Kiss of the Wolf

by Jim Shepard

  “When you went out to look at Tommy, after you hit him.”

  She flinched at the way he put it, at the brutality of his intent. She said, to maintain her poise, “Hold on a minute, Ma. Todd’s asking me something here.”

  She put the receiver against her chest. He had his hand on his hair and was raking his fingers downward, a self-calming strategy she’d seen him use before. “What envelope?” she said. “What are you talking about?”

  “Did you find an envelope?” he asked.

  “No. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He turned and left. She raised the phone to her ear again. “What’s goin’ on over there?” Nina asked. “He all right?”

  “Ma,” Joanie said. She was stretching the phone cord around the kitchen wall to see where he went.

  There was a faint buzzing on the line while her mother let the rudeness go.

  “You gonna see him some more?” Nina finally asked. “Your friend?”

  “I don’t know. Ma, it’s almost midnight.”

  “Bacigalupe,” her mother said softly.

  “Why do you call him that?” she asked, distracted and frantic. She heard something being dragged on the floor upstairs.

  “He was the one started using it, not me,” Nina said. “You know, Bacigalupe. Bacigalupo. ‘Kiss of the wolf.’”

  She had the sensation her chest was filling with gravel. She sat, putting a hand out to catch the chair arm.

  Upstairs, there was the hollow, wooden, grating sound of a drawer being pulled out.

  “I gotta go, Ma,” she said. “I’ll call tomorrow.”

  “Don’t bother,” her mother said, and hung up.

  She got hold of herself and hung up the phone. She stood and crossed to the living room and listened. More drawers were being pulled out. She took the stairs two at a time.

  Todd was pulling out the drawers and dumping them on the floor. He’d gotten his father’s big suitcase out of the cubbyhole storage off his bedroom and was pitching clothes into it.

  “What’s this? You’re running away?” she asked. She hadn’t succeeded in purging the mocking quality from her voice.

  “I’m movin’ out,” he said.

  There was a banging at the door downstairs. Todd stopped what he was doing, a sock hanging from his hand. She put her palm on her stomach and tried to breathe out.

  The banging resumed: four big bangs. She could hear Audrey jumping and whining and scratching at the door in excitement, but no barking.

  She hurried down the stairs. She turned on the outside light. She moved Audrey away from the back door, made sure it was locked, and peeked out.

  Bruno was holding up a bottle of champagne. He gave her a grin that showed a lot of teeth.

  She hesitated, with her hand on the doorknob. He turned his head, held both hands up, and arched his eyebrows, as if miming exaggeratedly, “It’s your move.”

  “It’s late,” she said through the door.

  “It’s early,” he called back.

  She still had her hand on the knob. “What’s the champagne for?” she asked.

  “Celebrate,” he said.

  Audrey spun and leaped in place, whining. Bruno tipped the bottle to his mouth, miming a drink. He made a face like, Mighty good.

  She turned the lock. He pushed the door into her and swept into the room. She staggered back a little into the coats and umbrellas hung opposite the door.

  The dog leaped up on him, and he lifted a knee and deflected her into the cabinets by the sink. She came at him again, and he conked her on the head with the bottom of the bottle. It sounded like a hammer pounding in a stake. She gave a yelp and flattened.

  “Don’t,” Joanie said.

  “I need her all over me right now?” he said. “We love each other. Fine. We love each other. Great. That’s established. Time for her to get outta the way.”

  “You coulda hurt her, “Joanie said. She could hear Todd on the stairs and then the creak of the risers as he climbed as quietly as he could back to his room.

  Bruno shook the champagne hard a couple of times and set it on the counter. “I was gonna bring you a Slim Jim, too. They had ’em at the checkout, but a colored woman took the last two.”

  She stood where she was, a few feet from him, frightened at what could come next. Audrey was trying to get to the bump on her head with her front paws, but all she could reach were her snout and ears.

  “You see my Windbreaker?” he asked. “I mighta left it here this afternoon.”

