by Ws Greer
I see a smile stretch across my dad’s face.
“Good. He deserved it, right?” he says, grinning.
“Yeah, he did.”
“And you did what you felt you had to do, right? You handled it?”
“I did.”
“Good boy. It’s unfortunate, but that’s what you have to do sometimes. I know you’re only eleven, but sometimes kids your age are assholes and need to be dealt with. I’m proud of you. I bet your mother was pissed, wasn’t she?”
I chuckle to myself, remembering how mad my mother, Gloria, got when the principal called her and told her to come get me. She doesn’t like having to leave work to come deal with the school, and she was extra mad because this isn’t the first time she’s had to do it.
“Yeah, she was really mad,” I reply.
“I bet she blamed it on me, didn’t she?”
“Kind of. She said some stuff about how I’m growing up to be like you, and it makes her sad. I told her I loved both of you, and that I was sorry about getting suspended. She calmed down after that.”
Dad laughs a little, but stays focused on the parking lot.
“Hey, you did the right thing, Dominic. Okay? No matter what your mother says about it, you did the right thing. A man isn’t supposed to hurt a woman. That’s the rules. If a man hurts a woman, that’s breaking the rules, and breaking the rules is cause for punishment. So, I’m proud of you, son.”
I feel the tingling sensation of pride spread through my body. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Fuhgeddaboutit,” he says, smiling at me.
I know the words are forget about it, but the way Dad says them makes me laugh. That’s his Italian roots making their presence known. I don’t know why, but I love it when he says it.
My dad’s eyes snap forward when there’s movement in the parking lot. He leans forward and squints, trying to see who the man is getting out of the black Mercedes that just parked. When he recognizes him, he looks at me, his jaw tight.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
He doesn’t give me time to respond. He gets out and walks across the street like he’s on a mission, his black leather jacket flapping at his sides, and smoke billowing out of his mouth from the cold. The man he approaches is also wearing a black leather jacket, but he has a thick beard that matches it. That’s all I can make out from here.
All I can see now is the two of them talking. My dad is gesturing as he talks, and I know that’s a sign he’s not happy about something. The other guy looks afraid, but he’s standing his ground. He hands my dad an envelope, which my father calmly takes.
Then, everything changes.
Suddenly, my dad punches the guy in the face. He stumbles backwards, clutching his mouth while Dad pulls a gun out of the back of his pants. My heart quickens as I watch my dad point the gun at the man’s face. The guy puts his hands up like he’s being arrested, then Dad hits him the face with the gun and he falls to the ground. Dad leans over the man’s crumbled body and aims the gun at him again as he yells at the guy. Then, he reaches back and slams the gun into the man’s face two more times, before finally walking away. My dad walks quickly towards the car as the guy behind him lies lifelessly on the ground, and he stuffs the thick envelope into the inner pocket of his jacket.
I’m not sure what I feel as my dad approaches. Part of me is scared. Part of me is proud of him. My nerves are on high alert and I feel excited with fear. I’m not surprised by what just happened because it’s not the first time I’ve seen my dad involved in something like this. Like I said before, my dad doesn’t take crap from anybody, and I like that.
When he gets in, he’s breathing heavily as he reaches into the glove compartment and grabs a white towel and a plastic bag. He hands the towel and the gun to me before he starts the car.
“Clean this off and put it in the glove compartment,” he says as he looks out the window at the guy who’s still on the ground.
I use the towel to wipe the blood off the gun. I scrub it as hard as I can and make sure it’s completely clean before I toss the gun into the glove compartment and close it. I drop the blood-soaked towel into the plastic bag and shove it into my pocket as the two of us drive away. When we find a dumpster far away from here, I’ll be sure to get rid of the bloody towel.
This is how my weekend with my father begins, and I smile the whole ride back to his house.
