“Yeah…that’s a better word.”

Decker stood up. “I’ll tell you one thing, Gabriel. When your parents were kids—not much older than you are now—they were madly in love. It’s easy to see your mom falling for your dad. She was young and naive and your dad was not only good-looking and talented but a real charmer. But, honestly, your dad fell just as hard for your mom. He was completely in love with her.”

“He still is. He’s absolutely obsessed with her. That’s why I don’t think he’d hurt her. I know he beat her up, but I think that was a fluke. As much as I think he’s crazy, I don’t think he’d kill her.”

Decker nodded, although he knew the truth. The first time was always the hardest. The subsequent times went much easier.

Gabe had a faraway look in his eyes. “I was my father’s meal ticket to get to her, you know. If it hadn’t been for me, she might have escaped.” He stared at the ceiling. “Poor Mom. She was just sixteen. She never knew what hit her.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

TRUDGING INTO THE kitchen with a load of clothes under his arm, Gabe was living on borrowed time. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t fall asleep and he gave up by six in the morning. He was surprised to find Mrs. Decker up and about. She was dressed in a denim skirt and a long-sleeved T-shirt, and her head was covered with a kerchief. Hannah had explained to him that married Orthodox Jewish women dressed modestly.

A bit different from what he was used to.

The mothers of his friends were cougars, decked out in wife-beaters or tank tops and miniskirts or sprayed-on jeans. Sometimes they wore dresses as tight as a second skin. They all had had boob jobs. They all grew their hair long and plastered their faces with makeup. The idea was to seduce as many teenage boys as they could. He was always the trophy among trophies because he was Donatti’s kid. They tried and tried and he rejected and rejected.

They called him queer but not to his face.

Mrs. Decker gave him a cheery good morning, relieving him of the bundle he was carrying. It was great to be around an older woman who wasn’t trying to grab his crotch. He was in a terrible mood—enraged, abandoned, sick to his stomach—and wanted to hit something. Just beat the crap out of whatever was in his way. Instead, he decided it was more profitable to wash his smelly clothes when he thought no one would be up. “It’s really okay, Mrs. Decker. I do laundry all the time.”

“So do I.” Another smile. “Gabe, you look exhausted. Would you like to sleep in this morning and I’ll take you to school in the afternoon?”