Darkness Under the Sun Read Free Page B

Nothing you did or could have done would have changed what happened. My father and your father, with the cane and the fire, they were the same—except yours worse than mine. I assume there was a court order, he couldn’t come near you. So how did he get hold of you?”
    After a while, Howie decided he would be better off sharing than holding it inside. “He took me from a babysitter’s house while Mom was working.”
    “Took you where?”
    “He said an amusement park. But it was this motel. He waited till I fell asleep.”
    “Was it gasoline?”
    “I woke up.” Howie drew a deep breath, then another. “Couldn’t breathe.” The memory of the gasoline was suffocating. He found it almost as hard to breathe now as then. He said, “Because of the fumes. Gasoline fumes.”
    Mr. Blackwood was patient, as though somehow he knew that Howie had never talked about the burning with anyone, not even with his mother.
    Watching the raven as it tucked its head under its wing and seemed to sleep in the sun, Howie finally said, “And then the match. Later he told people … he said he meant to burn himself, too. Him and me together. But then he couldn’t do it to himself.”
    “He never meant to,” Mr. Blackwood said. “Don’t you ever believe for a minute that he meant to.”
    “I don’t. He lies. He’s a liar.” Funny—how it could be true and still hurt to say his father was a liar.
    “You saved your vision with your hand, pressed it tight against your left eye as the fire leaped up. You lost fingers, but otherwise, you’d be blind in one eye.”
    “All the gas … it was on my left side.”
    “You’re a smart boy and brave, to think so fast, keep your self-control in spite of the pain.”
    “I’m not brave. I was scared bad. Sometimes I still am. When I think … he’ll get out one day.”
    “I’ll bet all I own, he dies in prison, one way or another.”
    Howie didn’t want to wish his father dead, but he took some heart from what Mr. Blackwood said, especially since he sounded like he knew what he was talking about.
    “The motel guy … he hears me. He comes fast. I’m burning. He has this extinguisher. My dad tries to stop him. He knocks my dad down. The stuff from the extinguisher—it smells cold. He saved me. I passed out. I woke up blind. But it was just wet pads on my eyes. Mom holding my good hand. The hospital, see. No pain at first. So I thought, It’s over . But it was only just the beginning. It was the beginning of … of everything.”
    All the lunch trash was stowed in one bag, and they had only their cups of Coke and ice. Leaning against the parapet with their cups of Coke and ice. With the three gnarled fingers of his left hand, Howie held the cold cup against his scarred face.
    The raven’s head remained tucked under its wing.
    The light traffic noise rising from Maple Street sounded like a lot of people whispering together.
    After a while, Mr. Blackwood said, “Are you all right?”
    “I’m okay.”
    “You’re one tough boy.”
    “I wish. But I’m not.”
    “I know tough when I see it.”
    Embarrassed but also pleased, Howie said nothing at first. And then he was surprised to hear himself say, “See, there’s this little apartment over thegarage. Mrs. Norris, she moved out three days ago. Mom hasn’t found a new renter yet. She’ll have to find one, we need the extra money. But you could stay there a couple days. You don’t have to bunk in this old building.”
    “Once your mom gets a look at me, maybe she’ll turn out to have found a renter whether she has or not.”
    “My mom’s not like that. She’s not prejudiced about anybody. Anyway, she’s always telling me I can have friends, I should make friends.” When Mr. Blackwood didn’t respond, Howie said, “We are friends, aren’t we?”
    “I’m honored to call you a friend, Howard Dugley. Howie is for Howard, isn’t it?”
    “It’s Howell.” Howie spelled it. “But nobody calls me anything but Howie.