The Last Stand of Haviland Dinwiddie

Chapter 12

By Dabeagle

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“I'm going to start dinner,” she said, foregoing any looks into my brain.

I spent the next fifteen minutes folding, organizing and putting away Rigby's clothes. I hummed to myself, feeling comforted in this moment. I had set up his charging units on top of the dresser next to my stuff when he got back from showering.

“What did you do?” he asked, laughing at the empty bags on the floor.

I turned to tell him where all his things were, but then. Ugh. Sometimes I legitimately forget I'm gay. Maybe it's my trauma, but I'm not really a walking hormone. I don't even jerk off regularly. Sometimes I wonder if the trauma of my father coupled with me avoiding anyone I found attractive had acted like some kind of aversion therapy, making it difficult to get aroused.

Rigby's hair was still damp, wet strands showing darker against the drier hair. It gave him a fresh appearance, but that was just the first thing I noticed – and I noticed a lot, but there were too many things for me to process. He was wearing the tank top he'd worn to the sleepover at Daphne's, showing off the skin on his upper chest through the low cut and his shoulders that led to biceps that were masculine enough for my taste. Soft flannel pajama pants covered his lower half, and his bare feet peeked out from the cuffs.

“Hey. E.” He waved a hand, and I smiled with my eyes wide, knowing he'd caught me checking him out. “My eyes are up here,” he said, torching me and proving I'd been caught.

I cleared my throat. “So, I folded your stuff and got it put away. Let me just show you,” I said, speaking a little faster than normal, because I was nervous. Anxious as always, but also feeling nervous. Or was it just nerves, because I wasn't worried, just...like there was electricity running under my skin. I was practically vibrating.

“Uh. Wow. I guess you're...more of a neat freak than I thought.” I shot him an embarrassed smile as he continued. “Did...did your father make you keep everything...perfect?”

I rubbed my finger across my upper lip – there's always an itch somewhere if you think about it just a second. “Uh, yeah. I...well, small space. I figure if we're living together. Same room.”

He glanced toward the door, where the sounds of my mother cooking carried from the kitchen, then back to me. He took a step forward and lowered his voice.

“You sure you're okay with this?”

I frowned. “Yeah! Of course I am.”

“Well...you seem kind of weird.”

I glared at him. He just looked back at me. I gritted my teeth as he waited me out. Finally, through gritted teeth, I said, “You look good.”

He pushed his tongue up against his teeth, a smug little smile curling his lips. He stuck an arm out and flexed. “You think?”

“Oh, shut up!” I told him, pushing his arm back down. He laughed, and I just enjoyed looking at him, smiling and being comfortable. I felt like there was still an awkward charge in the air; after all he knew I'd been checking him out and liking what I saw. I suppose that's interesting in that I'd thought he had a nice face and now, after knowing him, I was in love. Real, in your bones love.

He swapped his stuff to the dryer, and then we had dinner with my mom. After watching some TV with her to kill time, he brought his things in from the dryer. We set the little whale on the dresser to finish air drying. It was a little bit of an adventure getting his fresh things put away; he was more inclined to leave them, but it made my eyes itch to see them sitting out. I think he realized this and was just trying to get me to fold his stuff for him. Or he just enjoyed winding me up.

After that was done, we settled in as we had before, lying together and looking at things on our phones. I was lying on my back when he rolled over and put his head on my chest like a pillow, resting his cheek on me as he held his phone in one hand and told me to look at the meme he was laughing at. I turned my head to see better and laughed with him; it was a picture of a foot with a condom stretched over it. The caption was that the person was ready in case they had to put their foot in someone's ass that day. He turned the screen, and I was left with him lying on me, so casual and also so intimate.

I couldn't kiss his hair if I wanted to – my chin would run into my neck. But my arm was to my side, and I brought it up slowly, then gently placed it on his shoulder as if he'd get angry. But he didn't. I swallowed and slowly moved my thumb back and forth on his skin. The feeling was...impossible for me to describe. His bare skin under my hand became my world. That probably sounds lame – I'm sure it actually is – but it was the most intimate thing I'd ever done with someone.

Sure, we'd slept together and been contorted somewhat, sometimes waking up back to back and sometimes pressed back to front. But the skin to skin contact – the warm, smooth, soft texture was something so foreign to me as to be precious. I was consumed by the feeling of touching him.

“Rig. Is this okay?” I asked, my voice just a whisper.

He shifted his head, rolling his eyes up to look at me. “Is what okay?”

I patted his shoulder. “This.”

He stared at me for a second. “You mean touching me?”

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

“I'm not calling you dumb,” he said, moving his head back where he'd been and looking at his phone. “You're just not smart.”

Confused I asked what he meant.

“Of course you can touch me, E.” I swallowed, feeling excited and unsure. The feeling of connection with him from my fingertips to his shoulder felt...like life itself, silly as that probably was. “Play with my hair? I like that.”

