Chapter 9: Home Sweet Home

It wasn’t technically April Fools because he didn’t move back home until the following day (Monday the 2^nd). Nevertheless, it felt like the ultimate April Fool’s joke when the transport ambulance rolled up to his house to find nobody home. The driveway was empty, and the burgundy Buick LeSabre he wanted was missing. The grass was knee-high, and the overflowing garbage cans were off to the side.

They unloaded Peter and let him wheel himself up the new ramp to his front porch, following closely to ensure he could handle the rise. Wheelchairs lean back already, and the ramp exaggerated the lean, but Peter managed since the ramp was long. The length meant the chair’s rear tilt was less than it would have been on a shorter ramp.

Kat parked the orange goblin in the tall grass beside the driveway and climbed out, carrying the box holding his computer. She walked beside him, looking for any signs of life. He indicated where the spare key was, and moments later, he rolled into the empty house and called out for his mom. There was no response. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” he snapped angrily.

“They had to know you were returning today,” Kat breathed. “Right?”

He shook his head in disbelief. “We had a discharge planning meeting Friday afternoon, and she was there!” he replied. He turned to the bewildered EMTs, each carrying a box of his stuff. “Can you call her?” one asked, setting the box on the kitchen table.

“I don’t know where she is,” he replied.

“Can you page her then?” the medical attendant asked.

“I don’t think she has one.”

“We can’t leave you here unattended, Peter,” the other medic replied with concern. “Is there anyone else who can sign for you? We need to locate your mom, your legal guardian.”

Peter sighed with frustration. There was only one person he could think of to call. He picked up the phone and dialed the number from memory.

“Hello, Mr. Shipley,” Jeremiah’s deep southern drawl sounded in his ear. “How can I assist you?”

“You’re not gonna believe this,” Peter growled and explained his situation.

“I see,” the man said calmly after hearing the circumstances. “I’m in Renton and will head there in ten minutes. It shouldn’t take more than twenty to get there. Stall them until I arrive.”

“Thanks.”

While they waited, the medics and Kathy unloaded his belongings from the ambulance and her car and carried them inside while Peter vacated his wheelchair and explored the house. The main level looked different and less spacious, with the wall enclosing his new room. The door handle was a push panel that operated the same on either side, allowing it to swing in or out. The kitchen had been remodeled with lower-stepped counters where he could reach anything and a shallow ramp had been butted against the counters from the refrigerator to the sink.

Curious, he climbed the stairs to check out the rest of the house. He found that his old room had been gutted and converted into a storage place full of boxes and unfamiliar things, except for his old desk that remained in its corner. The entire level reeked of cigarettes and burnt plastic.

He opened his parent’s bedroom door and found the stench more pungent. The bed was unmade, and dirty clothes were piled around, a sight he couldn’t have imagined before his accident. An ashtray on the nightstand was full of cigarette butts. He moved closer and gasped at seeing several hypodermic needles, a torn paper baggy with a bent-up spoon, and several lighters. What the fuck? The area stunk of burnt plastic and magic markers.

Suddenly, He was gripped by a feral rage that made his breath catch. He felt paralyzed as white-hot fury washed over him and instinctively knew it originated from the specter within his sub-conscience. He swallowed his fear and fought for control as impressions of cold, empty rooms, needles, and rubber tubes flashed through his mind. And then, in a flash, it was gone, leaving him feeling cold inside.

“Hey, baby?” Kat called upstairs. “Where do you want your computer set up? There’s no desk in your room.”

He staggered out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. “My old desk is still up here,” he called back.

She bounded up the stairs and wrinkled her nose. “God! What is that smell?” she asked as she opened his door and surveyed the room. “Hey, you guys!” she called down to the main floor. “Can you help me move a desk while we wait?”

It took them fifteen minutes to wrestle the old wooden desk down the stairs and into his room. Kathy was helping him set up his computer when Jeremiah appeared. He stepped into the house, sniffed, narrowed his eyes, and pursed his lips. He nodded to the medics and stepped over to the bedroom.

“Oh, hey, Jeremiah,” Peter said, looking up. “Thanks for coming by.” He was still standing on his shortened legs, rummaging through a box of cords and cables. He stopped and looked up at the man. “This wasn’t the homecoming I expected.”

“Indeed not,” the CFP replied dubiously. He looked around the room, taking in every detail.

“Excuse me, sir?” an EMT interjected from behind. He held an aluminum run-board as a clipboard and a container for blank forms. “Are you a legal guardian who can sign for the boy?”

The sharply dressed character regarded the medic and nodded once. “I reckin’ I’m about as close as can be at the moment,” he said, signing the sheet. “I’ll look after him ‘til his Mah shows.”

