“I’d prefer a case of beer.”
“I’m serious, Freddy.”
Freddy nodded once. “So am I. If some dude wants to suck my dick why should I stop him? I wouldn’t stop anyone – well, almost anyone” He looked quickly at Çin but her eyes were still on the ground. I could see his mind working and I didn’t like the way it was headed.
Çin opened her mouth but snapped it shut again. She made the same quick glance in Freddy’s direction before her eyes shot down to the sidewalk again. She still looked like she wanted to say something but checked it for the moment. For half a block they walked in silence.
“It sounds fucked but I miss Carrie,” Freddy announced.
“It’s not fucked,” Çin assured him, “It’s perfectly cool.”
“Sure.”
“It is!”
Freddy opened his hand, displaying it palm outwards to Çin. “What’s fucked is this bed of calluses I thought were fading.”
“Ewe, Freddy. Lady present.” She said it amicably enough.
“Don’t tell me you don’t jerk-off or whatever it is chicks call it.”
Çin shrugged. “I do. So what?”
“I guess I was just getting used to the idea of not having to.”
“You guys do it a lot?”
Freddy looked at her a moment. “I lied. I’m still a virgin.”
“But you said-”
“I know,” Freddy nodded. “You think Dave’s actually done it with a chick? Or Jeff? Josh might have, but those two fuckers are still fully hands-on.”
“But you have done shit, right?”
“The basic stuff, yeah. I went down on her once. She fuckin’ loved it. She’s done me too.”
“I guess it sucks not having her around, eh?” Çin commented. She kicked a rock down the side walk.
Freddy laughed. “Actually, it doesn’t – that’s the problem!”
Again, Çin was hesitant to continue. She looked uncomfortable but not with the conversation. “She’s gone all summer then?” She managed.
“Yeah – at least ‘til mid-August.”
“Well,” Çin tried again, “I could … you know.”
Freddy stopped dead in his tracks. Çin continued a few more steps before turning back to him. Her face had gone red.
“You could what, blow me?” Freddy smirked.
Çin’s eyes barely rose above the cracked and faded belt of asphalt that served as the sidewalk along this stretch of the boulevard. Freddy thought she was looking at his groin. A nervous flicker crossed her face. Çin swallowed, licked her lips and met Freddy’s gaze as casually as could be mustered. She nodded. “We could do each other.”
Freddy snorted. “You serious?”
“I wouldn’t fucking joke about this, Freddy.” As she spoke, Çin gained confidence. “I know you’re not into me and I know you and Carrie are a thing. Obviously, we don’t go and tell everybody – but it’s not a big deal. Carrie’s out of town and you’re not getting any. I’m – well, I’m not getting any period. Close your eyes and pretend I’m Carrie. I’ll pretend you’re Kristi Swanson – or Patrick Swayze depending on my mood.
“Aren’t you supposed to be gay?”
She shrugged. “Maybe I’m a little bi.”
“I can’t believe you’re serious about this.”
“I’m dead serious,” Çin assured him. “I’ve done this before.”
“You’ve been with guys?”
“Yeah, a couple of times.”
“And I’m supposed to go down on you – is that the plan?”
She nodded. “It’s a pussy, Freddy. Same as any other – only you can have this one right now. We could maybe do more too – if you want to.”
Freddy looked at her appraisingly. She was cute, like a young Wynonna Ryder. And she had a point. Even if her body was not maturing, she still had the equipment required. I didn’t think he had ever really considered her a possibility. I never thought he had any attraction to her but I think he was leaning this way from the start. He was probably rolling the idea around in his head ever since Carrie told him she was leaving town. He just never anticipated her responding so strongly – if at all.
“You get off. I get off.” Çin shrugged. “I don’t see the big deal. I know I’m not built like Carrie,” her eyes dropped as she spoke, “but I’m here and I’m willing.”
“Are you hitting on me?”
She smiled and looked up at him again. Her hand came out impulsively and touched his chest before withdrawing. “I guess I am. I know, I know. I’m supposed to be Carrie’s friend. She’s not gone two weeks and I’m trying to fuck her boyfriend.”