I wasn't just surprised, I was filled with excitement and happy that touching him was a given, as far as he was concerned. I moved my hand up his neck and started to run my fingers through his hair. He let out a sigh and put his phone down, moving his hand to my side almost like hugging a pillow and enjoying my touch.

“That's what I'm talking about,” he said quietly. We lay still for a bit, nothing but the feel of his soft hair through my fingers, his warm body lying on mine, his head on my chest. Eventually we did get up, got drinks and had to use the bathroom. Mom went to bed, and we said goodnight, each giving her a little hug. We were getting ready to go to bed ourselves when he got a call from Daphne.

“Sup?” he asked her, looking at the video call on his screen.

“Hav's back in the store – just a heads up for tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah? How's he look?”

“He's Hav. He looks like he got beat up, a little. Really has me salty. He's an old guy. Who does that?”

“Who the fuck would do that?” Rigby asked, shaking his head. “What about that body they dug up? I thought Hav might be in jail or something.”

“I guess they're investigating, but as far as I know they have the story that Hav's mom killed him. Did you guys survive detention?”

“Oh, yeah. No big deal.”

“What about Harvey? I know you probably let the coven and their crap roll off you like water off a duck's back, but he's never had those crazy hoes to deal with.”

He looked at me. “You ready for this?”

“For what?”

He jutted his chin toward the bed, and I nodded, hitting the light and climbing in. He got in, shifting around until he was reclined with his head on my chest. He pulled my hand down so it was in the middle of his chest, my arm resting on his shoulder. He adjusted the phone so Daphne could clearly see us both.

“I'm gonna say he's okay, Daph.”

“Oh my God! I need to screencap this!”

“Night, Daph,” he said and ended the call.

“Hey,” I said, poking him and trying to sound casual while completely freaking out inside. “Don't you think we should have talked about that? She's going to have questions, now.”

He rolled over, resting his chin on my chest and looking up at me. I shifted my hand so it was on the skin of his shoulder, just because I liked touching his skin. Plus he had said it was okay to touch him.

“That's the fun part, E. She can ask all she wants,” he said with a grin.

“What is up with you?”

He shrugged and moved to lie next me so he could have an actual pillow. We both lay on our backs, and he said softly, “I was just thinking, is all. I've been doing a lot of it the last couple weeks, and even more since the falls and what we talked about. I'm just starting to wonder if the whole idea of love...the flowers and chocolates and stuff. Maybe they got it wrong? Or maybe that's not love for everyone?”

“Yeah,” I said slowly. “I guess we kind of talked about that. I don't understand what that means with the way you're acting now though.”

He gave me some side eye. “I'm saying...what if love, to me, is this? What if it's what we're working on instead of...what I did before?”

I glanced at him. “I'm not sure I understand.”

He sighed. “I'm not sure I do, either. But it's kind of like this. What if I've been doing it wrong, thinking love for me is about some set of standards that aren't me, but what other people expect or have told me to do. What if love is not so much about boys and girls but about being where you're happy and wanted?”

I gave him a moment in case he'd say more, but when it seemed like he was done I said, “That sounds nice.”

He stayed quiet for another minute. “There was an ex or two that would play with my hair, and I wanted to see if I liked it when you did it.”

I waited for him to continue, and when he didn't, I prompted him. “And?”

“Hmm?”

“I know you know what I'm asking.”

I felt him shake from laughing next to me. I rolled to lie on my side.

“Rigby, you never used to be this evasive.”

“Yeah.” He paused. “Being someone's boyfriend does that, I guess.”

I gave that a second to sink into the dimly lit room. “I...kind of let that slip earlier. I thought you were going to let it slide.”

“Not going to lie, I wasn't sure what to do with that at first. I'm trying to act like I have before when I'd hang out with an ex; you know, lying together. Being close. I don't know about all the stuff someone might expect from a boyfriend and boyfriend situation yet, but...I'm actually feeling pretty good about this.”

I swallowed. “Well. I don't mean to harsh on the idea, but...I'm not sure about that, either.”

“That's okay.” He reached out and touched my arm. “Come here.”

My anxiety flooded my veins, and nerves lit up like they'd been soaked in gas and were just waiting for a match.

“What?” I asked, moving closer.

He pushed on my shoulder. “Put your head on my chest for a minute.”

I slowly moved over, shifting down and resting my head gingerly against his warm, firm chest. One arm was trapped under me, but I placed the other one on the skin of his shoulder, because why not? He brought up the hand that was behind me and gently began stroking my hair. I let out a deep, embarrassingly deep, sigh.

“Yeah. You like that, don't you.”

“Don't sound so smug about it,” I told him. “And don't stop?”

