Perfect Match Read online

  His mommy is sitting in the front row. Her eyes are puffy, and before she sees him standing there she wipes them with her fingers. It makes Nathaniel think of all the other times she's pretended she isn't crying, says it with a smile, even though there are tears right on her cheeks.

  There is a big man in the front of the room too, with skin the color of chestnuts. It is the same man who was in the supermarket; who made his mother get taken away. His mouth looks like it has been sewn shut.

  The Lawyer sitting next to his mother gets up and walks toward Nathaniel. He does not like the Lawyer. Every time the Lawyer comes to his house, his parents have yelled at each other. And last night, when Nathaniel had been brought here to practice, the Lawyer was downright mean.

  Now, he puts his hand on Nathaniel's shoulder. "Nathaniel, I know you're worried about your mommy. I am, too. I want her to be happy again, but there is someone here who doesn't like your mommy. His name is Mr. Brown. Do you see him over there? The tall man?" Nathaniel nods. "He's going to ask you some questions. I can't stop him from doing that. But when you answer them, remember--I'm here to help your mommy. He isn't."

  Then he walks Nathaniel to the front of the courtroom. There are more people there than last night--a man wearing a black dress and holding a hammer; another person with hair that stands straight up on his head in little curls; a lady with a typewriter. His mom. And the big man who doesn't like her. They walk to the little fence-box where Nathaniel had to sit before. He crawls onto the chair that is too low, then folds his hands in his lap.

  The man in the black dress speaks. "Can we get a higher seat for this child?"

  Everyone starts looking left and right. The almost-policeman says what everyone else can see: "There don't seem to be any around."

  "What do you mean? We always have extra stools for child witnesses."

  "Well, I could go to Judge Shea's courtroom to see if he has any, but there won't be anybody here to watch the defendant, Your Honor."

  The man in the dress sighs, then hands Nathaniel a fat book. "Why don't you sit on my Bible, Nathaniel?"

  He does, wiggling a little, because his bum keeps sliding off. The curly man walks up to him with a smile. "Hi, Nathaniel," he says.

  Nathaniel doesn't know if he is supposed to talk yet.

  "I need you to put your hand on the Bible for me."

  "But I'm sitting on it."

  The man takes out another Bible, and holds it in front of Nathaniel like a table. "Raise your right hand," he says, and Nathaniel lifts one arm into the air. "Your other right hand," the man corrects. "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

  Nathaniel vehemently shakes his head.

  "Is there a problem?" This from the man in the black dress.

  "I'm not supposed to swear," he whispers.

  His mommy smiles, then, and hiccups out a laugh. Nathaniel thinks it is the prettiest sound he has ever heard.

  "Nathaniel, I'm Judge Neal. I need you to answer some questions for me today. Do you think you can do that?"

  He shrugs.

  "Do you know what a promise is?" When Nathaniel nods, the judge points to the lady who is typing. "I need you to speak out, because that woman is writing down everything we say, and she has to hear you. You think you can talk nice and loud for her?"

  Nathaniel leans forward. And at the top of his lungs, yells, "Yes!"

  "Do you know what a promise is?"

  "Yes!"

  "Do you think you can promise to answer some questions today?"

  "Yes!"

  The judge leans back, wincing a little. "This is Mr. Brown, Nathaniel, and he's going to talk to you first."

  Nathaniel looks at the big man, who stands up and smiles. He has white, white teeth. Like a wolf. He is nearly as tall as the ceiling and Nathaniel takes one look at him coming closer and thinks of him hurting his mother and then turning around and biting Nathaniel himself in two.

  He takes a deep breath, and bursts into tears.

  The man stops in his tracks, like he's lost his balance. "Go away!" Nathaniel shouts. He draws up his knees, and buries his face in them.

  "Nathaniel." Mr. Brown comes forward slowly, holding out his hand. "I just need to ask you a couple of questions. Is that okay?"

  Nathaniel shakes his head, but he won't look up. Maybe the big man has laser eyes too, like Cyclops from the X-Men. Maybe he can freeze them with one glance and with the next, make them burst into fire.

  "What's your turtle's name?" the big man asks.

  Nathaniel buries Franklin under his knees, so that he won't have to see the man either. He covers his face with his hands and peeks out, but the man has gotten even closer and this makes Nathaniel turn sideways in the chair, as if he might slip through the slats on the back side of it.

  "Nathaniel," the man tries again.

  "No," Nathaniel sobs. "I don't want to!"

  The man turns away. "Judge. May we approach?"

  Nathaniel peers over the lip of the box he is sitting in and sees his mother. She's crying too, but then that makes sense. The man wants to hurt her. She must be just as scared of him as Nathaniel is.

  Fisher has told me not to cry, because I will get kicked out of the room. But I can't control myself--the tears come as naturally as a blush or a breath. Nathaniel burrows into the wooden chair, all but hidden by the frame of the witness stand. Fisher and Brown walk toward the bench, where the judge is angry enough to be spitting sparks. "Mr. Brown," he says. "I can't believe you insisted on taking this so far. You know very well you didn't need this testimony, and I'm not going to allow psychological mind games to be played in my courtroom. Don't even think about making an argument to revisit this."

  "You're right, Judge," answers that bastard. "I asked to approach because clearly this child should not have to testify."

  The judge raps his gavel. "This court rules that Nathaniel Frost is not competent to stand trial. The subpoena is quashed." He turns to my son. "Nathaniel, you can go on down to your dad."

  Nathaniel bolts out of the chair and down the steps. I think he is going to run to Caleb, in the back of the courtroom--but instead he rushes straight to me. The force of his body sends my chair scooting back a few inches. Nathaniel wraps his arms around my waist, squeezing free the breath I have not even noticed I am holding.

  I wait until Nathaniel glances up, terrified by the faces in this foreign world--the clerk, the judge, the stenographer, and the prosecutor. "Nathaniel," I tell him fiercely, drawing his attention. "You were the best witness I could have had."

  Over his head, I catch Quentin Brown's eye. And smile.

  When Patrick met Nathaniel Frost, the child was six months old. Patrick's first thought was that he looked just like Nina. His second thought was that, right here, in his arms, was the reason they would never be together.

  Patrick made an extra effort to get close to Nathaniel, even though sometimes it was painful enough to make him ache for days after a visit. He'd bring Weed little dolphins to float in the bathtub; Silly Putty; sparklers. For years Patrick had wanted to get under Nina's skin; Nathaniel, who'd grown below her heart, surely had something to teach him. So he tagged along on hikes, swapping off with Caleb to carry Nathaniel when his legs got tired. He let Nathaniel spin in his desk chair at the station. He even baby-sat for a whole weekend, when Caleb and Nina went away for a relative's wedding.

  And somewhere along the way, Patrick--who'd loved Nina forever--fell just as hard for her son.

  The clock hasn't moved in two hours, Patrick would swear to that. Right now, Nathaniel is undergoing his competency hearing--a procedure Patrick couldn't watch, even if he wanted to. And he doesn't. Because Nina will be there too, and he hasn't seen or spoken to her since Christmas Eve.

  It's not that he doesn't want to. God, he can't seem to think of anything but Nina--the feel of her, the taste of her, the way her body relaxed against his in her sleep. But right now, the memory is crystallized f