arm didn’t mean he was dangerous. She had let herself get psyched out because of what Cookie and Pauline had said. Just because Pauline’s sister was afraid of Ben didn’t mean anything—Trish was scared of everything. The girls had once put a rubber mouse on Trish’s pillow, and she’d screamed so long and so loud that the neighbors had called 911.

  At first it seemed like nobody but Izzy’s mom and Dr. Gustino were going to speak, but suddenly Oliver piped up. “Is that a tattoo of a bug, or what?” He pointed to the drawing that curved down Ben’s forearm.

  Ben glanced down as if he’d forgotten what was there. “It’s a scorpion.”

  “Oh, yeah, I see it now. And that’s a dog on your neck?” Oliver asked.

  “Wolf.”

  “Is there something else between them, under your shirt sleeve?”

  Ben nodded. “A bird.”

  “Can I see it?”

  “Oliver,” Izzy’s mother interrupted him. “Not while we’re eating, honey. Another time.”

  But Oliver kept staring at Ben. “What do your tattoos mean?” he asked as Ben piled a second helping of pasta onto his plate.

  Ben grunted. “Don’t mean anything.”

  “Then why’d you get them?” Oliver asked. Izzy wondered the same thing. Ben’s whole arm and neck were covered with ink that he couldn’t wash off if he decided someday he didn’t like having a howling wolf climbing out the neck of his T-shirt or a poisonous stinger decorating the lower half of his arm.

  Dr. Gustino had been looking more and more aggravated as Oliver kept asking about the tattoos. Finally he said, “His uncle took him to get them, and I’m not happy about it. Not one bit.” He turned to Ben. “You’re a minor, for God’s sake. You’re supposed to have parental consent to do something like that.”

  “It was Uncle Steve’s present to me. He wanted to give me something special for my sixteenth birthday.”

  “Special.” Dr. Gustino sounded disgusted. “Steve took you three different times and told the tattoo guy he was your father. He’s got a hell—a heck of a nerve. If I hadn’t seen the third one crawling up your neck, God knows how many he’d have let you get.”

  Izzy’s mother put her hand on Dr. Gustino’s arm, and Izzy could practically see the guy’s blood pressure dropping as he turned to look at her. She gave him a quick wink, which Izzy wished she hadn’t noticed, then turned away to try to divert Oliver’s attention. “Sweetie, you haven’t had any of your salad yet. It has that raspberry dressing you like.”

  Oliver ate a few leaves of spinach, but his eyes didn’t move from Ben’s tattoos.

  “Did you just want people to look at you, or something?”

  Ben put down the serving spoon and stared across the table at Oliver.

  “Oliver,” Izzy’s mother tried again. “Let’s not interrogate Ben, okay? Let him eat his dinner.”

  “Yeah, you’re totally right, kid,” Ben said. “I did want people to look at me. I was tired of being invisible.”

  “Invisible?” Dr. Gustino laughed, but not like anything was funny. “That’ll be the day.”

  Izzy had to agree with him there. But Oliver nodded. “That makes sense.”

  Izzy’s mother looked alarmed. “You know, Oliver, you’re much too young to think about getting—”

  “I don’t want a tattoo!” Oliver’s eyes opened wide. “It probably hurts when you get it, doesn’t it?”

  Ben shrugged. “Sure, it hurts.” He turned back to his plate of food, shoveling it in so fast that Izzy thought he couldn’t possibly taste it.

  “My dad has a tattoo, don’t you, Dad?” Oliver said quietly.

  Uncle Henderson had been scooting food around on his plate without getting much of it into his mouth. He was making tortellini mountains and cutting roads through them with his utensils. His eyes flitted over his son’s face without actually landing there. “What?”

  “Your tattoo,” Izzy said, pointing to his arm.

  “Right.” Uncle Henderson sat up a bit straighter. “My tattoo.”

  “Can I see it?” Ben asked.

  For a long minute Uncle Henderson seemed to be thinking over his answer to the question. Then, slowly, he turned back the cuff of his shirt and rolled his right sleeve up to the elbow. On his forearm the words Be Always Tender were written in careful, flowing letters.

  “Well, that’s a dignified tattoo,” Dr. Gustino said.

  Izzy didn’t know how a tattoo could be “dignified.” Maybe he just meant he liked it better than Ben’s tattoos because it was small and not a dangerous animal.

  “But yours means something, doesn’t it, Dad?” Oliver asked.

  Uncle Henderson nodded and lightly touched the top of his son’s head. “You’re right about that,” he said.

