by Krisch, Glen
A smirk formed at one corner of her mouth. "Don't give me that look, Kip."
He'd stopped in his tracks, ten feet away.
"What look?"
"Like I just told you the truth about Santa."
His anxiety ebbed away. "What about Santa?" he asked, shifting from one foot to the other. "My dad calls him socialist scum for handing out all those free toys. It's not true, is it?"
For a split second he saw an unsettling look in her eyes. In that split second she believed he still believed in Santa. He couldn't hold it in for long, and he started to laugh.
She joined him with her own unbridled laughter. "You had me going, Kip." She patted the step next to her. "Get over here. I missed you."
Those three words were as powerful as if she had just professed her love for him. His mind soared, and he could barely contain his happiness as he sat next to her.
The wind gusted again, sending a chill through him. The sky was a blanket of steel gray clouds. Silvia wore jeans and a pale blue hoodie. Her blonde curls were pulled back into a short ponytail. She looked younger than she had the other day, but still beautiful.
He glanced at her, and when she looked his way, he felt his face flush and he shifted his gaze to the street. She chuckled and took one last drag from her cigarette and stepped on the butt. She blew the smoke away from him. "I had fun the other day."
"Me too."
"Sorry for falling asleep on you on the ride back, especially if I drooled. I'm a drooler, so I should have warned you."
"No, don't worry about it. You didn't drool one bit." He didn't know what else to say or do, so he just bided his time, enjoying being here with her.
"I can't believe it's going to be snowing soon," she finally said. "I can't stand the cold. That's the one problem I have staying here with Ziggy and Luna."
"You said you're from Oregon, right?"
"Yeah, it gets cold, but not like here. Here it's like fucking Siberia for three months."
"We've been all over the place for my dad's job, so I've seen every kind of winter."
"What does he do?"
"He's an insurance fraud investigator."
"Sounds intense."
"Not really. He's told me about all the paperwork he has to do all day long." He thought again of his mother and his smile waned. He could feel Silvia's eyes trying to decode his expression. They were teetering on deeply personal information that he didn't feel at all comfortable discussing.
"I've seen him a couple of times driving to your house. He's a yeller, isn't he?" she asked.
Kip nodded grimly, picked at a long blade of grass. "He's pretty strict," he said, trying to figure out how to explain things without too much detail. "Like, if it wasn't for my mom, I'd still be inside my house, studying. She sprung me loose, but I have to be back soon before he's home."
"That's brutal! You should stick up for yourself. How can you experience the world and become the person you're supposed to be if you're constantly under his thumb?"
He felt ashamed and embarrassed. "It's not that simple." He pictured the red welt on his mom's face. Her torn clothes. The mottled palette of bruises ringing her arms that never completely healed.
"Life is simple," she said, a chipper spring to her words. "It's just a series of yes or no answers."
Kip shook his head. He couldn't explain it to her. He didn't think he could ever give voice to the violence he'd witnessed over the years. And if he could, he knew she wouldn't understand him remaining silent. Sure, life was a series of yeses and nos, but in his life there was also a good amount of feigned ignorance, silent complicity, and unremitting guilt thrown in to the mix.
"Listen, you know how I told you about meeting Ziggy and Luna at Burning Man?"
He nodded. The glimmer had gone from her eyes, replaced by a steely pain.
She placed her ice cold fingers on his forearm. "I was running… just going anywhere but backwards, anywhere but back home."
She blinked several times, suddenly on the verge of tears. He placed his hand on top of her icy fingers, squeezed.
"My parents emigrated from Poland when my mom was pregnant with my sister. They had me like ten months after Katrina was born. We lived in an apartment above my dad's cousins' garage, you know, one of those dormer attic conversions? So my dad and his three cousins worked construction, getting paid under the table. They couldn't make ends meet and wound up doing some pretty shady things. Drugs and guns, mostly. But around the Ryszkowskas, that was seen as a way to achieve the American dream."
"And, so… you ran away? You said life is simple, but that doesn't sound like it at all."
