by A. R. Braun
Good shot, prosecution.
“Overruled,” the thin, African-American woman presiding over the court said. The judge’s glasses hung down to the tip of her nose, as if it could see instead of the eyes.
Kevin waited and waited and waited.
Please, sweet Jesus, don’t let me have to take a piss or a shit.
The shellacking rode in high and mighty. The whole back of his shirt was damp.
Goddamn it, they’ll know something strange is going on. Think cool thoughts. You’re vacationing in Alaska, in an igloo. It’s thirty below zero.
The fury that caused him to be drenched in sweat wouldn’t abate. He’d married a woman he didn’t love, had kids he couldn’t stand, and lived his life championing complacency. Yet he deserved happiness, had earned it even.
Nothing to live for but the ball game and a few beers.
Then the golden words flowed like the Nile, the judge’s words of power Kevin had yearned to hear for what seemed like an eternity:
“You may step down, Mr. Alley.”
Kevin let his arms drop, feeling like a gunslinger—a man with squinty eyes riding in on a white horse. He curled his fingers a bit.
Can I go through with this? Does this make me as bad as him?
Dick walked out in front of the hot seat, and Kevin thought about the man’s old cock busying Stacey’s vagina, the woman he loved, in the dungeon while Kevin did without her, his heart broken.
You’re damn right I can. This is for you, Stacey.
Kevin drew his weapon like Robin Hood with his bow and quiver because he’d practiced this many times in his mirror. And so he worked with stealth, putting the gun up to Dick’s crotch and firing before anyone could even say what the fuck?
A dark-red spot appeared on the crotch of Dick’s trousers.
Kevin laughed. “Huh. I blew off Dick’s dick.”
A commotion rose in the court room, first talking, then Oh, my god’s, and finally, screaming. Dick’s face blanched, his eyes widened in fear, his face and hands imitated that painting called Skrik, or The Scream in English. The old man shrieked. His took a couple of steps back, his eyebrows raised. His old high-pitched voice continued to keen in wretched agony.
“You took my high-school sweetheart,” Kevin cried. “She was supposed to be my wife!”
The officers came forward, holding their weapons on him and told Kevin to drop it. Time slowed. Everyone seemed to be moving as in an action-movie scene where the bad guy gets shot down.
This is the end of my life. Never had much of one anyway. There’s this, though: true justice.
Kevin threw the weapon toward the window, cracking the glass with an annoying crunch. Then they rushed him, uttering words he didn’t care to hear—for he’d developed selective deafness—and bound him in handcuffs.
One officer blocked his view of Dick.
Kevin scowled and grunted. “Get the fuck out of my way! I want to see him suffer like she suffered!”
As they moved him out of the courtroom, Kevin sneaked his head around a man’s head for a view.
Dick’s cock rolled out of the bottom of his pant leg, crimson mixing with the pink color, and two white testicles fell out of the other leg, blown right out of the sack. Dick looked downward, his eyes about to bulge from his head, then sat down hard when he slipped in his own blood.
Kevin grinned ear-to-ear.
Then he cackled.
<^^>
After dinner, Stacey sat watching the evening news. She was still in the children’s ward, but taking a break from her kids. The triplets were enough to drive her nuts sometimes, and she didn’t feel like walking back to her ward with all the adult screwballs—no one to relate to. Perhaps I’ll stay here till dinnertime. A nasty wind blew outside the windows, making them rattle. Rain pelted the glass. And holy shit and miracle, she’d finally gotten used to the fluorescent lights.
A few teens frowned at Stacey and left the TV room, probably too shy to ask her if they could watch MTV. She expected to hear about it from the nurse any time now, but Stacey was too tired to give a shit. Her children had simply worn her out.
A young, brown-haired man in a suit ruffled his papers on the TV screen. “And now, another report on the biggest story of the year: Dick Alley, the man who imprisoned and raped his foster daughter, Stacey Alley, was murdered in a courtroom today. Let’s go to Brian Ackerman for the report.”
Stacey let out a cry of triumph.
Devon rose from playing with Sam and the triplets in the play area, power-walked over, hand-in-hand with Bobbi, and stood by Stacey. “What’s going on, Mom?”
