Before She Knew Him(57)

“It’s late,” Matthew said.

“Is it?”

“You know it is. If Mira was here you’d have woken her up.”

“I know she’s away,” he said.

“Why are you calling, Richard?”

“I just wanted to talk,” he said, his words slurring a little. Matthew assumed he’d been drinking. “Do you think Mom knew about us?”

“How drunk are you?”

“No, I’m serious. Do you think that Mom knew?”

“Do I think that Mom knew what?”

“That we’re like Dad, that we think like him and act like him.” The way that Richard put emphasis on the word act made Matthew suddenly very nervous.

“You’ve done something,” he said.

“I don’t want to talk about what I’ve done or haven’t done. I want to talk about Mom. Remember Sally Respel in high school? Remember what we did to her?”

“We didn’t do anything to her. You did it.”

“It was you she was in love with. It was you who seduced her.”

Matthew hadn’t thought of Sally Respel in years. She’d been in the tennis club with Matthew, a year younger than he was, too tall and with a shiny face. Matthew had spent an afternoon helping her with her backhand, and after that, she’d been smitten with him, calling him every afternoon, always running into him in the hallway between classes, laughing explosively at everything he said. When she’d finally gotten up the courage to ask him to her junior prom, Matthew had gone to her house to let her down gently. They sat together on the swings of her childhood gym set, and he explained to her that he was interested in someone else (“She’s from another town, the daughter of my parents’ friends,” he lied) and that he’d just like to be Sally’s friend. She’d cried, but not for too long, and Matthew knew, even then, that he’d done her a favor by giving her a dramatic moment to remember. The two of them on the swing set, discussing love like adults.

He should never have told Richard about Sally, but he did, mostly because Richard, at that age, was already brimming with his own perverted fantasies, always trying them out on Matthew, and Matthew just wanted him to shut up for a while.

On the night of the junior prom, Richard called Sally up on her bedroom phone—she’d decided to stay home—and, disguising his voice by whispering, pretended that he was Matthew and said he’d changed his mind. Could he come over later, sneak in through her bedroom window? He was dying to kiss her.

Matthew never knew exactly how much Richard had done to Sally in the dark bedroom before she figured out she was with Matthew’s brother and not with Matthew, but it was enough. Her terrified screams woke up her parents, who chased Richard away. The next day Sally’s mother went directly to Matthew and Richard’s mom, wanting to clear up the situation without getting the authorities involved. Richard had gotten off easy; all he ended up having to do was to promise he would never go near Sally again.

“I sometimes wonder what Mom thought about me after that happened,” Richard said. “I wonder if she knew then what I was.”

“Honestly,” Matthew said, “I don’t think Mom gave it a second thought. She had her own troubles, you know. I don’t think what you did to Sally meant anything to her.”

“What we did to Sally.”

“You can say that all you want, but it doesn’t change the facts.”

“You were the same then as you are now. You love nothing more than to make women fall in love with you and then to let them down. It’s your kick. Why was it worse for me giving Sally what she actually wanted?”

“Because she didn’t want you, Richard, because no one has ever wanted you. She wanted me. What you did was disgusting.” Matthew’s stomach was beginning to hurt, and he really wished he hadn’t picked up the phone.

“Hey, I didn’t call you to get into an argument.”

“Why did you call?”

“Do you think I could come and stay the night?” Richard’s voice was suddenly smaller, almost pleading.

“Why?”

“I’ll sleep on the sofa in the office. Mira will never know I was over, I promise. Look, you can go to sleep now, and I’ll just let myself in. You’ll never know I was there.” His voice still sounded funny to Matthew, reminding him of how Richard had sounded as a messed-up, frightened kid.

Matthew sighed. “Just for tonight, okay?”

Richard was true to his word, and Matthew didn’t see him until the next morning. Richard had made the coffee and was sitting at the kitchen table, head cocked slightly, one leg jittering up and down and the other spread out along the cork floor. He looked like their father. “Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey,” he said, arrogant and loud.

“Sleep well?” Matthew asked.

“Like a baby,” Richard said. “I always sleep well on that sofa. Sleeping in my house is like sleeping inside of a skull. Just a bunch of stuff rattling around.”

“Well, don’t get used to it here.”

Richard held up the palms of his hands. “Trust me, I know. You’ve made your feelings well known on the subject.”

“Thanks for the coffee, Richard.”

“Not a problem. I’ll get out of your hair, but I do have a little gift for you, something you’ll appreciate.”