"There was more to it. And it made that simple yes or no answer so much easier to make. See… since we were minors, they started using me and Katrina as dealers when we were still in junior high. Thing is, after a while, Katrina started using. A joint here or there, God, who didn't do that? But then she tried some meth. God, she must've been like twelve fucking years old."
Kip gasped. "That's horrible."
"Cousin Olaf, he noticed her cash bundle coming in light. He made a deal with her and wound up covering her shortages. But it…" her voice cracked, "cost her."
"He… he didn't?"
Single teardrops trailed down her cheeks and she wiped them away. He took hold of her hand, and the wetness of her tears made everything feel so real.
"Mom and Dad didn't know. Not at first. And this went on for some time. By then Katrina could no longer make it to school, didn't care about anything, really. She didn't want me to tell anyone. But God damn it…" She sniffled, her eyes hardened, and she forced away any more tears. "I had to. And I did. I told them. And Mom and Dad… they did not a fucking thing. Not a fucking thing."
"How could they not do anything?"
"They weren't here legally. When you're breaking the law for simply living in a particular location, you tend to live with blinders on."
Kip didn't know what else to do, so he put his arm around her. Silvia leaned into him, and he could feel her start to relax.
"Olaf heard us arguing about it, but more importantly, he heard how they were going to let him keep doing whatever he wanted to Katrina. Later that night he drunkenly made a pass at me when I was taking the garbage out to the alley. And so… I ran. For so God damn long. And then I met Luna. She became my true mother. And Ziggy, my father. It's one of the most important things you can learn in life. Blood doesn't make you family."
Kip had spent his entire life trying to suppress emotion, lest he risk the wrath of his father. His life had been turned upside down in the last week, and he didn't know how to handle it. For the time being, he just held Silvia. She wrapped her arms around his waist; it felt like together they formed some greater being, that their sum far outweighed their individual purpose.
Silvia sighed heavily. "Thanks, Kip. Luna knows some of my family history, but no one else does. There's more to it, but I don't think I could ever share it all. There's too much darkness, and it's too much of a burden on whoever is listening."
"You can tell me. I'll listen."
"No. I can't. Just know… just know that for every question, and for every obstacle in life, there are only two ways to answer: yes and no."
They sat in silence. Kip slowly relaxed his grip around her, but didn't let go. No, not that, not until the very last moment. When he had to face returning home, to his own source of violence and oppression, of dark obstacles, and mottled, bruised flesh.
The wind continued to whirl. Green leaves edged in brown tumbled across the lawn. Kip thought about checking his watch, but he didn't want to let go of Silvia.
"Where's the family? Billy, Luna and Ziggy?" he asked.
"Around. Billy's watching TV. The parental units… hell if I know. Probably doing something so stupid that you or I wouldn't ever consider doing it. You know, normal life." She chuckled, and it was such a heartening sound. She had dredged up some horrible details of her life, but they didn't tear open old scars. Si
lvia had an undeniable strength that Kip found endlessly appealing.
The Reveres were certainly an odd family, but Kip was glad that their path had crossed with Silvia's. He couldn't imagine her being stuck for the last four years in her former circumstances.
"Hey, what do we have here?" a voice called out. A guy with dark hair and broad shoulders came strolling up the Revere's sidewalk.
"What do you want, Hayden?" Silvia stood up and crossed her arms in front of her. Kip stood as well, not quite sure what was going on.
"Since it's a bit nipply out, I figured hell had finally frozen over and you'd say yes to dinner and a movie."
Silvia rolled her eyes and shook her head. She leaned close to Kip's ear, until he could feel her breath on his skin as she whispered, "Don't mind my psycho neighbor."
"So how about it? My dad said I could take his Benz." Hayden held up a set of keys.
"You don't get it, do you? I've said no how many times?"
"Let's see…" Hayden rubbed his chin. "This is number eleven. You have to give me credit for not taking no for an answer."
"My answer isn't going to change." Silvia took hold of Kip's arm and pulled him closer.
