Chapter 43

CLOSURE

It took awhile, but Johner found him.

It was on the eighth night of cruising the streets in the neighborhood of the original hijack that he caught sight of Des on a street corner with several other boys. He pulled up to the corner, stopped, rolled down the window on the passenger side.

"Des?"

Des stiffened as he recognized. Johner, but he stood his ground.

"Come on, get in. I'm not going to keep you." Johner leaned over so Des could see his face in the light from the neon in the store window.

Des stood for a moment, then walked slowly to the side of the car, hesitated, then opened the door and got in, his expression wary. He closed the door and sat unmoving, not looking at Johner.

Johner grinned at him. "I won't chain you to the door handle this time." He put the car in gear, and they moved away. "I was pretty mad at the time, but I'm over it. You want to tell me what's been going on?"

Des looked straight ahead at the road. Finally he said, "Whadda you care?"

Johner smiled wryly and shook his head. "Damned if I know! But I do, so let's get on with it. What've you been doing? Had any good car-jackings lately?"

Des smiled, a small smile, the most he seemed to be capable of. "Not lately."

"Wanta come back?"

He looked at Johner for the first time, surprised. "Jeez, you want me back?"

"Didn't say I'd take you, asked if you wanted to."

A pause. "No."

Johner chuckled. "You know, this thing would probably have gone a lot better if I could ever get you to talk to me." He shook his head when Des didn't answer. "There, that's exactly what I mean. Cripe, kid, talk to me!"

Long pause. "Nothing to say."

Johner shook his head, discouraged. "I hear you. I guess that's the truth. Nothing to say."

He cruised on for a couple of minutes, then found what he'd been looking for. He turned the car into a fast food restaurant, and pulled up to the order board. "Hungry?"

Des looked at him, a fast side glance. "Sure."

"Whaddaya want?"

Des told him, and he ordered. They waited in silence for the food.

Des dug in with his usual enthusiasm for food. Johner watched him eat for a minute, then said "Does it make sense to you, what I said about talking to me?"

Des looked up at him, mouth full, and nodded.

"Can't do it, huh?"

No response.

"Wish you could?"

Pause. Another glance. Des held Johner's gaze as he slowly shook his head.

Johner looked back, searching Des's face, then shrugged. The message was clear; Des wasn't interested in furthering this association. Arguments and persuasions passed through Johner's mind, but he kept them inside. It was no use, the kid didn't want it.

"OK, kid. I guess that's it, then. I wish it was different, but you are who you are." He started the car.

The ride back to Des's corner was silent. Johner pulled the car up to the corner and stopped. Des opened the door, but stopped before he got out. He sat silently for a moment, still facing the door, then turned. His voice was very low, and he didn't look at Johner.

"Thanks."

He got out of the car and walked swiftly away.

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Sarah was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and waiting for him, as she had on every night he searched for Des. She looked up as he came in, and knew immediately that this time the search had been successful.

"What happened?" She stood up and got a cup, poured his coffee.

He sat down at the table, drew the coffee cup toward him and looked down into it, head bent so she couldn't see his face.

"Johner? What happened.?" Her hand reached across the table to cover his. "Tell me about it."

":He doesn't want to come back, doesn't even want to talk about it."

"I'm sorry. Sorry for your disappointment…but babe, he wasn't happy here."

"I know." He looked up at her and his other hand covered hers, holding it between his. "I know, but….well, it's hard to let go of it, somehow. Damn it, it was a chance for him! A chance…to get out of it, out of what will kill his soul in the end! " His face was charged with pain.

Sarah nodded. "Yes. But it's not what he wants. It would be best for him, sure… but since when did any of us do what's best?" She smiled a little. "It would be best for you to forget it. And it would be best for me not to care so much that it hurts you. But…we don't do what's best, we do what we have to do, or need to do, or want to do." She turned her hand up to grasp his. "Come on, babe, let's go to bed. You look exhausted."

He nodded, and got up wearily. She put her arm around his waist, he put his around her shoulder, and they walked slowly out of the kitchen.

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