Free A Changed Man by Francine Prose

it.
    Vincent says, “Are those them? Your kids?”
    Bonnie spins toward the window. The boys are walking up the back steps. Her relief is so euphoric it works like a stiff drink, persuading her that she can get through anything. Max and Danny are safe. In the face of that blessing, who could worry about something so minor as introducing her kids to a guy who’s changing his life by coming to work with Brotherhood Watch?

 
    W HAT’S STRANGE IS THAT D ANNY isn’t more surprised to come home and find some geek leaning his nasty tattooed arms all over the kitchen table. It’s as if he’s been expecting it. In fact it hasn’t been that long since he and Max saw that Chandler show about the former skinhead working with the famous Nazi hunter in California. Danny remembers telling Max: Trust me, it won’t be long until Mom and Meyer get a Nazi of their own.
    Now Danny gives his brother a look: Did I call this, or what? But Max has already left his body, vacated, as he tends to do in tricky family situations.
    “Boys, this is Vincent Nolan. He’s come to work with Brotherhood Watch. He’ll be staying with us for a few days until he gets his own place.”
    Danny says, “Mom, can I talk to you?” Six words practically guaranteed to make her start hyperventilating.
    “In a minute, honey. Vincent, this is Max, that’s Danny. Danny, Vincent, Max, Vincent—” Mom comes up for air.
    Max rolls his eyes at Danny. Does Max know what those tattoos mean? Danny’s often shocked by the gaps in his brother’s basic knowledge.
    “Mom,” says Max. “Take a deep breath. Chill. Say it again.” It’s one of those annoying things Max says to Mom when she’s wound tight and ready to snap. And Mom listens, she obeys, she gets all girly and smiles, and repeats herself more slowly. Normally, Danny resents the inside jokes Max shares with their mother. What makes it even more annoying tonight is that Max is too young to know to skip the chintzy family humor in front of the guy with the death’s-head and the Waffen-SS bolts on his arms.
    Obediently, Mom pauses, exhales. “Boys, Vincent Nolan, he’s come to work—”
    “Hi,” says Danny, cutting it short.
    “This is Danny,” says Mom. “Did I say that?”
    Vincent Nolan acknowledges him with a nod that’s more like a spasm. Has Mom not noticed that her new friend is Timothy McVeigh’s clone? What the hell is Mom thinking? Inviting some demented tweaker to stay here until one night, high on crystal meth, he figures out that they’re Satanists and that God needs him to hack them up and stash them in the freezer. How ridiculous that Mom’s not concerned about bringing this maniac home when she worries about every little thing. Danny fears that obsessive worry is an inherited trait.
    Danny and Max keep sneaking glances at the tattoos, until Mom catches them looking. “You guys should have been there. The most amazing thing happened. Meyer rolled up his sleeves and put his tattoo, you know, the numbers from the concentration camp, near Vincent’s, and it was so moving, seeing them like that together.”
    “It was something,” the skinhead agrees.
    The thought makes Danny want to puke. Meyer and Vincent’s tattoos. Tattoos in general gross him out, though his friend Chloe has an eyeball on her shoulder blade that winks when she twitches her back. Just this morning, in homeroom, Danny longed to reach out and touch it.
    Danny doesn’t like Meyer. He’s one of those guys who don’t have kids and think that kids are a waste of time. He can never remember which one is Danny and which one is Max, but he fakes it as long as their mom is around. What grade are you in? How do you like school? Mainly, Danny doesn’t like how Mom does whatever Meyer tells her, how she’s always quoting the guy. Meyer says this, Meyer says that. Meyer could be David Koresh. The Jewish Charlie Manson. Danny blames it on the divorce. Mom needs to be deprogrammed.
    Naturally, some part of him admires