Hayden's eyes darkened as he glared at Kip. He stepped closer. He didn't look to be high school age, perhaps a year or two older. He was definitely a man, and Kip, at the moment, had never felt further from that stage in life.
"Let's just go inside," Silvia said, trying to steer Kip toward the door.
"I don't know what the big deal is," Hayden said. "It's not like you'd have to pay for anything. Is it because my dad pulled over Ziggy and searched his van that time?"
"That has nothing to do with it. It's not like he arrested him or anything."
"Really, I don't care what your folks do, but Sargent Ross hates what you call… dirty hippies. I don't think he's going to leave them alone any time soon. It's just in his stubborn nature. But, you know, I could probably get Pops to back off completely. All it would take is one date."
"Listen," Kip said, turning back to face Hayden, "she said no. If you like her enough to keep asking her out, you should respect her wishes and back off."
"Kip, don't…" Silvia said, desperation making her eyes glassy.
"Who the hell is this twerp?" Hayden asked, closing the short distance between them.
Kip's heart began to thrum with an explosion of adrenaline. Hayden walked right into Kip, bumping his chest into him. Kip staggered back, but when he got his footing he stepped forward until he was toe to toe with him.
"Hayden, come on. Kip has nothing to do with this."
"Kip?" Hayden stabbed his index finger against Kip's sternum. Kip felt the impact clear into his lungs. "What kinda of name is that?"
"It's short for—" he started to say, but Hayden threw a hard punch into his gut.
The wind rushed from his lungs and he fell to his knees, fighting to inhale a fleeting breath. He wheezed and his brain surged with panic. He'd never had the wind knocked out of him, but it felt like he was suffocating.
"Hayden, knock it off!" Silvia screamed and pushed Hayden in the shoulder with both hands. She'd put her full weight into it, but he barely moved.
Kip recalled the beginning of their conversation…
That's brutal! You should stick up for yourself…
Silvia batted a closed fist into Hayden's chest and he laughed. He took hold of her wrists, and when she struggled against his grip, he laughed louder. She tried to kick him in the balls, but he shifted his weight and her leg glanced off his thigh.
He gave her a little shake and pushed her away.
Silvia stumbled back, colliding with Kip, who was still on his hands and knees. The backs of her legs hit him in the shoulder, and she went pinwheeling until she slammed hard on her back.
Kip focused on getting air into his lungs. The stunned muscles in his diaphragm started to relax and he was able to inhale halfway.
"That's time number eleven, Silvia. When I ask next time, I expect a different answer." Hayden started to walk away, but before he could leave the yard, Kip, full of anger, resentment, and displaced rage, charged after him. He lowered his shoulder and drove it into Hayden's side.
Instead of bouncing away, Kip surprised himself by knocking Hayden clear off his feet. He went flying, sliding in the grass on his side.
"What the fuck…"
As Hayden got to his feet, Kip realized he might have made the biggest mistake of his life.
"Kip, let's just go. Come on, hurry!" Silvia said.
Kip glanced her way.
"Look out!" she cried.
Hayden slammed a fist into Kip's side. He not only heard a cracking sound, but he felt it in his ribs. A shard of pain tore through him, a bolt of crimson agony. And again, his breath was lost.
Silvia ran away into the house. Kip could hear her calling for Billy, but it didn't matter. He would surely be dead before help arrived.
The next punch battered his right cheek. His head swoon at the thudding impact. A hot wetness burst from his face.
All he heard from Hayden were animalistic grunts. He stomped on Kip's foot, breaking at least one of his toes, before he kneed him in the nose.
His head snapped back and he was falling backward, and his vision panned the yard, the trees with their brown edged leaves clinging to their branches, the gray-mantled sky so vast above… and then his skin, bones and blood impacted the earth. It wouldn't surprise him if his remains were scattered across the yard like road kill.
But, somehow, he found himself rolling to his side, propping an elbow underneath himself. Seeing Hayden drawing his fist back, ready to land a finishing blow.
