Concrete Angel

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Concrete Angel Page 28

by Patricia Abbott


  I made a move toward my mother, wanting to rip her head off, shut that damned mouth of hers, stub her out like a spent cigarette. I wished I’d decided to kill her—made a plan for murder instead. She stepped away from my lunge, tripped on a toy Ryan had left on the floor—how apropos—and the gun went off.

  I’m not sure what happened next, but the bullet skimmed my shoulder on its way into the wall behind me. I felt it down in my soul somewhere too. We both stood there stunned—for what seemed like forever.

  “You almost shot me,” I said, not at all surprised.

  “Well, you tripped me—or backed me into a corner.” She set the gun on a table. “You should know better than that. You can’t make any sudden moves when I’m agitated. Why did you have to get me so upset?” She paused and asked quietly, “Are you okay? God, I’m sorry. I never would’ve fired it.”

  “How could I have forgotten about you and your corners?” I examined my shoulder. “I wasn’t there when Jerry Santini made his move, you know. I was sound asleep.” She’d managed to phrase it as if Jerry’s move was made on her—and not part of his futile attempt to call the cops.

  She nodded wearily. “I barely remember that night, you know. I wasn’t myself, of course.” She laughed lightly.

  “I know.”

  “What will you tell people if I take off? That’s what you have in mind, right? Your arm is all right, isn’t it? You do know I wouldn’t have shot you except for the toy I tripped over. I only meant to scare you.”

  I bet she’d had the same thing in mind six years earlier. I nodded. “I’ll say you couldn’t stomach the idea of raising another child. Something along those lines anyway.” I paused. “There aren’t many people to explain it to.”

  “You’ll tell your father that story?”

  I nodded. “He won’t question it. And listen, Bud has to go too. And all remnants of the stuff you’ve been up to must disappear.”

  “I wouldn’t go without him.”

  “So this is the deal. Leave enough money behind to keep us going for a while—a year or two. You do have enough money to do that?” She nodded. “You’ll never come back—no matter how tempted you are. No matter what happens. When Grandmother dies, you won’t return. I don’t want your address after you get there—but give it to Daddy just in case—once you are permanently settled at least. He can keep it somewhere. He’s used to keeping family secrets.”

  “Maybe jail would be better. My term would have an end date.”

  “It’s up to you,” I said, waiting.

  “You’d actually turn me in.”

  I could see she still didn’t believe it. Didn’t believe her faithful dog was lost to her. I wasn’t sure either but I had to appear adamant—sure of it.

  “In a heartbeat.” My voice was strong. “And another thing, you have to go far away. Maybe the west coast. I don’t want any accidental meetings.”

  “I’ve always wanted to see San Diego,” she said. “I’m not used to being without you—we’ve been through so much… I hope I can do it.”

  I covered my ears— literally—something I should have done many years earlier. “You have two weeks to get yourself together, but I’m taking Ryan to Daddy’s tonight.”

  For the first time, yes, the very first time, she started to cry.

  “He really is Mickey’s kid, you know.” She dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I never cheated on Mick.”

  I wonder if she thought it mattered to me.

  “I don’t know how he got it into his head. Maybe it was only his excuse to leave because I was never the promiscuous type. He knew that.”

  She paused. “And you, Baby. You are the love of my life. You know that. Right, Christine?”

  I think she believed it. And some part of me did too. We’d been through so much together. Most of it bad but still it was our story. The only one we had.

  We tiptoed into Ryan’s room together. I packed a few of his clothes while she watched him sleep. I packed a few of mine too. Ryan didn’t wake up when I lifted him from his bed. His head settled into my shoulder like it had been made to fit there.

  I put on my jacket, and struggling with the weight of my brother, picked up the packed clothes, and the attaché. Of course, there was no asking her to help me. There never had been. I could sense Mother standing at the open door, could feel her hoping I’d relent, turn back, something. Relent and be the love of her life.

  I can’t say no tears slid down my cheek, or that her stricken face wasn’t seared on my brain. But out on the street, Jason was waiting for me, the car running. Ryan and I climbed in and none of us looked back.

  When writing acknowledgements at my age, the people to thank is very long indeed. But I will limit this list to those who inspired me to keep working on a novel.

  To my friends and family: I love you so much.

  To my writing groups: heartfelt thanks and gratitude.

  To my teachers: M.L. Liebler and Chris Leland-dispensers of courage and advice

  To three special writers/friends who read my work in many stages: Anca Vlasopolos, Dennis James, and Dorene O’Brien

  To Jason Pinter, Brian Lindenmuth, and Bryon Quertermous, editors extraordinaire

  And most of all: to Sandra Scoppettone and Philip Abbott, my midwives. I love you.

  Patricia Abbott is the author of more than 100 stories in print, online, and in various anthologies. In 2009, she won a Derringer Award for her story MY HERO. She is the author of two ebooks of stories: MONKEY JUSTICE and HOME INVASION (through Snubnose Press). She is the co-editor of DISCOUNT NOIR (Unteed Reads). She makes her home in Detroit.

  CONCRETE ANGEL is her debut novel. Visit her online at pattinase.blogspot.com and follow her on Twitter at ‪@Pattinaseabbott‬‪.‬

  The following is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in an entirely fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 by Patricia Abbott

  Cover and jacket design by Georgia Morrissey

  Ebook designed and formatted by:

  www.emtippettsbookdesigns.com

  ISBN 978-1-940610-44-3

  First ebook edition June 2015 by Polis Books, LLC

  1201 Hudson St.

  Hoboken, NJ 07030

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Copyright Notice

 

 

 

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