Stacey snapped her head Devon’s way. “Someone just killed your dad!”
Bobbi wept. “Daddy’s dead!”
Sam had brought the other two little ones over to the TV room. Now Kyra and Louisa wept, also.
“Papa,” Louisa cried.
Sam held them. “Shush. Papa went to…” She furrowed her brow at Stacey. “… h-h-heaven?”
Stacey rose from her chair, then changed the channel. She frowned at Devon. “Keep the kids from watching the news. I’m going back to my ward.”
“Kay, Mom, but that was your doin,” Devon answered, running her fingers though her curly red hair.
“Sorry.” Stacey power-walked out of the room. “I’ll be back later.” She asked the orderlies to let her out. “I need to watch TV on my ward. My foster father just got what he deserved.” She stomped through the hallway.
No one was listening to the details of her life, she knew. The orderlies locked her out.
When Stacey got to her ward, a crowd of wrinkled adults frowned at her.
Stacey said, “I need to watch the news.”
A boney man in big glasses and dull clothes said, “We’re watching the Bulls game.”
“I need to watch the fucking news now!” Stacey snatched the remote out of his hands and flipped the channel.
The man stared at her wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
The nurse stormed over. “Stacey, be fair about the TV.”
Stacey scowled at her. “This is about the man who raped me in the dungeon. I’ll give it back as soon as the report’s over.”
“Okay.” The head nurse walked back to the nurses’ station.
A thin man in a suit spoke into a microphone with a 27 sign on it. He stood outside the courthouse in Mowquakwa. “At Dick Alley’s trial, a bailiff named Kevin Browning shot Alley in the crotch, fatally wounding him. Police arrested Browning for murder. Doctors say Alley bled to death at 1:15 p.m. today. We go now to…”
Stacey stood transfixed. She dropped the remote and it thumped on the carpeting. Stacey trembled. “Oh, my god… that dear sweet man.”
Everyone in the TV room cheered.
Stacey heard clicking footfalls from behind her. A hand with painted nails fell on her shoulder. Stacey turned around to see Amanda’s bug-eyed face.
“Did you hear?” Amanda asked.
Stacey put a hand over her mouth and giggled. Then she dropped her hand and cackled. Amanda covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. But her eyes gave her away.
Stacey held her. “My Kevin, my high-school sweetheart! I love him so much!” Stacey cried tears of joy.
Apparently nonplussed, Amanda just patted her back.
Stacey pulled away and wiped her eyes. “Poor Kevin’s going to prison.”
Amanda smiled. “No court will convict him, probably.”
Stacey laughed again. “I hope not.”
The other patients walked over to her and congratulated her.
Stacey shook their hands. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” She turned to Amanda. “Everyone’s on my side.”
Amanda put her hand on Stacey’s shoulder. “See, you’ve got plenty of support.”
<^^>
Stacey had told her family she wanted to talk to them in one of their rooms. They went to Bobbi’s room. Bobbi said that since Therese was in a coma, a wan, teenage girl with purple hair named Kiki sha
red the room with her. Kiki was absent, probably one of those teens in the TV room that had given Stacey a weird look earlier, now sitting and watching MTV. Sam sat on her bed with the triplets, who hugged her and still wept.
Smiling, Devon ran up to her, clutching her arms. “Oh my god, Mom, that bastard is dead, he’s fucking dead!”
Stacey covered her mouth to stifle her giggles. She would’ve corrected Devon’s language, but was in too good a mood. Sam looked up at her with wide eyes that laughed, though she frowned.
Stacey walked up to the triplets. Outside, the storm abated. “C’mere, my angels.”
The triplets broke off from Sam and ran to her in a group hug.
“Oh, I know, I know. Don’t you worry now, Daddy’s in heaven,” she lied. Their soft little frames trembled—so precious—and hot tears soaked her. Stacey stroked their hair and rubbed their backs. They stayed like that for a good five minutes. Then Stacey rose, looking out of the corner of her eye at Sam and Devon, who stood in front of one of the beds.
