Family Thang
Page 23
The man’s mouth fell open, and Eric gulped.
Silver teeth! Upper and lowers, all silver.
Why would someone have all their teeth silver?
To bite the shit outta somebody and never let go.
A moment Eric thought to huddle behind the couch and remain there till eternity. No, uh-uh, he had to get out. How?
The man stopped snoring, raised his legs to a bent position, coughed and continued snoring.
Eric resumed breathing. Jesus, pull me out of this one I’ll join church. Visit old folks at the nursing home. Donate money to those pitiful-looking puppies on TV.
Jesus, just get me out of here!
He waited for a miracle; none came. Only one option available: he had to clear the couch without waking the man. He waited a few minutes more before standing up and carefully hoisting his right leg over the man to the front of the couch. Damn! Should have gone with the left first, he thought, more strength in the right.
Dammit! He inhaled, held it and hopped off his left foot…A perfect maneuver…He was clearing the couch, the man…and then his right foot landed on something other than the floor.
A damn shoe!
His ankle twisted and he fell backward. Oh shit! He landed on his back on the couch, legs akimbo, his groin only a few inches from the man’s feet.
Again the man stopped snoring, and Eric watched the man’s chest stop rising and falling as well. Is he dead? The snoring restarted and the man crossed his right leg over the left and rested his feet squarely in Eric’s crotch. Rivulets of sweat dripped down Eric’s face and the stench of the man’s feet almost made him hurl.
A monk, he promised. If Jesus got him out of this, he would become a monk. Promise! On my dead momma’s grave! The man rubbed his nose and dug his feet deeper into Eric’s crotch, pressing his genitals in a most painful manner.
Certain he would lose his most vital organ, Eric grabbed a throw pillow, lifted the man legs, extricated himself gently but quickly and lowered the man’s feet onto the pillow. He tiptoed to the door, eased the chain free and quietly unlocked the deadbolt.
Free at last, thank God almighty, free at last!
He opened the door. If the man awoke now, no chance could he catch him. Not in a million years.
Eric stuck out his tongue at him and whispered, “You better lay off the steroids, mercury mouth. They’ll give you titties, shrink your stones.” When he turned to leave, a woman appeared in the doorway.
“Who the hell are you?” she said. Eric tried to push past her, but couldn’t get around her wide body. “Who the hell are you?”
Eric tried again to push past her, and she knocked him back with her substantial stomach.
“Walter!” the woman screamed. “Walter!”
Eric saw the man getting up from the couch. No time for bullshit now! He faked toward the woman’s right, then broke through on her left. On the porch, gearing up for top speed, he felt hands grab his wrist, pulling him.
“Walter! Walter! Walter!” She held on tight. Eric jerked hard; the woman’s grip loosened. He jerked again, pulling free momentarily…The woman caught hold of the sleeve to his favorite shirt, a gold silk Sean Jean that Shirley had bought him for Father’s Day. The shirt slid down his shoulder…She was pulling it right off his back.
“Walter!”
Eric pulled the woman into the front yard. “Lemme go, lady! Lemme go!” He grabbed her wrist to prevent her pulling his shirt off. “Let…me…go!”
The woman fell on her butt, using her weight for leverage, almost pulling him down with her. “Walter! Walter! Walter!”
Where the hell Walter?
Eric dragged the woman halfway across the yard, almost to the sidewalk. He heard a ripping sound and saw his shirt tearing at the shoulder seam. He made a fist with his free hand and waved it in her face.
“Let go! Or I’ll knock the shit out of you!” She didn’t. He reared back…and saw Walter running out of the house, looking distressed, a shotgun in his hands. He stopped a few feet short and aimed the shotgun at Eric’s head.
“Stand clear, Colleen!” Walter yelled. “I got him!”
Immediately the woman let go and rolled away. Eric stood there, paralytic, apoplectic, his only thought on two black holes. When something came out of those holes, his life would be officially over.
Kabooom! The noise was deafening.
“Run!” a voice yelled. “Run!” Am I in heaven? “Run!” He opened his eyes…Linda was on the man’s back, covering his eyes with her hands. “Run, Forest, run!”
