by Sam Millar
Chapter Ten
The Kiss of Death
A monster horrendous, hideous and vast depraved of sight.
Virgil, Aeneid
‘Where’ve you been?’ Mom challenged, as I approached the porch on my return from Devlin’s barn. Mom was sitting with a copy of Life magazine, opened near the middle spread. Dad was reading one of the many comic strips in the newspaper, and smoking his pipe.
‘Just walking about.’ I wasn’t in the mood for one of Mom’s interrogations. Devlin and her gruesome paintings were still seared into my mind. ‘Now that I’m only allowed to run about with Horseshoe, I don’t have too many choices.’
‘Stop with the martyr complex, Tommy. No one said you could only have one friend. That’s a decision you’ve made. What about David Klein, across the road? He seems a nice enough boy. You could become friends with him. I always see him playing basketball with his little sister.’
‘It’s because he has no friends that he plays with his little sister,’ I said, a snide smirk forming on my face. ‘We asked him once, last year, to play football with us. The sissy almost fainted.’
‘Don’t talk like that in this house, calling any person a sissy.’
‘I’m not in the house. I’m outside it.’
I instantly regretted trying to be smart with Mom. It was not very smart.
Mom’s war face came on. She let the magazine slip down the side of her legs, as if she were going for a gun or stiletto blade. ‘For your information, smart mouth, David Klein’s father died in Vietnam. You should be grateful you have a father to teach you football.’
So far, Dad had remained neutral, not getting himself involved in the argument. Now he said, quite calmly and to no one in particular, ‘Peanuts.’
Both Mom and I looked at him quizzically.
‘What? What about Peanuts?’ I said.
‘You enjoy reading Peanuts, don’t you?’
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘It’s okay.’ I loved Peanuts, the whole motley crew. But I wasn’t going to admit that to Dad or anyone else.
‘The Klein kid across the road. A bit like Charlie Brown. Meek, nervous, lacks self-confidence. Probably can’t fly a kite and never won a baseball game in his life, never mind trying to kick a football. Doesn’t make him a bad guy, does it?’
I shrugged my shoulders again. ‘I guess not …’
‘Who knows, then? Maybe some time you’ll get the chance to show him how to kick a football or throw a mean curve ball, the way I’ve seen you throw?’
‘Maybe …’
‘Good. That’s that sorted. After dinner, we’re going to see Diamonds Are Forever. That okay with you?’
‘Diamonds Are Forever! You bet it’s okay!’
Dad smiled, popped the pipe back in his mouth and went back to reading his newspaper. He wore a pleased little smile, having successfully prevented war with his worldly words of wisdom. Mom went back to reading Life magazine, looking equally pleased at having just won the battle. I smiled too, went inside and up to my room, whistling the theme to James Bond.
This was what summer was all about.
‘We’re gonna be late!’ I kept shouting up the stairs to Mom and Dad. There was panic in my voice. ‘We’ll not get good seats.’
‘Stop shouting!’ Mom shouted. ‘There’s plenty of time.’
She was right, but I was impatient to see James Bond do his thing, and to check out all the fantastic, futuristic gadgetry he got to play with. Plus, there was always a beautiful girl to be rescued, like Ursula Andress. Or, as Horseshoe liked to call her, Ursula Undress.
We arrived with plenty of time to spare, but like a sardine can, the place was packed to the gills. Thankfully, being sheriff brought a few perks for Dad, and we were allocated prime seating, right at the front of the balcony.
‘Boy, am I gonna enjoy this,’ I said.
Not if Mom had anything to do with it. ‘Going to. Not gonna,’ she said.
I stood up.
‘What’re you doing now?’ asked Mom irritably.
‘I need to go.’
‘Go?’
‘To the john.’
Even in the dull light, I could see Mom cringe at the word john. ‘I warned you not to be drinking so much Coke. You were asked if you needed to go to the bathroom before we left the house.’
