The Burgess Boys by Elizabeth Strout Read Free Book Online

Greyhound bus, Pam, swaybacked in her wraparound skirt.
    A million years ago.
    “Stay in the present,” Elaine would say, and so now he was on his way to the unlovely Susan. Family is family, and he missed Jimmy. Bob’s ancient inner Bobness had returned.

    They sat on a cement bench in the lobby of the Shirley Falls police station. Gerry O’Hare had nodded to Bob as though he had seen him yesterday—though in fact it had been years—and then taken Zach through a door to an interview room. An officer brought coffee in paper cups to Bob and Susan; they thanked him, and held the cups tentatively. “Does Zach have friends?” Bob asked when they were alone. He asked this quietly. It had been more than five years since Bob had been to Shirley Falls, and the sight of his nephew—tall, skinny, blank-faced with fear—had startled him. And so had the sight of his sister. She was thin, her short wavy hair mostly gray now; she was strikingly unfeminine. Her plain-featured face looked so much older than he had expected that he could not believe they were the same age. (Twins!)
    “I don’t know,” Susan answered. “He stocks shelves at Walmart. Sometimes—hardly ever—he drives over to West Annett to see a guy he works with. But no one comes to the house.” She added, “I thought they’d let you go in with him.”
    “I’m not registered to practice here, Susan. We went through this.” Bob looked over his shoulder. “When did they build this place?” The old Shirley Falls Police Department had been housed in City Hall, which was a spread-out big building at the bottom of the park, and Bob remembered it as having an openness; you walked in and there were cops behind a desk. This was not like that. This had a small lobby facing two darkened windows, and they’d had to press a doorbell-type thing in order to get someone to even step up to one of them. Bob felt guilty just being here.
    “Five years ago maybe,” Susan said vaguely. “I don’t know.”
    “Why did they need a new police station? The state’s losing population, getting poorer every day, and all it does is build new schools and municipal buildings.”
    “Bob. I don’t care. Frankly. About your observations on Maine. Besides, this city’s population is growing—” Susan’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Because of them .”
    Bob drank his coffee. It was bad coffee, but Bob was not particular about his coffee—or his wine—the way so many people were these days. “Say you thought it was a dumb joke and you’ll have a lawyer on Monday. They might try to get you to say more than that, but don’t.” Bob had told this to Zachary. Zachary, so much taller than the last time Bob had seen him, so skinny, so scared- looking, had just stared at him.
    “Any idea why he did this?” Bob tried to ask the question gently.
    “None.” After a moment Susan said, “I thought maybe you could ask him.”
    This alarmed Bob. He didn’t know what to do about kids. Some of his friends had kids he loved, and Jim’s kids he loved very much, but not having kids made you different. He didn’t see how he could explain that to Susan. He asked, “Is Zach in touch with his father?”
    “They email. Sometimes Zach seems … well, not happy, but less unhappy, and I think it’s because of whatever Steve’s written him, but Zach won’t talk to me about it. Steve and I haven’t spoken since he walked out.” Susan’s cheeks grew pink. “Other times Zach gets really down, and I think that’s related to Steve too, but I don’t know , Bob, okay?” She squeezed her nose, sniffed hard.
    “Hey, don’t panic.” Bob looked around for a paper napkin or a Kleenex, but there was nothing. “You know what Jimmy would say, don’t you? He’d say there’s no crying in baseball.”
    Susan said, “What in hell, Bobby?”
    “That movie they made about women’s baseball. It’s a great line.”
    Susan leaned forward to place her cup of coffee on the floor beneath the