Page 47 of The One Decent Thing

The footsteps reached the porch, and then a heavy knock rattled the door. “Mr. Peach? Mr. Peach, this is the SRPD. If you’re home and able to do so, please open the door.”

“There’s a car in the driveway,” another male voice said, this one younger-sounding.

“Yeah, he’s probably here,” said the first. And then more loudly, “Mr. Peach!” Another knock. “Please open the door.”

I wanted to wrap Sebastian in my arms and hold him close, throw him over my shoulder and bolt out the back door, drag him with me under one of the beds and cover my ears. My arms were trembling, and my heart wasn’t speeding up, it seemed to be slowing down, with heavy, sick thuds that shook my eardrums. My scalp went prickly and numb.

If this was what Sebastian’s panic attacks felt like, then they were even worse than they looked. I was frozen, useless, thrown helplessly back to my bare feet on the dirty floor of that police car, wincing at the lights flashing in my eyes, the handcuffs cutting into my wrists where they’d been locked on too tightly.

Sebastian slid off my lap. I tried to grab at him, but my hands were lumps of flesh, my fingers boneless. “How could you not tell me,” he hissed. “How could you not — Goddammit.”

He went to the door, leaving me sweating and silently calling after him, my lips moving but nothing coming out.

“I’m here,” he called, with the faintest quaver in his voice. “I’m going to open the door.” Sebastian turned the deadbolt and then the doorknob, swinging the door open enough to frame himself in it without, I realized, letting them see me. If he was anywhere near as afraid as I was, he wasn’t showing it. “Can I help you?”

“Mr. Peach, I’m Officer Gutierrez, and this is Officer Kim,” said the older-sounding voice. “We’re here to perform a welfare check at the request of your mother.”

“Really, officer? Because she hasn’t given a damn about my welfare for a long time, as far as I know.” His voice was tight with anger and hurt, and fresh sweat burst out along my hairline. God, Sebastian. He shouldn’t be arguing, at all, even if it wasn’t the cops he was criticizing.

“Is there some reason why your mother thought you might be in danger, Mr. Peach?” Gutierrez replied, a little annoyance creeping in. “Because she was very insistent that you had a dangerous criminal in your house.”

There was a faint rustle, and Sebastian leaned his head farther out the door. “Um, you don’t need to write me notes, Officer Kim. I’m perfectly safe. Thanks for the, um, good procedure, though? I mean, that could totally save someone’s life if they were a hostage or something.”

“Would you mind answering the question, please?” Gutierrez sounded mild, now, but that was worse.Please, Sebastian. Don’t freak out. Play nicely. Please, please, please, get them to leave.

Sebastian sighed. “My mother hates my roommate, and she and I don’t get along. Yeah, he has a record, but I’ve seen all the paperwork and I know all about it. We went to high school together, okay? I’ve known the guy for a long time, and we’ve lived together for a while. He does his dishes and everything.”

God. Sebastian. He sounded exactly right: frustrated but not angry, honest but not defensive. My hands unclenched, and I hadn’t even noticed they’d formed fists.

“Yeah, okay,” Gutierrez said, more disgustedly this time. “Thanks for your time. Sorry to bother you. I hate these bogus complaints, they’re more work for everyone.”

“Good practice for me, though,” put in the other guy — Officer Kim. “Thanks, Mr. Peach. Hope it all works out for you and your roommate.”

“Sorry you both had your time wasted, too,” Sebastian replied. “Thanks for checking on me, you know, in case I needed it. Have a good day, officers.”

Their footsteps retreated, and Sebastian slowly swung the door shut. He turned the deadbolt and then leaned his forehead against the wood, holding perfectly still until the car doors slammed, the engine started again, and the officers had gone on their way.

“Sebastian.” I didn’t know if he’d heard me, so I tried again. “Sebastian?” That time, my croak was audible, if barely.

He turned around, and I made a mental note that this, Christ,thiswas what he looked like when he was really, truly angry. I prayed it wasn’t all at me.

His freckles and the twin spots of bright red on his cheekbones stood out starkly against the way his face had gone milk-white. His eyes glowed like the blue lasers in the video he’d shown me one time when I asked him what he did in the lab on Fridays.

“She — she — I’m going to kill her!” Sebastian clenched his fists and spun around like he was about to slam one of them into the wall. Shit, no. I’d broken a finger doing that once. I lurched off of the couch and stumbled over to him, barely in time to grab his arm mid-swing. “I need to hit something!” he howled in outrage.

I knew the feeling. I grabbed him in my arms, clumsy but effective, and pulled him against my chest. He shoved me away. “And you! What the hell, Aidan! You knew Brody was calling my parents and you didn’t think to even mention it?”

“I forgot. I’m so sorry. What with — everything —”

“That’s not something you just forget!”

No, it really wasn’t. “Maybe I wanted to,” I mumbled. It was weak, and I knew it. “Anyway, it’s okay, right? They went away. You were awesome, by the way.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, and rubbed his hands over his face. His color was still all wrong. “I don’t know how I — oh, God.”

He turned and bolted for the bathroom. The door slammed behind him, the lock clicked, and then there was the unmistakable sound of retching. It went on and on, as I stood frozen by the front door, and then the sink turned on. The toilet flushed, and water ran for a while. Pounding on the bathroom door and begging to be let in to hold his hair back wouldn’t just be pathetic, it would be intrusive as hell.

I couldn’t stand it anymore, lurking there uselessly, so I headed out to the back patio and lit a cigarette. Sun poured down out of a pale-blue sky, with a few high white clouds visible through the trees. The concrete chilled my toes, and the light breeze felt like it came straight from some snow-covered mountain, raising goosebumps on my bare arms and legs. All the flowers I’d planted were doing well. They got a lot of sun on the patio, and I’d kept them watered. There were even a few bees hanging around the nasturtiums and taking advantage of the sunshine.

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