  She swallowed and shrugged. She said, “Well, you left it here, it’s here.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said. He looked around the room like someone deciding if he wanted to buy something.

  “Bruno,” she said. “It’s late.”

  “Here’s what I was thinking,” he said. “I was thinking I could come over, we could have a little talk.” He sat in a kitchen chair. “You could open up to me.”

  She stood there, staring at him. Audrey rolled on her back on the linoleum and finally sneezed.

  He got up and wheeled into the hallway, through the living room, and up the stairs. She froze for a minute and then ran after him.

  “Bruno, what are you doing?” she said, chasing him up the stairs. He wasn’t running. “Bruno, what are you doing?”

  He leaned his weight into Todd’s door as he turned the knob, and boomed it open. Todd was sitting on his bed, surrounded by clothes. He scuttled back against the headboard.

  “Bruno—” Joanie said, working up some real anger.

  “What’s this?” Bruno said. “We’re goin’ on a trip? Club Med? South Seas? North Pole?”

  Nobody answered.

  “Atlantic City?”

  “We’re havin’ a fight,” Joanie finally said.

  “Ah, a family thing,” Bruno said. He sat on the bed and pulled a Vikings sweat shirt out from underneath him. “I certainly don’t want to get involved in a family thing.”

  “Mom,” Todd said, like a plea.

  “Here’s what your son told me,” Bruno said. “Your son told me you hit and killed Tommy Monteleone.”

  She looked over at Todd. Their eyes met. She thought with complete clarity that this was the worst thing yet.

  “Your son told me that you then got out of the car and went over to him. Your son told me that you probably took the envelope. Your son told me you been fucking me over all this time. Making me a jerk-off. Playing me like a fucking piccolo. That’s what your son told me.” His voice hadn’t gotten any louder, but there was so much rage in it she thought it could float him over the bed.

  “No,” she said. She had to force air into her diaphragm to be heard.

  “I didn’t say that,” Todd said.

  Bruno shrugged. “This is what the kid told me. I didn’t necessarily believe it all. I thought, What do they know at that age? No offense. Maybe he made something up. Maybe he got something garbled.”

  She put her hand out to the wall. It brushed the phone.

  “The envelope thing he wasn’t sure about,” Bruno said.

  Downstairs, Audrey shook herself hard, her collar jingling and her ears flopping.

  “I think I know what your problem is here,” Joanie said.

  “My problem,” Bruno said dangerously. He folded his hands before him like an altar boy. “You think you know what my problem is.”

  He looked up at her. He contemplated her as if he meant to never forget her in that light.

  “You gonna be teaching again in the fall?” he asked.

  Her mouth fell open. She didn’t think she could endure much more of this. “Math and English,” she said.

  “It’s nice there, huh?”

  “Better than Blessed Sacrament,” she said.

  He smiled. “It’s a tough racket, teaching.” It sounded like he was talking to himself.

  “I could use some English myself,” he said, a little sadly. “I don’t express myself too good. Well. Too well. S
ee what I mean?”

  She took a deep, slow breath. She could hear Todd breathing, too.

  “You know what you gotta have in this life?” he said. “You gotta have ability. You gotta have luck. You gotta have the balls to arrive at your own conclusions.”

  “Bruno, what do you want?” she said. “C’mon.”

  “C’mon?” Bruno said. “Come on?”

  “I mean—”

  “What am I gonna be, a headline? ‘Bruno Found in the River’? ‘Bruno Washes Up on the Beach’? Is that what’s gonna happen? Because you found some money and you want to hang onto it?”

  “I didn’t find any money,” Joanie said.

  “Did you kill Tommy Monteleone?” he asked.

  She looked at his shoes. She looked at Todd, but he was looking away. “It was an accident,” she said.

  “And you lied about that. All along,” he said. “All the things we talked about. You watched me go through this all along.”

  The three of them were quiet. Bruno rubbed his nose slowly with both hands.

  “What was I supposed to tell you?” Joanie said in a low voice.