Who the fuck is Forest?
“Run, fool!”
So he did, faster than he’d ever run in his life. He continued running, through the neighborhood, into the woods, along the highway, through more woods, down a dirt road, and finally up four steps and into a mobile home.
Inside he fell to his knees, huffing and puffing, vaguely aware Darlene, sitting on the couch, and Paul and one of his friends, lying on the floor in front of the television, were staring at him.
“Who’s he?” Paul’s friend asked.
“My daddy.”
Eric fell face first to the floor.
“Is he al’ight?”
“Daddy, you al’ight?”
Eric raised his head from the floor and sputtered, “Where’s…your…momma?” Then he vomited and dropped his head into the mess.
“He’s al’ight,” Paul said. “He’s al’ight.”
Chapter 35
Leonard watched people get on the Greyhound bus. All he had to do was get out of the car and get on that bus. To hell where it was going, just get on it and go, leave all his headaches and worries behind in this chickenshit town.
Dawson, Arkansas, wasn’t big enough for Greyhound to station a hub; only a small sign of a greyhound hanging on a stanchion outside of Quik-Print.
The car, Leonard thought. I can’t leave it here and get on the bus. I’ll have to return it to the rental company in El Dorado. The bus departed. He sat in the car for a few more minutes before driving away.
Ida’s car was gone when he arrived at the house. He assumed she’d gone to the store. He called Robert Earl’s number. No one answered. Then he called Shirley’s friend’s number and no one answered there. The house was dead silent and there was a smell he couldn’t quite place.
During the drive back, he decided the best thing to do was call a family meeting. Bring everyone together and have them lay their grievances on the table. He would set the tone by apologizing to Ruth Ann and Robert Earl, and, he hoped, Shirley and Ruth Ann would do likewise.
No blood spilled, no bones broken, no fratricide; and then everything would return to normal: dismal and depressing, though normal.
Sooner than the dust settled, he would get the hell out of Bucktussle and return to Chicago. Once there he would seek Victor and tell him he still love him, tell him the lure of money had gone to his head, made him talk foolish.
Leonard got up and headed toward the kitchen. He stopped, one foot on the diamond-white linoleum in the kitchen, the other on the red tile in the living room.
A scream rose to his throat…The kitchen was devastated, as if a typhoon had hit it. The refrigerator door was wide open, all its contents--eggs, milk, butter, Arm and Hammer baking soda, soda pops, ice cubes, orange juice, water jugs, pork chops, lettuce, chicken, and half a watermelon--scattered in a heap in front of it.
His mother’s microwave hung by the cord in front of a cabinet. The dinette table was flipped on its side and two of the four matching chairs were missing. His mother’s china set in a million pieces near the back door.
All the cabinet doors were open, the shelves bare. Broken bottles, dented canned goods and crushed boxes littered the floor.
Leonard saw a busted Heinz vinegar bottle and realized it was what he smelled in the living room. On the stove was a burnt piece of paper. Leonard, thinking the worst--an aborted suicide note--stepped closer, noodles crunching under his shoes. Though the paper was burn
ed to ash, he could still make out the heading.
Again he almost screamed.
He ran from room to room calling his mother. “Mother!…Mother!…Mother!” Running to the bathroom he remembered his mother’s car wasn’t in the driveway.
Mother had seen the will he’d absentmindedly left on the kitchen table and she’d gone berserk. Feeling faint, Leonard sat on the floor inside the bathroom. Mother poisoned Daddy!
The realization made his head hurt. “No!” he shouted. “Lord, no!” Yes, she did. You know she did.
The gopher poison in the closet, her repeated confessions, the wrecked kitchen, all pointed to one person.
Mother!
“Ruth Ann!” and jumped to his feet. He would have to warn her.
He sped down the highway, dangerously passing other vehicles, so focused on preventing another family tragedy he didn’t realize the Lumina clocked eighty-miles-per-hour. His mind raced faster than that.