He chuckled, and I liked the feeling of my head on his chest, the vibration of his laughter, hearing his heart and feeling his fingers stroking slowly through my hair, pads of his fingers touching my scalp.

I don't remember falling asleep.

^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

In the morning we got ready to leave. He made a comment that putting clothes on that were folded felt like putting on new things, and he liked it. I flushed with unexpected pleasure that folding his clothes had brought him a good feeling. I began to think about the previous day; Would the coven be a fresh issue today? What would things be like with Daphne, and would she have said anything to anyone? Probably to Tony, but would it occur to her to say anything to anyone else?

As I parked the car, I glanced at Rigby. “I'm just going to talk to Daphne. I don't want her to tell anyone anything. I don't think I'm ready for...public...whatever.”

He raised his chin. “Is this your way of asking what I think? What if I want to tell the world?”

I stared at him.

“Okay, maybe I don't want to, but still. What happened to talking about it?”

“You told Daphne without talking to me first.”

“Right, but then I played with your hair to make it up to you.” He laughed a little. “I'm not really ready either. Just wanted to wind you up. I'm going to call my father, see about checking in on Ezra.” He got out of the car and started across the parking lot, taking his phone out.

I grabbed my phone and called Daphne. Moments later her face filled my screen. “Harvey, good morning.” She crowded the screen. “Is it a good morning?”

I closed my eyes for a moment. “Yes, it's a good morning. I wanted to catch you before you went to class. Are you alone?”

“Tony's with me in the car. My passenger princess got his privileges restricted again. Something about pudding.”

“Yogurt!” Tony corrected her.

“Yogurt, whatever.” She returned her attention to me. “What's up?”

I sighed. “Well, Rigby...last night he...look, we're still figuring this thing out, and I'm not ready for, you know, the school to know.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Oh! Yeah, no, of course! Tony and I will keep it to ourselves – don't worry.”

“Thanks. I just...yeah, thanks.”

“Hey. Can I just say one tiny thing? Is it okay?”

I let out a nervous chuckle. “Okay?”

She tilted her head and smiled, but not her big, break your face smile. It was just a nice, warm expression. “When I met you...you looked so sad. Now...not so much.”

I let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Well, Rigby keeps starting arguments with me, so maybe I'm getting more pissed off than sad.”

“I saw that smile last night. You know, before you knew what Rigby was up to.”

“I'm starting to think he's always up to something,” I grumbled.

“Well. I think you'll have fun finding out.”

The warning bell rang from inside the school, and we disconnected, rushing to get in for homeroom. I struggled a little with trying to be happy with the way things were developing with Rigby and not worrying about dealing with other people. I think I'd gotten fairly good at staying on the down low, but in some ways I was feeling like it was written on my skin. There was also the coven to think about, but by the time I got to lunch I was feeling better. Apparently no one magically knew Rigby and I were a thing, and I hadn't seen any of those girls.

I sat down beside Tony at lunch, and he nodded to me, but he was engaged in playing a card game in between eating. I watched as he and his friends were focused on their strategies. I'm not entirely sure what I'd expected; Tony'd always been good to me, and his friends were welcoming, if not seeking my friendship. By the time I sat down in class with Daphne, I was feeling as good as I was going to, I figured.

“Hey,” she said, taking her seat. “I can't believe the cops did that to Hav. Unbelievable.”

“I haven't seen him yet. The cops hit him?”

The teacher started class, and our conversation had to wait for a bit. Given it was a short week, with the Thanksgiving break coming, there wasn't a great deal being covered in class that week. Soon enough Daphne moved her chair closer so we could talk.

“I don't know the story,” she said, keeping her voice down. “Sandy said something happened late last week, so now he's got bruises that are healing. But yesterday immigration came in and was questioning Raul, saying someone had reported Hav was hiring illegals. Sandy said it was terrible.”

“Jesus. Is Raul okay?”

“Yeah. Hav demanded to see their warrant, and they tried to brush him aside. I don't know exactly what happened, because Sandy wouldn't say, but they left without taking Raul. Sandy said Raul is here legally, but now they're wondering who called. I'm betting Dooley.”

“Sounds like the kind of shit he'd pull,” I agreed.

“So glad you guys will be in tonight. It'll feel like getting back to normal, you know? Hav will threaten to fire Rigby, and it'll feel like everything is okay,” she said, then covered her mouth as she started to laugh.

“I'm glad someone picks on Rigby,” I said with a smile.

“Right? They're some kind of comedy team. I think Hav likes Rigby, but picking on him is how he shows it.” She propped her head up on her hand. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“Uh. I don't know.”

“I was thinking we should do another movie night. My mom wants to do this theme night where people are traveling for a holiday. We can camp out and just eat dessert over and over.” She smiled widely.

“Yeah, that could work,” I said. “You thinking after dinner or something?”

