Page 57 of The Same Flesh
“Look at this picture—that’s his whole class, twelve kids.You can tell he was a troublemaker.”
Tean glanced up long enough, he hoped, to be credible.The yellowing picture was in black and white, and a line of dour-faced adolescents stared back at him.The building behind them was a plank structure with a sagging porch—the school apparently—and Tean had no idea which one was his grandfather, let alone which one was supposed to be the troublemaker.
Tean managed to tape up another box before his dad said, “That’s your great-grandfather’s wedding ring.Put it on.In his time, they couldn’t afford gold, so they had to use whatever they could get.I bet this is silver.”
Tean couldn’t bring himself to respond—much less try on the ring.Instead, to buy himself time, he took out his phone.He’d meant to pretend to scroll and read, just until the issue of the ring got dropped, but then, instead, he opened his messages.He hadn’t updated Amy yesterday, and now was as good a time as any.
Sorry we forgot to touch base yesterday, Tean wrote.Things got busy.
A text from Amy came through:Any luck?
Maybe.I don’t know.
What did you find in his house?
Tean took longer than he needed to as he composed the reply, mostly because it gave him something to do besides, quote,look at this.He wrote,I’m not sure.There’s evidence of some paraphilia.
Like what?Amy asked.
He may have had some voyeuristic tendencies.He may also have been sexually interested in his mother.
No response came back.
His dad made a strange noise—a huff that wasn’t quite a laugh.
It sounded like something designed to make Tean engage, so instead, Tean switched to his thread of messages with Jem and wrote,How’s everything going?
Terrible,came the response.Scipio said he’d help me with my vows if we played fetch, but then he came inside and slept.
And then another message came through from Jem:Just had an idea.What if we said our vows naked?Would that help?
“Oh, come on,” Tean’s dad said.
It wasn’tquiteanger.But the part of Tean that had grown up in a constant state of high alert, attuned to the emotional weather of the household, always sensitive to the possibility that he had been discovered, and that someone knew, and that this time, the anger was directed at him—that part of him sent a wave of hot prickles down his chest.
He focused on responding to Jem’s text.Help with what?
Getting us horned up for wedding sex, Jem wrote back.Are we going on a honeymoon?
And then:Do you know how many chicken nuggets Scipio and I could buy with honeymoon money?
Enough for at least one year, that’s the answer.
I know you think I’m joking, but I’m not.
Tean said,I’m worried you’renotjoking.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tean’s dad said.“Look at this.”
In one hand, he held a small block of wood.It had been painted red, with wheels fixed to the bottom, and if you were generous and viewed it from a certain angle, it might even resemble a car.
“I made this,” Tean’s dad said.“Pinewood Derby.Fifth grade.”
“That’s nice that he kept it,” Tean said.
“He put Andrew’s name on it.”His dad turned the car to show the bottom, where someone—apparently, Tean’s grandfather—had writtenAndrewin thick black marker.“Andrew never did the Pinewood Derby.Not once.He said it was stupid.”
“Well, if you’ve finished going through that box, I can tape it up,” Tean said in what he hoped was the most diplomatic way possible to say,Let’s hurry this up.
