The Coward

by Jarred McGinnis

  ‘Jerry, no,’ Fritz said.

  We smoked, Fritz too, and the world washed through me in calming little waves. I sank deep into the sofa to watch the incomprehensible television. I scared myself thinking how much I preferred feeling like this.

  Somehow, I was in Fritz’s huge bed. I heard him in the hallway hiss, ‘Stay out of our room. Don’t you dare touch that kid.’ He locked the door and lay down on the floor.

  ‘Goodnight, Fritz,’ I mumbled.

  In the middle of my dream I heard the door open. I felt warmth on my foot and a tug at my blanket. I woke up but stayed motionless, afraid to open my eyes and see Jerry over me. Something moved along my leg, touched my knee, then my thigh. I held my breath. I felt its weight on the inside of my thighs, pushing them apart. I bolted up and threw the blanket off. The kitten shot into the air, hissing, and fled the room.

  ‘Why’s the door open?’ Fritz asked angrily.

  ‘I don’t know. Cat?’

  ‘You scared the shit out of me.’ Fritz shut the door and locked it again. ‘Go to sleep.’

  38

  Afterwards, me on top, tightly embracing, my arms beneath Sarah, I buried small kisses into the flesh of her neck, feeling her warmth against my cheek. I felt her shudder.

  When I lifted my head, my cheek was tear-slick. Her eyes were puffy and red.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she choked.

  ‘What’d I do? I’m sorry. What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  We shifted our bodies so that I was lying beside her. I put my head on her chest and listened to the whisper of breath in and out and the clip-clop of her heart. This heart, like all hearts, could be hurt: heart attacks, blood clots or car accidents late at night after too many drinks. But this heart, I thought, it was going to be me that caused it pain.

  An ice-water of panic hit me. I shot up and threw the blanket off my legs.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she said.

  ‘Nothing. I need a smoke.’

  ‘Please don’t go right now.’

  I lay back and she tucked herself against me. My arm and shoulder, her pillow. She fell asleep quickly as I traced her waist and hips with my fingers. Beneath my palm that heart’s rhythm. It was not so fragile, but constant. I wanted to be deserving of a person like Sarah. The steady, solid beat calmed me.

  ‘Hey, beautiful. I need to say some things. Maybe I’ll be able to say this one day while you’re awake but . . .’

  Her breathing was quick and shallow as she slept.

  ‘When my mom died, I was there. The same car accident that put me in a wheelchair, Melissa, this girl I knew, died because of me. Now every time I hear brakes squeal or they show a car accident on tv or in a movie I think I’m going to be sick. Melissa dies in front of me just like my mom did when I was a kid, over and over.’

  Her lips parted as she exhaled. I traced the outline of her nose with my finger. It was going to be easy to fall in love with her.

  ‘I’m scared that because of me that they’ll take Jack’s dinky little house from him. The only things I own are bills I can’t pay. I’ll never walk again and complete strangers treat me like I’m stupid. All that I can deal with, just . . .

  ‘Here’s what really scares me. Sarah, I mean, really, really scares me. I’m not sure if I’m ready for things to turn out okay. I’m a coward and I hope you’ll forgive me for however I ruin this thing we have going.’

  Still she slept. I put my arm around her. The ugliness drained from my thoughts and I fell asleep soon after.

  39

  Jack was sitting at the table with his coffee and newspaper when I came home the next morning from Fritz’s house with blue hair and the earring.

  ‘Help me, my son’s a parrot.’

  ‘That’s funny. I thought the earring would bother you more.’

  ‘Christ. You got your ear pierced? Unbelievable. Where the hell were you last night?’

  ‘At a friend’s.’

  ‘Your friend a pirate? Friends don’t put holes in friends’ heads.’

  A little later, he came to my room.

  ‘You up for a walk?’ He handed me two plastic pots filled with scraggles of green. Their small white buds smelled bitter and clean.

  We walked to Mom’s grave where Jack and I held our truces. We planted the chamomile in front of her headstone.

  ‘Do you remember the times we came out here after she died? We used to sit out here and talk about her.’

  ‘Yeah. Yeah, I do. Sometimes I can’t remember Mom before she got sick. I try but I only see her when she was in the coma.’