As she spoke, waves of excitement rolled through Freddy’s gut. Trying to fuck her boyfriend, she said. Trying to … Fuck! He was more than a little stunned at how things were progressing but the last thing he wanted was for Çin to realize how eager he actually was. It had to be her idea but he needed to be in control of it.
“Some friend I am, eh?”
“You’re serious?”
“I’m serious.”
Freddy looked at her a long while, attempting to gauge her sincerity. In the end he exhaled sharply, cursing under his breath. “Okay, suppose I’m in. What next?”
Çin’s answer was immediate. “You leave that to me.”
“You’re starting to make it sound like you’re an old pro at this.” Freddy studied her a moment. “I’m starting to doubt if you’re gay at all.”
“Fine,” she turned around but didn’t leave. “If you’re not interested, I can find someone else.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested,” Freddy said carefully. “I’m just waiting for you to grin and say ‘Gotcha!’. Then the guys pop out of the bushes, shittin’ themselves laughing.”
“No joke, Freddy,” she replied still with her back to him. Çin spun and faced him suddenly, her dress swirling. “I’ll give you a freebe to prove it. How’s that?”
“What kind of freebe?”
Çin smiled happily. “A blowjob.”
“You like sucking dick?”
“Don’t say things like that!” She replied quickly, angrily. “I don’t want you to think I’m a slut or something. I have needs too. We all have needs.”
“Sorry.” Freddy did not even glance around as he spoke. Neither one of them would have seen me by then anyway. I hid myself behind a bend in the sidewalk in a stand of boxwood. I could hear them and see them fairly well but they could not see through the screen of foliage in front of me. As far as they were concerned, I departed with Dave and Jeff back on Seventh. They had not even looked at me since. “It’s just, Carrie’s my girlfriend. I don’t want to spoil what I got.”
“She doesn’t need to know. I sure as hell won’t tell her – once she’s done crying, she’ll come and kick my ass.” Çin took a step closer to him, a finger touching his chest again. “It can be our little secret. Just so you know there’s not a lot I won’t do.” Her lips puckered a little as she smiled.
Freddy thought about it. “I don’t know,” he said. She was offering him what amounted to an all-access pass, a trip around the world as some would say. At the very least it seemed like he would get a real, full-fledged blowjob.
“Where?” Freddy asked. “You wanna do this now?”
“Sure,” Çin nodded. She pointed across the road where the Green had now given way completely to forest. It was a dense tangle of new growth hiding everything from sight beyond a few feet. “In there. We get behind some bushes and no one would even know we’re there.”
“Serious?”
“Stop saying that!” Çin laughed. “I’m dead serious.” She glanced left and right, paused for an old ford van to rumble by and jogged across the road. “C’mon,” she called back, “I got your freebie right here. Limited time only! While quantities last!”
With a final muttered curse, Freddy went after her. I did not follow. There are some things I don’t need to see to believe. I did not have to see the clip of JFK
getting shot to believe he was assassinated. I did not have to see the twin towers fall to believe evil men walked the earth. I did not need to see how serious Çin actually was. Besides, I knew Freddy would tell me all about it.
-
A strange sense of awe lingered even a half hour after he left Çin and headed for home. I met him a block from his house and he told me everything as we walked.
Çin led him into the bushes across the boulevard.
“Are you serious?” Freddy repeated, emphasizing each syllable.
“Pull your dick out,” Çin told him, “I’ll prove it to you.”
“You just want to see my dick.”
“Why would I wanna see you dick if I’m a lesbo?”
A sense familiar to us all came over Freddy, the euphoric state we find ourselves in at these particular crossroads in our lives. We seem to step outside ourselves and say, ‘I can’t freakin’ believe this is happening!’ He felt this way, thinking how unbelievable the situation was, as Çin knelt down in front of him. Freddy half-assumed Jeff and Dave would pop out of the bushes at any moment. Once Çin started, not hesitating or laughing it off as some kind of joke, Freddy knew it was real. Once started, Freddy would not let it stop. He could not and the consequences be damned. It felt amazing – absolutely amazing. To Freddy that was all that mattered.
