THUGLIT Issue Eleven

by Matthew McBride

  "I didn't know anybody knew."

  "What the fuck? Everybody knew."

  "You can't intervene?"

  "You don't think I tried? I got them to agree to pay the hundred thousand. That's cause you've got Sophia. That's the best I could do."

  "Will you make sure she gets the money?"

  "You know I will. Christ, she's my goddaughter. But you gotta do the right thing."

  "Vinnie, if I kill myself, I go to Hell. You have to do it."

  "Sal, you said it. It's personal. If I kill you, they'll kill me. And even if it were allowed, how could I?" Vinnie's voice cracked. "Not you Sal. I couldn't."

  "It's Hell, Vinnie. I can't do it. I can't go to Hell," Sal bluffed. He would go to Hell and back again if it meant they wouldn't harm Sophia. But he was terrified of dying, particularly when he had no certainty that Heaven would one day be within his grasp. "And if I don't do it, they'll hurt Sophia. Her wedding picture was in the envelope."

  "Yeah, I know. I had to put it there. That's why you gotta do it."

  "No, that's why you have to. You come over. I'll hold the gun in my hand and you pull my finger against the trigger. They don't have to know you did it."

  "I'm on my way to Atlantic City."

  "Come back. Vinnie, I need you to do this.

  "They'd see me. You don't think they're watching you?"

  "So use your authority. Send them home. You watch me."

  "It's too risky. They know how close we are. They won't trust me."

  "Vinnie, it's Hell. Hell. For eternity. You have to do it."

  "I can't."

  "You have to. For me. For Sophia."

  "Okay Sal. I'm not making any promises, but I'll come by between nine and ten if I can set it up so nobody's watching."

  "Thanks Vinnie. And I need one more favor. I need you to make sure Sophia doesn't find my body."

  "I will."

  "And I need you to look after her."

  "I will Sal, like she's my own."

  "And Carla too." Carla was Sal's ex-wife under the law of New York and current wife before God. He had loved her since they met twenty five years ago, but always had trouble keeping it in his pants. She could never understand they were only his mistresses, good for that one thing. Carla—his beloved, was for everything else. That too, but as it was meant to be; an act to create life in their image— their Sophia and the many other children he had hoped she would bear him.

  "I will."

  "Thanks for everything Vinnie. I'm sorry for fucking up."

  "I'm sorry too."

  When the call ended, Sophia was still on Sal's mind. Not being able to see her again was hard enough; it was too much to think he would be damned and sent to Hell and never see her for all eternity if he had to kill himself. And he couldn't bear the thought of Sophia sitting through his funeral with the other mourners, all of like mind that he committed suicide—except of course those who actually caused his death. They too would be there among the mourners, perhaps even sitting beside her. That's where Vinnie would likely sit.

  Sal shuddered at the thought of his funeral service. If the Church thought his death was a suicide, his priest could decline to preside over the funeral, and no prayer of the Order of Christian Funerals could be offered that mentioned God calling him out of this world. The Church would say God hadn't called him; rather he had shown up uninvited. The best he could hope for was that his priest would agree to preside and offer a prayer that he be cleansed of sin and released from the chains of death so that he might rise and enter into everlasting life.

  Sal decided that if he had to kill himself, he would make his death appear as an accident or at least create reasonable doubt that it was a suicide. He would be cleaning his gun and boom. That would be something for Sophia to grab hold of and maybe the Church, too.

  Sal stuffed the gun inside his jacket and hurried out the door. He needed to confess his sins and discuss the issue of suicide without risk that his priest would decline to preside over his funeral.

  Sal looked for them as he walked past his church, Saint Boniface, and the fifteen additional blocks to Our Lady of Fatima. He thought he was being followed by a young man until the man turned left when Sal didn't. But then another man appeared from where the young man had disappeared and that man remained a block behind until he reached the Church. Although he watched the man continue past from the top of the Church's steps, he still couldn't stop thinking they were watching him. Would Vinnie be able to call them off?

  When Sal entered Our Lady of Fatima, Sal approached two priests, one in his seventies and the other in his fifties, who were engaged in conversation between a suspended, massive cross and the altar. "I must speak to one of you," he said urgently.

  "Regarding what?" the younger one asked.

  "I must have my confession heard."

  "Our hours are over today. We may hear your confession tomorrow between the hours of…."

  "You don't understand. It must be heard now."

  "And what is the urgency?" the older priest asked.

  "I'm going to die."

  The priests exchanged looks of doubt. The younger priest said, "You look healthy."

  Fear bled from Sal's pores and clotted in his clothes. Didn't they see it? Didn't they smell it? "But there are people who want me dead," he said.

  The younger priest said, "Really? Well if you are still alive tomorrow, you may return during our morning hours."

  Sal slipped his hand inside his jacket and clandestinely fingered the handle of the gun. "That isn't good enough. I'm in danger of death by midnight."

  The older priest held up a hand momentarily and said, "I will hear your confession. Follow me my son." While Sal and the priest walked together, the priest continued, "We'll go to my office. As there is no anonymity, I see no point in taking your confession in the confessional."

