Free Vultures at Twilight by Charles Atkins Page A

As always careful to not let her true feelings slip about her son-in-law. If he hurt you I’ll kill him.
    â€˜That’s a laugh,’ he said, then changed the subject. ‘Got anything to eat?’
    Ada smiled. Yes, let’s pretend everything’s normal, but I will find the truth . ‘Come with me.’ He followed as she went into her galley kitchen and foraged through the cupboards, looking for suitable sustenance for a sixteen, almost seventeen, year old. As she inventoried her on-hand food, she was struck by how erratic her dietary habits had become. Aside from large-curd cottage cheese, a head of iceberg lettuce, Danish butter cookies, cartons of blueberry and pomegranate juice – high in anti oxidants – and a half loaf of twelve-grain bread – which reminded her of eating birdseed – her pantry was bare.
    â€˜Wait a minute.’ She opened the freezer. ‘I have ice cream and . . .’ She knew it still had to be there. ‘Hershey’s syrup.’
    Aaron laughed. ‘I’m not five.’ But he didn’t resist as she spooned out generous bowls of Ben and Jerry’s and squirted bursts of chocolate syrup over the top.
    â€˜So what happened?’ Ada asked, taking inventory of her tall, sandy haired grandson in his skinny jeans, sneakers and baggy tee. With his hazel eyes and even features, she had a moment’s hesitation and surge of pride; he’s turning into a really handsome man.
    â€˜I told you,’ he insisted.
    â€˜You told me something. Are you hurt anywhere else? And how did you manage to run into a wall ?’
    â€˜Jeez! You don’t let up,’ he said, avoiding her gaze and wolfing down ice cream. ‘Dad and I were fighting, and I wasn’t looking where I was going; I ran into the glass shelves in the living room. It’s no big deal.’
    â€˜Hmm.’ Observing how his story had just shifted from the wall to shelves, and that yes, somehow Jack was behind this; you bastard! ‘Have things quieted down, or is that why you’re here?’
    â€˜I had to get out of there, and Mom said you told her I could stay here.’ He glanced up expectantly.
    Ada swallowed back any criticism, any you could have called first or does your mother know you’re here? Looking at his handsome, albeit marred face, something melted; it’s not just that she loved him unconditionally, but that in his eyes, the angle of his jaw, even the way he flicked his too long bangs off his forehead she caught traces of her own brothers at that age, and from certain angles her grandfather, Morris, a man who by all accounts was too handsome for his own good. ‘Of course you can stay, but we’ll need groceries.’ Then she caught herself. ‘Wait a minute; what about school?’
    â€˜I’ve got my car. I can drive.’
    â€˜Right,’ she said, ‘you’re not five.’ There were so many things she wanted to ask. Are you really gay? How could you possibly know when you’re so young? Did your father do that to you? What aren’t you telling me? Never one to hold her tongue, Ada was filled with trepidation. She pictured Lil, with her even features and soft brown eyes and how the feelings she had for her friend had progressed beyond . . . friendship. It had taken her decades to even entertain such a notion, how could he possibly know at sixteen?
    â€˜What?’ he asked.
    â€˜It’s nothing,’ she replied, figuring if he were going to tell half truths about his father and whatever else was going on she’d do the same. And so they passed a companionable afternoon, playing Scrabble, finishing the ice cream and then taking a trip in Aaron’s not quite vintage, and not quite restored blue Mercedes diesel sedan to Costco, Ada’s favorite store.

NINE
    T olliver felt numb and not quite real as he pushed the unanswered stack of phone messages from one side of