Good Boys

By D. J. Witten

Jim Ferraro has just returned home from a four-day business trip when his wife, Katie, delivers devastating news. Their twelve-year-old son, Kyle, has just been expelled for downloading violent pornography onto his school-issued iPad and then showing the photos to his friends. The news is particularly devastating for Katie who must accept that her son’s poor choices have now left her job as a school guidance counselor in jeopardy.

Doubtful that Kyle acted alone, the Ferraros soon discover that their suspicions are correct. After Kyle tells them that his older brother, Will, helped him download the sites, the Ferraros journey through despair and destruction as they attempt to save their boys and guide them down a better path. As their challenges begin, both Jim and Katie must deal with angry parents, determine how to return Kyle to school, and ultimately deal with Will and the addiction they never realized he was battling. Now only time will tell if they can transform their despair into redemption as their lives forever change.

Good Boys is the story of a family’s challenges as they battle seemingly insurmountable obstacles while attempting to come to grips with their son’s debilitating addiction to pornography.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Nov 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9781480867567

D. J. Witten

D. J. Witten is a psychologist and executive coach with a long career in the public and private sectors. She has held a variety of senior roles at several management consulting firms. Witten now lives in Colorado where she is dedicating more time to her writing, her passion for nature, and her pursuit of Tibetan medicine and meditation. GOOD BOYS is her first novel.

Book preview

OCTOBER

CHAPTER 1

It was a habit borne of far too many repetitions. Jim moved his hand automatically to the seatbelt buckle as he sat up straight in the business-class aisle seat. With the ding of the seatbelt sign, his fingers unclasped the buckle and he was standing in the aisle. It was one seamless move. He turned around and reached up to the luggage bin, opening it cautiously, God only knows what people stuffed in up there, and reached for his battered American Tourister carry-on. Only the first-timers put their money into shiny metal cases, trying to prove how important they were. When you’ve been at this game for a while, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone.

Jim stood impatiently, carry-on between his knees. One of the girls up front handed him his suit jacket from the undersized closet near the door. He mumbled thanks, thought about putting it on, changed his mind, and draped it over his right arm. The ramp door opened, and Jim was third out, heading down the causeway for C Concourse. Damn, another two-hour delay. Last week they announced that it was thunderstorms coming out of Atlanta. But it was more likely understaffed crews not accounting for delays for bad weather. Today was the same, only this time the delay was inbound to DC, sitting on the God damned runway for an hour and a half waiting for a gate to open. He sighed internally. Got to let it go, got to let it go …

No need to go through baggage claim. Four days on the road, three cities, two clients—a typical Monday through Thursday. But having learned to travel light, he was able to leave essentials along the way at his points hotels, ready for him when he got back again the next week. He walked down the concourse and onto the overhead walkway, heading toward parking. As he was walking he automatically reached into the top zip pocket of his carry-on for the parking ticket. The routine was so often repeated that it hardly rose to consciousness. He slipped the ticket into the parking kiosk, hoping this time it would actually give him a receipt. Otherwise, he would have to take a photo with his phone to make sure he got reimbursed. This time a receipt ticket came out. Good. He pulled it from the slot and waited for his paid ticket to pop out next. Going up the elevator to the third deck, he could see his car, the old blue Corolla, halfway down Row C. Cool air of an early October night hit him pleasantly in the face as he moved out into the parking garage and headed for his car. God, it feels good, he said to himself. His shoulders dropped an inch as the tension relaxed.

At his car, he popped the trunk and threw his bag in. No need for care with the thoroughly worn out American Tourister. Throwing his jacket, a bit more carefully into the passenger seat along with his equally beat-up leather briefcase, he eased into the driver’s seat and let out a slow sigh of relief. The key turned in the ignition switch as a small smile formed at the corner of his lips. Sirius XM filled the inside of the car cabin. Take me down little Susie, take me down. I know you think you’re the queen of the underground …

Pulling out of the parking garage and onto the access road to the GW Parkway, he gave himself plenty of space, remembering that he was driving the Corolla and not the Beamer safely parked in the garage at home. Fleetingly, his thoughts went back to memories of his first beloved Beamer, doors, and fenders dinged from repeated encounters in the parking garage. He was treating his second with the respect it deserved. He turned his attention then to the merge in the road ahead. The GW Parkway was still fairly busy, even though it was already after eleven on a Thursday night. Washington really never did sleep.