  Sal sat on a chair opposite the priest. He said, "Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been three weeks since my last confession. Since then I have fornicated many times with a married woman." He paused to frame his next words.

  "To be absolved from eternal punishment, you must pray an…."

  "I'm not done yet. I've committed so many mortal sins, I've lost count. I've regularly gone to confession and done penance and received absolution, but I didn't really grasp the full meaning of the sacraments until today. You see I've killed over forty people."

  The priest blanched. "You must surrender to the police."

  "I can't."

  "You have broken the law and must accept the consequences."

  "You don't understand. The people who paid me to kill are paying me to kill myself. If I don't do it, they'll hurt my daughter."

  "Then your only alternative is to go to the police and ask them to protect you and your daughter."

  "I can't. They're everywhere. The cops can't protect us from them. I know killing myself is an eternal sin, but is it suicide in the eyes of God if I have no choice?"

  "You must reconsider. Only the police can save you."

  "I'll think about it."

  "God's children are responsible for the actions they take through their exercise of free will. I pray you make the right decision. To be absolved from eternal punishment, you must pray an act of contrition." The priest removed a prayer book from the bookshelf, opened it, and handed it to Sal. "Please read Psalm 51."

  Sal looked the priest in the eye and from memory said:

  "Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions.

  Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin.

  For I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me."

  Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight, so that you are proved right when you speak and justified when you judge."

  When Sal finished speaking the next fourteen verses, the priest recited a few short prayers and said, "As penance you shall recite two hundred
Hail Marys." The priest continued with the sacrament of absolution in Latin and then repeated it in English: "May our Lord Jesus Christ absolve you; and by His authority I absolve you from every bond of excommunication, suspension, and interdict, so far as my power allows and your needs require." The priest made the Sign of the Cross. "Thereupon, I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

  Sal left the Church feeling cleansed of his mortal sins. He hoped he had successfully plea-bargained from incarceration in Hell to a stint in Purgatory from which he would be paroled into the loving arms of his Sophia before the end of eternity. But his plea bargain had been sincere. He didn't want to die. He wanted to watch Sophia's belly grow round with a grandchild he could pamper. Now he understood what he had stolen from the men he had killed. And the knowledge that his death would be an emotional upheaval for Sophia caused him to also understand the burden he had imposed on their families.

  Satisfied, Sal headed toward his apartment still looking for them. As he walked, he murmured, "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen." After the twenty-third repetition, he saw the reflection in the window of a clothing store he passed of a man behind him who looked like the young man he had seen earlier. Why hadn't Vinnie called them off? Still continuing the recitation, he quickened his pace. The young man walked faster and Sal gained little ground.

  Sal had completed one hundred eighty-three Hail Marys by the time he entered his building. He watched the young man walk past and climbed the stairs while he recited the final seventeen. At six-thirty he entered his apartment filled with hope that he might one day be granted entry through the gates of Heaven.

  Sal stood in front of the living room window and unsuccessfully searched for the young man. If they were watching, he wouldn't be able to safely go with Sophia to the police and Vinnie wouldn't be able to clandestinely kill him. Then he would have no choice; he would have to kill himself. He telephoned Vinnie to find out whether they were watching and—if they were—whether Vinnie could stop them. When Vinnie didn't answer, Sal left a message asking Vinnie to call him.

  As a condemned man, Sal had already received his religious rites; according to custom, he was also entitled to a final meal. He dumped some linguini into a pan of boiling water and fried some meatballs. While he cooked, he thought of Jesus' Last Supper and felt ashamed. Sal had lived a totally sinful life and Jesus had died for his sins. But for men like Sal and Adam, and women like Eve, Jesus would not have had to die.

  Sal poured hot tomato sauce over the linguini and meatballs and sat at the kitchen table with the dish, a bottle of red wine, and a photo album. As he ate and drank, he turned the pages and watched Sophia grow. He lingered on her baby photos, particularly those of her baptism, and relived the father-daughter dances he attended with her when she was in grade school. He enjoyed the photos in which he stood tall and puffed up with pride on the day she received the Holy Spirit at her confirmation when she was thirteen. There were prom, and graduation, and wedding photos. Once, just after Sophia had become engaged, he had won big with the horses and set the money aside so Sophia could have a huge reception after her wedding. It had been attended by over a hundred people, many of whom would be at his funeral and some of whom could be outside lurking in the shadows. There was Sophia in the most beautiful wedding dress, dancing with her husband and then with him, the orchestra, and the cake topped by a bride and groom figurine. Such memories.

  But Carla was in many of the photos too, and these filled him with anger and regret. After she divorced him, she petitioned the Church for a declaration of annulment on the grounds that he was an adulterer during their courtship and marriage. She withdrew the petition at the request of the Tribunal. She did so only after he had been forced to spend a lot of money and time proving he didn't cheat on her before the marriage, and was unfaithful afterward only because of the life he led with Vinnie and the others—for which he received absolution for each indiscretion.

  Sal knew Carla would be sitting beside Sophia, comforting her at his funeral. Although it had been twenty years since Carla divorced him, he wondered if she would need comforting too, whether deep down she still loved him at least a little. He wished he had asked for her forgiveness the way he asked for absolution, but it had simply been too many times, too many infidelities, to forgive.

