by Donald Wells
“I’m ready Johnny… I want to be with you.”
I brushed her hair back from her face. God, how I loved her hair, it was soft and curly and never seemed the same fusion of red, brown and auburn two days in a row. Remarkable brown eyes gazed from a face, whose beauty, the most gifted poet could never do justice.
I had cherished her for years, early on as a surrogate big brother, later, morphing into friend, and recently I dared to assume the role of suitor. Now I stood on the verge of lover and felt a quiver pass through me.
“I love you Felicia and I will love you until the day I die.”
She opened her mouth to reciprocate. “Johnny I lov… I…”
I smiled at her. “I know baby. We don’t need words.”
And then I lifted my wounded womanchild and carried her to my bed and we made—we made our way through that night, that first night, and emerged into a dawn of new beginnings.
9
The next day, Felicia skipped school and I kept the closed sign hanging on the shop door. We stayed in bed past noon, then, hunger roused us from our bliss and, after the best shower of our lives, we went into the kitchen, where I watched Felicia make breakfast.
“Mmm, that omelet was delicious.” I said.
“This is our first meal together; at least it’s the first meal I’ve cooked for you.”
I grinned at her. “You’re forgetting that homemade pizza you made me, the one with the Spam and raisin toppings.”
Felicia made a face. “Don’t remind me.”
“It was good. I ate the whole thing.”
“I was only thirteen then, I’m a much better cook now.”
I reached across the table and took her hand. “You’re a much better everything,”
Noises came from downstairs and I heard the door open.
I smiled, “My grandfather’s home,”
Felicia looked around uncertainly. “Should I hide?”
“No, he’s cool, don’t worry.”
My grandfather walked into the apartment with a suitcase in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
“Johnny, why is the closed sign still on the door, are you sick?” He asked. Then he spotted Felicia.
Now, the old man had seen the two of us together for years, mostly around the garage and fix-it shop, but also in the apartment. Felicia and I together was not a novelty to him. Yet, the old fox now gave the two of us and the room a careful scrutiny, and then smiled a knowing grin.
“Hello there young lady, how are you today?”
Felicia sent him a nervous glance. “I’m fine Mr. Faron.”
Grandpa said, “Um hum,” and then he shined his smile on me.
“You look sleepy son, you getting enough rest?”
“I’m good grandpa.”
“I don’t know, you look tuckered out to me.”
Sometimes he could be a mean old man.
“I’ve never been better. How was your trip?”
“Fine, fine, it was nice to see my old friends again.”
“Old friends? I thought maybe you had spent time with a new friend this weekend.”
His eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “What do you mean?”
“Mrs. Parsons, the widow across the street, you remember her, you spent three hours fixing her toaster last week, a house call wasn’t it?”
“So?”
“So I heard from her son that she went to Atlantic City this weekend, I thought that maybe you had run into her somewhere, you know… by accident.”
Sometimes I could be a mean young man.
“You don’t miss much, do you boy?”
“It runs in the family.”
He put down his bag and his wine and sat beside Felicia.
“Has my grandson been treating you right?”
“Yes Sir.”
He patted her hand. “He’d better, or he’ll surely answer to me. Now I’m gonna leave you two alone and take a nap, the trip wore me out.”
“The trip did, huh?”
He said, “Watch it boy,” and headed for his room.
Felicia whispered across the table.
“Was he really with Mrs. Parsons this weekend? How old is he?”
“He’ll be ninety in November.”
“And he still… you know?”
I shrugged. “We Farons are a hearty breed.”
10
Life was so good over the next few months that I damn near forgot Felicia had a psycho for a father.
When my birthday arrived in October, my grandfather surprised me with a used Harley, a black 1998 Softail, which he had personally restored.
Felicia and he must have been in cahoots, because her gift just so happened to be a new leather jacket.
I felt like the Fonz.
Felicia and I spent every spare moment together. And God bless my grandfather, because he made himself scarce on a regular basis in order to give us privacy.
Spending time at Felicia’s house had never been an option, but now, with her father’s threat of violence hanging over us, I didn’t even dare stop at the corner to pick her up, just in case Delgado showed up unexpectedly.
I saw her father twice since he made his threat, once, when he slowly rolled pass the shop and made a gun gesture at me with his thumb and forefinger and the second time, a few weeks later, when he stood across the street, leaning on his car, staring at me.
Perhaps he thought he was being a master of psychological warfare, but my grandfather thought he was getting set to come over and stood guard in front of the shop with his ancient .45 Colt. Delgado laughed at the old man, but he got back in his car and drove off.
It’s a good thing. My grandfather would have shot him had he laid a hand on me.
* * *
It was three days before Christmas, one of those rare December gems when the temperature climbs high above the freezing mark, and Felicia and I took full advantage of it. We packed a picnic lunch and rode the Harley up into the hills. Felicia loved the Harley, and on an isolated dirt road, I gave her a riding lesson. She was a natural, handling the bike with ease.
Later, after a short hike to a secluded spot in a sun-filled meadow, we gorged ourselves and then laid on a blanket to talk.