Jim eased over to the left lane and took Sprout Run Parkway to I-66 west. Always a little cautious around that one dark bend, he slowed down, remembering the tree limb in the road last winter. Finally, on I-66 he eased himself back into the seat, prepared for an uneventful and relatively unthinking thirty minutes out to Fairfax and home.

Just before the I-45 cut off, however, he saw the God damned orange barrels. Christ, he thought to himself. I’ll be lucky if I get home before midnight. For a moment he felt his irritation rise. Then, with practiced habituation, he dropped his mind into low energy resignation. It was his modus operandi that served him well equally with clients, colleagues, befuddled project teams, and travel delays. He found that most situations, if ignored long enough, would resolve themselves.

Forty-five minutes later he freed himself from the congestion and took his exit, eventually leading to Partridge Parkway and then Pheasant Run Crescent, where he lived at the end of the parking circle. As he pulled into the driveway, he noticed with surprise that the living room and kitchen lights were still on. It was unlike Katie to forget something like that.

But then, as he pulled the Corolla into the driveway, parking off to the side of the garage already full with his Beamer and his wife’s Prius, he noticed the absence of Will’s Jeep Wrangler. He glanced up as he got out of the car. There were no lights above the garage. It was a school night. Curious.

Suitcase, briefcase, and coat jacket occupying the left side of his body, he keyed the code for the causeway door and let himself in through the back door to the mudroom and kitchen. Leaving his suitcase in the mudroom, he walked up the two steps to the kitchen, turned off the lights, and headed through the living room toward his office to where he could drop his briefcase.

What the hell? Out of the corner of his left eye, he noticed Katie curled up on the couch, a book balanced on her knees. There was a very strange look on her face. Geez, you startled me. What’s up? Can’t sleep?

His questions were answered with silence and again that strange look on her face. When had he seen that look before? He vaguely remembered: when her brother had been in that car accident two years ago. He put his suit jacket and briefcase on the chair next to the lamp and hall closet, walked over to the sectional, and sat across from his wife. Hey, what is it? I know that look …

Katie still said nothing, even as her eyes began to well up with tears. Her knees were knocking as she tried to hold the book steady.

Jim was suddenly on alert, his hair-trigger response system launched into high gear. It was the one thing that George, his practice exec, said was holding him back from bigger and … His thoughts came back to the living room. Katie, what the hell is it?

Katie looked at him with what, he thought with surprise, was genuine fear in her eyes. Finally, the words came out in a single breath. It’s Kyle - he’s been expelled.

Part of Jim slipped back into normality. He at least knew this terrain. This was fixable. Oh, what’s he done? he said, trying to use the same calm, we-can-fix-this voice he used with distraught clients. Did he copy someone’s homework? I hope he didn’t he get caught cheating during an exam. Plagiarizing? Katie, come on, tell me. I’m really tired and want to go to bed.

He was concerned, of course, especially seeing Katie’s distress, knowing that she was always the one who carried the emotional load for the family. But this was something fixable. So what was up with Katie’s strange look?

Katie’s words exploded in a single breath. It’s not that. she said. God knows, I wish it was. That we could easily fix. Oh, how I wish it was that. She stopped, gasping for air. Jim could see that she was hyperventilating, nearly out of control. He watched her take a deep, slow, breath to calm herself.

Jim, he took his iPad to school today, the new one we gave him at Christmas … probably lots more times before that we didn’t know about, you know, the one that we paid his cell service for. It was all coming out in a rush now. I don’t know who, but I think it was Will, I just know it was Will, who found those sites and downloads for him. You know the ones that we block on the home computers. She was leaning into it, pushing the words out. The ones they’re not supposed to get to and we always set controls for. Well somehow, he got to one of them or maybe a couple of them. I’m not sure. I’m really not sure about any of this.

Jim watched as she paused to catch her breath before continuing. They were all so vague about it. Almost afraid to tell me exactly what happened. Anyway, one of his teachers walked in during study hall and caught him showing five or six of his friends a site or a download, well, this site … Anyway, his teacher, Heather Engles, you know the cute one who was a teacher’s aide last year, she says they were looking at a site … they were laughing and watching this site with a young girl … being gang-raped by … She stopped, unable to speak.

Jim watched in helpless silence as her face turned red and tears streamed down her face. I don’t know where in hell he found out how to get there, Jim. It had to be Will. She confiscated his iPad, dragged everyone into the office, and finally expelled all six or seven of them.