“Of course, next time I’ll either go down of her first or we’ll do it.” Freddy told me. “I don’t know what she’s gonna want to do.”
Next time?
Freddy shrugged as he stepped onto his front walk. Evening shadows were pooling around us and the crickets had begun their nightly song. Maybelline ticked and crackled as she cooled at the curb side and somewhere nearby the volume was raised enough on a television for us to hear Wheel of Fortune. The time had progressed farther than either of us realized.
“Why not?” Freddy replied. “It’s not a bad trade.” With that he went inside. Little did I know, when next we met, he would already be planning his first murder.
Ch4. The Humbling of John Cartwright
The Humbling of John Cartwright
The next day I went to see Freddy in the hospital. He got into another argument with John not two minutes after I left him that previous night. He was late, supper was ready and John was just in a pissed-off mood. John cold-cocked his son at full strength before he could even get his shoes off and put him out, dead to the world on the carpet runner in the front hall.
Freddy did not come around. For John it was a bit sobering. He relented and allowed Maggie to call for an ambulance. But not before moving Freddy to the foot of the stairs and cracking the newel post. He made it appear as though Freddy had tripped.
I don’t think the cop that came to speak to Freddy believed John’s story. Freddy was out for twelve hours. He had a concussion and low-grade whiplash – fairly severe injuries for a single punch. John was a big man, but then again Freddy was no lightweight himself. Either way, Freddy claimed to recall nothing after walking through the front door. John’s fist had struck him high over the left eye and raised one hell of a goose egg but the doctor had to concede it possible John was telling the truth. Both the doctor (who happened to be neighbors with Çin and her parents) and the cop (who on two separate occasions had questioned John on allegations of spousal abuse) knew of John’s reputation but with Maggie claiming to have seen nothing and Freddy claiming to remember nothing they could only go by the evidence and John’s word.
The cop asked John about his split knuckle.
John showed him both hands. All his knuckles were split, healing, or getting ready to split again. “You try working my job,” he told the cop, “I wash ‘em a hundred times a day. They’re so dried out you could shake my hand and make it bleed.”
The doctor had to admit this was possible as well. He even went so far as to write John a prescription for a medicated hand cream. I think the goal was to eliminate that bit of contrary evidence for next time.
In the end no charges were filed but John did receive the I’m watching you, dirt bag! look from the cop. Freddy was kept in the hospital for two days. The doctors thought it possible blood was pooling on the surface of his brain or there was a clot or something. John finished dealing with the cop and his parents left. He was forced to call in sick – not something he did very often. But it was already after eight in the morning and he had spent a nearly sleepless night in the waiting room. It may be horrible of me to say but I think the reason John – who could sleep anywhere – could not sleep there was for fear of what would happen to him rather than to Freddy.
I came in then, in time to watch the nurse take Freddy’s temperature, his blood pressure and check his eyes. She told him to watch some TV and try to stay awake. After she left, he turned to me, waving me over with a conspiratorial glance at the closing door.
“I’m gonna kill him,” he told me bluntly. “I’m not sure how or when but I’ve got to. I’ve got no choice.”
I made no reply. Strangely I empathized with Freddy and his mother. John was a monster and he had to be stopped. But so too was Freddy a monster – a little monster who would someday grow into a much larger monster. Suddenly I understood why Freddy said nothing to the cop: He wanted John for himself. Freddy wanted to punish him.
“I want him to suffer for a while first!” Flecks of saliva appeared on his lips. His brows furrowed deeply enough to cast shadow over his eyes despite the banks of fluorescents over our heads.
That little monster inside him was again robbing Freddy of his control. His fury would be unmanageable, unquenchable if he could do nothing to regain control.
“You think Çin’ll say anything to the guys about yesterday?” Freddy asked suddenly. “No,” he answered himself, “she wouldn’t risk Carrie finding out. Man, I hope that wasn’t a onetime thing!”
It became a one-sided conversation. Freddy was speaking. I was listening. His voice rarely rose above a murmur but I barely noticed. I was too entranced by his words to miss them.