Alannah
It’s been three days since I started school in Belleville, and I haven’t seen Dominic since he beat up Billy on my first day. I’ve made a couple of friends, however, so I’m not completely alone when we walk to lunch now. Lisa and Maggie are with me, even though I’m pretty sure they’re the two girls who laughed at me my first day in class. Both of these girls are blonde and they love to gossip about everybody they see. Honestly, they’re the complete opposite of me. My hair is brown, and I don’t like talking bad about other people, so when they do it, I just tune them out.
“Look, there’s Kevin. He’s so cute,” Lisa whispers to Maggie, even though we’re supposed to be walking quietly to the cafeteria.
Maggie whispers, “I know, right?” then looks at me to see if I agree. I pinch my lips together and slowly nod. I’m not a fan of boys who have hair almost as long as a girl’s, but I guess the guy they’re talking about is okay.
Once we’re through the door of the cafeteria, kids are ignoring the monitors and talking super-loud. I’ve learned that the six classes in my hall are the upper classes of the small school. There’s two fourth grade classes, two fifth grade, and two sixth grade. The other fifth grade teacher is Mrs. Webb, who I haven’t met yet, but she’s old and looks like she hates kids. She has lots of wrinkles, gray hair, and everything she says sounds mean, even when she says hello. Her class comes in after ours, and none of them are talking, probably because they don’t want to get yelled at.
“There’s the wicked witch,” Maggie jokes, giggling at herself.
“Oh look, there’s Ugly Dominic walking in right behind her,” Lisa says, laughing.
Dominic walks in behind his teacher as she leads the class to the back of the line. While Lisa and Maggie are laughing their heads off, I watch Dominic. He’s standing there keeping completely to himself, wearing a St. Louis Blues sweater. His classmates behind him are chatting up a storm, but not with him. He’s standing with his back against the wall and his head down, staring at his feet. From looking at him, you’d think it was his first day of school. Even after he gets his tray and sits a few tables down from me, no one talks to him. I don’t know why that is. Do they all call him Ugly Dominic? People are so mean.
Dominic is too big for his age, his lips look huge on his face, and he’s got some acne, but he doesn’t deserve to be called ugly. He’s obviously different from everybody else, but he also saved me the other day. He’s a nice person. Nobody else tried to get Billy Hannigan off of me, yet he’s the one they’re making fun of and avoiding like he’s got a flesh-eating disease. I watch him the whole time I’m eating, and it really makes me sad. Not one person speaks to Dominic, and after he dumps his tray, he walks outside to the playground all alone.
When Maggie, Lisa, and I get outside, I immediately start looking for Dominic. It’s hard to make anyone out with so many people running and screaming, but I eventually find him sitting on a bench next to the wall where we go to check out sports equipment. He’s got a basketball and he’s dribbling it behind his legs as he sits. There’s a group of kids playing basketball and he’s watching them like he really wants to play, but he can’t bring himself to ask if he can join. He doesn’t look sad about it, it’s more like he’s used to watching them instead of actually playing.
“There’s Ugly Dominic being a stalker again,” Maggie says as she taps me on the arm.
“Why won’t they let him play?” I ask.
“Because he’s weird, that’s why. Look at him,” Maggie goes on.
“What’s so weird about him?”
“Umm,
his face,” Lisa chimes in. “The fact that he’s, like, The Hunchback of Belleville, Illinois.”
Maggie bursts into laughter and Lisa joins her. While they laugh, I look at Dominic again. He sees them laughing, but he ignores it and goes back to watching the others play. I can’t stand the fact that he’s sitting there by himself. He helped me before anybody else would, and they’re laughing at him. I don’t like it, so I walk away and leave them standing there.
“What are you doing?” Maggie asks when she notices, but I don’t even respond. I ignore her and go sit next to Dominic on the bench.
He looks over at me and studies my face for a minute. He squints and wrinkles his forehead, before moving his attention back to the basketball court.
“Hi,” I say, softly.
He looks back at me like he’s surprised. “Hi.”
