Nobody's Fool

He hadn’t seen that in his mind’s eye when they’d looked at the flat this morning, hadn’t imagined how it might look. “The place is going to be all right,” he admitted. “Bring your mother over tomorrow. It’ll make her feel better.”
    Peter nodded. “Nothing reassures her like books.”
    â€œShe’ll love it here, then. It’s a regular library,” Toby said, pronouncing it “lie-berry,” and Sully thought he saw Peter smile.
    Sully led the way down the dark stairway, holding on to the railing and taking the stairs one at a time, both feet on each step before proceeding to the next. What had possessed him, he wondered, a few hours ago, to back up these same stairs with a heavy oak desk? On the other hand, what had possessed him to punch a policeman last week or Carl Roebuck this afternoon? As always, to Sully, the deepest of life’s mysteries were the mysteries of his own behavior.
    At the foot of the stairs, Peter flicked a wall switch to no purpose. “One more thing to do tomorrow,” he said, staring up into the dark of the vaulted ceiling. “Thanks for the help with the desk.”
    Sully nodded, didn’t say anything for a minute. Peter, he was coming to understand, was capable of generosity. Sully hadn’t been a help with the desk, he knew. He’d made more of a job of it, not less. His son was simply being kind. Maybe this was one of the other qualities Toby Roebuck was referring to. “I’d lock up down here if she stays the night,” Sully warned. “That’s her husband parked across the street in the red car.”
    â€œHe followed us as far as Albany,” Peter said. “When we went to Morgantown.”
    â€œShe went with you?”
    Peter didn’t say anything.
    â€œHow did all of this come about?” Sully wondered, genuinely curious.
    â€œQuickly,” Peter said, as if this explanation might suffice. It did not. Sully had never fallen in with any woman quickly.
    â€œWell,” Sully said. “Look out for Carl. This is all new to him.” It was odd talking to Peter in such a confined, dark space. Easier, in some ways. Often it was the expression on his son’s face that made talking to him difficult, the wry, detached smugness. His voice, on the other hand, was pleasant enough. “He’s the one that’s always playing around,” Sully explained. “He’s got to get used to the shoe being on the other foot.”
    Sully could see just well enough to see his son shrug. “The shoe’s been on the other foot before,” Peter said. “At least according to Toby.”
    Sully considered this for a moment. “I doubt it,” he said.
    â€œOkay,” Peter agreed. “Have it your way.”
    â€œShe’s a pretty nice girl.”
    Peter chuckled. “She’s a pretty nice woman. And you’ve put her on a pretty tall pedestal.”
    â€œWell,” Sully said and let his voice trail off, glad that Peter apparently had no interest in confiding to him Toby Roebuck’s past transgressions, if indeed he knew of any. “Swing by the house on Bowdon in the morning before you return the trailer. There’s some furniture in the spare room. If there’s anything you want, take it.”
    Peter said he would.
    â€œThere might not be anything you can use,” Sully admitted. “Who knows?” He put his hand on the doorknob. “I’ll have a word with our friend on the way out. He’ll listen to me.”
    â€œDo me a favor and don’t,” Peter told him. “You’ll just make things worse. Again.”
    This, Sully realized, was a reference to his earlier refusal to wait for the ambulance when he’d slapped Vera. The horror of the scene had been running through his mind all afternoon, despite the excellent diversions—beer and poker and bare-breasted girls—with which he’d been surrounded. “You think your mother’s going to be okay?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Peter admitted. “They’re going to keep her at Schuyler overnight. You know how she is. She’s not any different, really, just worse.”
    â€œYou could probably help her out more,” Sully ventured.
    â€œNot really,” Peter said. “The world doesn’t do what she wants it to, and she gets frustrated.”
    This was the same conclusion Sully had come to