And slowly, like a vehicle submersed in a bed of molasses, he spotted the blue profile of his father's Buick rolling down the road. Kip's eyes locked with his father's, and in that half-a-heartbeat flash of time, he saw the disappointment in his eyes, and his father shake his head as the car picked up speed and pulled away. Out of sight, out of mind. And as Hayden's fist closed on Kip's face, he heard a chorus of shouts from Billy and Silvia, and then none of it mattered any more. Not when Hayden's fist collided with his already pulped cheek. The gray-mantled sky darkened, and in that darkness, there was no longer any thought. Just emptiness.
Chapter 10
Kip didn't leave the house for a week. He barely even left his bedroom, and when he did, he limped about the silent rooms of their house, fighting the pain flaring through his broken pinky toe every step of the way. In that intervening week, there was never any talk about how Hayden had beaten Kip unconscious. There had been plenty of pitying looks from his mom (who, when she brought him breakfast in bed the morning after the incident, bore a fresh ringlet of bruises around her left arm and a suspiciously puffy lip), as well as scathing looks of disappointment from his father (when he would deign to look at him at all).
After a week of replaying the whole encounter with Hayden with a self-deprecating, critical eye, he decided he'd had enough. He dressed himself in a sweatshirt and jeans. He pulled on his shoes and walked down the hall—gritting his teeth but not allowing a limp to alter his stride—to the front door. It must have been a Sunday morning; funny how easy it was to forget the fundamental details of everyday life. His dad sat on the couch, hovering over the spread-out newspaper like a hunter over a fresh kill.
"I'm going out. I'll be back later." There was no hint of a question in Kip's tone.
"Wait a minute—"
"I said I'll be back later. Dinner's at five. I'll be home to wash up."
He didn't allow his flabbergasted father time to answer. Kip opened the door and stepped outside. It was several strides before he realized he'd been holding his breath. He inhaled, filling his lungs with crisp morning air. As he made his way toward the street, he fully expected the door to fly open and his father to storm out after him. But the door remained ominously closed. And as he reached the street and turned toward the Revere's house, Kip felt a mixture of terror and joy.
How am I supposed to face him when I go home?
He half-heartedly flirted with the idea of never returning. Just finding the quickest path out of town, and just… go. But he pictured his mom, alone with that monster. Who would let someone much older and stronger pummel their child? And then, turn away when that battered and bloodied child entered the room, as if he found the sight of his own offspring offensive? Only a monster.
There was only one thing standing in his way, one linchpin holding him in stasis, paralyzed from changing that simple life decision from a wavering no to a definitive yes. Mom; he couldn't leave her. Not now.
He wanted to see Silvia, but he needed to speak to Billy. He didn't know if he could face her, not in his current state. But Billy would know about where he stood with her. Or so he hoped.
To get to the Revere's home, he had to walk past Hayden's house. A police cruiser sat in the driveway. He picked up his pace, a slight unavoidable limp finding its way into his stride, but, luckily, no one seemed to be up and about at the policeman's house. Kip hurried up the sidewalk where he had first encountered Billy. When he knocked on the Revere's door, he realized he had no idea what he was doing here. He could barely remember what happened after that last meaty punch from Hayden. He blinked and saw cloudy, stop-motion memories of Billy and Silvia walking him home, each of his arms draped over the shoulders of his new friends. Then, his mom's frightened expression when she answered the door. And finally, her insistence that his new friends didn't need to step inside, that she could handle it from there.
"Kip, oh, my God, are you okay?" Luna asked when she opened the door.
She didn't wait for him to respond. She placed her hands on his cheeks and tilted his head so she could inspect his healing face. The bruises had faded from black and blue to brown and yellow. The cut on his left cheek would leave a scar. Whenever he looked in the mirror all he saw was weakness; all he felt was shame. Luna looked at him with pity.
"Yes… yes, I'm fine."
"I can't believe that bully did that to you. He should be in jail. As soon as Billy and Silvia got home from dropping you off, Hayden's dad came by, threatening to arrest everyone. That chickenshit went home and told his dad that you attacked him, and that Billy joined in! Can you believe it?"