The Pale Thane

by M.R. Hyde

bathroom. The people in the apartments around you are completely frustrated with you.”

  “Well, I’m completed frustrated with you!” yelled Herbert. “I’ve called in a work order no less than three times. You would think for all the money I put into your greasy hand that I’d at least get some kind of acknowledgement of my problem. But, no! Here you stand because four other people complained about me!”

  Quickly, before Herbert could draw another breath, the gaunt, young man spoke plaintively. “You know I submit work orders as soon as they come in. The maintenance men must be backed up again. I’ll talk with them right away.”

  Herbert was no longer surprised at how quickly the young man disappeared down the hallway. He had never seen him run, but it was as if he vanished before his eyes. Herbert stepped out into the hall and yelled after him, “You don’t get this fixed right away and I’ll call your father directly!” Herbert crossed his threshold and slammed the door behind him, muttering profanities and cursing the day that boy was born. He despised the boy’s father in these moments, although Leif Rothmorton had delivered for years on Herbert’s gambling during the Olympics. Those days were long gone and Herbert was left with a negative return from that great man’s pitiful son.

  Herbert could have elected to move, but it was just too much trouble and he had no friends to help him. He often thought that it would do no good to move anyway. His veteran’s fixed income was as pitiful as that boy. He was stuck in a stinking hole. And he knew his life was meaningless when he could no longer load his gun. Although he had kept it cleaned and ready for years, his arthritis had pulled his finger into nearly cemented fists. Now the gun lay under his bed gathering thick dust. Sometimes when he would wake from another nightmare—this one of his buddy getting his head blown off, that one of the enemy leering at him from behind the brush—he would find some consolation in the fact that he could at least appear to be a threat if he waved it in the air at some new foe.

  It would be three more weeks before he could shower again.

 

  Carolita was laughing at her boy. He was so funny sometimes, and even funnier in the days when she less afraid. The furniture that had been freely provided embraced her in its roughness. The avocado green couch and side chair had clearly been cherished items of some elderly woman who had kept them immaculately clean until her death. Perhaps they had even been covered with plastic. Now they sat in her tiny apartment making her and her boy feel a little more normal. The dining set may have very well come from the same home. It was low and the chairs were small even for her. People must have been shorter years ago.

  She went to the kitchen to begin fixing dinner. Thankfully the sun was setting and the apartment had started to cool down. The smell of onions permeated the apartment. This was the one vegetable that was always cheap and always made food taste just a little bit better. A song from her childhood twirled through her mind and she began humming the tune. Her boy would enjoy the macaroni and cheese, but she would have to cajole him into eating the greasy hamburger.

  After dinner they played a game of hide and seek. Then it was time to get ready for bed. As helped him brush his four little teeth she wondered what kind of man he would become. As soon as she saved up a little bit of money they would take a bus trip so that he could meet her father and brothers. Maybe early memories could be made of good men so that he could build his character on that and not on violence and drugs. She prayed that he could forget the terror of the nights when Reggie had beaten her. It had been a while now. Carolita wondered if those kinds of things could ever be erased from memory. She hoped at least his could, if not hers.

  When she laid the boy down she watched as his eyelids fluttered softly as he moved into sleep. She wished she had not named him Reginald, Jr. But it was much too late to change that now and she did not know how to do it. Suddenly she felt very tired. She checked the front door and its locks as usual, went to the bathroom and then carefully lay down next to her boy. She went to sleep thinking about all the things that he could become and tried to eliminate the negative images that popped into her head. She would do her best to raise him right.

  In the morning Carolita felt better for having a great night of sleep. Perhaps today would be a good day to try out the nearby park. Carolita dressed her boy, put a few snacks and some water in a grocery bag and headed out the door. The little one was getting excited. He had not been outside much the last few months and his eyes darted everywhere while he grunted, gurgled and making guttural cries of joy at the simplest things. Carolita had a tinge of guilt for depriving her boy of the pleasures of life, but they had to be safe. Safety was one of her most valued possessions.