“Unless you want to try getting your mom and my mom together for dinner?” She straightened up at the idea. “Our relatives aren't close by; I think the closest is a few states away. We usually have some phone calls on holidays, but there isn't a lot of visiting going on, so it's usually just me and my mom. You're new in town, not calling anyone to visit, I'm guessing...what do you think?”

“Uh, yeah? I mean, it doesn't hurt to ask?” I shrugged, although I liked the idea. “My mom's social meter is kind of...runs out fast. She.” I glanced around a bit, just checking to see if anyone was listening; of course our conversation wasn't really interesting enough to pay attention to. “She doesn't really go out of the apartment. So if she says yes, it might be really short.”

Her eyes went wide, and she shrugged as she smiled. “Still! It'd be fun!”

I rubbed the side of my face. “Uh. Rigby would be there.” I glanced at her. “For dinner.”

She looked a little confused for a moment. “I mean, of course. What about his family?”

I mentally hunted for the right thing to say without giving up his business. “I just think he'll probably be with me.”

“Aww.”

“Stop,” I looked away, embarrassed but smiling. The class ended and we separated, me heading to my final class, the only one I had with Rigby.

He barely sat down before, speaking. “Bruh. Can we go bring Ezra his whale after school? Like before we go to work?”

“Sure.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “So Daphne's invited us for movies again on Thanksgiving.”

“Perfect. I never know what to do on Thanksgiving besides eat a pie from the grocery store.”

I glanced at him. “A pie? Like, that's it? You eat a whole damn pie by yourself?”

“What? You calling me fat?”

“Calling you a pig,” I said with a snicker. He flipped me off. “She also invited us for dinner. I have to talk to mom.”

He tilted his head. “Wait.” He leaned in closely, and I copied him. “Is this because she thinks we're f-u-c-k-i-n-g?”

I pulled back and gave him a glare. “I think it's more because she thinks you're an i-d-i-o-t.”

He pretended to think. “Wait. I-d...what came next?”

I laughed and shook my head. The teacher assigned us all a worksheet; Rigby and I decided to get it done, since we had to work that night. Opening our laptops, we pulled up the exercise and got it finished. I read the question aloud for us, and someone asked if I really needed to do that. Embarrassed, I just closed my laptop, and said I'd do it later. When school let out, we headed for the car and then home.

“So we have a dinner invitation for Thanksgiving, huh? Did you tell her I was living with you?”

I shook my head. “No. I told her you'd just probably be with me.”

“See? That's why she thinks we're getting busy. Should have just told her my family imploded into a messy ball of Jerry Springer meets an episode of COPS and whatever the reverse of one of those makeover shows would be.”

I rolled my eyes. “Gee. Why didn't I think of that? Would have been so much easier.”

“Right?” he asked with a laugh. It was a bit more amusing to me, since I realized he knew I'd said what I did to protect him. It's funny how you learn to interpret a person, for better or worse.

We stopped by the house, and Rigby went to get the whale for his brother while I went to sit near my mom as she handled a call.

“I understand completely. The problem here is the rules in the system. Because you've been late three consecutive months, it won't let me waive the fee, because it's been done too often.” My mom pursed her lips as the other person spoke. “I can appreciate the difficult circumstances, and I'd like to help. May I put you on a brief hold and see if I can find a way around this? Thank you so much.” She tapped a button, leaned forward and then nodded.

“Okay, I have a minute,” she said and rubbed her face.

“Bad call?”

“Oh, no, not really. The company has a late fee, and she keeps being late. She's telling me about some tough financial issues she's facing, and I sympathize. It's just that she has a habit of calling and wanting the late fee removed, and the system literally will not let me.”

“So why did you tell her you were trying to find a way?”

She gave me a tired smile. “Because I want her to feel like I tried. I did; there just isn't anything else I can do. When I go back on the call, I'll put her in the supervisor queue. I know she's going to ask me to do that, and I know the supervisor will tell her the same thing I did, but...it's all I have.”

“Why don't you just tell her you can't and let it go at that?”

“Because a lot of them start to scream and yell and say the vilest things, and I just...can't. I don't make the rules, but I can try to not escalate things. What are you two up to?”

“He's taking me to bring Ezra his whale. He loves it,” Rigby said.

“Ezra's your little brother?”

“Yep. He's okay as little brothers go.”

“One moment,” she said and hit the button to reconnect. “Hello, ma'am, are you still there? I apologize for the delay. I tried everything I could, the system just won't let me do this. Yes. Oh sure, I understand. I certainly can. Have a wonderful holiday.” She pressed a button and then took the headset off. “You just never know if someone is scamming or really in trouble,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Hey, Mom? Real quick before we run out, so we're not late to work. Daphne was talking about maybe you, me and Rigby going to her house with her and her mom for Thanksgiving dinner? I think she was going to talk to her mom about it, but...you want to think about it?”