After they left, he continued exploring the house. “Mind if I grab my Polaroid and snap a few pics of this new layout, Son?”

Peter shrugged. “No, go for it,” he replied. “You might want to check out the new layout in the master bedroom too.” He didn’t look up to make eye contact, which struck the Southerner as odd.

“Okay, your computer is up and running, and the externals are slaved together,” Kathy announced a few minutes later. “I’m going to check your kitchen to see if anyone has shopped for food.”

“Can you open a few windows while you’re at it?”

She snorted. “I’ll open all of them!”

A few minutes later, the three gathered again in Peter’s room. “The fridge is empty except for old leftovers and an expired gallon of milk,” Kathy fumed. “Not even a box of cereal in the cupboards. It’s like no one has lived here for weeks.”

“Oh, they’ve been here,” Jeremiah said in his deep voice. “The drug paraphernalia and stench suggest they were shooting PCP last night.”

“WHAT?” she screeched, turning on him enraged. He shook several pictures between his fingers. He looked at one and showed it to her. Her face clouded as she looked at it. With an angry growl, she returned the photo and charged up the stairs to see for herself.

“It’s not surprising the shelves are bare,” Peter mused, turning to hop into his wheelchair. “Why shop for food when you can eat out?”

“Yeah, until that money tree shrivels and dies,” Jeremiah replied. They both looked up as Kathy marched angrily back down the stairs. “Unh uh! No way!” she snarled. “I’m calling the police!”

“Now, just hold on a minute, Rambo,” Jeremiah teased. “Let’s just have ourselves a sit-down for a moment and talk about this.”

“Why? They’re doing drugs, and Peter is a minor! She’s supposed to be a responsible adult!” She counted off each thing with her fingers. “If they go to jail, problem solved.”

“Not entirely,” Jeremiah replied. “Who else can care for him until he turns 18?”

“He can take care of himself just fine, and you know it,” she rebuked.

He nodded. “I do, but will the Courts see it that way?”

His words stopped her, and she visibly deflated. “What can we do?”

Peter leaned forward in his chair. “We do nothing,” he suggested. “This phase can’t sustain itself indefinitely.”

Jeremiah nodded. “They’ll run out of money, and things will come to a head sooner than later.”

“I don’t care what happens with Paul,” Peter said. “He can rot in jail or die of an overdose for all I care, but I want to save my mom if possible. She needs to be present, even if she’s not really responsible.”

“And what about you?” she demanded. “Who’s looking out for you while that freak is high on PCP under your roof?”

“That’s a good point,” Jeremiah replied. “Unfortunately, I don’t have an answer for you.”

“I can take care of myself, guys,” Peter assured them, “but we need to adjust how we conduct business.” He gazed at his girlfriend. “Don’t bring any orders or money here. I’ll make copies here, but we’ll do everything else at your or Alan’s place.” He looked at his financial mentor. “Jeremiah, I don’t want them to suspect anything about my money or income.”

Jeremiah gazed back at him shrewdly. Then he got up and grabbed his hat. “Very well then,” he stated. “You have my number.”

“Where are you going?” Kat demanded.

“Like he said, Miss,” Jeremiah set a photo on the table and walked toward the door, “he can take care of himself.” He turned in the doorway, “Due regard.”

They followed him to the porch and watched him climb into a long black Cadillac Eldorado and drive off. “That is a strange man,” she mused quietly.

“And a good friend,” Peter replied.

“I’m going to Safeway to get you some groceries,” she decided as they returned inside. “You gotta eat, and I’m not relying on those losers to care for you.”

“I’ll come with you,” Peter replied. “I want to stop at Ace Hardware for a deadbolt and a drill.”

It took nearly three hours to install the locking deadbolt above his room’s door handle. It involved measuring, drilling, carving, and cursing. The inadequate tools didn’t deter them, and they persevered through brute force. Afterward, they shared a frozen pizza and Dr. Peppers before snuggling on his bed. It was 3 pm, and Kathy felt slightly guilty for skipping school. “I think you need a distraction,” Peter suggested innocently. She reacted by rolling on top of him and grinding her pelvis against his crotch.

“Just what did you have in mind, Sir?” she crooned with a silky voice. His reaction was immediate and apparent as she felt him growing hard beneath her.

“Um, you know I’m a minor, right?” he said mockingly, pressing against her. “This could be considered statutory rape.” Her face flushed as she kissed him deeply. “Yeah? Who’s complaining?”

He took a shuddering breath. “Not me.”

She rolled off his bed and padded across the room barefoot to secure the deadbolt. Turning back, she grabbed the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head, revealing perfectly shaped breasts with dark areolas and nipples. She tossed the shirt onto his desk and reached behind to unzip her skirt, letting it drop. She stood before his shocked eyes in just her light blue panties.