  The grass was a bit high and the boy frequently stumbled over it on the way to the play ground. He didn’t seem to care and surged and jerked forward toward the great towers of plastic and steel. He was always ready to take on the world and he did so now. With the hyper-vigilance required of all good parents Carolita alternately laughed and gasped as her child took all kinds of spills, tumbles and steps. He was too small yet to really climb. And for this she was grateful. He would gyrate over to other children and want to grab a hold of them, and as the games of children go, they would dodge his encounter while the parents would exchange smiles and laughs at their children’s early socialization efforts.

  Reggie stood by an old oak tree fifty to sixty feet away watching his child and the mother playing. It infuriated him that they would be having so much fun without him. But he did find a little bit of satisfaction in the fact that he had located them again. He knew he could always find them. He was that persistent and that confident. Reggie moved over to a picnic table chained to the ground, sat down on top of it and continued to watch them as he lit up a cigarette. He mulled over in his mind the many times she had defied him. The shorter his cigarette became the more his rage grew. He would teach her a lesson again.

  Carolita saw a couple of parents across from the playground glancing behind her. They had concerned looks on their faces. Immediately adrenalin surged through her body. She carefully looked over her shoulder and saw Reggie standing on the edge of the playground. He took a drag on his cigarette and smiled at her.

  “That’s a nice looking boy you got there.”

  Carolita hardly knew what to do. She quickly moved toward her boy and picked him up and put him on her hip. She could see her car parked on the street a little to the left of Reggie, but a good distance behind him. One of the other mothers came up to Carolita’s side.

  “Do you know that man? Are you o.k.?” What Carolita did not know was that she had lost all color in her face and had been swaying a bit as if to faint.

  A man’s voice boomed from behind the two women, “Sandy, I think we should be going. Tyler, Megan, it’s time to go. Get your things and head to the car. Sandy!” The woman hesitated, she felt the terror vibrating from this young woman, but understood the need to protect her own children.

  “Take care of yourself,” she said quietly and earnestly. Reggie, Jr. saw his father and immediately put his head into his mother’s neck and shoulder.

  “Nice day for a picnic.” Reggie mocked her freedom. “I said it’s a nice day for a picnic, isn’t it?”

  Carolita simply looked him in the eye for one moment and started toward the car. The blanket and the snacks no longer mattered. All that mattered was that she got into the car and drove. Reggie walked several paces behind her quietly making comments about the weather, how good she looked, how much the boy had grown. She got to the driver’s side and fumbled for the keys in her pocket. Reggie leered at her across the top of the car, leaning heavily on the passenger’s side door. “Where do you think you can go to get away from me? Huh? I’ll tell you. Nowhere.” His eyebrows shot up above his dark sunglasses and Carolita knew that it was true.

  In as swift a motion as she could manage she opened the door, put the boy on the front seat
and locked the door behind her. She started the car as she saw Reggie in the rear view mirror. He was coming quickly around to the driver’s side. Just as he was leaning over to glare at her through the window, she turned the wheel and hit the accelerator barely missing the car parked in front of her. Her boy started to cry and scream. She flew away not wanting to look in the rear view mirror to see if he was there. It didn’t matter if he was right there or not, he would find her soon. And next time he would probably be very high. She reached over to grab the seatbelt and buckled it around the small abdomen of her son. She would put him in the car seat in the back just as soon as she felt they could stop for a minute. She knew that there was a fast food place nearby where she could stop for a moment with a lot of people around. Then she would drive for a long time in a random pattern to try to throw him off, ending up at the furthest apartment in her complex. She prayed that he would not be able to follow her after those efforts. But prayers had not worked before.

  The door buzzed on the apartment manager’s office. It was late at night and a man stood there repeatedly ringing the buzzer. He seemed determined to get a response. A pale