Wolf Season by Helen Benedict

Author:Helen Benedict
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781942658313
Publisher: Bellevue Literary Press
Published: 2017-08-12T04:00:00+00:00

16

HOODLUMS

On the way to Beth’s house, a mere twenty-minute drive up the hill, Louis tries to prepare himself for whatever he might find there. He doesn’t much care for Todd McAllister, or his chameleonlike eagerness to conform to whomever his companions want him to be, but he tries to retain what empathy he can for the man. After all, he knows something of what Todd is going through, just as he knows that coming home for two weeks while your redeployment shadows you like an assassin is enough to unglue anybody, even a gung-ho marine. He also knows who bears the brunt of this arrangement: the parents, the spouse, the children, anyone you’ve taught to love you.

He pulls into Beth’s driveway and parks by the now-lopsided maple tree in the spot once occupied by Todd’s Camaro. Turning off the engine, he gazes for a moment at the gaudy yellow house, its white porch fringed with latticework as intricate as lace. He pries the car key off its ring, slots it back into the ignition, and climbs out.

Flanner opens the door the instant he knocks, his ginger hair flaring in the early-evening light, eyes avid. Louis guesses he’s hoping to see Tariq.

“Hey there, Flan. Your parents home?”

The boy nods and stands there, not making a move. Louis studies his face. “Want to tell them I’m here?”

“Tell ’em yourself.” Squeezing past him, Flanner runs outside and around the corner, Louis gazing after him. Flanner is usually polite to adults, in that crisply disciplined way military kids are so often polite.

“Todd? Beth?” Louis steps into the sun-yellow hallway. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, hey, bro.” Todd appears holding an open beer bottle. Louis is struck by how drawn he is; skin dry and tight, cheeks so hollow the bones look like little wings. Only his arms, bare and tattooed beneath his green T-shirt sleeves, are as bulked as ever. He has aged a decade since he was last home.

Todd raises the bottle. “Want some?” He is clearly half-plotzed, even though it’s barely past six.

“Maybe later. So, welcome back. What’ve you got left now, a week?” They bump fists, slam shoulders.

“Less—been nine days already. I was wondering when you were gonna show up.” Todd takes a swig. “Hey, Beth,” he yells up the stairs. “Come down here! We got a visitor.”

As soon as she appears, Louis knows. She is wearing sunglasses and a pink scarf around her neck and he can see rows of little blue circles imprinted on her arms. His hands clench. She flashes him a look of warning. “Want something to drink?” She leads him into the kitchen and opens the fridge.

“Yeah, take that beer you said no to before,” Todd insists, coming up behind him. “It’s stuffy as a dog’s asshole in here. Beth, open some windows.”

“You said not to.”

“So now I’m saying different.”

She pulls out a bottle of German beer and twists off its top. When she gives it to Louis, he sees that her hand is shaking. He turns his back to Todd and mouths “CAR,” shifting his eyes to the front window.

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