Ruth Ann could be a bitch at times, a greedy, selfish bitch. Still she didn’t deserve to die. His mother--God, she’s an old woman! Her husband just died. She killed him! Could you really blame her? Daddy wasn’t exactly a loving husband. His shit-talking, someone was bound to knock him off sooner or later. Mother, she just hurried things along. A mercy killing, all it was. A mercy killing. Any judge with common sense would understand that.
She’ll probably have to do some jail time.
He envisioned his mother in a cell, hunkered on the floor under a bunk, while a hirsute dyke shouted salacious obscenities at her. He stomped the accelerator to the floor; the speedometer maxed out at a hundred and twenty.
Find Ruth Ann, take her to a motel out of town, and then find his mother, bring her home and put her to bed. Then what? Figure it out when you get there, he thought as he slowed down on the curved road leading into the park.
Seconds later he slammed on the brakes, almost slid into a tree, jumped out and ran up the trail, not noticing Robert Earl’s rusty Datsun parked nearby.
Nearing the cabin, he shouted, “Ruth Ann?” No answer. He started yelling for Shane when Ruth Ann appeared in the doorway. “Ruth Ann, thank God I found you!” She said nothing, only stared at him, looking frightened. “What’s the matter? Have you seen Mother?”
“No, I haven’t seen her.”
“Good. Get your shoes, I’m taking you away from here. Go on, get your shoes. You’re coming with me. I’m taking you someplace no one will find you. Hurry up!”
“You need to do something, Shirley!” said someone inside the cabin. The voice sounded like an adult trying to imitate a child.
Shirley appeared in the doorway, pointed a gun at him and shouted, “Freeze, sugar britches!”
“What are you doing?” Leonard said.
“Get those hands up where I can see them!”
“Shirley, what--” She cocked the trigger. His hands shot up. “Why are you pointing a gun at me?”
Shirley stepped out onto the porch. “Hey, you behind the door, get out here and tie this young man up.”
“I don’t think so!”
“Who is that?” Leonard asked. “Robert Earl?”
“No, it isn’t!”
Ruth Ann stepped out and stared at him over Shirley’s shoulder. “Why, Leonard? Why did you do it?”
“Why did I do what? Ruth Ann, what the hell is going on?”
Ruth Ann gave him a nasty look. “You killed Daddy.”
“What! Shirley, talk to me, please! What the hell is going on here?”
“Where were you planning to take Ruth Ann?” Shirley asked.
“To a psychiatrist. Next to a mall where she can get out of that dirty T-shirt. I’m here to save her life. For my troubles I’m rewarded with you sticking a gun in my face.”
“What did you mean telling Ruth Ann someplace no one will find you?”
“Good question,” from inside the cabin.
“Shirley,” Leonard started softly, then shouted, “will you please stop pointing that goddamn gun at me!”
Shirley lowered the gun. “He didn’t do it. He’s not the one.”
“How do you know?” Ruth Ann asked.
“Excellent question!”
“His eyes,” Shirley said.
Ruth Ann stared into his eyes, looking to see what Shirley had seen that she’d missed.
“Has this entire family gone crazy?” Leonard said. “Ruth Ann, would you please stop looking at me like that!” She looked away. “Thank you!”
“What you come up here for?” Shirley said.
“I didn’t come here to have a damn gun pointed at me, for damn sure!”
“Sorry ’bout that.”
“Shirley, that makes me feel so much better. I came here to get Ruth Ann. I think Mother might be looking to do her harm.”
Ruth Ann groaned.
Shirley said, “Why you think Momma would harm Ruth Ann?”
Leonard told them about the gopher poison in the closet, the upheaval in the kitchen and the burnt will on the stove.
“Momma!” Ruth Ann said, shaking her head. “It’s hard to believe!”
“It’s hard to believe,” Shirley said, “because it isn’t true. Momma didn’t do it. I know my momma, she didn’t do it.”
“Lord knows I would like to believe Mother wouldn’t hurt anyone. I hate to say it, everything points to her.”
“I agree with Leonard,” Ruth Ann said. “There’s no other family member left.”
“What about Robert Earl?” Leonard said.
“What about him?” from inside the cabin.
“Who is it in there, Shirley?”
“Your big brother. He’s scared.”
