“If he did, I don’t want to see it!” He spoke with volume and force. Then he exhaled, deflated, as if his lungs had no more capacity to breathe. “This boy…maybe he wanted to help. Maybe not. But even if he did want to help, he was not a big hero. Nothing like that.”

There was silence.

Oscar said, “At most, he was a small hero.” The old man let go with a lemony smile. “Still, a small hero is better than nothing.”

34

It was going to be an all-nighter, so Decker decided to put in an appearance at home. Pulling into the driveway, he saw that the living room windows were dark, meaning that his family was out, doing their own thing without him of course, and he could have just as well stayed in the office. The realization that he wasn’t needed or missed drew mixed emotions. He felt hurt, but at least his loved ones could function without him—a meager bit of comfort. Since he was home, he decided to freshen up with a quick shower and a change of clothes.

As soon as he stepped inside, he noticed that the house wasn’t entirely dark. There was a light on in Jacob’s room…no noise coming from the stereo. No conversation, either. That made his stomach turn.

Anytime the house was too quiet, and Jacob was alone, Decker held this nagging suspicion that something illicit was going on. As much as he proclaimed his confidence in the kid, he couldn’t bring himself to trust him totally.

He tiptoed over to the room, listened for a minute. Nothing. Then he knocked on the door.

Immediately, Jacob told him to come in. Decker hoped the kid hadn’t heard him whoosh out an exhalation of relief. Wearing a black leather yarmulke, Jake was sitting at his desk, bent over a tome of the Talmud, concentrating as he read the Aramaic text. Then he looked up.

“Hi.”

“You’re home alone?”

“Hannah’s here.”

“Oh.” Decker listened, perceiving just air. “I don’t hear the TV.”

“It’s after nine, Dad. She’s asleep.”

Guilt stabbed his innards. “That would make sense.”

“Want me to check in on her?”

“I’ll do it.” But Decker didn’t leave right away, transfixed by his stepson’s aberrant studious behavior. “I thought it was summer.”

“I’m trying to catch up before I go to yeshiva. I don’t want to look too stupid.”

“That would be impossible.”

“You’d be surprised. Amazing. The more you study, the more you know.”

“Truisms work.”

“Sammy and I have been learning together for the last two hours, but then a friend called him. I told him to go out. He was looking a little pale.”

“You didn’t want to go?”