  ‘You have to picture her doing something. Remember how she had this whole ritual for cleaning the house? She’d put her hair up in a bandana, wear those old overalls she had. She’d sing along to the radio and dance around while she cleaned. Can you see it?’

  My eyes closed and I saw Mom sweeping, singing to herself, lost in the happiness of that moment.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said and opened my eyes to see Jack grinning.

  Jack laughed. ‘She’d had those overalls since we were kids. God, that woman couldn’t sing. We’d be in the car and I’d have to inch up the volume out of respect for the musicians.’

  ‘She used to laugh at the dumbest jokes.’

  ‘Her family was from the Midwest. They can’t help it. There’s nothing funny about Iowa.’

  ‘She used to tell me knock-knock jokes.’

  ‘You outgrew them before she did. Do you remember when you were too old to be kissed goodnight?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘She cried and cried: “My baby doesn’t need me any more.”’

  ‘Really? I don’t remember that at all. That makes me feel like shit.’

  ‘You know, it’s the same for me. I can’t just think of her face. Nothing comes. It kills me. Sometimes, when things are bad, especially between you and me, I talk to her. When I do, I pretend I see her, but it never works. That hurts. I feel like I’m losing her, denying the only thing good in my life.’

  I said, ‘Even as a kid I knew how much you guys loved each other. I used to get jealous. Sometimes mad.’

  ‘You used to do little shitty things like pour your orange juice in my work boots or write on my paperwork. Supposedly it was normal. I just thought you needed a spanking. She took good care of us. She was worth fighting over.’

  Silence and Mom’s gravestone stood between us.

  ‘Tell me about this pirate friend of yours.’

  ‘I met him at the hospital.’

  ‘Oh yeah. What’s his name?’

  ‘Captain Morgan. I think you guys have met.’

  ‘Jarred.’ His voice hardened. ‘You can’t be doing this. If this is going to work you need to follow the rules. What did we discuss? I thought we were over all the nastiness and lies.’

  ‘I was at a friend’s house. I’m still a teenager. That’s what teenagers do.’

  ‘Jarred, the hospital told me about your friend. You two have enough of your own troubles without getting them mixed with each other’s. Listen, that kid is in recovery.’

  ‘No zealot like the convert.’

  He put on his pious face as he pretended the solution to everything was twelve steps away. I preferred the exhausted puffiness of his drinking days. Or the rage he wore when I provoked him. He moved from Fritz’s recovery to his own. He talked of amends. He brought up the past where no one was innocent.

  I cut him off. ‘You don’t get to apologise. You fucked up. You live with that. I don’t have to forgive you. You burned off years of your life, being a waste. Now because you feel sorry, I’m supposed to give you absolution? Here’s the deal. You fucked up. You get to live that fuckup. That’s it. You don’t like the deal? Then don’t fuck up.’

  I started to get that jumbled-thought, light-headed feeling. My vision shifted, the grave stretched impossibly between us and Jack looked far away.

  ‘And guess what? All my fuck-ups. No apologies. Those are mine.’
/>   ‘All right, all right. Calm down, Jarred. I’m trying to work things out with you. I didn’t want a fight.’

  He was scared or he was seeing something in me that worried him. Tears were streaming down my face. I fought to put enough breath over my vocal cords to curse him.

  ‘I don’t need a dad now. I don’t care if you’re proud of me or not. I don’t need you there to tell me I fucked up. I know I’m fucking up and I don’t give a shit.’

  ‘Jarred, you need to calm down. Your lips are turning blue. You need to breathe. Okay, okay. We don’t have to talk about this. It’s one of the steps of AA to ask forgiveness, except when to do so would injure—’

  A kettle whistle screamed in my head.

  ‘Did you bring me here for scene setting? Were you hoping to time it right, so when the sun set over Mom’s grave, I’d forgive, and we’d embrace as father and son? Fuck you!’

  He became stone, but the old, reliable anger was returning. He was struggling to swallow it down, determined to keep it, digest it, better to fester into an ulcer or cancer, but I wasn’t going to let him.

  ‘Look how fucking proud. You love it. Are you apologising or bragging?’