“No, I’m not!”
Leonard stepped into the cabin. Robert Earl was kneeling behind the door. “What are you doing?”
“What it look like?”
“Looks like you’re hiding.” Ruth Ann and Shirley stepped inside. “Where’s Shane?” he asked Ruth Ann.
“He went to get some food.”
“Taco Bell, I hope. So you and Shirley buried the hatchet?”
Ruth Ann glanced nervously at Shirley.
Shirley said, “Ruth Ann and I haven’t buried anything. We never will. She’s not my sister, never will be, never has been. Right now we’re working together.”
He looked at Ruth Ann, her eyes closed, holding back tears. “At least y’all not shooting at each other. Shirley, what were you implying when you said freeze, sugar britches?”
“It’s a pellet gun,” Shirley said.
“Wasn’t the question,” Robert Earl said.
Shirley sat down on the bed. “Look, Leonard, the will is a fake. I forged it to lure Daddy’s killer up here. When we catch the killer you can collect your share of the money and go back to Chicago.”
“A pellet gun! What you intend to do with a pellet gun, sting somebody?”
“I asked the same thing,” Ruth Ann said.
“It had you convinced, didn’t it?” Shirley said.
“Yes, it did,” Leonard said. “I don’t know anything about guns. Really, Shirley, I think we should get out of here. Someone might get hurt or killed. I understand what you’re trying to do, but it’s much too dangerous. We’ll let the police handle this. They have real guns.”
“You got my vote,” Robert Earl said.
Leonard started for the door. “Everyone ready?”
“Ruth Ann and I are staying,” Shirley said.
Robert Earl stood up. “Good luck,” he said to Shirley. “Let’s go, little brother.”
“Robert Earl, we can’t leave two women alone in the woods.”
“Why not?”
“What about you, Ruth Ann?” Leonard said. “I know you’re not agreeing to this silliness.” Ruth Ann cast an uneasy look at Shirley. “What will it be, Ruth Ann? Stay here and get hurt? Or walk down the hill with me like a woman with good sense?”
“She’s staying,” Shirley said.
“Are you, Ruth Ann?”
“Shirley,” Ruth Ann said, “I’d like to go with them. Maybe I’ll come back after a change of clothes. I want to go with them. Please, Shirley!”
Shirley sat there silently, staring at the floor. Then she snapped: “Go! Dammit, go! I’ll handle this my-damn-self!”
“You’re going, too, Shirley,” Leonard said.
Shirley rolled her head on her neck. “You and what Seal Team making me go, Leonard?”
“Robert Earl,” Leonard said, “you take her on the left, I’ll take her on the right. On the count of three…one…two--”
“I’ll beat the shit outta both of you if y’all come near me!”
Robert Earl said, “I don’t have a major problem with her staying.”
“Chicken!” Leonard said. “Ruth Ann, help me out here!”
“Bawk-bawk-bawk-bawk!”
“Shirley, please!” Leonard said. “It’s going dark out there. Listen to reason. We can’t leave you here. We love you. How could we live with ourselves knowing we left you here to fend for yourself and something bad happened to you? Stop acting childish and let’s go!”
“I said I was staying. Don’t ask me again! If you’re going, go! Leave me the hell alone!”
Leonard started toward her and said, “One of us is taking an ass-whooping. You or--” Before he could finish, Shirley sprung off the bed with a quickness. She rammed him and backed him against the wall, her forearm pressing his chest so hard he feared a rib might crack.
“Understand…one…damn thing…” Shirley said. With each pause she gave his chest a push. “Don’t…ever…threaten me…” He could smell Vienna Sausage on her breath. “…again…because…I will…” He couldn’t breathe and wondered how long before he passed out. “…take you up on it! Do…you…hear…me?” He tried to nod yes, but could only blink. “Do…you…hear--”
A gunshot rang out from outside, close.
“What was that?” Ruth Ann asked.
“Gunfire,” Shirley said, and released Leonard. He slid to the floor holding his chest.
“A pellet gun?” Ruth Ann said.
“I don’t think so,” Robert Earl said. “It sounded like a thirty-eight.”