Katie stopped, catching her breath again. Jim sank back into the couch, speechless, stunned, numb. Unbidden, a momentary flash ran through his mind of the client two months ago telling him that their 240 million dollar outsourcing deal wasn’t going to go forward, even though he had already invested more than a million on the pursuit. Somehow, saying nothing seemed like the best approach.

Jim could see that Katie, after eighteen years of marriage, was in tune with him. She wasn’t going to wait for his response. She kept on going, filling the space between them, so they didn’t have to pause and really think or talk about what was happening. Anyway, she said, They gave his iPad to Neil, our IT guy, to take a look at. I guess some of the history files or something like that to see how it was used. They called me in to let me know what had happened. I was right in the middle of doing some work with a junior high kid who didn’t want to take her ADD meds. They pulled me out right in the middle of talking with her.

Jim nodded his head, still sitting in his private silence waiting for her to get it all out. Just the way he always did with a pissed off client. Katie always told him a lot each weekend about what she did at the junior high school as a guidance counselor, but he frankly had never paid much attention to the details. So what did they say to you? He finally got out. Tell me more, his mind instinctively called out. He waited, again listening for more information before he was ready to figure out his own story that made sense of this all.

Kathy drew another breath. "Principal Evans was there along with Vice Principal Phillips, you know that asshole who is always so concerned about our image." Quotation marks hung in the air around the last word. "They sat me down in Evans office along with Heather. Heather told everyone what had happened. I could tell, that it was a repeat for my benefit. I could tell they already had gone through it a whole bunch of times before bringing me. It was eerie."

Geez, Jim. It was awful, just awful. They actually described for me what they were looking at. At least they spared me from looking at the site. But I bet they looked at it … Sons of bitches. Katie closed the book now folded across her knees and squeezed the sides of it tightly with her hands, her knuckles turning white. After they told me about it, they said they were going to talk to all of the boys tomorrow and figure out what they were going to do. Kyle has to be there at ten with me with him. Evans, that squirrelly piece of shit, kept on saying over and over again how we had to keep this quiet, just to ourselves. How on earth are they going to do that? Allie’s mother already called me this afternoon. I don’t know how she found out about it. I’ve stopped answering the phone.

Katie slowly let the air out of her lungs, overcome, shaken with emotional exhaustion. She started again, her voice shaking. Anyway … They quote, unquote, recommended that I take tomorrow off and come in again around two by myself for another discussion. Geez, Jim. I’m a guidance counselor! I work with his classmates. There’s no way I’m going to keep my job. And what the hell are we going to do about Kyle? And I just know that Will is involved in this too. What the hell are we going to do?

Now it was Jim’s turn. He knew that as he looked into Katie’s pleading eyes. A tremble went down his spine. And there was that sick feeling in his gut again. Was this something that he might not be able to fix after all? Quickly, he drove the thought down into his subconscious as he instinctively moved into his just-wait-it-out-and-its-going-to-be-okay stance.

Look, he said, nothing’s going to happen tonight. Let’s go to bed, wake up and see if this looks better in daylight. I’ve got three or four conference calls late tomorrow morning and early afternoon that I can’t brush off. Let’s talk to Kyle first thing in the morning and get his side of the story. We’ll work on your story for the afternoon. Jim’s mind was already moving into an action plan, building a crisis management story. It was one of his strengths that made him a good negotiator. Even so, he couldn’t push away that small voice deep inside his head, screaming hysterically.

Jim, how on earth can I sleep? Our whole lives are falling apart. She put the book down on the coffee table and moved over closer to him on the couch. Exhaustion gave way to tears.

Oh, he said lightly, Let’s not go that far. He wrapped his arms around her even as he realized the hollowness of his words. Still, he pushed on knowing no other way to express himself. She always held the emotions for the two of them, telling him what to feel when he was clueless. It was the silent agreement of their partnership, more mutually supportive than passionate.

There’s always a way out, hun. Let’s sleep on it and see how it looks tomorrow. He kissed her on the forehead gently, glad that she couldn’t see his eyes. They would tell her for sure that her guess was correct. He knew that there was no way her job could survive this. They would miss the income. That was a fact, but honestly not that much. It was only a counseling job … the pay was almost nil for all the irritation. What the hell was she working for anyway? The boys were going to need her help at home from now on. Maybe this could even be a blessing in disguise. Jim’s mind began the reframing process.

