Violet Eyes by John Everson Page A

I have to tell you Rachel, I’m concerned about him. I think a boy needs a father’s influence more and more as he grows up. I’ve been talking to a lawyer friend of mine about custody…”
    “Keep talking, asshole,” Rachel said. “Because Eric is staying right where he is. He’s doing just fine.”
    “We’ll see,” Anders said. “How are you doing? I know it’s gotta be hard to handle a house and a kid all on your own. Especially when you’ve got such a problem with depression and all.”
    Rachel choked. “Are you fuckin’ serious? The only time I was depressed was when I was with you.”
    “I’d rather if you didn’t use that kind of language in front of our son,” Anders said. His voice was dead cool. “I don’t think he needs to hear that kind of thing from his parents, and I’m pretty sure the custody officer that I’ve been talking to would consider that a pretty, um…what did you call it… a ‘negative’ environment. And we both want our son to grow up in a positive environment, right?”
    Rachel felt all of the good feelings of her date churn around in her stomach to become a maelstrom of acid and anger.
    “Are you serious?” she hissed. “Who is this? Because the asshole I married never said shit like ‘positive environment’. He said shit like, ‘bend over, baby, cuz I’m horny.’”
    “Again,” Anders said, his voice cool and even. “I don’t really want my son to be exposed to this kind of talk. I think it would be better if he came back here, to his home, to live with me. I’ve been talking to my lawyer, and she agrees that there would be a lot of advantages for Eric to this. All his friends are here, everything he knows is here and the thing about a kid moving into his teenage years is, he really does need a male influence. Who better to serve that role than his actual father? You can’t do that. I’m sorry, I know you want to be macho here, but you just don’t have the balls.”
    “That’s it, Anders,” Rachel said. “I don’t know what you hoped to prove tonight, but it’s past Eric’s bedtime and I’m not going to argue with you. I’m going to put him to bed. If you want to talk to your son, call back at a reasonable hour.”
    “I didn’t actually call to talk to Eric, this time,” Anders said. Still his voice remained cool. No, not cool. Cold. Like a steel pole in winter. Hard. Unyielding.
    “I called to talk to you. To let you know that I intend to bring my son back home. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me. Because he should be here. With his dad.” Anders took a deep breath, and Rachel knew that something bad was coming. She had lived with him too long not to pick up the vibes.
    “I’m taking a couple days off towards the end of the month,” he said. “I’m coming down to see my son. And then I’m going to take him back home.”
    “His home is here,” Rachel said. And then she hung up the phone.
    In the front room, something exploded on the television. Again and again. Rachel stayed in the kitchen, and struggled to catch her breath and regain calm. Nobody was going to take her son from her. Not Anders, not the courts, nobody. She was a good mom, and she would take care of him, no matter what.
    Then she looked at the kitchen clock and felt the “mom” gene kick in.
    “Eric,” she called. “It’s time for bed.”
    “Okay,” he answered. The sound of laser machine guns echoed from the television. “In a minute.”
    “No,” she said. “Now.”

Chapter Twelve
    Friday, May 10. 10:26 p.m.
    Billy fell.
    He had only taken a few steps down the sidewalk from Rachel and Eric’s house when his legs suddenly stopped working. There was no reason for it…he stepped down the sidewalk and then just after he crossed the driveway he found himself face first in the grass on a neighbor’s lawn, his mouth full of spiky green grass. The heat of the day still clung to the ground, and he felt as if he’d just lain down on a steam