‘I didn’t need to go back at the house,’ I said, easing myself out of the row of seats. My bladder was ready to explode. If I continued to have a pissing contest with Mom, I would end up pissing myself.
‘Make sure you wash your hands,’ Mom said, getting the last word in as usual.
The Strand’s restroom was tiny, outdated and dank, but it did the job – which wasn’t saying much, considering what the job was. A naked light bulb dangled from the ceiling like a hangman’s noose, giving off a chalky greyness. The bulb looked to be on its last legs, crackling and spitting.
Unzipping my jeans, I leaned into the urinal and did what came naturally. My bladder slowly deflated like a pierced balloon.
‘Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Lovely,’ I sighed with relief.
Just as I came to the end of my task, the door creaked, and then closed very quietly. Almost immediately, the ambience of the confined space changed dramatically. The damn bulb died and the room was thrown into absolute pitch blackness.
‘Shit!’
I quickly re-zipped. No hand washing. I needed to get the hell out of there. I fumbled desperately in the dark for the door handle, but failed to find it.
‘Thought you liked fucking about in the dark?’ whispered a voice close to my ear, scaring the shit clean out of me. The voice had its own pungent smell. ‘Not so brave without your two pals, are you, boy?
My eyes began acclimatising. I could just about make out the shadowy figure, now standing in the far corner. Tall. Skinny. Hairless. Armstrong.
‘You … you don’t scare me. I know … I know who you are.’
‘More importantly, I know who you are, boy. Took me a bit of time to figure out where I’d seen you before, when you attacked my trailer that night.’ He sniggered the answer. ‘In the newspapers. Pictures of you. Trying to save your little pal, Joey Woey.’
‘Any second now, my Dad’s gonna come through that door, and blow your stinking hairless head off, you filthy bastard!’
‘Your daddy? Your daddy’s sitting down there with your mama, all nice and snug. He’s eating popcorn, and she’s eating his tiny fat dick.’
Blood rushed to my head. I took a run at him, arms swinging wildly. ‘Don’t talk about my mom like that, you filthy –!’
He stuck out his leg and I went crashing against the door, banging my head. I was dazed. The blackness in the room changed to blue and red.
‘You got balls, I’ll say that for you, boy. Bigger than your daddy’s – though that ain’t saying much.’ He leaned down into my face. I could smell chewing tobacco and whiskey on his breath. ‘That was mighty nice of you, to come and visit me in my trailer. Well, I’m gonna return the favour. I’m gonna come visiting you, when you’re tucked up in bed, give you something really nice, and it sure as hell ain’t small and fat.’
‘You … you better keep away from me. I … I’m warning you. My Dad’ll kill you if you –’
‘Bye-bye, sweetie pie, see you in a little while.’ He groped my balls, before kissing me full on the mouth.
I heard the door close. Then silence. Only the sound of my heart banging against my chest. It went on forever. Then stopped. I tilted my head to the side, and vomited all over the floor.
Chapter Eleven
Painted Confusion
This painted child of dirt that stinks and stings.
Pope, An Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot
‘You feeling better, Tommy?’ asked Dad, next morning over breakfast. ‘That’s one hell of a bump you got. That head of yours must’ve made some hole in the door.’
‘It doesn’t hurt. I’m fine.’ The throbbing black-and-blue bump on my forehead was the size of a baby’s
fist. It hurt like hell.
Despite brushing my teeth fifty million times and showering twice, I could still taste Armstrong’s filthy presence in my mouth and on my skin. My stomach heaved again at the thought of his touch and filthy lips. I couldn’t tell Dad about the encounter with Armstrong, after denying I had been to his trailer. It would open up a very nasty can of worms. I’d have to tell him about Brent, about the gun and the plan. Horseshoe would be dragged into it also. There’d be hell to pay.
‘I warned you not to be stuffing your face before we went to the movies,’ Mom said, full of her usual sympathy. ‘Would you listen? No, of course not. Vomiting all over the place. It was embarrassing, having to haul you home last night, with all those people holding their noses. And to add insult to injury, the movie had only just begun.’
