"It should." Acutely conscious of Paul Rubin's presence, Terri decided to avoid, until the end, the circumstances of Thuy Sen's death. "Rennell's slow," she continued. "That much we know for sure. But we don't know all we need to about how his family affected him."
Payton glanced up. "What?" he inquired in mock amazement. "You mean our Mama hasn't straightened all that out?"
Terri said nothing.
Again Payton gazed at the table. "Weren't no Disneyland," he said in a quieter tone. "I'll say that much for it."
"How did you get through it?"
His fleeting smile suggested weary tolerance of a question which, while both gratuitous and stupid, managed to evoke pain. "Bein' Vernon Price's kid teach a man to lower his expectations. But Rennell had it worse—that's what you're here for, right?"
"Uh-huh."
" 'Slow' don't begin to cover that boy. He was slow crawlin', slow standin' up, slow walkin'. Our daddy treated him like some dog you'd kick for havin' half a brain." Payton looked up at her, unsmiling now, voice toneless. "When he was two, maybe three, Daddy would feed Rennell beer so his head flopped to the side. Then he'd sit him down on the porch and spin him in circles till he tumbled off the edge and started crying. Made our daddy laugh like he was crazy."
The last laconic phrase was pregnant with horror: at six or seven, Payton Price had realized that his father was insane, his brother helpless. "Is that when you started hiding him?" she asked.
Another fleeting smile. "He told you about that?"
"He kept talking about the bush."
"He liked it there. But there was nothin' I could do to hide that boy enough—he was just so stupid. When my mama was passed out, and Daddy gone, sometime I'd have to find their money and go to the store for food, then get back to the house, all without gettin' rolled. No way to do that and take Rennell. So I'd tie him to the bedpost so he wouldn't try and follow me and get hisself run over." Payton folded his hands in front of him. "I could see why Daddy wanted to cuff him. Couldn't do a thing with him—too stupid even to keep hisself away from old Vernon. He'd just take it and take it and take it, like that was how his life was s'posed to be."
Listening, Terri felt a frisson of pity: for the older brother, riven by compassion, anger, and contempt, and more piercingly, for Rennell. The scapegoat, he must surely have grown to believe himself deserving of the most arbitrary abuse, and been both mystified and pathetically grateful for Payton's every protective act. "Did your mother try to protect him?" she asked.
Payton stared at his hands. "She'd cuff him, too. He was so pitiful he just brought more trouble down on her—Daddy always pissed at her for givin' him such a stupid child." Payton's voice grew harsh with memory. "All I had to do was look at either one of them, and I could see trouble comin'. Rennell didn't have no clue. So I was stuck with him."
Terri cocked her head. "Why did you bother?"
Payton looked up at her with a bleak smile which never reached his eyes. "Ever wake up at night to hear a child screaming 'cause his daddy's stripped him naked and made him sit on a radiator so hot it's spittin' steam and water? That's a sound you don't want to hear but once."
Paul Rubin's eyes closed briefly, reflecting the nausea Terri felt. Softly, she asked, "Is that why Rennell couldn't sleep?"
Payton nodded. "Way too scared to sleep. No way out for him at all—neighbors were scared of Daddy, their kids don't want nothin' to do with Rennell. Only place it's safe is on the streets, and even there you gotta get by, get food, and keep Rennell out of trouble. I figured it out for both of us."
"Dealing crack?"
Payton shook his head. "Rennell wasn't no good there, either. Too slow to be muscle—got hisself beat up on. The one time I let him deal he wound up with a stretch in juvenile hall. Come out a whole different person."
"How so?"
Payton sat back, eyes veiled as though remembering. "At our grandma's we each had our own room. But when Rennell come back he wanted to sleep with me. 'Cept he couldn't sleep—he'd pace up and down half the night, and when I'd make him lay on the bed he'd do it in his street clothes, holdin' his pocketknife and layin' on his back. First all he told me was 'You don't never sleep facedown in lockup.' "
For Terri, the last detail held a premonition. "And later?"
"He finally wore hisself out so bad he fell asleep. I could feel him twistin' up the sheets. Then he started screamin' 'Stop' over and over, sweat streamin' down his face, both hands gripping his jeans by the belt loops." Payton looked up at Terri, voice softer. "He didn't have to tell me nothin' then."
"Did he ever tell you?"
"Never made him. Just made him sleep alone. Boy couldn't sleep without no nightmares."
For an instant, silent, Terri flashed on Elena. Absently, Rubin removed his glasses and began to wipe them. "Always the same nightmare?" Terri asked.
"No." Payton sounded tired now. "Sometimes about Mama and Daddy."
"What exactly?"
Payton seemed to slump, his air of laconic composure slipping away. "Daddy used to tie her naked to a door handle and whip her with a belt. Made us watch that. Then he'd fuck her in the booty till she couldn't cry no more. Watchin' made Rennell cry, too. Still cryin' about it when he's eighteen." Briefly, Payton shrugged. "Maybe now, for all I know. Don't sleep with him no more."
Terri sat back, quiet for a moment. Payton looked up at her. "No more questions, counselor? Spent enough time at the zoo?"
"Not yet," she answered with some effort. "I've been reading the police reports from when your mother stabbed your father. All they tell me is that she did, not what happened before."
Payton's eyes narrowed slightly. "That's 'cause I never told 'em," he said at length. "You really want to know?"
"Yes."
"Our daddy made Mama suck Rennell's dick."
Startled, Terri shuddered: in one sentence, Payton had cast her worst imaginings of Rennell and Thuy Sen, and what psychology might underlie it—as well as the potental reason for Rennell's stubborn refusal to admit the act itself—in a horrific new light. "After all Daddy did," Payton added conversationally, "a nine-year-old's dick seems like a small thing to kill him over. But I guess Mama had her standards."
Terri gazed at him, face cradled in one hand, her stomach feeling raw and empty. Rubin slumped in his chair.
Softly, Terri asked, "What happened with Thuy Sen?"
Twitching to life, Rubin clamped a hand on Payton's wrist. "He can't answer that," the lawyer snapped at Terri.
Payton faced him. "You don't know the answer," he said. "Gonna die, man—no help for that at all. Might as well tell someone."
Rubin shook his head. "Whatever you tell Ms. Paget won't be confidential. You could be admitting to a capital crime."
"Yeah," Payton answered tersely. "I got that. The crime I'm gonna die for. I just learnt the word for that: re-dun-dant."
Without awaiting a response, Payton turned to Terri. "Happened just like they said—girl choked to death on come. Only thing they got wrong was 'bout Rennell." Payton paused, his smile tinged with an ironic melancholy. "He's scared of the dark—afternoon was the only time Rennell could sleep. Poor sucker slept right through that girl dyin'."
SIXTEEN
TAUT, TERRI STARED ACROSS THE TABLE AT PAYTON PRICE. "LET me get this right," she said softly. "You're telling me that Rennell wasn't involved in Thuy Sen's death."
Payton smiled. "I talk too fast for you to hear?"
"Then Flora Lewis couldn't have seen him."
The sardonic glint lingered in Payton's eyes. "It's like I say, all white people see alike. But that black cop Monk should have asked hisself how Eddie Fleet knew so much. Almost like Eddie was there."
Terri sat back. "Of course," she said. "Because he was."
* * *
They're high on crack, Payton and Eddie, sitting on Grandma's porch. Payton's keeping time in his head to some hip-hop music. When the girl comes by, Payton doesn't notice her. But then he can hardly see.