Fourteen
Reece had departed, so Catherine accepted McCabe’s offer of a ride to her older son’s residence.
McCabe said, “Tell me about Holden.”
“I’m worried how he’ll take this,” Catherine said.
“Reece appears to be handling it as best as can be expected.”
“Holden is not Reece.”
“What makes them different?”
“Holden has had a more difficult time. We support— My husband and I have supported him as best we can, but as I’m sure you’re
aware, there are no easy solutions to addiction.”
McCabe’s eyebrows rose a notch. “No, there aren’t.”
“He’s more fragile than Reece, more unpredictable. I don’t want him to end up back in rehab, but if he needs it, I hope he
won’t fight me when I urge him to go there.” She paused, then said, “Don’t misunderstand. He’s a good son. He has a good heart.”
“Does he have a job?”
“Occasionally. He’s been helping someone with house construction lately. Up here, on the right. That little blue SUV in the
drive.”
McCabe slowed the car, brought it to a stop. “Thank you,” Catherine said, got out, and went to the front door. She glanced
back, said, “Do you have to talk to him?” She had a pleading look in her eyes.
“At some point, but not right now,” McCabe said.
Catherine smiled a thank-you, went to the door, and knocked. When the door started to open, McCabe drove off.
Holden, tears already forming, threw his arms around her. “Oh, Mom,” he wept. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Catherine put her arms around him, wanting to comfort him, but also miffed. Reece came by, she thought. He broke the news. That was for me to do.
“It’s okay,” she said, patting his back. “Everything’s going to be okay.” She pulled back, far enough to look into his face.
“Reece was here, wasn’t he?”
Holden nodded.
“Well, Mommy’s here now,” she said.
“I’m so sorry,” he said again.
“I know. Me too. So you know . . . what happened. Your father, that woman.”
Holden slowly nodded.
“It’s a horrible thing. A horrible, horrible thing,” Catherine said.
Once inside, with the door closed, Holden began to sob.
“It’s okay,” his mother said.
Holden doubled over, his back heaving as he wept. Catherine wrapped her arm around him, guided him to the couch. “I know,
I know. It’s hard to believe,” she said soothingly.
“Everything’s gone to shit,” he said between sobs. “It’s all gone to shit.”
“No, no, we’ll get through this,” she said, sitting down next to him. “You know I’m here for you. You have to be strong, you
have to—”
He jumped up from the couch, startling her. The sobs had stopped as though a switch had been flipped. His cheeks still lined
with tears, he managed a smile and said, “I have an idea.”
“. . . Okay. What kind of idea?”
“We should take a trip.”
“A trip.”
“A round-the-world trip!” he said, waving his hands in the air.
“Maybe a cruise! Book a couple rooms on one of those big ocean liners that stops in ports all over the world! What do they call them on a ship? Are they still rooms? Don’t they call them cabins?
” He laughed. “That’s crazy. A cabin is something you find in the middle of the woods, not on a ship.
But that’s what they call it, right? So we’d get two cabins, maybe one with windows or a little balcony off the side so you can look at the ocean and—”
“Holden.”
He’d begun pacing back and forth, arms still waving. “We should go for a month. Maybe two! I hear some people, they live on
these ships—mostly older people, but whatever. They just go on one cruise after another, they don’t even have a permanent
address, but with the net, they can still pay their bills or their insurance or taxes or whatever it is that people have to
do even if they’re not really living anywhere, so—”
“Holden, stop, listen to—”
He took both her hands in his and brought Catherine to her feet. “What do you think? I know there’s probably stuff you have
to deal with, wrap things up, but couldn’t you get someone else to do that? I bet Reece would do it. He can figure out all
that shit! That would allow us to get away sooner.”
Holden gave his mother a short, abrupt hug, then ran down the hall to his bedroom, shouting the whole way.
“I’ve only got one bag! I’ll need to borrow one, maybe two. We’ll have to go back to your place and get lots of suitcases.