  “This was me,” Bruno said. “This wasn’t the cops, this wasn’t your fucking mother. This was me.”

  She shrugged. She swallowed again.

  “I sat there talking with you, thinking we were getting somewhere, and all along you were thinking, What a fucking jerk.”

  “I wasn’t thinking that,” Joanie said.

  “Get away from me,” he said, and she realized she had her hand out to him.

  Todd had his arms crossed and was rubbing them with his hands. He cleared his throat. When Bruno looked at him, Joanie watched him try to make himself completely still.

  Bruno turned back to her. She would not swallow again, no matter what. “And what about the new washer-dryer?” he said. “You saved your pennies in the piggy bank?”

  She was stunned, flustered at having that dragged into it. “Sandro and Nina helped us out with that.”

  “Sandro and Nina helped you out.”

  “Yes,” she said. “That’s the truth.”

  He smiled again. “The truth.”

  “The truth.”

  “You never saw any money?”

  “I never saw any money.”

  He sat there nodding. Todd started breathing again. “Well,” Bruno said. He slapped his thigh. “I apologize for the inconvenience.”

  She watched him closely. “Bruno—” she said skeptically.

  “No,” he said. “That’s what you say, that’s what you say. I got no choice but to believe you.”

  He stood up. He looked around the room at the mess. “Hey, listen,” he said. “You ever do decide to leave town, you let me know. I’ll help you run a tag sale for all this stuff. We’ll split the profits.”

  “Bruno—” she said.

  “Yeah yeah yeah,” he said. He headed to the door. He turned. “Todd,” he said, and pointed at him. “Be well.”

  “Are you in trouble?” Joanie asked. She didn’t want to extend the conversation, but she had to know. “I mean, does this have to do with the people you work for?”

  “Yeah,” Bruno said. “The people I work for. Long time ago.”

  “You and Tommy and Joey Distefano?”

  “It was a while ago,” Bruno said, almost dreamily. “And Mark Siegler. You remember Mark Siegler?”

  She felt sick. “Mark Siegler?” she said. “What happened to Mark Siegler? I thought he had that heart thing.”

  “He was killed,” Bruno said. “In a calamity.”

  “A calamity?” Joanie whispered. “What kind of calamity?”

  “Heart,” Bruno said. “Though I think a big pipe before that. Big steel pipe.” He left. She heard him going downstairs. She heard Audrey pad into the den in anticipation, getting out of his way.

  The back door opened and shut, but she still didn’t hear his car. She listened a minute longer and then went to the top of the stairs. It was quiet. She tiptoed down and peered into the kitchen, tipping her body to see down the hall better. Everything was quiet. She crossed to the kitchen window and looked out through the curtains, but she couldn’t see anything. His bottle of champagne was on the table, where he’d left it.

  She walked to the back door, thinking a horrible joke was about to be played on her. She found it locked. She tested it anyway, and looked out again, both hands on the knob.

  Bruno swung into view from the side of the window, and she shrieked and fell back into the coats.

  He looked in on her, then held up his hand in a wave and headed off down the driveway.

  She slumped to the floor, kicking the shoes and sandals they’d piled there in various directions.

  Todd was peeking into the kitchen.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  She closed her eyes and nodded. She swallowed, as if finally she could. “He scared me,” she said.

  “Is the door locked?” Todd asked.

  She nodded again. She opened her eyes.

  “You okay?”

  She stood up. She swiped at her rear and thighs, as if she’d been sitting in dirt.

  “May be we should call somebody,” he said in a frightened voice.

  She went to the phone and started dialing. When she finished, she looked at the clock. It was twelve-thirty.

  Her father answered.

  “Dad,” she said. She didn’t know what to say next.

  “You all right?” he asked. She could hear him trying to get his voice back.

  “I wake you up?” she said. She suddenly felt stupid.

  “’S all right,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “Mom there?” she asked.

  “Hold on,” her father said.