  ‘Jarred, stop. I’m sorry. This was a mistake. Jarred! Stop right now.’

  ‘Nobody wants to relive this shit except you. Go play AA with Thomas. Let him forgive you. Pat your head and lie to you that you were a good husband and father.’

  He howled from the bottom of his guts the howl of an animal struck with shot.

  ‘Jarred! Stop blaming everyone else. Be a man for once.’

  ‘Be a man,’ I mimicked.

  He shoved me and I fell over.

  ‘Jarred. What is going on? What am I supposed to do seeing the scars and cuts on your arms? The weird shit you do. The suicide notes you write. The basketballs, fucking whole basketballs, duct-taped to the ceiling. What does that even mean? The crazy pictures drawn on the wall. What’s going on, Jarred? I’m just trying to help.’

  ‘You left me at school. You forgot about me.’ I picked myself up and closed in on him.

  ‘My wife was dying!’ he yelled and grabbed my collar.

  ‘Go on, hit me! You remember how. Do it. Do it. Fucking hit me. You were good at beating the shit out of me when I was thirteen. Sixteen should still be fun.’

  He threw me down and walked off.

  40

  Sarah suggested we celebrate by pulling down the collection notices. Light barged into my room. We neatly stacked the letters of professionally worded disappointment by colour.

  Sitting beside each other on the bed, we were cutting out the thick red-bordered words of FINAL NOTICE, yellow PAST DUE and, our favourite, black and green FRIENDLY REMINDER from collection notices. Her tongue peeked out as she concentrated on her scissors. I reached over and petted her tongue with my finger.

  ‘Hey!’ She leaned over and kissed me. ‘I don’t know I’m doing it.’

  She stuck out her tongue again and I kissed it.

  ‘Is that enough for another wall?’ Along the ceiling and down the corners of the room legal threats created a coloured border. Plain black and white SETTLEMENT OFFERs and LEGAL ACTIONs covered the wall sockets and switch plate covers.

  She stood on a chair and glue-sticked the paper where the wall met the ceiling.

  Jack stood at the door, following the border with his eyes. He examined the light switch.

  ‘When are you going back to work?’

  ‘It was her idea.’

  ‘You, little missy, stop encouraging him. What brought this on?’

  ‘The driver of the VW has definitely been charged. He’s getting felony DUI. The lawyer said that the husband is done chasing after us. With the driver charged, he’s easier to go after and he actually has assets. He suggests we pursue a case as well.’

  Jack nodded. ‘Some good news for a change.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘I brought you some of that stuff you like,’ Jack said to Sarah.

  ‘Quasi-Quik. Yum. Thanks.’

  ‘You hungry? We were going to make dinner to celebrate not going to jail or getting sued,’ I said.

  ‘Can we have meat tonight? If I see another carrot—’

  ‘Meat is murder, Jack.’

  ‘Duly noted, Sarah, but listen up. I’m a single parent to this fool. I’ve had to give up drinking, smoking and coffee. On top of that I’m old and I have piles. Now, I ask you this, why shouldn’t cows suffer too?’

  ‘Calm down, Grandpa. Jarred’ll make you steak,’ Sarah said.

  ‘It’s not all good news. The moustached marauder is still chasing us for money,’ I said.

  ‘What’s he said this time?’

  ‘It’s just music. Listen.’

  ‘I’ll start the potatoes,’ Sarah said, stepping off the chair. ‘Jack, it’s your favourite, oven-baked fries.’

  I dialled the messaging service and handed the phone to Jack.

  ‘The first one is Blondie, “One Way Or Another”. Then he phoned back an hour later with “The More You Ignore Me, The Closer I Get” by Morrissey. I don’t know the next one.’

  ‘It’s Leonard Cohen, but I don’t know the song either,’ Jack said.

  ‘He’s got good taste in music,’ Sarah shouted from the kitchen.

  ‘Isn’t this harassment? Surely this is illegal,’ I said.

  ‘So is not paying your bills,’ Jack said.

  I went to see if Sarah needed any help. She ran her hand down the back of my head and neck. I rubbed her back. I went to the silverware drawer. Jack was staring. We made eye contact. He nodded and sat to read his paper. I set the table.

