Page 28 of The Same Flesh
It went on like that for pages, talking about the improvements to the facility, about the staffing, about all the great stuff they’d done for kids.And there were pictures.Rainbow House from the street.Nasha and the other adult staff members lined up together.Some of the kids playing Monopoly.What must have been one of their community outreach events—Jem recognized Rainbow House’s main room, and it was crowded with people he didn’t know.Kids from Rainbow House on a trip to the capitol building.Kids from Rainbow House on a trip to the aquarium.Kids from Rainbow House at an indoor swimming pool.
Jem stopped turning pages.
This page, the one with the pictures from an indoor swimming pool, had a slightly curled corner, like the packet had been left open to this page.Like someone had handled it a lot.
And the biggest picture showed Daniel.He was shirtless, his swim trunks wet and clinging, and he was laughing about something.Jem’s first thought was how happy Daniel looked.How much he’d changed in the last few months.He was a good-looking kid: tousled blond hair, full lips, clear skin that was still soft, a child’s complexion, even though his face—and more so, his body—was on the brink of becoming a man’s.
Wendell taking this out of his nightstand.
Wendell lying in bed, holding this in one hand.
Wendell looking at Daniel.
Jem knocked the drawer shut with his knee.He folded the packet and shoved it in his back pocket.
This is my room.If you ever need anything, you don’t have to knock.Just come right in, Jem.This is your house too.
The ensuite bathroom next.Pill vials on the counter: blood pressure, blood pressure again, one so he could get a boner.He was moving too fast and knocked over one of the vials, and the cap must not have been on right because it popped off, and pills went everywhere—across the vanity, onto the floor, a few of them even spilling down the sink.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
He gathered up as many of them as he could find, funneled them with his hand back into the vial and screwed the cap on.He checked the drawers.The usual—toothpaste, floss, lotion, extra toilet paper.Nothing interesting in the shower-tub combo either.
Jem stopped.Pressed his hands against his chest.
What the fuck am I doing?
Whatwashe doing?What was this all about?Coming here like this, taking a risk like this—for what?He hadn’t thought about it.Hadn’t planned it.And if someone saw him and called the cops.If Wendell came home and caught him.
But another part of Jem thought of Wendell in bed, Wendell holding that packet in one hand.Thought of the worn corner of the page that had curled slightly.
Let him come home.Let him catch me.
He walked through the bedroom that had been turned into Wendell’s home office.He saw the computer and the corner desk and the filing cabinets.And, at the same time, he didn’t really see anything.
The next bedroom was still a bedroom.It might even have been the same bed, although now the bedding was a blue that matched the bedding in Wendell’sroom; yearsago, the bedding had been printed with race cars.
Do you like race cars, Jem?
No, dumbass.Because I’m not five years old.
The walls were grayish-brown instead of the balloon wallpaper.Red and blue balloons.And in Jem’s head, those gauges in his head ticking up toward the red, and another part of him imagining he was a balloon, and he was high overhead, looking down at himself, and he was going somewhere else, wherever the wind took him.
I bought you some new clothes.Let’s see if they fit.
New, yes.Dorky as hell, also yes.Prissy little shorts.A prissy little shirt to match.
A lot of kids would be grateful for new clothes.
A lot of kids would get the shit beaten out of them if they showed up to school like that.
Let’s at least see if they fit.
Tick, tick, tick.
I’ll help you.
No more ticking.The needle lurched up.
