Barclay, Linwood Novel 08 - Never saw it coming

that it was just a blip, he was right as rain, it was all triggered by his troubled relationship with his mother (lay as much guilt on her as possible, he figured), but they’d patched things up, he couldn’t be better, he was never going to do anything like that again, and while I’m here, have you got any samples of some fun meds I could take with me?
    So when the doorbell rang that morning, seven days later, Keisha was not surprised to see Justin on her doorstep.
    She’d been making Matthew’s breakfast, the kitchen TV on, the volume down low. Kirk was sleeping in. Last time he’d been awakened too early, he’d come hobbling into the kitchen like a bear with its leg in a trap and thrown a glass up against the wall. He scared the hell out of Matthew.
    So Keisha tried to keep things quiet this early, but at the same time, she liked to know what was going on in the world, so the TV was on.
    “Hurry up,” she said to Matthew, “or you’re going to be late for school.”
    He picked at his breakfast, which was a piece of toast with peanut butter slathered all over it.
    “Did you hear what I said?” she asked him.
    “I’m not hungry,” he said.
    Keisha had noticed he’d been particularly mopey these last few days. Quiet, withdrawn, spending a lot of time in his room. She’d asked Kirk, “You got any idea why he’s so down in the dumps?”
    Kirk, dusting his mag wheel display in the living room, said, “Beats me what’s wrong with the li’l fucker. He’s just moody.”
    But Keisha thought it was something more than that. Now, at breakfast, she said, “Somethin’ on your mind?”
    Matthew shook his head.
    “Anything going on at school?”
    “Everything’s fine,” he said. “Haven’t I been good lately? Have I done anything wrong?”
    She didn’t have to think. “You’ve been good.”
    “So I don’t see what the big deal is,” he said.
    “I was thinking,” she said, “maybe after school today, we could go to the Post Mall, get you some new shoes.” She could spare a little of that cash she had tucked away.
    “I don’t care about new shoes,” Matthew said. “I just want to be able to stay here with you.”
    “You want to hang around the house after school today?”
    “No, I mean, all I want is to be able to keep living here.”
    “What on earth are you talking about?” Keisha said. “You’re losing your tiny mind.”
    “We never have a vacation,” Matthew said. “We should go someplace. Just me and you. We could go visit your cousin in San Francisco.”
    “Yeah, well, Caroline may think the world of you, but she hasn’t got much use for me,” Keisha said. “You need to get moving. Go brush your teeth.”
    The boy took one last bite of toast and bolted from the kitchen. Keisha sighed and turned her eyes toward the television.
    “We got off kind of easy with winter so far, not too cold, but that’s going to change starting tomorrow and continuing through the weekend as temperatures dip below freezing. And we’ve got a warning that even though it’s getting colder, people should stay off ponds and small lakes, that the ice hasn’t gotten all that thick yet and—”
    The doorbell rang.
    Keisha left the kitchen and walked to the front door. Standing there, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other texting on a phone, was Justin. His stepfather, Dwayne, was parked at the curb in his Range Rover, engine running to keep the heater on. He waved.
    “I told Dwayne I wanted to come by and say thank you,” Justin said, ending his text conversation and devoting all his attention to Keisha.
    “Come on in,” Keisha said, and motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen. “And keep your voice down. My boyfriend’s asleep.”
    Justin nodded, glanced around the living room as he stepped in, his eyes stopping briefly on the four oversized mag wheels on the rickety-looking shelves. He walked over to examine them, ran his finger over one, checking for dust and finding none. The shelf wobbled slightly.
    “We have books on our shelves,” he said.
    Keisha said, “Come on into the kitchen.”
    “Police are investigating two liquor store robberies in Bridgeport last night. For a report, let’s go to . . .”
    “So,” she asked, “how’s it going?”
    “Good,” he said, nodding. “Like I figured, they got me seeing a shrink. Mom wants me to see her a couple of times a week for like a month. But I can ride that out. Great thing is, Mom’s being so nice to me. Buying me