The Son of a Certain Woman by Wayne Johnston Page B

there, Percy?”
    “A model of a molecule,” I said. “Pops gave it to me when we were in the chemistry lab.”
    She pulled me away from him and told me to go to my room. I did as she said but then crept back out and watched from the hallway, to which my mother’s back was turned.
    “You were counting on getting back here before me and me coming home to find that the deed was done, that Percy was safe and content and eager to tell me all about his field trip to Brother Rice, and that because he’d had such a good time, I wouldn’t have the heart to spoil things for him by getting upset with you.”
    “I’m sorry. I should have asked for your permission.”
    “You didn’t ask because you knew you wouldn’t get it.”
    “You make it sound as if I had some ulterior motive for wanting to show Percy Brother Rice. I wanted him to see where I go every day, where I work, that’s all.”
    “You will never worm your way into this family. Remember that. You stay here on certain terms. Don’t try to change them. I allow you certain privileges. Don’t try to expand upon them.”
    “I wouldn’t. Of course I wouldn’t do that.”
    “So what was it like, your field trip to Brother Rice?”
    “We met McHugh.”
    “You mean you
took
him to meet McHugh.”
    “No. We were in the chem lab. McHugh just walked in.”
    “
Percy!
” my mother shouted. I went out to the kitchen.
    “So you met the mighty McHugh?”
    I nodded.
    “What was
that
like?”
    “He touched my face.”
    “What? How?”
    When I showed her, she glared at Pops. “What did he say, Pops? Did he touch Percy’s hands too?”
    “No. He just said it—the stain on Percy’s face—he said it didn’t look so bad.”
    “Is that what he said, Percy?”
    I nodded. “He said it didn’t look as bad as we thought it was, you and me and Uncle Paddy. He didn’t really say it to me, he said it to Pops. He didn’t really say anything to me. He called me Little Percy.”
    My mother stood closer to Pops, her face about an inch from his.
    “What happened, Pops?”
    “It’s just as Percy says.”
    “Little Percy. Whose face McHugh thinks he’s free to do with as he pleases, touch it, size it up.
Jesus
.”
    “I didn’t know he’d be there,” Pops said.
    “I’m sure you didn’t. Are you all right, Percy?”
    I nodded. I shook my head when she asked if I’d been scared. I thought of describing how I’d felt but couldn’t find the words. I thought of the feel of McHugh’s finger on my chin.
    “Holy cards and curses from Sister Mary Aggie. McHugh sizing him up as if he were a horse. What next? What did you say, Pops, when McHugh said that Percy’s face didn’t look so bad?”
    “I agreed with him. I don’t think it looks that bad. I tried to tell McHugh it was a question of how Percy would be treated by the other boys—”
    “You said it wasn’t that bad? Is there anything McHugh could have said that you wouldn’t have agreed with?”
    “I’m sorry—”
    “Have you been drinking?” my mother said.
    “No,” Pops said.
    “Then what’s your excuse?”
    “I told you. I asked him if he’d like to see the chem lab.”
    “You asked
him
? Since when do you ask
him
? I told you not to take him outdoors. Now listen to me, Pops. There is no ‘Pops and Percy,’ do you understand? Pops and Percy do not walk hand in hand across Bonaventure. They do not appear in public together,even with me. There is Miss Joyce and Percy Joyce. People do not say ‘There go Pops and Percy.’ Miss Joyce and Percy Joyce, Penny and Percy, fine. But Pops is not in the picture. There is no Pops and Percy, there is no Pops and Penny. Do you and I go out in public? No. People do not say ‘There go Pops and Penny.’ ”
    “No, they say ‘There go Percy and the two Miss Joyces.’ ”
    “Leave Medina out of this. You are our boarder. Not our avuncular boarder. Not our good-with-children boarder. Not our pitches-in-to-help-when-he-can boarder. Not our