Free Fragile Beasts by Tawni O’Dell Page B

The man whose funeral Shelby attended.”
    “That’s awful. Drunk driving.” Rae Ann shakes her head as she reaches for her third mojito. “He’s lucky he didn’t kill anyone else. Did he kill anyone else?”
    “No,” Shelby answers.
    “You didn’t go to the funeral, too?” Cameron asks me.
    “Absolutely not. I didn’t know the man at all.”
    “Interesting. You didn’t know him at all?”
    “Of course not. Shelby is friends with his sons.”
    “Shel said something about you taking these boys in. Letting them live here.”
    I flash Shelby a disapproving glare. She withers noticeably.
    “That’s nonsense. Shelby may have brought up the subject, but I told her it could never happen. I believed it was a conversation strictly between the two of us.”
    I glance her way again. She shrugs.
    “Shel seemed to think you’re considering it.”
    “That’s ridiculous.”
    “Good. I mean, good.” He signals to Luis for another drink. “Can you imagine anything worse for two teenage boys than living here with you?”
    I sit up in my chair, stiff-backed, holding my drink in my lap, and give him my undivided attention.
    “Yes, I can imagine worse things.”
    “I just mean … what would they do here? It’s like a convent but without the nuns.”
    “And would nuns make the convent better or worse?”
    He stares blankly at me. I’ve stumped him.
    “I mean, the rules,” he rallies and continues. “The lectures. This weird Spanish obsession you have with bulls and this eye-olly shit and little old Spanish men. And your coldness and bitterness. They’re boys. If they’re going to live with a woman, they need one who’s going to take care of them and love them, someone who’s affectionate. Not you, for Christ’s sake.”
    “Dad, stop it,” Shelby interrupts. “Klint and Kyle aren’t little kids.”
    “You can’t even be nice to a dog,” Cameron practically bellows and gestures toward Baby who’s now curled up in Rae Ann’s lap. “An innocent little dog.”
    “Cam, I think you’re being a little hard on Aunt Candy. Hard on Aunt Candy,” Rae Ann giggles drunkenly. “I almost said hard candy.”
    I smile at him.
    “Your concern for these boys is admirable, Cameron. Possibly you’d like to provide a home for them.”
    “Oh, no,” Rae Ann objects, giggling again. “I wouldn’t have any idea what to do with boys. Well, I know what to do with boys. But that would be illegal. Wouldn’t that be illegal?”
    “Stay out of this,” Cameron snaps at her and turns back to me. “I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page here.”
    “And what page would that be, exactly?”
    “The page where you don’t let those boys live here.”
    “And the reason is simply that you don’t feel I could provide a healthy environment for them?”
    “It’s not something we do, all right? Take in homeless white trash kids. It doesn’t look right.”
    “And there’s no other reason?”
    “Look. It doesn’t matter what my reasons are. I don’t have to explain them to you. Those kids aren’t living here. I forbid it.”
    “What did you say?”
    “I forbid it. I’m the head of this family. And I forbid it.”
    Silence falls suddenly and very heavily. No one moves or speaks. Even the frogs and the crickets cease their musical chirping.
    I stand up slowly. I have arthritis in my knees and can no longer stand quickly. The pain aside, it has caused me to adopt a more regal mode of movement.
    “Cameron, your position in this family could certainly be described using a body part, but I don’t think it’s the head. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m old and tired and I’m going to bed.”
    I may be old but I’m not tired and I’m not going to bed, but one of the advantages of getting on in years is that you can use your age to excuse just about any indiscretion, whether it be something trivial like a desire to leave a social gathering early or a need to wear paisley or something a little more dramatic