Page 12 of Keep Quiet

“I don’t know. After this, I feel—”

“No, what were you going to do tomorrow, before this happened?”

“Well, it’s Saturday. Chemistry, Algebra. You know, homework.” Ryan shrugged, and Moose lay down, tucking his muzzle between his meaty front paws.

“Okay, so do your homework. Do everything you would do. Go out on that date, with that blonde, Janine Mae—”

“Dad, are you serious right now? That’s not possible.”

“I know it’s not easy, but it’s the only way, and we did this so you can have a life. So live your life.”

“Is that why we did it? For me?”

“No, well, for us both.”

“No, for me.” Ryan’s voice softened, pained. “Tell the truth, Dad. You did it for me. You were going to tell the cops that you were driving, for me, before you even knew about the weed.”

Jake waited, not understanding or not wanting to answer, or both. “Is that a question?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes.”

“That’s, like, so unselfish of you.”

Jake felt a surge of emotion that constricted his chest. “Son, I love you and I’d do anything for you. It’s as simple as that.”

“I love you, too.” Ryan paused. “Dad, what are you doing tomorrow? Are you going to the office?”

“No, I’m—” Jake caught himself. “I told your mother I’m going in early, but I have to take care of the car.”

Ryan gasped. “Oh no, I forgot! What about the car? Is there blood on it? Is it dented?”

“I’ll handle it.” Jake had found a dent on the front bumper and on the undercarriage. “I don’t want you to think about this anymore. Let me handle everything. These are my decisions, not yours. The less you know the better, as a general matter.”

“Can I go with you?”

“Where?”

“To the body shop.”

“No. Now lie back, and go to sleep. In fact, make sure you sleep in. You always sleep in on Saturday mornings, and your mother expects that, so don’t change anything.” Jake sensed it would be safer if Ryan wasn’t alone with his mother, in the short run. The boy was too fragile right now, and Pam could cross-examine a rock.

“Dad, how am I gonna sleep late? I can’t sleep now.”

“Stay in bed anyway. I’ll be back before noon, and I’ll come get you. Okay? Don’t worry, let me handle everything. Now lie down and try to rest.” Jake gave him a final pat on his shoulder, then rose to go. “I’ll be down the hall in my office.”

“Why?”

“I have some work to do.” Jake realized he’d just told his third lie of the night and resolved to stop counting. “Try to get some sleep. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Jake went to the door, taking one last look at Ryan, who was hugging the dog in the dark. He flashed on his son as a child, cradling Moose as a fuzzy puppy, just brought home from the shelter. The memory was completely fresh, and for a moment, Jake felt stunned by its appearance, the sweetness of the past clashing so horribly with the anguish of the present.

Jake thanked God he had a son to put to bed when he knew somewhere there was a family, right now, waiting for someone who would never come home. Jake felt a wave of new shame. Then he slipped out of the bedroom, closed the door behind him, and padded down the hall to his office.

He was a planner, and he needed a plan.