“Oh. Wow. Okay, sure I'll...think about it.”

I tilted my head. “Are you putting me on hold like that lady?”

She took a deep breath. “No, I promise. I'm not sure if I'm up for that. So let me think about it, okay?”

“Okay.” I wasn't sure I believed her, but I also wasn't going to try and force the situation. She may not be ready. Living here was already a huge change for her, so....

Rigby gave me directions, and we drove over to an apartment complex just outside of downtown. It didn't stand out in any way as either a nice place or something run down – it was just an average apartment building. I followed Rigby up to the second floor, and he rang the buzzer. A minute later the door opened, and a man clearly related to Rigby stood in the entryway. He was not much taller than Rigby, maybe five foot ten, with the same light brown hair, with gray strands running through it. He had a mustache and a tattoo running down his left arm that made me uncomfortable; images flashed in my head of my father's tattoos. He was dressed in canvas work pants and a tank top undershirt.

“Rig,” he said in greeting.

We stepped in and to one side as his dad closed the door.

“Hey, Dad. What's up?”

“Same shit,” he said, walking away to a small living room set. He sat down and took a pull on a vape. Exhaling, he continued. “Liz is thrilled. She took Ezra down to the playground.”

Rigby drifted over to the couch and sat down, and I joined him.

“I thought Liz didn't like your kids?”

He snorted. “I guess Ezra's too young for her to dislike. Fuck if I know.” He glanced at Rigby. “Best piece of advice you'll ever hear; don't try and understand women. Second one is don't knock one up.”

I struggled to figure out what a handsome man like Rigby's dad could have seen in Rigby's mother. Knowing the woman as I did, I was sure it wasn't intellect or appearance. Maybe it was nothing more than she'd been available.

“Yeah, I'm ducking them all,” Rigby said. “Uh. Brought Ezra's whale. It's his favorite.”

“Toss it over there,” he said, indicating a small table. “Your mother called last night. That why you're here?”

Rigby got up and put the stuffed animal on the table. “Uh, no. Just bringing this. Kid loves it, you know?”

His dad took another drag on the vape and made a large exhale. “They condemned the place. Well, you know, they call it revoking the residency something or other certificate...bullshit. You know.”

“I figured that was coming, yeah.”

He snorted. “She asked me if she could move in here.” He laughed without any humor. “That would go over like a fart in church.”

“She's actually a lot like Ezra, except she smokes and drinks a lot of soda,” Rigby offered.

His dad rubbed his forehead. “Listen...son. This is a one bedroom place. I can start looking for someplace so you and Ezra can split a room, but...shit's been bad. Liz will pitch a fit – like she does about everything. But...did your mom find a place for you? 'Cause best I can do is a couch and get Ezra a sleeping bag right now.” He looked at Rigby. “I'm broke. I'm not sure what's next, but...I'll do what I can for you.”

Rigby lifted his chin. “I'm good. I don't know where Mom's headed, but I'm not going with her. She kind of told me there wasn't room anyway.”

His dad shook his head and grimaced. “That's fucking cold.”

“Is what it is,” Rigby said quietly. “Uh, this is my boy, Harvey. I'm living with him and his mom for now.”

His dad looked up at me, and I felt a flash of electricity in my chest. I felt like I was looking at Rigby in twenty years or so. His dad's eyes were just...worn out. Tired, hopeless, just playing out the string. “I appreciate you taking my boy in. Have your mom reach out to me. I'll try to send something to help with his keep; no doubt he's more comfortable with you than he would be here.”

I swallowed. “We'll take good care of him.”

The door opened behind us. “Daddy! We're home! We had so much – oh. I didn't know we had company.” Her voice had started out happy, in the way you speak to little kids and pets. Now it dropped, not quite unfriendly but definitely not welcoming.

“Rigby!” Ezra said happily and came running over, stopping short of hugging his brother. Instead he kind of danced back and forth in excitement, sort of like a puppy.

“Hey, squirt,” Rigby said, his mouth curling with amusement. “Look, I found your whale.”

He directed him to the table, and Ezra let out a happy squeal and retrieved the – thankfully clean – toy. He hopped up and down like he had when asking Rigby to cook for him; I guess Rigby was right, he did love that toy.

“Hi, Liz,” Rigby said quietly.

“Hi, Rig. Who's your friend?”

“I'm Harvey,” I said, and gave her a little wave.

“Hi, Harvey.” She looked back to Rigby. “Sorry to hear what happened at your mom's place. Did she find anything new?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. I'm staying with Harvey and his mom.”

“Oh. Oh, well, that's...good. That's good, right?”

Rigby nodded, though it seemed robotic. “Well. We have to work.”

“I want a grilled cheese!” Ezra told him.

Rigby squatted down. “I can't make you one right now, squirt. I have to go to work.”