I was about to say something stupid to Mom, but Dad came to my rescue in the nick of time.
‘The movie’s no big deal. I can get more tickets, Helen. And as for some of those people holding their noses? I could name two or three of those nose-holders who I’ve had to put in the slammer overnight, for urinating and vomiting in the street. Don’t get me started about those pure, upstanding citizens.’
We went back to finishing our breakfast. I was hoping that was the end of the discussion about last night. Of course, Mom had other ideas.
‘You’re not up to something, are you?’ she said, looking at me suspiciously.
‘What’s that supposed to mean? Why would I be up to something?’
‘I don’t know. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but you’ve been behaving differently of late.’
Mom was right. I had been behaving differently, ever since meeting Devlin.
Dad smiled. ‘Men can’t win, Tommy. Even when we’re not up to something, we’re up to something. You’ll discover that as you get older.’
‘Just make sure you’re not up to something,’ said Mom, tightening her eyes as she watched me leave the table and head out the door.
A few hours later, I was sitting on my old rusted swing in the front garden, reading The Flash. Dad had just left for work. Mom was in the kitchen, making some kind of stew. Mom’s stew never looked good, but always managed to taste delicious.
‘Not think you’re a bit old to be on a baby swing?’ said a voice behind me.
It took a few seconds for me to take in the fact that Devlin was standing right there, smiling, dressed in her usual denims.
‘Devlin … I … you said you couldn’t see me for a week.’ I tried to conceal The Flash, while slowly slipping down off the swing. I didn’t know which was the most embarrassing: getting caught on my old swing or being seen reading the comic book.
‘Not glad to see me, Tommy?’ she said in a teasing tone.
‘Of course I am, but … how did you find out where I lived?’
‘The sheriff’s house. You told me your pa was the sheriff. Remember? Everyone in town knows where the sheriff lives. Why? Is there a problem, me being here?’
‘A problem? Why … why would there be a problem?’ I said, thinking about the problem making stew inside at this moment.
‘I brought you something to see.’
It was then that I noticed the large satchel resting at her feet. She bent down, and retrieved something from it. A small canvas.
‘Well? What do you think?’ she asked.
It was a drawing of someone, buck-naked, and that someone was me. Had to be, despite its strangeness and distorted lumpiness.
‘You hate it,’ Devlin accused, looking disappointed.
‘It’s me, isn’t it?’
Devlin nodded. ‘Yes. Perhaps not the way you see yourself, but the way I see you.’
The more I looked at it, the more the body parts, the facial expression, came together in my head. It really was me, or some part of me, hidden until now.
‘It’s … it’s brilliant, Devlin. Brilliant …’
She smiled. It was a smile filled with pride and something else. I wanted to think it was love. It was the first time I detected a hint of vulnerability behind her tough exterior.
‘Don’t get too carried away,’ she said. ‘I made you a lot bigger than you actually are.’
‘Bigger?’
She laughed at the expression on my face. Then she pointed at my larger-than-life penis on canvas.
‘Very funny,’ I said.
‘You can keep it, if you like.’
‘Keep it? You really mean that?’
‘I don’t usually give away my drawings, but … well, you can have this one.’
‘It’s the best gift I’ve ever been given. I wish I could give you something in return, some sort of payment for it.’
‘You can let me on your swing, for starters,’ she said, quickly making herself comfortable on the swing’s uncomfortable wooden seat. ‘Well? Aren’t you gonna push me?’
I carefully put the drawing down, rushed behind her, and began pushing.
‘Harder! Higher!’ she shouted, each time my palms pushed against the small of her back. ‘Harderrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!’
She was laughing uncontrollably. I was grinning like a clown. Then I saw Mom, watching through the window. She wasn’t grinning at my clowning around. I prayed to God she wouldn’t come out and embarrass me in front of Devlin.