Bring as much stuff as you want because we don’t know how long we’ll be gone.” He paused a second, thinking of something.
“Will they have laundry facilities? On the ship? And food! Don’t they have these like twenty-four-hour buffets where you can
eat your face off?”
He had all the drawers of his dresser open and was tossing socks and underwear onto his unmade bed. He stopped, briefly, looking
at what he’d selected, then turned to his mother and asked, “What do you think the weather will be like? If it’s mostly hot,
I’ll want shorts and tees, but if it’s a long cruise we’ll be hitting all kinds of weather, and—”
“Holden!”
He froze, stared at her wide-eyed.
“Holden, please, just . . . stop. What have you been taking?”
“Taking?” He laughed. “Taking?”
“Whatever it is, you need to let it get out of your system, to come down from this. I understand wanting to go away. I’d love to run away from all this, but we can’t just pack up and go on a—”
“Of course we can,” he said, pointing a finger at her. “That’s always been your problem. You’re wrapped up too tight. Come
on. This is exactly what we need. Both of us. Put all this shit behind us, forget about it, start over.”
“You can never start over.”
“Why not?” He said it in a pleading, desperate tone. “Clean slate. It’s exactly what we need to do.”
“If only that were possible. We can’t run from our problems.”
Holden suddenly became quiet, focused. “How is that any different than burying them? Hasn’t that always been your policy?”
“You need help, Holden.”
“Help?”
“You’re in shock. I’m in shock. Your father . . . what he was doing, what he did, it’s unimaginable, and we may never come to terms with it. But
we have to figure out how to deal with it, and sailing away on some cruise isn’t the answer. Maybe one day, when you’re not
in the shape you’re in now, maybe that’s something we should do. But not now, not today. I’m deeply worried about you.”
“I’m fine, honestly. Actually, seeing you right now, pretty great.”
“There’s something I have to know.”
His eyes were darting about the room, as though following an invisible fly.
“Holden, I need you to look at me.”
He tried to focus on his mother. “Yeah.”
“You didn’t break your promise, did you?”
His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Holden, please. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“No,” he said firmly, acknowledging he did, indeed, understand her meaning. “No, I wouldn’t do that.”
“Because . . . there have been some strange developments lately.”
“Yeah, well, no kidding.”
“I don’t mean what happened today. Before today.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve had some phone calls,” she said.
“What do you mean, phone calls? From who?”
“Anonymous phone calls. From someone who seems to know things they couldn’t possibly know.”
Holden shook his head furiously. “Don’t look at me. You think I’m nuts?”
She didn’t want to answer that one directly. “Well, someone had to have said something.”
Holden’s face lit up. “Dad.”
“What about your dad?”
“That’s why he did it. That’s why he shot himself. He’d talked about it, and . . . and the guilt overcame him!”
Catherine did not look convinced. “I don’t think so, Holden.” She sighed, took her phone from her purse, and started looking
through her contacts for a number.
“Who are you calling?” he asked.
“I want to get you some help.”
“You calling Sharnwood?”
She raised a finger in the air.
“Are you? Because I’m not going! I’m not!”
“Hello?” Catherine said into the phone. “Yes, could you put me through to Dr. Memphis, please? It’s Catherine—”
“I won’t go back there,” Holden said, pushing past his mother as he left the bedroom, heading back to the living room.
“—Chartwell? Holden’s mother? He’s had a relapse at a very difficult time and needs—Holden, stop!”
She took the phone away from her ear and went after him. The front door was open. She ran out in time to see him get into
his Honda CR-V and take off down the street.
She shook her head in frustration, then put the phone back to her ear.
“I’m back, is the doctor— Yes, I’ll hold.
” She waited a moment, then, “Hello, Dr. Memphis? Catherine here. It’s Holden .
. . yes, he was doing well for a while, but we’ve had a family tragedy and .
. . okay, that’s good to know. I’ll bring him in .
. . but he’s going to take some convincing. ”