“Maybe Rigby will come take you for burgers on the weekend or something,” his dad said.

Rigby looked at his dad and then back to Ezra. “What do you think? You want a hamberder?”

“Hambooger,” Ezra corrected him.

“Really? You put boogers on your berder?”

“Yep!” Ezra chirped, laughing.

“How gross. Rigby, really,” Liz muttered.

“They's being boys. Leave it,” his dad said.

That quickly degenerated into a back and forth about teaching Ezra gross things and how he'd need 'some correction after his mother', and his dad fought her, but it seemed like one of those things where you say the lines because they're expected. It was a fading painting, unable to not display itself, though the colors had faded and the paint had cracked.

We made our goodbyes and headed out to the car.

“Well, I feel important,” I told him as I started the car.

“Oh?” he asked, his voice a bit subdued.

“Yep. Barely got together with you, and I've already met your parents. Seems major.”

He chuckled. Sounding a bit more like himself, he replied, “Well, don't think about putting a ring on it just yet.”

“I don't know,” I teased.

We went back and forth a little more before we got to the store. Daphne wasn't there yet, but Hav was standing behind the counter. I was glad Daphne had warned us; he had an ugly bruise that was healing on the side of his face.

Rigby put his hands on his hips. “You forget your hammer again, Hav?”

Hav stared at him. “No. Put your hand on the counter here for me.”

“I'm good!” Rigby said with a laugh.

“Scalawag,” Hav muttered. “You two head on back. Paul's got a truckfull to get out of the way; we have a rock salt order coming in tomorrow. I'll want to get you boys here for a couple hours.”

We headed back to the loading dock, and Paul got us to work, rolling the pallets off the truck with a pallet jack and getting things grouped first by which contained orders and which were stock we had to either work to the floor or get into storage, but not too deep a storage. Things like snow shovels would go 'out of style' once the first storm hit, Paul claimed.

“Where's Raul?” Rigby asked.

Paul lowered his voice. “That immigration thing spooked him. I don't think he's coming back. Shit's getting bad, you know?”

“Fuck. I heard about it. You think he took off?”

Paul shook his head. “I don't really know. I could just be talking out of my ass, but he didn't come in today.”

That definitely brought the mood down. We got to work, shifting pallets, organizing orders and tagging them. We worked steadily, not talking a great deal except to get instructions. We didn't get a chance to talk to Daphne until we were closing up, and then I just told her my mom was thinking about the invitation. She said she'd spoken to her mom and she was excited, so she hoped my mom would come, even if it was just for a little bit.

We both got showers and ate a late dinner in the kitchen while my mom watched her show and played on her phone at the same time. Later I lay in bed with Rigby, stroking his hair while he let out the occasional heavy sigh. In my mind, though, I saw his father's face. That burned out expression of someone who's living because they don't know what else to do.

That Wednesday was a half day, and nothing was getting done in class. The coven seemed to have changed targets to some girl who was giving as good as she got. I was just glad to have them not look at me for a while. Rigby and I headed home after school. My mom had spoken to Daphne's mom and agreed to go to dinner but said she might call it an early night. I was glad I didn't have to say anything to her about her needing some kind of contact with the outside world, to touch grass.

After taking my mom to the store so she could get things to make for the next day – and promising to help when we got back from work – we went in. Paul said the truck was still on the way and had us work on smaller things first. I wanted to check my schedule for the weekend, so I could know when Rigby brought up taking Ezra for a hamburger. When I got into the office area, Hav was sitting in a chair looking like he was staring into space.

“Sorry, Hav,” I said quietly. “I was just checking my schedule.”

He grunted and turned toward me. “Ah. Harvey. Or is it E?”

I smiled. “That's what Rigby calls me.”

He nodded in what I thought was a knowing fashion. “Rigby's a good boy. When he's not sleeping on the job. I'll catch him and fire him one of these days.”

I chuckled. “He never sleeps here.” I shifted on my feet. “Um. I wanted to say...thank you.”

“For?”

“I, uh, heard about your father. I appreciate you making space for...people in that situation.”

He nodded his head a few times almost imperceptibly, his gaze pointed somewhere on the wall. I was going to leave the room when he turned his gaze to me and spoke.

“You know, Harvey, things are always more complicated than we realize.”

I tilted my head. “Yeah. I've seen some of that.”

His mouth curled as if to smile, but there was no humor in his voice. “People often wonder about nature versus nurture. Is a man born bad or is he shaped by his surroundings? It's more complicated than that, I think. Firstly because it's not necessarily a binary choice. Sometimes it has to do with a man being bad and his surroundings.”

“That makes sense.”

“Doesn't it though?” He looked at me with a thoughtful expression. “The thing is, the human animal is flawed. We're really no better than other species; just more vicious. Sure, we can make great art, music, writing. We can engage in philanthropy and strive to be better than we were the day before.”