After about fifteen minutes, Devlin slowed the swinging down and jumped off.
‘Tommy … look, I really like you – a lot. You know that, don’t you?’
I nodded. This was music to my ears. She had never professed any feelings towards me before. It had all been one-way street, until this declaration.
‘I’ve already told you, Devlin, how I feel about you. It’s more than like. A lot more. I … I love you. I really do’
‘That’s what makes this so hard.’
‘Makes what so hard?’
‘I won’t be able to see you for some time.’
‘Some time? How long is some time?
‘Long.’
‘What?’ An invisible fist punched me in the gut. Hard. ‘Why, what’s wrong?’
‘It’s Ma. She’s become very … unwell. A lot sicker than usual …’
Her voice trailed off. There was a mysterious edge to it, a lot she didn’t want to tell me. She looked away, embarrassed.
But her embarrassment meant little to me. I didn’t care about a sick mother. What about me? If I didn’t get to see Devlin, I’d be the one ending up sick. To hell with her mother.
‘How long, Devlin, before I see you again?’ I tried to calm my voice, but I couldn’t. Panic was evident. ‘I could help you with your mom, if you like, and –’
‘No!’ she screamed, so loud I jumped. ‘No … this … this is something I have to deal with alone. Don’t get all mushy with me. I don’t like it.’
‘Is that why you gave me the drawing? As a pay-off?’
For a split second, I thought she was going to slap my face. Instead, she turned to go.
I quickly grabbed her arm. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.’
‘I warned you about saying sorry to me.’ She pushed me angrily away.
‘Please don’t go.’ I sounded desperate. I was desperate. ‘I’ll do whatever you ask, Devlin, just don’t leave me wondering when I can see you again. I can’t bear it.’
She looked at me as if I were a scraggy mutt that had once been a cute puppy, but had now overstayed its welcome, shitting everywhere in the house.
‘I’ve got to go,’ was all she said, as she quickly walked off.
I just stood, watching her getting smaller and smaller in the distance, like an exclamation mark slowly becoming a period. Then the period vanished …
That same evening at dinner, Mom kept glancing at me strangely. Dad looked uncomfortable. I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but knowing Mom, I could guarantee it wouldn’t be long before she let me know.
‘I think your father has something he wants to ask you,’ Mom said, looking at me from across the tabl
e. Her face was more serious that usual, which was saying something.
Dad looked even more uncomfortable now, as if he’d just been ambushed by the best ambusher in the business.
‘Yes … well … look, Son … your mother … what I mean is … is there something you need to discuss with us? Something you need to tell us?’
My mind was racing, struggling to think what the hell I had done, but before I could come up with something, Mom cut in.
‘We – your father and I – are not narrow-minded, even though at times you might think so. No, far from it …’ She looked to Dad again for support.
‘Far from it,’ he said, nodding vigorously in agreement.
‘Do you want to tell us about it?’ Mom said, looking me straight in the eyes.
‘About what? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Honest I don’t.’
‘I see. So, that’s the way you want to play it?’
‘Play what? What is it you think I’ve done?’ I was becoming exasperated.
Mom left the table, and went into the living room. I looked across at Dad. He pretended to be eating his meal.
‘What’s this all about, Dad?’
But before he could answer, Mom’s footsteps came towards us.
‘I discovered this about an hour ago while cleaning your room,’ said Mom, face as red as Rudolph’s nose. She placed something on the table. ‘Well? What do you have to say about it?’
Shit! It was Devlin’s drawing.
‘I …’ My throat went dry. I could feel the blood draining from my face.
‘A naked man?’ Mom shook her head. ‘I can’t believe you’re doing this to us.’
‘I’m not doing anything! It’s only a drawing.’
‘Look, your father and I know young people your age go through different stages, until you mature. Young people like to … well, they like to … experiment.’ Mom looked at Dad. ‘Isn’t that right, Frank?’