“Johnny, have you ever thought of having kids?”
“Baby… this wouldn’t be your way of breaking news to me, would it?”
She gave me a puzzled look, but then she took my meaning.
“No silly, I’m not pregnant. I just wondered if you ever thought of having children.”
I stroked her cheek. “Not until I met you.”
“How many kids do you want to have?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never really thought about a number.”
“I want at least five, maybe even six.”
“Six?”
“I’d love to be the mommy to a bunch of kids, to keep them safe, to spoil them. I’ve never really wanted a career; I just want to be a mom.”
“You want to give someone what you never had growing up.”
She looked thoughtful. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
“With six kids, we’d have an awful lot of grandkids someday.”
She grinned at me. “We’d have an awful lot of grandkids someday? That wouldn’t be your way of asking me a question, would it?”
I held her close. “I can’t imagine marrying anyone else, but maybe you’d better finish high school first.”
“I knew I was going to marry you the day you fixed my clock. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“I just thought you were a cute kid.”
She rolled on top of me, while pulling the blanket along, so it hid us from view, then she kissed me deeply on the mouth.
“Do you still think I’m just a cute kid?”
“I think you’re the love of my life.”
I felt her hands fumble with my belt.
“Let’s practice making those babies.”
* * *
The next day was D-Day�
�—Dominic Day.
My grandfather and I were busy working in the shop, when my phone rang. I answered it and heard Felicia speak in a whisper.
In the background, I could hear a man yelling amongst a woman’s high-pitched screams.
“Johnny, Johnny I think he’s going to kill her.”
“Felicia what’s wrong?”
“He’s beating her, he’s beating Mona the way he used to beat mommy, oh Johnny he’s going to kill her.”
I screamed into the phone. “I’ll be right there baby!” I shouted to my grandfather as I ran toward the door. “Delgado’s gone nuts! Call Bill and have him get over there!”
“Wait for him boy, wait for Billy.”
“I can’t! Felicia needs me.”
I jumped on the Harley and rode into traffic without even looking. After swerving to avoid a semi, I rocketed toward Felicia’s house. I was so intent on getting to her that I nearly spilled the bike in their driveway, by attempting to hop off of it before it stopped.
The house was a two-story colonial with missing shingles and hanging gutters, an eyesore on an otherwise decent looking block of homes.
I leapt over the six wooden steps that led to the porch and found the front door locked. Then I heard Delgado yelling.
“I’ll cut the damn thing out of you!”
There was a half-moon of glass in the top of the door and I looked through it to view a scene of horror.
Delgado stood with a long-handled screwdriver in his raised hand, while his daughters cowered on the floor at his feet. Mona was on her back and Felicia was on top of her, apparently trying to shield her sister from her father’s crazed wrath.
Delgado pushed at Felicia as she clutched onto Mona.
“Get the fuck out of the way or I’ll slice right through you.”
Mona, for her part, was also pushing at Felicia, desperately trying to shove her little sister out of the way.
“Felicia run. Run!” She cried.
Mona managed to kick Felicia back out of harm’s way, just as Delgado thrust the screwdriver downward, jamming the blade of the tool into Mona’s stomach. He left it there and stood, while glaring down at his handiwork.
Mona screamed out in agony as blood poured from her wound. Felicia sprung to her feet and began beating against her father’s chest, while crying.
“Leave her alone, damn it leave her alone!”
As Delgado raised his hand to slap her, I stepped back and slammed a heel into the door. The wood splintered from the lock and I rushed inside, entering a room cluttered with scattered side tables and an overturned couch.
Felicia looked at me with a mixture of dread and relief, while Mona simply kept staring at the screwdriver jutting from her blood-soaked abdomen, she also had a bleeding lip and a welt rising under one eye.
Delgado turned and grinned at me.
“This must be my lucky day.”
I pointed to the door. “Baby, grab your sister and get the hell out of here.”
“What about you?”
I shouted to Felicia, “Move!” and tossed my head toward the open door.
I had taken my eyes off Delgado and the fight nearly ended before it started. He caught me on the chin with a jab that rocked me and sent me stumbling backwards through the doorway. I was back on the porch and off balance, but regained my equilibrium, just in time to avoid Delgado as he torpedoed out of the house and sent a left uppercut my way. I countered with a series of jabs that backed him up and gave me a position away from the stairs.
He came at me quick, jabbing away, trying to back me against the porch’s railing and I remember thinking that a man with a beer belly should not be able to move that fast, but fast he was.
A foot from the railing, I duck under a right cross and came up behind him to deliver a blow to his left side. He let out a grunt and then turned to face me.
At that moment, in my peripheral vision, I caught a glimpse of Felicia and Mona leaving the house. They went down the stairs and Felicia guided Mona to rest on the sidewalk, near my bike, the screwdriver still protruding from her stomach.
Delgado and I stood a yard apart and he glared at me with an arrogant self-confidence born of a hundred victories.
“I’m gonna cripple you kid. I’m gonna beat you so ugly that my youngest ain’t ever gonna want to fuck you again.”