The side of his nose twitched.

“But then we can also be horribly cruel. We can hurt, maim, steal – all for the thrill or the power it gives us.” He turned his head a bit, looking out onto the sales floor, then back to me. “Some people, finding themselves to be poor, will hoard resources – and that is their reasoning for doing so. Some finding themselves to have more than they need will still hoard resources; maybe they used to not have enough and now it's pathological or maybe they simply grew greedy. Some finding themselves to be poor will share what resources they have. Why? Maybe so someone is in debt to them. Maybe from altruism or their own sense of morality. Maybe they think those who have something should share.”

“It sounds like...it's really tough to figure out someone's motives for doing something.”

He tilted his head from side to side. “Yes and no. For people like you and me, people who had to learn to watch for the small signs of someone getting angry and hitting us or our mother...we learn to read people.” He pursed his lips a moment. “Not completely accurate, of course. More of an art than a science.”

I swallowed and nodded, knowing what he meant.

His gaze shifted back toward the sales floor again. “I don't know why my father did what he did. I have my suspicions. Like many around here, he was poor. I can't say if being poor made him mean; the poverty you understand, not simply having very little. Being poor doesn't equal mean just as being rich doesn't equal being kind.” He cleared his throat.

“He made poor choices as well. He liked to smoke and drink and gamble money he didn't have and was none too concerned with there being milk in the house for his family if there was a card game to be had.” He rubbed the side of his nose. “He'd lose to people you might not think he'd be at a card table with. Policemen. A mayor.” He returned his gaze to me. “He'd do things for them; partly because he was in dutch to them, but I think part of him liked it. Made him feel big and important. Things that made him enemies, but he thought – I think he thought – that those people couldn't touch him. Like he'd been straightened up in the mafia or something.”

“Straightened up?”

He nodded. “A made man. Untouchable except by another made man.” He smiled. “But he wasn't one of them. He was just a tool. And sometimes that tool would come home, like a hammer, and he'd use his wife and son like nails.”

He shifted in his chair, and it creaked beneath him. The overhead light bounced from the lenses of his glasses, hiding his eyes for a moment, and then was gone as he resettled. He reached down and patted the end of one side of his suspenders.

“The thing is, sometimes in the end it doesn't matter why. What does matter is that what they do reaches a point where they either end someone or someone stops them, maybe for good.” He moved his gaze again to the sales floor. I glanced over my shoulder, but Daphne was helping someone, and there were a few people in line to check out. I turned back to him as he started speaking, his gaze still on the sales floor.

“Thing is...we set up things like a legal system. Sounds good. We make statements about everyone being equal.” He spat on the floor without changing the direction of his gaze. “But there's always some that are more equal than others. Some are never content with equality; they are always looking for ways to put their thumb on the scale. Of course being caught up in a big system like the law...it can eat a person.”

He turned his gaze back to me. “You see, with my father dead, there were many possible outcomes in the legal system; think of those possibilities like petals on a poisonous flower. A lawyer for us, had we been able to afford one, could have argued self defense. But then the district attorney, ostensibly arguing for the people but who may be more concerned with getting convictions to pad his resume, may argue that hitting a drunk man in the back of the head with a claw hammer wasn't self defense. He wasn't attacking at the time he was killed. You see the problem?”

I felt sick. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “I do.”

He lifted his chin. “Tell me, Harvey. What is the problem, as you see it?”

I licked my lips. “The system is so big, it doesn't mind if it chews up a person, because everyone in the system has their own agenda. The system...it doesn't have feelings.”

He nodded slowly. “You're a bright boy.” He rubbed his chin. “The system is about the law, not justice. Sure, there are good people – those motivated by a sense of justice, morality. They become cops to make the streets safer. They become lawyers to defend those who can't defend themselves. They join militaries and fight for old men over money and die for ideals that were spoken but never honored by the people in power.” He grunted. “People get convicted of things they didn't do all the time. You hear the cops made an arrest, you get a false sense of being safe. Being quiet and being aware helps you; let the dummies talk to the police who think if they didn't do anything, they have nothing to hide.”

I slowly sank into the chair opposite him. He turned slowly in his chair, tracking my movement.

“It sounds like you can't trust anyone.”

He sucked in his cheeks and ran a hand under one of his suspenders, adjusting it. “You could take that from my example, sure. It wouldn't be quite the truth, because you have to find those you can trust, and that can take some time. Especially for fellows like me and you. People who've been betrayed.”

My chair creaked as I shifted, unsure what to say.

“I think it's more accurate to say you can't trust the system. Cop goes and does something that would land you or me in jail, he maybe gets a slap on the wrist or has to work for the sheriff instead of the town. They'll have a union rep and a legal team; they have advantages.”

“My father was a cop.”