“Devon, Sam, would you come with me, please?” Stacey looked at the triplets. “Mommy will be right back. You can stay in here or go watch SpongeBob SquarePants.”
Stacey joined hands with Devon and Sam and walked to the bathroom with them, then shut the door and locked it. Sam started laughing. They locked arms and jumped up and down, giggling maniacally.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Stacey sat in the TV room of the children’s ward with the triplets, Bobbi and Kyra under each arm, and Louisa on her lap. Devon and Sam watched Nickelodeon. The iCarly girls yelled from the screen.
“Heaven is a wonderful place,” Stacey assured. “Daddy will never cry again, he won’t have any pain, and he’ll be filled with joy.”
“Who’ll he read stories to now?” Bobbi asked. Her eyes were still red from crying, as were Kyra’s and Louisa’s.
“Well… to all the kids who died.”
“Does he still drive a car?” Kyra asked. Her whole face was red and her black hair was in her eyes a bit.
Stacey smoothed her hair from her face. “No. Daddy rides a lion now.”
“A lion?” Louisa asked, her eyes wide.
“Um-hmm.”
“I wanna ride a lion,” Bobbi said.
“Me too!” Kyra said.
“And me!” Louisa echoed.
“I wish I’d die,” Bobbi said.
Stacey laughed and held her tight.
Amanda crept up on her like a ghost.
Stacey jumped. “Don’t spook me like that. You scared the… bejudas out of me.”
“Sorry.”
“Why don’t you girls watch TV with Sam and Devon, okay?”
“Okay Mommy,” the little ones said, rubbing their eyes and walking over. Kyra and Louisa sat in Sam’s lap.
“Oh,” Sam said. “You two are getting heavy.”
Devon held her arms out to Bobbi, who ran to her. Devon set her in her lap.
Stacey went to Amanda, no longer having the hots for her.
“Sorry to crash the party,” Amanda said. “But I’ve got some good news.”
“No news is good news,” Devon snapped. She turned back to the TV screen.
Stacey snapped her head Devon’s way. “Shush.” She looked at Amanda. “Is it Therese? Is she out of her coma?”
The kids cried “Oh, my god” and ran over.
Amanda said, “No, I’m sorry.”
Devon hissed. “Told ya.” Sighing, she walked back over to the TV.
Stacey cocked her head. “Then what’s the good news?”
Amanda smiled. “I’d rather show you than tell you.” She opened the door. “Boys, bring ‘em in!”
Zander and Wesley each lugged in a huge postal sack, with the letters spilling out from the bulk.
“Where do you want ‘em?” Zander asked.
Stacey looked at Amanda. “Bobbi’s room?”
Amanda nodded.
“Oh wow!” Sam said, Devon echoing her. The kids followed the orderlies to one of the tables in the children’s room where they plopped the bags down.
Overhead, the lights buzzed and flickered once, then righted themselves. It being early spring, neither the heater nor central air blared. Stacey thought the weather perfect.
Amanda giggled. “It seems Mowquakwa’s residents, especially the kids, have sent you get-well cards.” The kids were opening them and gawking at the cards already.
“Oh god, Mom,” Devon cried. “These are awesome!”
“Other kids drew us cards with crayons!” Sam said.
“Cool,” Bobbi said in that little person’s voice.
Stacey grinned ear to ear. “That’s nice of them.” She went to the table and sorted through the cards, looking for letters from the adults of the town, as well as the kids.
Amanda laughed. “That’s just the first batch. You’re getting them from around the country… and all over the world.”
Stacey put her hand over her mouth and yipped as the orderlies brought in a couple more bags.
“And don’t think they aren’t praying for Therese,” Amanda added. “I’ve seen news reports of vigils on the TV.”
Stacey gasped.
“You are loved,” Amanda said.
Stacey was embarrassed and felt heat rush into her face. “How many bags are there?”
“Ten,” Amanda asked. “Enjoy. That ought to keep you busy for the rest of the night.”
Stacey laughed, putting her face in her hands. Then she looked at Amanda. “If not the rest of the year.”
Amanda smiled. “I’m so happy for you.” She giggled. “I’d better get back to my office.”