I shouted, “Her name is Felicia!” and hit him on the side of his jaw with a hard left. It was like hitting a block of ice. I immediately felt my hand go numb, but was rewarded by the sight of him flexing his jaw.
Delgado caught me on the chin with a swooping overhand left that weakened my knees. I moved in on him and began pummeling that beer gut of his with a flurry of rights and lefts. He head-butted me and I retreated a few steps and shook my head. Blood oozed from a nasty cut over my brow and streamed down my face. I tilted my head slightly so the blood wouldn’t drip into my eye and went back at him. I feigned a left jab and then caught him squarely on the nose with a right that broke the cartilage and sent blood gushing. He made a snorting sound and then spit blood at me.
“Aaaaggg, you broke my fuckin’ nose.”
I opened my mouth to respond, and he hit me on the side of my jaw with a right that was so hard it dislodged a back tooth. I made a gagging sound as it slid down my throat on a trail of its own blood.
Then, the air filled with sirens, as four police cars and an ambulance skidded to a halt in front of the house. As the ambulance crew ran to help Mona, Bill jumped out of the lead car and headed toward the steps.
I thrust my palm out at him. “Goddamn it no! He’s mine!”
Bill winced at the blood covering my face and soaking the front of my sweatshirt. Two officers started to step pass him, and he put out an arm to stop them.
“Let’s let Mr. Faron finish his citizen’s arrest.”
One of the cops gawked at him. “Citizen’s arrest?”
Bill glared back. “You heard me.”
The cop shrugged. “Whatever you say Captain,”
Delgado used the bottom of his T-shirt to wipe blood from his face and then put up his hands. I sent a tentative jab at his head and he slipped it and feigned a right while landing a left into my stomach. I landed three straight jabs onto that busted nose and he yelped in pain. I then moved in close and began pounding away at his gut, and while I was doing that, he hit me continuously in the right ribs with short, hard bursts.
I felt something in my rib cage give and my hands faltered for a second, that’s when Delgado brought a forearm up under my chin. He slammed me up hard against the house, cutting off my air. My vision blurred and I flailed out at him, but my blows were growing feeble. I landed a lucky punch on his Adam’s apple and he released me and wheezed a bloody spray across my face.
We stood there, glaring at each other, both of us trying to get our breath back, as the steam from our gasping mouths mingled together, to form a white cloud in the cold December air.
Through the mist of our frosty breath I saw something flash in Delgado’s eyes then, a mixture of fear and disbelief. Somewhere in that warped brain of his lurked the thought that he just might lose this fight.
He was so damn right.
I lunged at him with a cry on my lips and hit him squarely in the mouth with a left. Again, my hand went numb. Hitting the man’s chin was like hitting an engine block. But I kept pummeling him. He made feeble attempts to prevent me and tried to land a low blow at my crotch, but I turned my hip in time to block it and went right on pounding.
That’s when I felt my hand break. The fracture made me wince and gave him an opening. He raised a fist to strike me in the face, but, as he let the blow fly his right knee faltered and he fell to the floor. The punch glanced across my chest and I looked down into his eyes and saw a fading light. With my one good hand, my right, I attacked him.
Where the blows landed, I couldn’t say, because I was acting on animal impulse. The beast within sensed the kill, and shoved me aside to assail its quarry
viciously.
“Enough! Enough!” Bill shouted, as he pulled me off Delgado’s prostrate form.
I collapse back into Bill’s arms on the blood-spattered floor of the porch and watched, as Delgado’s limp carcass began sliding backwards down the steps, his head bouncing with a hollow thud upon each step. He settled at the bottom and slowly opened his unfocused eyes, and then he turned his head and slobbered several bloody teeth into a cluster of weeds.
Delgado’s neighbors had come out of their homes and gathered to watch the fight, they cheered now at the man’s defeat.
Felicia dashed past her father and embraced me.
Bill went down the stairs to stand over Delgado. He bent down and smiled at him.
“What was that you once said Delgado? Oh yeah, that you were the fuckingest badass this town ever knew. Well, not anymore you piece of shit, not anymore.”
Delgado turned his face from Bill’s gaze and began crying.
Bill shook his head in disgust. “Typical fucking bully,”
And then two of the other cops flipped Delgado over and cuffed him.
11
If I had felt like crap, it would have been a step up.
I was sitting atop a treatment table in Castle Ridge Hospital as the doctor finished applying the cast to my left hand. The cut on my forehead was closed with stitches and my face was turning different shades of purple. The ribs on my right side felt as if they were in splinters and even my good hand was swollen. Top all of this off with a headache and a painful section of gum, where a tooth had been knocked out, and you can pretty much say I was a mess.
And I had won the fight!
Just as the doctor was leaving, Felicia walked into the white-walled cubicle and I draped an arm around her.
“How’s your sister?”
“They say she was very lucky, the screwdriver missed anything major, but, she was pregnant and, and she lost the baby.”
“I’m sorry.”
“He, my father, he meant to kill it, he punched and stabbed her in the stomach to try and kill his own grandchild.”
“Bill said your dad’s going to jail, once he’s well enough.”