Free Year of Lesser by David Bergen Page A

thick. He mumbles and stirs. Loraine backs from the room.
    One morning Johnny calls and tells Loraine that Chris punched a hole into his tongue. Johnny does not mean to say this, it is not the purpose of the call, but it slips out.
    “A hole? What do you mean?” Loraine asks.
    “Pierced. He pierced his tongue. You know, kids are into noses, navels, and so on. Well, Chris did his tongue.”
    “Like a hole right through?”
    “Yeah.”
    “You’ve seen it?”
    “He was showing some other kid at the centre. And there it was, a stud, right through the middle.”
    Loraine laughs. She doesn’t want to, but she does. “Unbelievable.”
    “Don’t tell him I told you,” Johnny says.
    “Sure, no problem, you’ll just stay out of my life. Why’d you tell me? Do you think I want to know these things?”
    “Yes. In the end, you do.”
    Loraine has to sit down.
    “Actually, I’m calling about his trial,” Johnny says. “Are you going?”
    “I guess.”
    “I’ll take him if you like.”
    “He’d let you?”
    “He said so.”
    Loraine can’t believe this, how her son has latched on to Johnny, a man he doesn’t really care for. All his hatred is aimed at her. “Well,” she says, “if he’d rather go with you, fine.”
    “Hey, it was his idea. I’m not stealing him from you.”
    “No?” It’s quiet, and then Loraine says, “Haven’t seen you, Johnny.”
    Johnny is slow to respond. He coughs softly and says that Charlene needs him. He’s torn, but he’s got to make some decisions. “It’s a moral thing,” he says.
    “A what?”
    “Moral. You know, duty.”
    “Oh, I see. I get it.”
    That evening, at supper, Loraine watches Chris eat. She looks for flashes from his mouth but there’s no sign of gold. He eats quietly. Loraine attempts to engage him. “You going into town tonight?”
    “Uh huh,” he says.
    “How?”
    “With Walker.”
    “Seeing someone?”
    “Some kids.”
    “You still see Melody?”
    “Yup.”
    “Does she hang out at the centre?”
    “Some.”
    “Johnny called. He asked about your court appearance. The thing is, do you want me to go or Johnny?”
    “Johnny.”
    Loraine’s poking at some cauliflower on her plate. It crumbles and falls away. She can see that Chris is embarrassed. He doesn’t want his mother to see him in court. She accepts this and says, “Is Melody going the same day?”
    “Yeah.”
    “And Roger?”
    “A different time.”
    “Do you still see Roger?”
    “Not much. He’s a jerk. What is this?” Chris pushes back from the table.
    Loraine watches the tendons move on his hands. She remembers when he was two, she’d circle his wrist with her fingers and feel his narrow bone there and marvel at how frail he was. She hates the sound of her voice now, whiny, wheedling, as she says, “Before you leave you’ve got eggs to gather.”
    Chris turns and looks at his mother, distaste for this life forcing his mouth open and revealing his tongue, almost oversized, Loraine thinks, and she sees for an instant the tiny red spot at the centre of that fleshy organ, and then the mouth shuts and Chris is gone.
    The day of the court appearance, Johnny picks up Chris at nine in the morning and Loraine manages to kiss her son on the cheek before he leaves. Johnny stands in the doorway, his head bent a little, hands sticking into the pockets of his jacket. Chris is already in the car. Loraine keeps her distance and lays her hands across her belly. “Thanks,” she says.
    “For what?” Johnny says.
    “For doing this.”
    “Achhh.” He waves his hand and dismisses her.
    “He’s so angry,” Loraine says. Her body’s twitching being so close to Johnny. This happens when he’s around, excitement rises from her stomach up to her throat and then trickles around in her back. She lifts her nose. When he’s gone, raising a hand, obviously wanting to kiss her but knowing she won’t let him, Loraine folds laundry and thinks that she’s lonely. She has no one she