“Do you know my husband?”
“Sure. The night Uncle Herman died. I met both of you before you went out with Mommy and Daddy. He came back that night to talk with Daddy.”
She closed her eyes and nodded. “Very well, Andy. We have a deal. No notes.” Her eyes opened and she leveled her gaze on the boy. “What do you want to talk about?”
Andy whispered through his tears. “I killed my Uncle Herman. I didn’t want to, but he hit me. He hit me.” The tears rolled, he went to her side, held on to her and cried. When he calmed down, Ellen continued holding him and stroked his hair.
“Now, Andy,” she said softly, “what makes you think you killed your Uncle Herman?”
He turned his head and looked up at her. “Do you believe me?”
“What you believe is what’s important.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only answer I have, Andy.”
He looked down at his hands on his lap. “He hit me. He wanted me to eat that horrible stuff, and at first I wasn’t going to do it. But he hit me. He hit me twice!”
“So you wanted to kill him.”
He shook his head as the tears came to his eyes again. “I didn’t. Don’t you see? I don’t ever want to kill anybody. But what was I supposed to do? He was going to hit me again!”
She hugged him, stroked his hair, and began rocking him. “How do you feel now, Andy?”
He was quiet for a long time. When he realized his cheek was leaning against her right breast, he pulled back, his face red. “I feel better. A little better. What am I going to do?”
“We’ll take care of that together, Andy. It’ll take some time, but we’ll take care of it.”
“I don’t want to kill anybody else. I just want to be a boy.”
She stroked his cheek and continued rocking him, her face in a frown. “You don’t have to do anything for now except be a boy. Everything is going to be okay.”
On Wednesday Andy Rain woke up feeling much, much better. Despite the fact that his mother didn’t get out of bed all day, his father seemed happier, too. Thursday he saw Ellen again and they played some games and colored some pictures. She had him talk again about killing Uncle Herman, and he described it in detaiclass="underline" how he forced the lock, checked the gun, put it back, the hitting, and then the shooting followed by cleaning up and planting the fingerprints and gunshot residue. She seemed very strange after that.
He told her about his numbers and she asked him to repeat them several times. Eleven, three, ninety-seven. Four-three-one-two. Twenty-four forty-two and a bright color.
She wanted to know where the numbers came from, but Andy didn’t know. One day he woke up with them, that’s all. Did he remember anything before that day?
He didn’t know. Sometimes he sees things, has strange dreams, but he didn’t remember anything for sure.
In twenty-four forty-two and a bright color, she wanted to know what the bright color was, but Andy just shook his head. Then they played more games.
By the time Ellen dropped him off at his home, Andy’s mother was up, although still groggy from medication. By that evening, Marnie Rain had a meal on the table and the family sat down to eat. They talked, and there was even laughter. There would be a closed coffin funeral for Uncle Herman on Saturday, but that night Gary Rain, his wife and son, did much to heal the family.
Later, as they tucked him into bed, his father kissed him and left the room. His mother kissed him and then said something. “I know you think you did something bad to your Uncle Herman, but you didn’t, baby. It’s just a bad dream. Please believe me. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
She kissed Andy, turned off the light, and closed the door. Andy looked at the glowing face of the clown and tried to keep his heart quiet.
Had Ellen violated his confidence? Did she say something to Marnie? Or was it worse than that? Did she say something to Gary and Gary said something to Marnie? Who else had Ellen told? Her husband?
Even Ellen didn’t really believe he killed Uncle Herman, he was sure. But he needed to know if he could still trust her. It was possible that his mommy could’ve come to the conclusion that he felt guilty about her brother’s death all by herself. Andy knew from how his mommy talked that even she felt guilty about Uncle Herman’s death. If she had only done this; if she had only said that.
There were no decisions to make right then. To do the right thing, he needed to know the facts. He looked at the squat gray building outside his window, closed his eyes, slept, and saw faces he only knew from his dreams.
On Saturday they buried Uncle Herman. Little Andy insisted on attending, and the tears he shed were genuine, although he was crying more for himself than for the contents of the box being lowered into the ground. Twice during the service and once at the graveside ceremony, Andy caught John Draper looking at him. Ellen was there, too, and she smiled at him. By the time they got into the car and went home for the tiny reception hosted by his parents, Andy was convinced Ellen had told her husband.
As they drove home from the funeral through the center of the city, Andy sang the numbers beneath his breath, not knowing what they were, but enjoying the sounds. As his father steered the car left from Broad Street onto Cherry Street, Andy looked at the stores and shops and signs. Half of the way down Cherry the businesses were larger, fewer windows, doors, and signs. There was a fur storage company with a sign over its door that said “Nightlinger & Sons, Since 1887.” Opposite Nightlinger’s was a printing company. “Dodson & Steel, Quality Printing” said its sign. The number next to the printing company’s door was 2398. Andy noticed it because it was so close to one of his numbers. He looked to see if there was a number matching his. Because the buildings were so big and the doors so few, a lot of numbers were missing.
The car crossed Benton Avenue and the first building on the corner was huge with no windows at all. It’s sign said “Burke General Storage.” The number next to the door was formed by the ends of bricks sticking out from the wall. Two four four two. Twenty-four, forty-two. And Cherry is a bright color. Twenty four, forty-two Cherry Street. He wondered at it as he watched the Burke’s sign move out of sight.
Four Tuesdays later, Ellen picked Andy up for his regular session. As they were driving toward the Draper home, Andy finally asked her. “Did you ever tell anyone what I said about killing Uncle Herman?”
“No. We have an agreement.” She glanced at him and returned her gaze to the traffic. “Why?”
He told Ellen about what his mother said and about her husband looking at him during the graveside ceremony. “Well, you know I didn’t say anything to your mother. She was in bed and under sedation for most of that time. Besides, even if I was willing to break our agreement, which I’m not, I wouldn’t risk upsetting your mother. I’m sure she guessed on her own how you felt. After all, Andy, she’s your mother.”
Andy thought on that for a time and allowed that Ellen was speaking the truth there. “What about your husband looking at me like that?”
Ellen shrugged. “I don’t know.” She faced Andy and raised her eyebrows. “Maybe you should ask him.”
As she turned back to the traffic, Andy looked down and studied his hands. Before he had completely thought out the matter, he looked out the window and saw that Ellen was turning onto Cherry Street. “Why’re you going this way? This isn’t how to get to your house.”
“I have to pick up something on the way home. Do you mind?”
Andy shook his head as he continued staring out of the window. On this side of the street the numbers were odd instead of even. Before they reached Benton Avenue, Ellen pulled over to the curb and parked the car. Across the street was the entrance to the Burke General Storage Company, twenty-four forty-two Cherry Street. Ellen was smiling at him. “Do you want to come in with me?”