  They seemed to be fighting over the phone. Joanie couldn’t make out what they were saying. She heard a little of her mother’s voice.

  “Your mother doesn’t want to talk to you,” her father said.

  “Oh—We had a fight,” she said, trying to explain. She made a disappointed noise with her tongue.

  “Call her back tomorrow. She’ll be all right,” he said.

  She held the receiver near her chin. Her heel was bobbing and she was looking at Todd.

  “You sure you’re all right?” her father said.

  “Yeah. Go back to sleep,” she said. “Dad?” she said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks,” she said. She hung up.

  She stood looking at Todd in the light from the hallway.

  “I’m scared,” Todd said.

  “We’ll be all right,” she said. “What’s he gonna do?”

  “I’m scared,” he said. “Let’s go over their house. Let’s go over there.”

  She was going to tell him she’d have to call her father back again, but she saw his face, and her heart went out to him. “You wanna go over?” she said.

  “Just for tonight,” he said.

  “Okay,” she said. “Brush your teeth and grab a shirt for tomorrow.”

  He stood staring at her. He was starting to cry again.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry I told.”

  Before she could hug him, he turned and ran from the room.

  They’d be all right, she thought. Years from now, she meant. They loved each other too much to not be all right.

  She got her toothbrush from the bathroom downstairs and underwear and a T-shirt from her bedroom dresser. She decided against hunting up a little bag, figuring it wasn’t that much to carry loose.

  “Hurry up,” she called, and then regretted it: it probably scared him more.

  He came thumping down the stairs two at a time. He had his little green knapsack over his shoulder. “Audrey’s comin’, right?” he said.

  “Sure,” she said.

  At the back door, she hesitated. Todd’s stomach made a noise. Audrey jumped up once, in impatience.

  The garage light on the trees over the driveway reminded her of sitting in the car unde
r the streetlight the night before. She peered close to the window on the side he’d surprised her from earlier.

  “Ma,” Todd said. She looked at him. He had a claw hammer stuck in his Levi’s.

  She unlocked the door. She opened it. Audrey bodied her way out past their calves and trotted around, making sweeps with her nose.

  Joanie led Todd out and down the driveway. The garage was pretty well lighted. There was an intermittent wind.

  She heard the jingle of Audrey’s collar stop, and when she looked over her shoulder, the dog had raised her head and was looking off down the street. Joanie pulled Todd into the garage, directing him with her hand around the passenger side. As she moved down the car she checked the backseat. She called once for Audrey, got in, checked the backseat again, and then, once Todd was in, locked all the doors and rolled up the windows. Her stomach unknotted a little.

  Audrey trotted up and stood her front paws on the driver’s-side door. She unlocked it and opened it again, and the dog scrambled in over her and turned awkwardly around between them on the bench seat before settling down.

  She turned the key in the ignition. It was like there was no front end to the car.

  She sat there turning it.

  “What’s wrong?” Todd finally said. The amount of fear in his voice was paralyzing.

  She checked to see if it was in park. It was.

  “He did something to it,” Todd said.

  She opened the door. “I’m not gonna check it now,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  At the front of the garage, Audrey gave a growl and took off around the house. Joanie grabbed Todd’s hand and ran for the back door. On the step she fumbled with the key. Todd called to Audrey. Joanie finally maneuvered it into the lock and got them inside and slammed the door and locked it. A second later, Audrey came trotting down the driveway and up to the door. Joanie looked around as much as she could and let the dog in.

  “He did something to the car,” Todd said. He had his fist over the hammer in his pants, like someone with severe stomach pain. “He did something to the car to keep us here.”

  “We don’t know that,” Joanie said.

  “Call Grandpa,” Todd said. “Call Grandpa.”

  “Hold it hold it hold it,” Joanie said. She was trying to get hold of herself. She turned on the overhead light in the kitchen and sat at the table. She pushed the bottle of champagne farther away from her. “What’re we gonna say?” she asked. “The car’s not working; we think Bruno’s coming to get us?”