Free Evolution by L.L. Bartlett Page A

there was an edge to his voice.
    “School. I’ve got nowhere else to go. I knew you wouldn’t be here, so I came home around six. The house was locked. I don’t have a key.” Mrs. Alpert wouldn’t allow him to have one.
    “Where’d you spend the night?” This time Richard’s words sounded like an accusation.
    “In Curtis’s car. I had to break a window to get into the garage. You can check if you want.” Would he be punished for that, too?
    “It was in the thirties last night. How did you stay warm?”
    “Curtis keeps a blanket on the backseat. It didn’t help much. I thought I was gonna freeze to death.”
    Richard took another sip. “Where have you been today?”
    “I told you, school.”
    Richard grunted and downed the last of his drink.
    Fury boiled inside Jeff. Why didn’t Richard apologize for not coming home the night before, for making him sleep in the garage? Why wasn’t he angry at what Jeff had had to endure? Why didn’t he do something besides pour liquor down his goddamn throat?
    Anger obliterated Jeff’s resolve to keep silent, to not give a damn about Richard and the promises he’d failed to keep.
    “Where the have you been?”
    Richard looked startled. “Me?”
    “I called from the school phone. The hospital said you left before midnight last night.”
    Richard’s mouth opened. He exhaled, but he didn’t speak.
    “I’ll bet you spent the night with some trashy chick,” Jeff bluffed.
    Richard put his glass down on the cocktail table before him, his shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry this was such a shitty Christmas for you, kid. I really wanted it to be different. And I’ve got more bad news.” He turned and looked Jeff in the eye. “Helen tossed your presents. I managed to retrieve this.” He indicated the TV on the floor. “She had it stashed in her car—along with half of grandfather’s liquor cabinet and a bunch of other stuff. She must have been cleaning them out for months.”
    Jeff stared at his brother. Was he supposed to care about all that crap?
    “I fired her,” Richard continued, “so at least you won’t have to put up with her acid tongue any more. And I’ll make it up to you, kid. I promise.”
    Jeff said nothing. Lies, lies, lies. That’s all adults ever told.
    “Don’t bother,” he said, and headed for the door.
    “Wait!” Richard called.
    Jeff turned. “You took me in when Mom died. You don’t owe me anything else, okay?”
    “But I do.” Richard stood again. “I promised your mother—”
    “ Our mother,” Jeff interrupted.
    “I promised her I’d look out for you.”
    “Yeah? Well, when do you plan to start? ’Cause I’ve already been waiting a hell of a long time.”
    Richard’s fists clenched at his side, his mouth drooping. “Jeff—”
    “Don’t bullshit me anymore,” he said and turned away. “I’ve had enough.” He took slow footsteps, a part of him—a big part—hoping Richard would come after him.
    But he didn’t.
    Jeff climbed the stairs, walked the sixteen paces to his lonely room, entered, and closed the door.
    ***

FOOD FOR THOUGHT
    The bubble of existence between sleeping and wakefulness was something to be savored, for in it there was no right, no wrong, no pain, and no fatigue, and Richard Alpert luxuriated in the bliss. Then he made the mistake of opening an eye and focusing on his bedside clock.
    “Holy shit!”
    He leaped out of bed and barreled toward the bathroom and the shower. He must have hit the alarm’s snooze button—and more than once because it was two hours later than he’d planned to get up.
    After a shower and a shave, he changed into clean clothes and charged down the stairs, grabbing his coat from the closet and heading for the kitchen and the back door.
    Curtis sat at the kitchen table, a fishing magazine spread out before him. He looked up as Richard strode past him.
    “Mr. Richard, the boy’s school called. They want you to go talk to the principal.”
    Richard snagged his keys from