He lifted his chin high for a moment and then brought it down, nodding. “He used his position to help him keep you in line.” He tilted his head. “And he's still a cop. It's the biggest gang in the world.”

I inhaled a ragged breath. “The last...last time I called the state police. So his friends who were cops wouldn't show up.”

He nodded slowly. “Smart.” He was quiet, but I didn't have much else to say. I tried not to think about it. Hav continued, “When he was dead, we knew we couldn't call the police. He knew too many of them. Too many suspected, if not knew, what he did, and it changed nothing for them. There was too much of a chance of things going wrong for good, of never getting away from his shadow.”

I watched him for a moment, and he watched me.

“Not much different now. Some of these people with stars on their chests are running around just like their daddies did when I was a boy. Some things, some places just seem to repeat the same cycles over and over. Systems like our justice system...they're like these monolithic things. They plow over issues and people for 'the greater good', but like any system it can be abused.” He paused. “It can be unfair.”

“Like...when a cop is involved?”

“Especially. Sometimes a cop being involved makes it worse than someone who is rich or famous. Or politically connected. Not always, there are always circumstances. But we knew that when we were looking at him, sitting crooked at the kitchen table like any other night that he was piss drunk.” He sniffed. “'Cept for the hammer in his head, of course.”

“So, we buried him.” His mouth twitched a few times. “It was a few days before anyone came by to see about him. I don't think anyone reported him missing or anything like that; probably had a job for him or was owed money. Told them he'd taken money – cash – from home and disappeared. We thought he was on a bender or gambling somewhere.” He took a deep breath. “Kept that one in the dirt for many, many years.”

It was incredibly sad, but also something I could identify with in ways. I'd wondered at times what it would be like to break free, what it would take to do so. So far it seemed like it had been a matter of calling the right people for help.

“Now that he's...out of the ground,” I said, trying to find a way to say this without sounding like a jerk. “What will happen to your land? Will you be okay?”

He nodded his head slowly. “As I say, things are always more complicated than we know. That's true for others as well. So while Diddler Dooley was trying to take my home because I hurt his feelings, I was busy getting that corporation to look at land that was better suited, if not quite as perfectly located. Some land opened up recently. Sure, you'd have to clear what's left of a structure, but it's a lot easier for them than going through the process with the town of seizing my land.” He smiled thinly. “Corporations follow the path of least resistance and the most profit.”

I wondered about that structure he'd mentioned. Had he meant Dooley's house? The one that had the recent fire? “So you won't lose your house? Or the store?”

He shifted, and I thought maybe he was shrugging as he did so. “I may still lose the house. The town will have to pull back the eminent domain claim, but I feel fairly certain that will happen. As for the business...nothing lasts forever. You get a big box in, stores like mine can't compete. They have buying power I can't match, so their prices are better. Sure, I can provide better service, but people like to complain about you not wiping their ass for them when it comes to customer service, so it's a losing battle in the end.”

“What...what did they do to your face?”

He smiled, something fierce that held no humor. “I got smart with them.” He leaned back a bit and looked back toward the sale floor. “Too many things in play. We spend so much time trying to control what we can, but it's an illusion. If you're a clerk, you're at the mercy of your boss and the customer. If you're the boss, you're still at the mercy of the customer, but now you also have the headaches that come with the business – taxes, government regulations – not always a bad thing. Not always. But it's always more complicated than we know.”

He looked back to me. “The trick, Harvey, is to be wise about the things we can control, and remember that there is always more we don't know. You need rules that you can live by. One of mine is those that have should share.” He shrugged. “So yes. I built some apartments. I'd like to think if my mother and I had a place like those to run to – and that's an open question. So many never run, Harvey. So many.”

I figured not running meant staying and being abused, but I guessed it also meant putting a permanent end to it.

“So maybe we'd never have seen the inside of his skull. Maybe my mother wouldn't have been alone the rest of her life, except me. Maybe I'd have gotten married sometime, had a family.” He looked away again. “They take so much from us, Harvey. We don't always know what it is.”

He leaned forward, his gaze firmly on me. “He's a good boy. I haven't decided about you yet.” A little curl at the end of his mouth and a crinkle at his eye let me know he was teasing in his gruff way.

I chuckled. “He's staying with us. We're...taking care of each other.”

He bobbed his head. “That's good. That's good. You should get back before Paul comes looking.” I stood up to go, and he spoke again. “But remember what I said, Harvey. Sometimes we don't know what they took from us. But don't let that stop you from looking. Inside yourself...things are there you need to learn to grow. Outside...there's good people. Keep hold of him.”

“Okay,” I said quietly and left for the back room. All the while I was thinking that he knew Rigby and I weren't just friends. He hadn't said anything explicit, but of all the things he'd been straight about, I think...well, he did say he and I were good at reading people. For all the wrong reasons, of course, but...maybe he read something between Rigby and me that I wasn't aware of.

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