Many of us would admit to a night we would rather forget or take back or undo or redo. We have woken up beside people we did not want to wake up beside. We have said things we did not want to say or hurt someone we did not want to hurt. We have all made a spectacle or a spectacular ass of ourselves. This is an OhmyGod moment wherein our senses are momentarily heightened by the panic and shock we feel. We suddenly discover an uncanny recollection of the events leading up to our current debacle. Freddy did not have an OhmyGod moment. He felt no regret, no panic, no fear. He was, in fact, looking forward to the next encounter with Çin.
It was a fair exchange and no one was getting hurt. Freddy was justifying himself to me. I was startled. For him to try and convince me he must have felt some level of guilt or, barring that, some kind of discomfort. But I knew Freddy. He did not feel guilt – he could not. It was not part of his make-up. Freddy lacked a conscience. He lacked the understanding to know when he was hurting someone. He was truly a sociopath.
I stood and prepared to leave him. I decided then that I was going to go and find that cop – if he was still around – and tell him everything. Freddy’s life would not end well. Those things he couldn’t feel, the guilt, remorse, grief, sorrow, loss – these would be felt by his victims tenfold.
He did not say anything to me as I turned to leave. I even made two steps towards the door before stopping. A pit opened in front of me that I could not leap. My heart could not bridge it. Was it loyalty I felt for Freddy? Is that why I never turned him in after the dog – or the other animals I was certain had followed it? Is that why I could not move now?
If loyalty bound me to Freddy’s side, I was as brain-washed into submission as Maggie. But I don’t think so. I don’t think that was the case. Whatever power Freddy had over me was not his doing. It was mine. From the morning I watched him step off the curb in front of Nancy’s Chrysler I was bound to him as surely as his own skin was and I was going to protect him just as completely.
Freddy had
plans for John then. He had plans to bring the man down slowly. He wanted to twist the knife. He wanted to do this for himself. Freddy could not care less about his mother and her role in this struggle.
If Freddy did have an OhmyGod moment it was only because of his father. It counted because he was just as embarrassed as the twenty-something after taking home what many would refer to as a ‘four-drink minimum’. I don’t think Freddy would have admitted John had gotten the better of him even if it had been recorded on camera. The tape could have gone to America’s Funniest Home Videos and he would have lied to Bob Sagat’s face, agreeing whole-heartedly with John’s newel post story.
I left him then as he channel-surfed through the dozen or so soaps, infomercials and talk-shows that played during daytime television. I could see in him a mounting fury, the rage that so easily comes over someone unable to cope with the frustrations of life – a surge of blood, the sensation of the heart and lungs swelling, lifting, preparing to peel back your ribs like the skin of a baked potato. He was going to strike out radically. The pain he was going to inflict would be severe. I was very afraid, even if I did feel I was completely safe – for the moment at least.
I sat down in the hallway, unable to be with him, unable to leave him entirely. My mind raced. I needed to stop him but the same thing that stopped me in his room stopped me again in the hallway. He once tried to understand his feelings for Carrie – once or more but recently with me. He refused to call it love because he could not accept love as it was. But is that what I felt for him? Is that why he trusted me with his secrets, the hidden contents of his dark corners, when he trusted no one else?
The thought of being bound to Freddy, unable to act on my own morals because of … love? Because of loyalty? I found the notion appalling. But if not me then who did he have? I certainly had no one else. Is that it then? Is that the reason I am fated to tell this tragic tale – because I was afraid to be alone?
I spent most of my childhood alone waiting for Freddy to notice me. I’ve spent most of my adult life alone as well hoping Freddy would not kill me. Sometimes I found myself hoping he would kill me just to get it over with. It would be better to be dead than feel the torment of his destruction. These were vain hopes of course. Freddy could no more kill me than I could turn him in. I think he was bound to me in the same way as I to him. It was so compelling for me, almost like an addiction. In spite of what I knew I still wanted to be rid of him. I just needed to force myself to take that vital first step.
After The Flesh Page 11