Stacey sorted through more as the orderlies huffed, lugging the rest of the bags in.
“Kids, we’re going to write thank-you notes to all of these people.”
“This one says god loves us,” Sam said, grinning. “Oh, and they’re praying for Therese.”
“Oh, my god,” Devon cried, eyes wide. “This one’s from a teenage boy!”
“This one says ‘Hope Therese gets well soon,’ “ Bobbi said.
“Aw. That’s nice.” Stacey sorted like mad. She found the one she’d been searching for, from Kevin Browning. She sucked in an audible breath and tore it open like a mad hatter.
Devon looked up, her mouth shaped in an o. “Who’s that from, Mom?”
Stacey grinned from ear-to-ear as she began to read it. “My boyfriend from high school.”
“Woo,” Devon and Sam cooed.
Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she read the letter:
Dear Stacey, love of my life,
By the time you read this, I will have made that bastard foster father pay for what he did to you. You were the one I loved, not the woman I married and had two rotten kids with.
I knew he was hurting you!
Stacey gasped with joy, wiping her eyes. She reached for the tissue box.
I apologize for not doing something earlier, but honey, why didn’t you tell me? I asked you. I knew from the time he followed us on our first date that he was a freak.
I can’t let him get away with spoiling our love.
You’re the one I should’ve married, the one I always yearned for. I’m going to kill your foster dad for what he did to you, and to me. When I go to prison, I want you to remember this last token of my love for you, forever. Come visit me if you like, or not, but I’ll always love you and only you. I divorced my wife and I’m sorry I married her.
Maybe in heaven we’ll finally be a couple. Why can’t we just live and be left alone?
I love you so much, more than anything and anyone, always and eternally. If I was there, I’d shower you with kisses and make sweet love to you. Your kids would be my kids and my heart would be merged with yours, together as one, until we fell asleep listening to our heartbeats thump together in a symbiosis of the soul. I’m yours forever.
Your man,
Kevin Browning
Stacey held the letter (which already
had a few tear stains on it before she’d started reading) to her bosom and bawled.
I’m no lesbian, Stacey thought. God, I love him.
<^^>
The next day, in the afternoon, Stacey and the kids walked back from the cafeteria and gawked at the glass windows—that comprised the whole walls on both sides in the halls— and checked out the weather. The sun shone in so brightly, Stacey blinked. They smiled as they listened to birdsong in a tree.
Stacey caught Amanda buzzing to get back into the ward. Standing next to her counselor was a middle-aged, black-haired man with a stocky build. He toted a briefcase.
The many footfalls, like a stampeding herd, stopped short.
Amanda snapped her head around. “There you are! This man is here to see you. He’s a lawyer.”
Devon scrunched up her face as she looked at her mother. Sam furrowed her brow, staring at the man. The triplets walked up to him and smiled, then jumped up and down.
“Lawyer! Lawyer! Lawyer! Lawyer! Lawyer! Lawyer! Lawyer!” they said.
The man smiled. “That’s my gig.”
“What’s a gig?” Louisa asked.
The other two echoed that sentiment.
“What you do for a living,” the lawyer answered.
“Oh,” the triplets answered.
A loud buzzer sounded and everyone walked into the ward.
Amanda spread her hand toward the in-house dining room. “Stacey, you can talk to him in there. Do you want me to take the kids back to their ward?”
Stacey nodded.
Devon put her hands on her hips. “Oh Mom. Why can’t we stay?”
Stacey put her hands on Devon’s back and turned her around, shoving her gingerly. “Go with Amanda. Let the nice man and me talk.”
Sam bent in front of Kyra and Louisa. “Wanna watch cartoons?”
“Yay,” they cried.
Devon took Bobbi’s hand and walked away. Sam kept looking over her shoulder at Stacey, as did Devon.
The man gestured toward the in-house dining room. “Shall we?”
Stacey walked in. The chatter of the other patients died down when he followed her and closed the door. A monopoly game ended, and a few male patients left the in-house dining room, one threatening to kick the other’s ass for winning. Stacey pulled a chair out and sat, scooting it in a bit. The man set his briefcase on the table, took out a document, pulled his scraping chair out, and sat.