The World More Full of Weeping by Robert J. Wiersema Read Free Book Online Page B

felt
tiny.
    â€œOut in the woods,” he answered, in a voice as small as
he felt.
    â€œWhat are the rules?”
    â€œHome before dark. Home before dinner.”
    â€œRight.”
    Brian started to climb the stairs. Every step felt like an
obstacle, seemed to take all his focus.
    â€œSorry, Dad.”
    â€œThat’s not good enough, Brian.”
    As he reached the top of the stairs, his father turned
away from him and went back to the stove. The kitchen was
full of the smell of toasting bread and frying butter: grilled
cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for dinner.
    â€œYou’ve been getting later and later everyday. It’s almost
six,” he said, without facing his son. “I didn’t make up these
rules to be a pain in the ass. I need to know where you are. I
need to know that you’re safe. And every day you’re pushing
these boundaries more and more.”
    â€œDad, I’m — ”
    â€œJesus, Brian, it’s pitch dark out there. I thought I was
going to have to call out the Search and Rescue.”
    â€œWe just — ” As soon as the words were out of his mouth,
he realized the slip. He wanted desperately to call the words
back, to undo the damage he had done. For a moment, he
hoped his father hadn’t heard.
    His father turned to him. “We?”
    â€œWhy don’t you come home with me?” he had asked Carly
during one of their first afternoons together.
    She had shaken her head.
    â€œWhy not? I’m sure my dad wouldn’t mind.”
    â€œI think we should keep all this just between us,” she had
said. “I don’t think you should tell your father anything about
me. It can be our little secret.”
    â€œAll right,” he said, a little hesitantly, not really understanding.
“But why — ”
    â€œHe just wouldn’t understand.”
    â€œWho’s we?”
    How much to say? How much to reveal?
    â€œJust Carly.” He went to the cupboard and brought down
two plates and two bowls and started setting the table.
    â€œWho’s Carly? Is she someone from school?”
    â€œNo, I think she lives on one of the big farms. She dresses
like the girls who go to that other school.”
    It was a good answer: his father seemed to relax a little
bit. He turned back to the stove, stirred the pot of soup.
    â€œIs she out there all the time with you?”
    He knew instinctively not to let his guard down. “Most
days, I guess.” He knew better than to tell his father about
how she was always waiting for him, or about the places
she had shown him. Or about what had happened that
afternoon.
    His father nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said. “I wish you
had mentioned her sooner.”
    Brian paused in the cutlery drawer. “Why?”
    He sighed and turned off the stove. “It might have . . .
Your mom and I, we worry about you. I know how much
you like it back there, and I know how much you like being
alone, but it makes me feel better to know you’re not always
on your own.”
    Brian allowed himself to relax. It felt like a storm has
passed, that he had wiggled his way out from his father’s
anger. As he set the cutlery by the plates, he felt his smile
returning. He tried to contain it, but couldn’t. The feelings
were just too big.
    She had kissed him.
    That was why he had been late.
    They had been saying goodbye at the forest’s edge when
she had leaned in and brushed her lips against his. Her lips
had been dry, and when she stepped back she had looked
away, down at her feet.
    â€œWhat — ” He couldn’t even put the question together, his
mind speeding in small concentric circles, his heart vibrating
wildly in his chest.
    â€œI’m sorry,” she said softly, still looking at the ground. “I
didn’t mean to . . .”
    â€œNo,” he stopped her. “No, I . . .”
    â€œIt’s just that — ” She looked up at him,