The Family Solution

Oh, God. What was he up to?

Frightening thoughts of drugs and violence and gangs brought a feeling of panic. Hands trembling on the wheel, Bella drove to the mall where her kids liked to hang out. After three frustrating trips around the lot, she finally found a parking spot and headed inside. Crowds filled the place, and she realized that finding Josh in here was going to be next to impossible.

After forty-five futile minutes, she gave up and went back to her car.

Cursing the traffic, she drove downtown, cruising along the major streets, eyeing the theatre lineups. If he’d already gone into a movie, there was no chance she’d find him. She drove slowly toward the harbor, trying not to imagine him hanging out with street kids, dope dealers, the sad little girls and boys out there selling themselves for money and drugs.

She knew her son was upset over his father’s desertion. Who knew how a teenager with raging hormones would handle such a traumatic event? She hated Gordon, truly hated him, for abandoning his children. Surely Josh wouldn’t be doing this if his dad hadn’t left.

Reason finally penetrated and she turned toward home, still frightened out of her wits. Who could she call? Who would help her find her son? The police? Maybe she should phone the cops. That’s what she’d do, she decided, pulling the car into the driveway.

A tiny part of her mind registered that the front of the house looked even worse than before, with fresh sod in clumps and an uneven trench where the sidewalk would be. She couldn’t think about that now. She walked past it all, unlocked the front door—and saw Josh’s trainers and book bag, dumped on the floor beside the coat closet.

He wasn’t in the den. Bella took the stairs two at a time, threw open his bedroom door and choked on a cloud of cigarette smoke. Rap music bombarded her.

Josh and a redheaded boy she didn’t recognize were sprawled across his unmade bed. Another boy she’d never seen before was reclining on the carpet. All of them held cigarettes and glasses of what Bella’s nose told her was brandy—her brandy. Sure enough, the empty bottle sat on the dresser. It had been close to full the last time she had noticed it.

“Josh Monroe, exactly what do you think you’re doing?” Bella’s voice could be clearly heard, even over the so-called music.

They all leaped to their feet. None of them was too steady. They looked dazed and loose-limbed and foolish.

Josh sported a silly half grin, and his face was flushed. He called over the music, “Hey, Ma, chill, okay? I can explain.”

“Turn. That. Noise. Off!”

Josh staggered over to the boom box, punched a button, and silence reigned. One of the boys edged past Bella and hurried down the stairs. The second, the one with red hair, began to gag, and made a headlong dash toward the bathroom. Bella heard the downstairs door slam. Rats and a sinking ship.

A cigarette someone had dropped smoldered on the carpet, and Bella hurried to retrieve it. “Have you taken total leave of your senses, Josh? Look at this carpet, it’s got a big burn mark, and it’s a miracle you didn’t burn the whole house down. And you lied to me, pretending you were at school, when all the time you…you…were playing hooky. It’s not the first time, either, is it?”

Words failed her. Realizing she was in serious danger of smacking her son across the ear, she backed away from him.

“Open that window. Clean up this mess. Get that boy in the bathroom out of here! And then I want to talk to you, young man.”

Feeling sick with both anger and worry, Bella went to the kitchen. She boiled water and made a cup of herbal tea, which was supposed to be calming, but didn’t help. In a short while, the red-haired boy came creeping down the stairs, took one hasty look at her and headed out the door.

At last Josh appeared. His face was pale and there was a distinct greenish cast to his skin. He slunk into the kitchen and dropped onto a stool. He kept his head down, not making eye contact.

“How could you, Josh?” Bella’s voice was trembling. “I’m having a rough time struggling to keep you in that school, and you’re not even attending it. Not only that, you brought strangers into this house, stole my liquor, smoked…Where did you get the cigarettes?”

Josh heaved a beleaguered sigh. “Aww, Ma, stop it. So we skipped out—school’s a big yawn, anyway. The cigarettes weren’t mine. The guys brought them. And that brandy’s been in the cupboard for at least a couple years. It’s not as if you were planning to use it anytime soon.”

Bella was speechless for a long moment. Then she said, “You get in the car. Now.”

He shook his head. “I’m gonna crash for a while. I don’t feel so hot.”

“Either you get in the car or I’ll have Mr. Nordwick drive over here. You’re going to tell him exactly what you and your so-called friends were doing.”

Josh was looking at her now, his hazel eyes filled with alarm. “Why would I tell old man Nordwick anything? He’s a mean old hard-ass. And I’m not squealing on my friends, so forget that.”

“You won’t have to. He knows exactly who you were with. And I’m sure he’ll give me their names and phone numbers, because I’m calling their parents and telling them exactly what went on here today. On the way to school, you can decide how best to apologize for your actions. There are going to be serious consequences. And there’ll be no more foul language around here, either.”

“What the hell? I don’t care what you do to me,” Josh said. “Why don’t you just send me to live with Dad? I don’t want to be around you, anyway. All you ever talk about is how short we are of money, and how much work there is to do in that damn yard. And if I stick around here, I’ll be changing schools all over again next semester—you told me and Kelse you can’t afford the fees at Crofton, remember? So what’s the difference if I skip out?”

“Go and get in the car.” Bella could hear the pain behind his accusations, but this wasn’t the time to address it. She had to carry through on her immediate plan.

He slammed the front door behind him, and Bella hurried to the window, afraid he’d bolt. But he was slumped in the car’s front seat when she went out. The drive to school was tense.

“I can smell the brandy on you,” she told him.

“Yeah, well, I feel like I’m going to barf. And my head hurts.”

“That’s called a hangover, Josh. And don’t even think of being sick in my car.”

She had to pull over to the curb after six blocks, while Josh vomited into a storm drain. Everyone on the street gave him a wide berth and stared at Bella.

At the school, Mr. Nordwick was in his office, and the secretary showed them in right away.

Bella explained what had happened, describing the other boys and asking for their names and phone numbers. “I feel their parents should be aware of what they’re up to, when they’re supposed to be in school.”