  “It’s the name of the first song he ever wrote,” Izzy announced to the table.

  Ben raised his eyebrows. “You write songs?”

  “And he plays them on the guitar, and he sings them too,” Oliver said proudly. He looked at his father’s blank face and amended his statement. “Sometimes he does. He used to.”

  “Henderson records with Rounder Records,” Izzy’s mother said, looking at her brother with a mixture of pride and sorrow. “He opened for Lucinda Williams on her tour last year.”

  “I don’t know who that is, but it’s cool that you’re, like, a professional musician,” Ben said, slowing his attack on his dinner for the first time. “Maybe I could hear you play sometime.”

  Uncle Henderson stared at his plate and mumbled, “Yeah, I can’t…I don’t think I…” Then he pushed his chair back and stood up from the table. “I guess I’m done with that,” he said, and walked away, leaving his landscape of food uneaten.

  Ben looked confused. “He’s done with singing or done with dinner?”

  “Dinner,” Oliver said.

  “Both,” Izzy said. Oliver hung his head.

  Her mother looked worried as she watched Uncle Henderson disappear, but then she switched gears and turned to Ben. “How was your first day of school, Ben? You’re a sophomore this year, right?”

  “So they say.”

  “What classes are you taking?”

  “The usual.”

  “Do you like your teachers?”

  “Don’t know yet. Probably not.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Ben,” Dr. Gustino said, “answer Ms. Shepherd’s questions.”

  “I am answering them!”

  But Izzy’s mother was not giving up. “A good friend of mine is an art teacher at the high school. Do you know Mr. Capp?”

  “Oh, yeah. Happy Sappy Cappy. What a clown.”

  Izzy had to admit she was impressed with the way that description left her mother openmouthed and silent.

  “How do you know Cappy?” Ben continued. “You dating him too?”

  “Ben!” Dr. Gustino’s fist came down on the table, and the silverware jumped.

  But Izzy’s mother smiled as if she’d forgiven Ben already. “I’m sure you find it unnerving that your dad’s dating someone you don’t know very well. It’s hard for you to trust me—I get that.” God, Izzy thought, was there anything her mother didn’t get?

  Ben shrugged. “Don’t sweat it. I probably trust you more than I trust my mother.”

  “Where is your mother?” Oliver asked, his voice urgent.

  Ben shoved aside his empty plate. “California somewhere. I don’t know. She moves a lot.”

  “Do you get to visit her?” Oliver’s eyes were glued to Ben’s face.

  “Nah. I don’t really want to. Besides, she’s always living with some guy. If I went out there, I’d probably just want to kill him.”

  Dr. Gustino looked like he was about to yell at Ben again, but then his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He glanced at it, th
en looked again. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I better take this. It’s my mother.” He got up from the table and walked into the parlor.

  Izzy wasn’t sure if none of them knew what to say next or if they were all being quiet so they could eavesdrop on Dr. Gustino’s conversation. Not that she cared what he said to his mother, but his anxious tone of voice immediately grabbed her attention.

  “Who is this? This is my mother’s phone number,” Dr. Gustino said. His words echoed off the walls of the dining room, and everybody put down their forks.

  And then he said, “I see. What hospital did they take her to?”

  Dr. Gustino looked shaky when he came back into the room. “Apparently my mother had a heart attack this afternoon. That was her neighbor.”

  Ben’s face paled. “She did? Is she okay?”

  “She is, for the moment,” Dr. Gustino said.

  “Oh, Michael! I’m so sorry.” Izzy’s mother stood up and put a hand on his arm, but Izzy didn’t think it had the same magical effect this time.

  “She’s stable right now—they put in stents, but she may need bypass surgery. And even if she doesn’t, she can’t really go back home by herself. I need to get to St. Louis as soon as I can to start figuring this all out. This evening, if possible.”

  “Of course,” Izzy’s mother said. “What do you need me to do? Shall I get online and look for flights?”

  Dr. Gustino kneaded his forehead. “Yes, that would be helpful, Maggie.” Izzy’s mother got her laptop from the kitchen and set it up between the dirty dishes on the table.

  “What else do I need to do? I can’t even think.” Dr. Gustino seemed to be talking to himself. “I’ll have to cancel my appointments for the next few days. I’ll call Tracy—she can do that.”

  “What about me?” Ben asked.

  “Right. You can’t stay home alone.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “No. You cannot.” Ben and his father stared at each other as if passing secret messages back and forth with their eyes.

  “I guess I’ll come with you, then,” Ben said. “I could help out.”