about Dad with his arm around Mom's murderer.
I gave him a meaningful look and rose from the staircase. He followed me inside the house.
"Is everything alright...? Is Martin's condition any better?"
I delved into Granny's linen closet, where I'd stashed the photo album behind a stack of willow baskets. I retrieved the album, flipped open to the offending page, and showed it to Dad.
His eyes went from winter water to dead steel in record time.
With more patience than I really had, I waited for him to speak. Come on, Dad, I thought. It's up to you. You know what I want to ask you. You know I can't ask it.
"Yes," Dad said quietly. "We were very good friends."
Soundly, I closed the book. I tucked it under my arm, feeling, all the while, like my arm belonged to another boy's body.
My poor Dad, I thought. I touched the back of his hand.
"I'm so sorry," he said. The apology poured out of him like winter water through cracks in a dam. "I'm so sorry; I... I don't know when Eli became a murderer. Until the moment the hospital called me... Even then, I didn't know; I never suspected... Not him. Never him..."
I stirred. The hospital had called Dad? Hadn't he taken me to the hospital himself?
Dad shook his head. "I wasn't living on the reservation at the time. I suppose you don't remember how it happened. Somehow you got up and dragged yourself out of the house. I don't know where you thought you were going... Thomas Little Hawk found you wandering around. He brought you to the hospital, where they stitched you up."
My hand closed around my throat. I felt the rigid scars tighten beneath my palm.
Wait, I thought. Dad wasn't living on the reservation. Why wasn't Dad--
"Let's go back outside," Dad said. "I think it's a bit cruel to leave Miss Hargrove alone with your grandmother."
I took him by the wrist and shook my head. Not until he told me the truth.
Dad looked at me for one long moment, and his eyes were opaque, focused in instead of out. I didn't know whether he really saw me.
"We were separated," he said finally. "Your mother and I."
Oh.
The photo album lay on the floor. I don't remember dropping it.
Dad smiled without any sincerity. "Didn't I tell you?" he said. "It hurts too much to remember."
We went back outside to say goodbye to Officer Hargrove. I barely remember the conversation, except that Granny invited her to the solstice party in December. I was in a weird sort of limbo, wherein everything I'd always thought about my parents wasn't true. Once, Granny had told me that Mom and Dad were happy together. Not happy enough, I guess.
It was late in the afternoon when I went out to the woods. I clapped my hands and Balto loped at my side, his tail high in the air. We paid a visit to the grotto and I considered jumping into the creek, if only to get the feeling back in my legs. I decided against it. A light was glowing in the mouth of Annie's cave. Balto and I went inside.
The only person in the cave was Rafael, reading Paradise Lost by candlelight for the millionth time. He liked the part where his namesake, the archangel Rafael, came down from Heaven to teach Adam and Eve all about the cosmos. He said it was proof that he was a smart guy and that we should all shut up about his less than stellar grades.
He adjusted his glasses and looked up at me.
"Wanna talk about it?"
I shook my head. I sat heavily, listlessly, next to a bowl of clay beads. Balto stuck his nose in a basket full of sand. He sneezed.
Rafael closed his book.
"Uncle Gabe's not talking to me," he said. He tried to make it sound casual, but I could tell he was upset. "I thought he knew I was gay. I guess that time when I was ten and I told him I wanted to marry Chrestomanci never tipped him off."
I looked at Rafael
I gave him a meaningful look and rose from the staircase. He followed me inside the house.
"Is everything alright...? Is Martin's condition any better?"
I delved into Granny's linen closet, where I'd stashed the photo album behind a stack of willow baskets. I retrieved the album, flipped open to the offending page, and showed it to Dad.
His eyes went from winter water to dead steel in record time.
With more patience than I really had, I waited for him to speak. Come on, Dad, I thought. It's up to you. You know what I want to ask you. You know I can't ask it.
"Yes," Dad said quietly. "We were very good friends."
Soundly, I closed the book. I tucked it under my arm, feeling, all the while, like my arm belonged to another boy's body.
My poor Dad, I thought. I touched the back of his hand.
"I'm so sorry," he said. The apology poured out of him like winter water through cracks in a dam. "I'm so sorry; I... I don't know when Eli became a murderer. Until the moment the hospital called me... Even then, I didn't know; I never suspected... Not him. Never him..."
I stirred. The hospital had called Dad? Hadn't he taken me to the hospital himself?
Dad shook his head. "I wasn't living on the reservation at the time. I suppose you don't remember how it happened. Somehow you got up and dragged yourself out of the house. I don't know where you thought you were going... Thomas Little Hawk found you wandering around. He brought you to the hospital, where they stitched you up."
My hand closed around my throat. I felt the rigid scars tighten beneath my palm.
Wait, I thought. Dad wasn't living on the reservation. Why wasn't Dad--
"Let's go back outside," Dad said. "I think it's a bit cruel to leave Miss Hargrove alone with your grandmother."
I took him by the wrist and shook my head. Not until he told me the truth.
Dad looked at me for one long moment, and his eyes were opaque, focused in instead of out. I didn't know whether he really saw me.
"We were separated," he said finally. "Your mother and I."
Oh.
The photo album lay on the floor. I don't remember dropping it.
Dad smiled without any sincerity. "Didn't I tell you?" he said. "It hurts too much to remember."
We went back outside to say goodbye to Officer Hargrove. I barely remember the conversation, except that Granny invited her to the solstice party in December. I was in a weird sort of limbo, wherein everything I'd always thought about my parents wasn't true. Once, Granny had told me that Mom and Dad were happy together. Not happy enough, I guess.
It was late in the afternoon when I went out to the woods. I clapped my hands and Balto loped at my side, his tail high in the air. We paid a visit to the grotto and I considered jumping into the creek, if only to get the feeling back in my legs. I decided against it. A light was glowing in the mouth of Annie's cave. Balto and I went inside.
The only person in the cave was Rafael, reading Paradise Lost by candlelight for the millionth time. He liked the part where his namesake, the archangel Rafael, came down from Heaven to teach Adam and Eve all about the cosmos. He said it was proof that he was a smart guy and that we should all shut up about his less than stellar grades.
He adjusted his glasses and looked up at me.
"Wanna talk about it?"
I shook my head. I sat heavily, listlessly, next to a bowl of clay beads. Balto stuck his nose in a basket full of sand. He sneezed.
Rafael closed his book.
"Uncle Gabe's not talking to me," he said. He tried to make it sound casual, but I could tell he was upset. "I thought he knew I was gay. I guess that time when I was ten and I told him I wanted to marry Chrestomanci never tipped him off."
I looked at Rafael
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