Divine Evil

division together.
    “Ernie.” She heard him hesitate on the stairs. The boy spends too much time in his room, she thought. Too much time alone. “Ernie, I'm in the kitchen. Come on back.”
    He walked through the doorway, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets. She thought he looked a little pale but remembered he'd been sick on Monday. Just a touch of graduation nerves, she thought, and smiled at him.
    “What are you doing here?”
    It was like an accusation, but she made her lips curve. “I took a few hours off. I can never remember your schedule. Aren't you working today?”
    “Not till five.”
    “Good, then we'll have a little time.” She rose and took the head off the fat, white-hatted ceramic chef that served as a cookie jar. “I picked up some chocolate chip.”
    “I'm not hungry.”
    “You haven't been eating well for a couple of days. Are you still sick?” She started to put a hand to his forehead, but he jerked back.
    “I don't want any cookies, all right?”
    “Sure.” She felt she was looking at a stranger whose eyes were too dark, skin too pale. His hands kept sliding in and out of his pockets. “Did you have a good day at school?”
    “We're not doing anything but marking time.”
    “Well…” She felt her smile falter and bolstered it up. “I know how that is. The last week before graduation islike the last week before your parole comes up. I pressed your gown.”
    “Great. I got things to do.”
    “I wanted to talk to you.” She fumbled for her lists. “About the get-together.”
    “What get-together?”
    “You know, we discussed it. The Sunday after graduation. Grandma and Pop are coming down, and Aunt Marcie. Nana and Frank, too, from Cleveland. I don't know where everyone's going to sleep, but—”
    “Why do they have to come?”
    “Why, for you. I know you only got two tickets for the actual graduation because the school's so small, but that doesn't mean we can't all get together and have a party.”
    “I told you I didn't want one.”
    “No, you said you didn't care.” She set down the list again and struggled with her temper.
    “Well, I do care, and I don't want a party. I don't want to see any of those people. I don't want to see anyone at all.”
    “I'm afraid you're going to have to.” She heard her own voice, flat, cold, uncompromising and realized it sounded just like her own mother's. Full circle, she thought, wearily. “The plans are already made, Ernie. Your father's mother and stepfather will be here Saturday night, along with some of your cousins. Everyone else will get here Sunday morning.” She held up a hand, warding off his complaints like a traffic cop holding back cars. Another of her mother's habits, she realized. “Now, you might not want to see them, but they all want to see you. They're proud of you, and they want to be a part of this step in your life.”
    “I'm getting out of school. What's the big fucking deal?”
    “Don't you speak to me like that.” She stepped toward him. He was taller by inches, but she had the power of motherhood on her side. “I don't care whether you're seventeen or a hundred and seven, don't you ever speak to me like that.”
    “I don't want a bunch of stupid relatives around.” His voice began to hitch, and he panicked because he couldn't stop it. “I don't want a party. I'm the one who's graduating, aren't I? Don't I have a choice?”
    Her heart went out to him. She remembered what it was like to be trapped in parental borders. She hadn't understood it either. “I'm sorry, but I guess you don't. It's only a couple of days out of your life, Ernie.”
    “Sure.
My
life.” He kicked a chair over. “It's my life. You didn't give me a choice when we moved here, either. Because it would be ‘good’ for me.”
    “Your father and I thought it would. We thought it would be good for all of us.”
    “Yeah. It's just great. You take me away from all of my friends and stick me in some hick town where all the kids talk about is shooting deer and raising pigs. And men go around killing women.”
    “What are you talking about?” She laid a hand on his arm, but he jerked away. “Ernie, I know that woman was attacked, and it was terrible. But she wasn't killed. Things like that don't happen here.”
    “You don't know anything.” His face was dead white now, his eyes bitter and wet. “You don't know anything about this town. You don't know anything about me.”
    “I know I love you, and I worry about you.