  ‘It’s nice having a soul like that in the house again. Don’t blow this for us.’

  I nodded, but I felt the bite of his sentence. A couple of weeks ago, Sarah and I had been at the grocery store. I sat patiently beside her as she examined the labels looking for whatever chemical death she was trying to avoid. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to find a man in an oversized sweater. Everything happens for a reason, he told me. I responded by asking him ‘Even this?’ and I smacked the macaroni and cheese out of his hand. The blue and yellow box bounced off his face then spun along the floor. He retreated, pathetically holding his cheek. I turned back to see Sarah staring in disbelief. She didn’t say anything, but I nodded and went to look for the guy in the sweater to apologise.

  Sarah shouted, ‘Dinner’s ready.’

  We sat around the table.

  ‘Dearest one,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, love.’

  ‘Give me a break,’ Jack teased. He leaned down to drop a chunk of steak for Mister Shakey.

  ‘Is he an indoor cat now?’ I asked.

  ‘He’s my tv buddy, but he’s still your cat. I don’t do litter boxes.’

  If we weren’t at my place hanging out with Jack and Mister Shakey, we were at hers playing cards and having a sing-along with Marco or hanging out with her parents. When she wanted to go out with friends, I stayed home. I saw myself in a bar or a club amongst the whole and healthy, and I felt ill. I imagined drunks tripping over me or laughing at me.

  ‘Oh shit! I forgot to call JJ and tell him I’m not coming out tonight.’

  ‘No, don’t do that. I’ll come with, if that’s okay. We should celebrate.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  After dinner with Jack, we went downtown to a bar to meet up with Sarah’s friends.

  ‘You know the stories you tell me about your dad and you when you were young? His being a drunk and you two beating each other up. It’s hard to see Jack doing that.’

  I wasn’t really paying attention to her as I played out scenarios of inaccessible toilets and entrances with steps.

  ‘You’re grumpy. You’re not allowed to be grumpy. JJ and I are friends, that’s all. You said it was cool.’

  ‘I’m okay.’

  We parked and headed toward the bar. A drunk stumbled toward us talking to himself. A gaggle of
college girls curled their lips as they tried to predict his path.

  ‘That’s the homeless guy who gave me your cat,’ she said. ‘Should we see if he’s all right?’

  ‘Coffee girl!’ the drunk shouted. He tried to focus on me through alcohol blur. His whole body slumped with his sigh. He shook his head. ‘No, no, no,’ he said. ‘It’s a good goddamn shame, look at you. Oh god. I’m so sorry you are in a wheelchair.’

  A grease-fire flash of rage burst from within me.

  ‘I’m sorry you’re a drunk and smell of piss. Let’s see who fares better,’ I said as I pushed past him.

  We navigated through the crowd, Sarah clearing the way with an ‘Excuse me’ and nodding toward me so the person understood they had to move more than the cursory inch.

  Sarah said, ‘Jarred, I get it. I’m always one asshole away – telling me I’m prettier when I smile – from feeling awful about myself. I get it; it’s not fair.’

  We approached a group of people playfully shouting and arguing. ‘Excuse me. Excuse me.’ We worked our way through, interrupting person after person. As soon as we passed, they went back to cheering and yelling.

  ‘But it’s not them you’re mad at,’ she continued. ‘Something inside you believes they’re right or that the world believes that they’re right, which makes them right. I hate it.’

  I nodded, and I was falling in love and admiration.

  ‘You okay?’ she asked.

  I gave her two thumbs up. ‘Can you push? I’m tired.’

  She pushed my chair, leaned in and whispered in my ear before kissing it, ‘You’re not tired. You’re lazy.’

  Sixth Street was all bars and clubs. The sidewalks thickened with black miniskirts tottering on high heels being chased by popped collars. Sarah weaved us through and I called to go faster. She went faster. We laughed as people jumped out of our way.

  I slapped at her hands and shouted, ‘Hey, lady, where are you taking me? I don’t even know you.’

  A man stepped in front of us.

  ‘Help! Help!’

  ‘I’m his girlfriend,’ Sarah pleaded. ‘Jarred, shut up.’

  He gave us a dirty look that made us laugh.