CHAPTER 2

The morning wasn’t any better. The truth of it, it felt even worse. Jim rolled over glancing at the clock, seeing that it was about 6:30 and then, in the same glance, seeing his wife sitting up wide awake, her arms tightly wrapped around her knees. He didn’t say anything. There hadn’t been much sleep last night. Even when he did catch a few Zs, he was woken up by his wife’s stifled crying. His own mind had turned increasingly to their older son Will, just starting his senior year, wondering what the hell his involvement was. As he rolled out of bed heading for the bathroom his mind went through a hundred scenarios that started with Will’s car keys, a curfew, and allowance. For God’s sake, he was still seventeen for at least the next six months. If I’m paying for him, he does what I say, Jim muttered, unaware he was talking out loud. He stepped into the shower where he could think more clearly. There was just no way he could get his head around twelve-year-old Kyle doing this on his own.

Katie and Jim didn’t say much to each other as they silently got dressed with their backs to each other. It was as if there was something a shower couldn’t wash away between them now. They headed downstairs for breakfast. It was jolting for Jim to see Katie home on a Friday morning. Usually, he slept in a bit late waiting until Katie and the kids were off to school, so he could make his own breakfast, not watching calories, carbohydrates, fats, indulging in those illicit foods that were his reward on Friday mornings. From time to time, he even stopped at the corner market on the way home to pick up extra eggs, so she wouldn’t know how many he was actually eating. Except of course when the God damned plane was late. For a moment he wished he was still parked on that runway, waiting …

Sitting silently eating steel cut oats, low-fat yogurt, and artificial sweetener he finally got up the nerve to ask about what was still unanswered. Do you know where Will is today? Did he come home last night? Have you talked to him yet? He queried the back of Katie’s jogging suit as she stood in front of the refrigerator. Things had changed drastically since Will moved into the mother-in-law suite above the garage. Jim and Katie didn’t fight. But there had been one hellacious screaming match between the two of them as Will negotiated to move out of the main house and into the three rooms above the garage. More privacy. Will had said. Hey, like I’ve got a girlfriend, alright. That was the extent of the details. Since then Jim realized how little they had actually seen of their older son.

I don’t know, she said flatly. His lights weren’t on when I got home yesterday and honestly, I was so upset I didn’t look anymore. I didn’t want to talk to him or see him until we talked first.

Okay, got it, Jim said, his mind already forming a plan. Look, after all, they’re in different schools. Let’s hope this doesn’t spread. Maybe we can isolate this. We’ll talk to him later this afternoon after we’ve talked to Kyle and all those assholes at the school today. Okay? Look, he continued, I’ve got conference calls at ten and eleven. I know you have to be at the school at ten, so can you deal with this on your own with Kyle? You know I really can’t miss these.

Katie turned around from the refrigerator, a cantaloupe in her hands. As long as you’re willing to have the three of us sit down together right after breakfast and talk. Okay, I can deal with the school on my own. Frankly, it’s probably better that you’re not there. Katie quickly gave Jim the look she always gave after throwing a knife. The please-forgive-me-but-you-know-I’m-right look.

So, what the hell does that mean? Jim looked up from his coffee and half-eaten oatmeal.

You know. You always get so assertive, telling everyone what to do. Never letting them finish their sentences …

Okay, okay … Let’s not go into that again … We’ll talk to Kyle. Where is he anyway? Then we can prep him for your meeting at the school. Maybe we can figure out a story that makes Kyle a victim. After all, hell, he’s twelve. How could he do any of this on his own? How much did he even know about what he was looking at?

You really don’t know your kids at all, do you, Jim? You don’t know what they do or who their friends are. They’re really not children anymore. Katie tried to give Jim the you’re-an-idiot-but-I-love-you look, but Jim could see that her heart wasn’t in it. This was hurting both of them too much.

Enough okay. Let’s keep our own shit together until we figure this out. Jim tried to finish his cereal but pushed the spoon back into the mush. Coffee was the only thing that appealed to him right now.

Katie and Jim silently finished breakfast, put the dishes away, mumbling only a few words to each other as they suffered separately.

……

Jim’s knocking phased into pounding as the seconds turned to minutes. Silence greeted him from behind Kyle’s door. For a moment, Jim even wondered if Kyle was there. But then he heard small movements, sounding like the whimpering of … hell, who knows what. Kyle get your butt out here right now. So help me, I’m going to knock you senseless. Get the hell out of there right now. So help me …

Jim heard Katie’s voice behind him in the family room. Jim … She didn’t need to say more. Jim finished her sentence inside his head.

