Photographs Ch. 03

Still, it hadn't really done anything. The slow way she sat down at the dinner table, the long-sleeved shirts on warm days, the day she lay in bed because she 'just didn't feel well.' Danny now knew the signs.

"UCLA is a great school," he said.

Christie's smile faded a little. "But UPenn is a great school, too."

He put on his best determined smile. "I'm going to UCLA."

"Danny," she raised her hands in frustration, the papers in each fluttering. "We discussed this."

"No. You gave me an order." He bent to pick up the ball so he wouldn't see her expression, but the tone of her voice told him everything.

"You promised."

He bit his lip, looked his mother in the eyes, and said, "I lied."

"Danny!"

He glanced up at the house. Steve was probably home, so he shifted until he was closer to her and whispered, "I am never going to leave you alone with him so he can beat you even more. Ever. I'll remain in this house until you find a way out of this marriage." The look of betrayal on her face almost gave him pause, but didn't completely succeed. "I mean it, Mom."

"I'm trying, Danny, but I have been for sixteen years, and I don't think there is a solution any more."

"I could help you, you know, if you would just tell me what it's all about."

She looked down, took a deep breath and sighed it out. "You don't realize how much happier I've been these last few months, knowing that soon you'd be safe from him. You're all that matters to me anymore, baby. I want you safe."

"What can he do to me? And what about you? Getting beaten every other weekend doesn't matter?"

"I don't know what he will do. He's dangerous and unpredictable." She looked up at last. "There is no telling what he is capable of."

"All the more reason for me to help you get out of here. I'm not leaving. Do you understand?" He bounced the ball to burn off some frustration.

"Danny. My life is already fucked up, but yours isn't. I've protected you from him all these years, but as you've grown older, it's gotten harder and harder."

"How? How have you protected me?"

"By staying. I told him from the beginning that if he harmed you in any way -- any way -- I would leave, consequences be damned. My captivity is what he wants more than anything. It's worked until now, but now that you're an adult, he can hurt you in other ways."

"Like what?" he asked, a challenge. He found it hard to believe that mild, bland Steve was capable of much more than beating up a woman.

"I found some papers in his briefcase last fall. Internet printouts on injuries that ended basketball careers."

The ball slapped into Danny's palm and he fumbled for it. Missed. "What? What do you think he intended?"

"To punish you in some way. To take away what he sees as your heart's desire."

"It's not."

"We both know that, but I don't think he does."

"I'm an adult now. That also means I can protect myself. I'm warned now." He watched the ball's slow, erratic roll down the driveway. "And you, Mom? What about your life, and what about what you want?"

"What I want doesn't matter anymore. It's too late. You're the one that matters."

He leaned in close. "Bull. Shit. You matter."

"Hey!" Steve yelled from the front door. Both of them started and turned in his direction. "We gonna have dinner anytime tonight?"

"I'm on my way in," Christie called back. "It's almost ready." She turned back to Danny. "We'll discuss this later."

"Discussion requires two people," Danny said, "and I'm through talking. I'm going to UCLA."

######

Steve Tyler wasn't oblivious to the tension around the table that night. Christie and the bastard-child weren't talking, which was both a welcome relief and so unusual it disturbed him at the same time. Usually it was 'how was your day?' and 'what homework do you have tonight?' Then they would chatter on about the shows on that night, or the news or, until recently, what Danny planned to do with that slut girlfriend of his the next weekend. Steve never understood how the stupid boy never saw what was so plain in every look and every move that girl made, it might as well have been written on her forehead in marker. Slut. Slut slut slut. She had even brushed up against Steve a few times, and then squeaked a demure, "Excuse me," while fluttering her lashes. If he had met her in another place, another city... but no, she wasn't his type. Too blonde. Too short. She had nice tits, though. Steve supposed that looking beyond those tits to see that his girlfriend was putting out for everybody but him was too much for a shallow teenager like Danny.

Steve saw it, though. Steve saw everything.

They ate their weeknight dinners in the breakfast nook that Christie had insisted on decorating in yellows and pale oranges. In fact he had let her decorate most of the house once she proved that she had enough sophistication to make them look like they fit into the neighborhood. Only his studio and his own bedroom she left to him. His retreat, where he developed his special photographs and made his plans.

Eight days. Eight days until his next trip. Austin, this time. A week in Austin for a big music festival should get him some good shots of celebs and, if he was lucky and very clever, some shots in their hotels.

A week for work.

A week to find a target. Big city, lots of targets. Playing paparazzi was a little hobby that hid his real ones.

Lost in his anticipation, he missed something that the bastard-child had just said.

"What?"

"Danny just said he's got a scholarship to UCLA."

Christie didn't seem happy about that for some reason. He thought she'd never want that kid to be yanked from the tit. Steve glanced from Christie to Danny, who spooned up pork stew as if oblivious to the undercurrents in the room. For a disconcerting second, he thought he might not have the full insight into his household he thought he did, but that second passed and he reasoned it out. Danny was a teenager, therefore he would do the opposite of whatever Christie wanted. She was psyching him out. Trying to be sure he stayed. Steve was perceptive enough to know that Danny would definitely do the opposite of whatever he recommended, so he sided with the boy.

"UCLA's a good school for pre-med," he said. "If we can save on some tuition, all the better. You can live at home, save us even more."

Danny set his spoon down, looked at his mother, and then said warily, "Yeah. That's what I think, too."

Well, so much for that.

"Don't you want to see some of the world, Danny?" Christie asked. "Have some freedom? Think of all the stuff you could do without your parents constantly looking over your shoulder." She turned to Steve. "He got an acceptance letter to University of Pennsylvania today, too."

Danny was inhaling stew again. The boy ate like an African elephant. Steve had to watch every bite and run twenty miles a week to stay trim. Another reason to hate the kid.

"I have a lifetime to travel, Mom. I'll probably have to go pretty far once I reach internship." He shrugged. "I'll have my adventures then."

Her voiced developed a hard edge, as if the conversational road had been traveled enough to wear it down to the bare elements. "Medical school is pretty grueling. You'll probably have no time for travel."

"Mom, we've discussed this."

Aha. They had been talking about this for some time. Interesting. Steve's attention was glued to the conversation.

"I know, son, but this decision is so important."

"And that's why UCLA is such a good idea. They have a great medical school, too, and going there pre-med might get me an in."

Christie sighed and fingered her spoon without picking it up. She had dipped it into her stew, but never actually took a bite. Her bread lay crumbled around her plate from where she had picked at it. Most of her salad still sat in the bowl. Christie definitely felt strongly about this. Very strange. Again he felt his understanding slipping, sub-context swirling around him that he couldn't decipher. His right hand and arm tingled, itching to hold a strap and swing it over Christie's back, to hear her hiss when the pain became more than she could fight any longer. Beat her enough, and who was in control of her home and her life became crystal clear to both of them.

For now it would have to be enough to thwart whatever she was planning. "Let me look over the paperwork," he told Danny. "If anything needs a parental signature, I'll sign for you."