“Haven’t seen you in a few days. They suspend you?”
He smiles a little. “Yeah, they did. Just three days, though. No biggie.”
“No biggie? My parents would be really mad if I got suspended. Especially my dad.”
“Yeah, my parents are different. Especially my dad.”
“Must be,” I reply. “So, I wanted to thank you again for saving me from that kid last week. My neck is still a little sore, but it would’ve been worse if it weren’t for you.”
“Fuhgeddaboutit,” he says, his eyes still on the game in front of us.
“What?”
“I said fuhgeddaboutit.”
“Forget about it? What do you mean?”
He finally looks at me and smiles, holding back a laugh.
“I just mean, don’t worry about it. You’re welcome. He deserved it.”
Now I smile. “I usually wouldn’t say something like this, but I guess I have to agree with you. He did deserve it. I still can’t believe your parents weren’t mad about you getting suspended though.”
“Well, my mom was mad, but my dad wasn’t. My dad laughed, actually,” he says, grinning with pride.
“He laughed? Wow. My dad definitely wouldn’t have thought that was funny. My dad’s in the military. He’s strict with stuff like that.”
“Oh, your dad’s in the military? So, you just moved here?”
“Yeah. My dad got stationed at Scott. We moved here from California.” I look up and see Lisa and Maggie glaring at us, but I ignore it.
“You like it here so far?” Dominic asks, his eyes back on the game.
“It’s okay, I guess. I mean, I did get pushed down and have my face shoved in the sand on my first day of school.”
Dominic looks at me and smiles. Even though his face looks a little weird because of how big and pink his lips are, he still has a nice smile. But he must not like it because he doesn’t show it often.
“Well, that makes sense,” he replies behind a chuckle. “I don’t know why some guys don’t understand that you can’t treat girls that way. My father taught me that hurting a girl was against the rules.”
“That’s good. I wish everyone would teach their kids to be nice to everyone. At least your dad is teaching you right.”
“My dad’s awesome. He teaches me a lot. I want to be just like him when I grow up,” Dominic says. I can tell he really means it.
“What does your dad do?” I ask. Dominic grins a little, but then pulls it back.
“My dad . . . he does a lot of stuff. He gets money from a lot of different places. He’s a business man.”
“Interesting,” I reply, but only because I can tell he’s lying.
“Yeah. He lives out in St. Louis.”
“Wow. He brings you to this school all the way from St. Louis. That’s like forty minutes away.”
“No, my mom brings me to school. My dad lives in St. Louis. My parents aren’t married. I stay with my mom mostly, but I hang with my dad on a lot of weekends. Joint custody agreement, or something like that, I ain’t really sure.”
“Oh, I get it now. My dad’s a doctor for the Air Force and my mom’s a nurse, not for the Air Force.”
He nods, then goes back to the game again. At that moment, the bell rings and lunch is over. All the kids run to put their equipment away and line up to wait for the teachers.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say to Dominic as we both stand. Dominic puts the basketball away before turning to me with a confused look on his face.
“What’d you say?”
“I said I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’re gonna talk to me tomorrow?”
I frown. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but nobody really talks to me here. They’re either afraid of me or they’re secretly making fun of me. So, I just kind of stay to myself.”
It doesn’t seem to bother him, but just hearing him say that makes me feel bad for him. It’s not fair that people ignore him like that. He doesn’t do anything to anybody, but they still treat him like crap. It’s not fair. He defended me.
“Well, I don’t know what’s wrong with everybody,” I say, walking to the back of my class’s line. “I don’t care what other people think. You saved me on my very first day of school, and made that guy apologize for hurting me. So, I’m gonna talk to you.”
He smiles at me again as he reaches the back of Mrs. Webb’s line, just as the doors swing open and the teachers usher us in.
Once we’re inside, Dominic looks over at me again, still smiling.
“Okay, well I guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow then,” he says.