  Sal also knew that Alfredo—Carla's so-called husband of fifteen years—would be sitting beside Carla at the funeral, and considered making last minute arrangements to bar him. Before God, Carla was still his wife, and she and Alfredo were merely adulterers. Christ himself had said: "And if the wife shall put away her husband, and be married to another, she committeth adultery."

  Sal remembered that shortly after Carla's marriage to Alfredo, he and Sophia had coincidentally celebrated Mass with them at the same Church. When the priest had not refused Carla communion, Sal wanted to point his finger and shout, "She has no right to the Eucharist! She's an adulterer!" But he hadn't, because he didn't want to hurt Sophia. And that was also why he couldn't bar Alfredo from the funeral and the reason he hadn't killed him each of the million times he wanted to.

  Sal's eyes clouded with tears. Sophia was the product of his love for Carla and so much like her mother. She had given him such joy. He was a killer and a lousy husband, but he was a good father. Maybe he wasn't all bad.

  At eight o'clock, Sal stood at the living room window with a second bottle of wine and stared into blackness punctuated by neon, the glare of streetlights, the alternating yellow, red, and green of traffic signals, the headlights and turn signals of cars. Across the street, in a dark alleyway, he saw a light flutter through the air like a firefly. It vanished beneath a new point of flickering light that periodically sliced downward and upward through the night. A moment later he witnessed another 'firefly' disappear underneath a second light that cut the air from time to time. He wondered whether it was the matches and cigarettes of two men smoking to pass time while they waited for him to die. Was Vinnie one of them? Again he called Vinnie, but Vinnie didn't answer.

  Sal gulped wine from the bottle. He wanted to be drunkenly anesthetized from the future. He had nothing to do but wait and drink and think about whether he should go with Sophia to the police or stay home and wait for Vinnie to kill him. Or just kill himself and be done with it. He and Sophia could be in a witness protection program with a new identity. There were lots of stories he could tell. But they were everywhere, even in the police and the district attorney's office. And how could he go with Sophia to the police if they were being watched?

  Again he called Vinnie, but Vinnie didn't answer.

  Sal gulped more wine as he watched the twin flickering lights arc through the night. He lit his own cigarette and drew on it. He wondered whether the smokers had been with him at the races or at the Pink Palace or another club. He fantasized about inviting them to his apartment to finish the bottle and share a couple more. It would be a blast to shoot the shit one last time. But what would be the point? A man without a future cannot live a life worth living in the present. His past was the only thing he had of value and he had already journeyed through it and used it up.

  Between eight-fifteen and eight-thirty, Sal sat at the kitchen table with his gun and removed five of the six rounds from the firing chamber. He cleaned the barrel with a gauge rod and cloth-wrapped tip, then applied a thin layer of gun oil to the weapon with a rag.

  Sal put the gun on the table and telephoned Sophia. He made plans to walk in the park with her again. They talked about her desire to have a big family and he told her how much he looked forward to becoming a grandfather. He told her he was going to wash the dishes in the sink, clean his gun so it would be ready for his and Vinnie's target practice, and get a good night's sleep.

  Before he hung up, he told her he loved her.
r />   After their conversation, Sal was more confident she would think the gun fired by accident. He imagined her afterward. Her eyes would be a raging storm and her body contorted with grief. Her husband would comfort her and then Carla—but sooner or later she would rest her head on Vinnie's shoulder and he would stroke her hair and say, "It was a terrible mistake. He musta forgot to take out the bullet."

  At nine o'clock Sal returned to the living room window. If all went well, Vinnie would be there within the hour. But outside Sal still saw the twin lights flicker. Sal hoped they were kids loitering or bums or a couple sharing a smoke. It didn't have to be them.

  By nine forty-five Sal began to lose all hope that Vinnie could come to him undetected. By ten he knew he wouldn't.

  Sal held the silicon cloth in his left hand and the gun in his trembling right. He hesitated. It was ten-thirty. Should he wait another hour and a half? He pointed the gun upward at his chin and decided there was no way God would think he was exercising his free will by pulling the trigger. He wanted to live, but not just until midnight. He wanted decades more. How could an hour and thirty minutes possibly matter to God? It wasn't even a drop in the bucket of eternity.

  Sal thought the smokers in the alley were probably waiting to hear the gunshot. They knew he would use a gun to kill himself because that's what they would do. Why not let them leave early? Perhaps they had little Sophias waiting for them at home. It would be a good work before his death that might save him, or spring him early, from Hell.

  Sal guessed Vinnie was one of the smokers and had been unable to send the other home. After the gunshot, Vinnie would hopefully call the cops—anonymously, of course. Then there would be less risk that Sophia would find his body. Sal considered taking a piss and shit first so he wouldn't leave a mess. Then he thought, fuck it.

  Sal closed his eyes and saw Sophia dressed in white. As she cradled him against her bosom, her angel wings gracefully flapped against an endless blue and orange sky into which they ascended. Sophia smiled at him and he smiled back. He touched the gun to his chin and a healing hand reached out to them from above.