iv
Some people are alive only because it’s illegal to kill them. In my book, Chris Brannon fell into that category. So, when I turned to face him and saw the way he looked at Joan and her at him, I couldn’t help myself. My fist slammed squarely into his mocking face. It was with great satisfaction that I watched him hit the floor like a ton of bricks. Up until then, I prided myself in having a handle on life; now, that handle was broken. And I feared my hand was as well. From Joan’s expression, I saying “I’m sorry” just wouldn’t cut it. Anyway, it would have been one whopper of a lie. She’d have every right to scream “liar liar pants on fire, nose is long as a telephone wire.”
“As soon as his eyes are uncrossed he’ll be just fine,” I blurted out.
Now that was a dumb statement, I thought. The wiser choice would have been to have said nothing and hung my head in shame. If earth is the insane asylum for the universe, I had just become its most favored inmate.
Joan elbowed me aside and knelt beside Chris. Needless to say, I didn’t protest. Damn it! How could I? I had ruined her birthday party before it had even got started.
She peered up at me. It was apparent to me that any love I thought she had for me had been washed away. Her face had turned a cherry red. It was as though she were being boiled. Her eyes shot arrows that her lips silently enunciated.
I needed no translator.
“Get my dad!” she screamed, venomously.
“You don’t understand,” I shouted, “Chris’s …” I stopped mid-sentence. I felt as if I’d been hit by a Mac truck. This was how she had spent her evenings. WITH HIM. Like a hurricane across an unprotected flat plain, my new reality swept in cruelly.
She glared at me. And I recoiled.
Love had lured me here. I was hooked in hopeless battle. How was I not aware?
Escape. Now! Gather your thoughts.
My mind churned with panicked possibilities.
A wall of pursed lips of saucer eyed guests gasped.
When had they arrived? How long had they been there? Had they witnessed my strife and persecution?
She continued to scream for her dad.
But, her dad had gone AWOL.
I glanced back at Joan and thought: we had been in a time and space separate from the rest.
No more.
I cleaved my way through the startled onlookers. I did not care who I knocked aside. My mind did not need to dwell on their faces. I knew them all.
“Where is my guitar?” I demanded. “Where is my FUCKIN’ guitar?”
“Here asshole,” Ted Lacey bellowed, holding it up threateningly like a wood splitter.
Chris and Ted belonged to a gang known as the Lacey Gang. They had bullied me and others since kindergarten.
Ron? Were my eyes deceiving me? No!
I never felt so happy to see my brother’s face.
Like a bear trap, Ron clamped down on Ted’s arm with his grip
“Put it down or I’ll break your wrist. Now! And carefully,” Ron threatened.
Ted did what he commanded without hesitation.
Ron waved me over. He stared at me long and hard before speaking. “Take the guitar and get the hell home. Dad’s waiting for you. Oh, and one more thing nerd-head. Your language… I think I’d better wash your mouth out with soap later.”
I was about to ask why he was there when out of the corner of my eye I saw Chris making his way toward us. Ron had seen him too. Grabbing me by my shirt sleeve, he positioned me behind him. “Scram! I’ve got some business to take care of here.” I cringed when I saw him pull out a set of brass knuckles. An attitude of tangle with me at your own risk, my brother always had this scary aura of invincibility. Now I knew why.
To say I ran home was an understatement. I flew. Faster I bet than Jesse Owens. That journey was filled with no small degree of trepidation. Every moment I expected members of the Lacey Gang to pop out to exact revenge.
Dad met me at the door. Relieving me of the guitar, he allowed time for me to catch my breath. Then the harangue began. Boy, did he chew my ear off. I was grounded for two weeks. Based on how I felt at that moment, two weeks for taking his old guitar was no big deal. Stupidly, I told him so. Anyway, Joan had hurt me more deeply than he ever could. Silence hung over us like a heavily soaked blanket. I dared not breathe. He had a strange habit of curling over his tongue when angry. Vexed, his stare cut straight through me. I waited.
“Bill, leave the boy alone. Talk later when all’s cooled down,” my mother encouraged from the kitchen.
Like turning off a switch, my dad mellowed.
“What happened to your hand? You’ll need ice on it.” Gently he examined it.
After he had put together an ice pack and wrapped it around my hand, he gave me stern instructions not to remove it and sent me to my room.
Two hours later I was called down to supper. I had just reached the bottom step when there was a heavy knock at the front door. A chair scraped along the floor in the kitchen and dad appeared. With a quick nod of his head, he directed me to take my seat at the table, while he answered the door.
Curious, I decided to linger.
Two policemen met my dad at the open door. Between them was my brother.
“Jesus…” I murmured under my breath.
A bulging piece of liver for a nose and slits for eyes, Ron quietly listened to the conversation, nodding occasionally. Whatever they were agreeing to seemed to be going well. The three of them shook hands as my brother brushed passed me on his way upstairs.
“They won’t bother you anymore,” he whispered through swollen lips. His painful smile revealed a bloody hole where teeth once securely sat.
Supper was tensely quiet. After a very brief exchange of words between my parents, mom won out and took a supper tray up to Ron’s room. By the time she had started down empty handed, dad had already banned me to my bedroom.
My parents had never raised voices at each other until that night. Nor did they ever do it again. Lying in my bed, above the kitchen, I heard the angry muffled tones of my dad, punctuated by my mom’s crying.
Clasping my hands behind my head I reflected on events leading up to today. I felt cast away on a stormy sea where not even the shore wanted part of me. There were too many questions still to be asked and answered.
The night was long.
Haunting shadows became my nightmare.
How do I mend a broken heart?
Angel Maker 