“Okay. Talk to you tomorrow.”
We walk into our respective classes and I ignore Maggie and Lisa as I take my seat. I feel their eyes burning into me.
“Why were you talking to him so long, Alannah?” Maggie inquires.
“Because I wanted to,” I say, instantly feeling frustrated.
“Nobody really talks to him, though. He’s so big and weird-looking,” Maggie says.
Lisa jumps in. “And he’s mean. He’s beaten up, like, four people already this year. I’m surprised he didn’t try to eat you.”
“No, he didn’t try to eat me, Lisa, and he didn’t beat me up, either,” I snap. “If he’s mean to you guys, it’s probably because you call him Ugly Dominic and ignore him all the time. He’s nice to me, and that’s all that matters. So, I don’t care what you guys say.”
And that’s the last of it. Maggie and Lisa glare at me for a second longer, but they don’t say anything else. Mr. Bishop steps to the front of the class and starts talking about something that happened a long time ago, and I smile to myself because I feel like I actually made a new friend today.
Dominic
“There you go, sweetie,”
“Thanks, Ma,” I reply, immediately taking a sip from the Coke my mother just put in front of me. “I’m starving. This is gonna be so good.”
My mom, Gloria, takes her seat on the other side of the table and smiles. Her puffy cheeks have big dimples that always make me feel calm. She’s dressed up for dinner like it’s a special occasion, even though it’s not, with a black dress and a pretty silver necklace my father bought for her when they were still together. Dad doesn’t hang out here much because Mom doesn’t like what he does, which is why they never got married, but I can tell they still like each other. I like seeing them together, but I really like hanging out with my dad on the weekends, too.
“So, how was school, Dom?” she asks, looking up at me while she chews. I absolutely hate when she shortens my name to Dom, but it’s Ma, and when you’re dealing with Gloria Giaculo, fuhgeddaboutit.
“It was fine. Normal.”
“Normal? So, no trouble today?”
“No, Ma. No trouble today.” I know she’s really asking if I got into a fight today. It’s been a tough year in school for me, and that affects her too.
“That’s good,” she says, nodding. “Anything interesting happen?”
“Not really. Well, I may have made a friend. I don’t know, Ma.”
“A friend?” she chirps. “What kind of friend?”
“I know where this is going, Ma. Yes, it’s a girl. No, she’s not my girlfriend, and no, I’m not in love.”
“What? I didn’t even say anything.”
“Yeah, but I know you were about to.”
“No way. Of course not. I wouldn’t do anything to make you feel uncomfortable.” She takes a second to finish chewing, then she continues with what I knew was coming. “So, what’s her name? Is she pretty?”
“Ma!”
“What? I’m just curious if the girl’s pretty. What’s the big deal?”
“Ugh. What happened to not making me feel uncomfortable?”
“I love you, Dominic.”
“Oh, whatever. Her name’s Alannah.”
“And?” she says, grinning like The Joker.
“Yeah, she’s pretty.”
“Is she Italian?”
“I don’t know, Ma. I doubt it. Her father’s in the Air Force.”
Mom frowns. I know she’d prefer I thought an Italian girl was pretty, but we live in Belleville, Illinois. Italian girls are hard to come by.
“Well, does she at least look Italian?” she continues, not letting it go.
“I don’t know, Ma. Who looks Italian? She has dark brown hair and brown eyes. I didn’t know we had to look a certain way to be true Italians.”
She puts her hands up like she’s showing me they’re empty. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. I just think it’s nice, that’s all. I hope you two can be really good friends. Dominic and Alannah. That sounds nice.”
“Oh my god, Ma.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Let’s talk about something else,” she says, but that sneaky smile is still lingering. “I forgot to ask you earlier since you got home so late; how was your weekend with your father?”
An image flashes in my memory . . .
“Clean this off and put it in the glove compartment,” he says as he looks out the window at the guy who’s still on the ground.