He took a deep breath, started over again with a new tack. Come on Kyle, I’m sorry, it’s your dad. You know me, I just get angry sometimes. But it’s okay. We just need to talk. No one’s going to hurt you, I promise. We just need to know what happened and how we can help you.

Jim closed his eyes, held his breath, waited. He was just about to revert back to pounding on the door with escalating threats when he heard steps inside moving towards the door and finally the click as the door unlocked and swung open.

Geez, Jim reminded himself, looking down. He’s just a kid, so small there looking up at me. Kyle apparently hadn’t gotten much sleep either. His eyes were red, and it didn’t look as if he’d washed his face or brushed his hair. He probably hadn’t had breakfast yet either, Jim realized. Hey, Kyle, he said, trying to keep his voice calm. You probably haven’t had breakfast. Do you want something? A small voice came back to him from a face full of light freckles and innocent looking brown eyes. No … I already had something … a power bar in my desk. His voice seems so small to Jim.

Jim didn’t know what to do next, so he backed away and walked back to the family room hoping that Kyle was following. Katie was there already anticipating Kyle’s limited breakfast menu. She silently handed him a cup of yogurt mixed with the cantaloupe from the fridge and a spoon and pointed him towards a chair.

Obligingly, Kyle sat down holding his yogurt and spoon with shaking hands. He was unsuccessfully fighting back tears.

Jim looked at him unable to suppress the first impression that rose in his mind. Come on kid, be a man. Shut the damned crying up and tell us what you did. He pushed the thought down, doubtful that Kyle would be responsive to the suggestion. Kyle was by far the gentler of the boys, timid even, wanting so desperately to be liked, to have friends, always looking for approval, needy even. So how the hell did this kid get into this mess?

Katie took the initiative as she always did when they had discipline issues with the boys. She was the explainer. Jim was the enforcer. Katie sat there with her own hands shaking as she held a cup of coffee close to her body, almost as if she was shielding herself from danger.

Kyle, she started, leaning forward still holding her cup of coffee, shielding herself. You know we need to talk about what happened yesterday. You know this is very serious, but we’re here to help you. But first, we need to know exactly what happened from your point of view.

Jim clenched his own cup of coffee between his hands. What he really wanted to do was to scream at the kid. What the hell did you do? How stupid could you possibly be? He swallowed his thoughts with his coffee.

Kyle looked back and forth between his parents, ducking his head quickly when he saw his dad staring at him before turning his attention finally to facing his mom.

I don’t know, Mom I don’t know. I guess I thought it would make me cool having something none of the other kids had. I guess I just wanted to show off a bit. I know I shouldn’t of brought my iPad to class. I’m sorry. I know I really screwed up. I’m sorry.

Katie and Jim both simultaneously turned and looked at each other, both hoping the other would know what to say. At last, it was Katie, the explainer, who took the stage.

But Kyle, it’s not just bringing your iPad to school. It’s showing the other boys … She couldn’t get out the words … The things you were showing them. How did you have that anyway? How did you get … She still couldn’t say the words out, … all those things on your iPad?

Smut. Jim said. Dirty movies. Pornography. Where the hell did you get it? He let his rage turn each word into a knife.

Kyle looked up, sheer terror in his eyes and then quickly stared down at the floor again. Yeah, I know, we’re not supposed to have that stuff. But everybody else does. Will shows me his stuff all the time, he even showed me how to find the sites on my iPad and downloaded a few things for me. Kyle looked up, his eyes pleading for them to understand that if it was something that Will did then it had to be okay. Right?

And there they had it. It was Will even as they knew in their hearts after all. Jim continued to follow the money trail. Will, so it was Will. So he put things on your iPad? How many times did Will show you this shit?

Jim … a minute. Katie turned from looking at Jim to looking at Kyle who still could not lift his head and face them. Her voice was incredibly soft and slow. She was in counselor mode. Kyle, honey, but why … I haven’t seen it, but they told me it was awful. She still couldn’t really say the words. Why do you want to see someone hurt like that? A girl? Why?

Will was squeezing the yogurt cup so tight it was about to break. I don’t know it’s … it’s … Will said girls like it. The words came out in a rush, half crying, half pleading, his eyes begging them to understand and say it was okay. "It’s what they really like. He says the really nice ones, they’re the ones who really secretly want it, but won’t admit it. Besides, he says it gets him hot, so he can be with his girlfriend. I’m