Impulse (6 page)

Tony?
reminds Dr. Bellows.
Don
'
t you have anything else to say? Your father has come all this way to try and make some sort of amends. Can you do that?
137

142

The guy is pissing me off. Both of them are, in fact. I tell myself to stay in control, but it won't be easy. "It's only twenty miles from here to Tahoe.

Some people drive that far every day. It's been eight effing years, Pa. Don't you own a car? Or a telephone? What the flick is your problem?

Do you know how many nights I lay in bed, wondering what I'd done to deserve your silence? What had I said? What did I ever do, but love you?" 138

143

A New Problem Pops Up

One I never expected. I can't remember, not even once in my miserable life, crying. Not when Pa first walked out the door.

Not when the judge sent me away to live in a nest of juvenile delinquent hornets. Not even the day I sprinkled Phillip's ashes over his secret Truckee

River fishing hole.
So that damn eight-

pound rainbow who keeps giving me the slip will never forget me completely,
he requested. 139

144

Okay, I almost cried that day, tears welling up black, like thunderheads boiling up over the Sierra. But they never slipped down my cheeks, not like they're doing right now. This is totally insane. All because of this strange guy, perched across from me, this completely strange guy I've never really known as my father.

So how can
he
make me cry? Why should he even want to try? "Why now, Pa? Why come back into my life now? Are you hoping to become someone's beneficiary?" 140

145

Until I Said It

The thought hadn't crossed my mind. But now that it has, I want an answer. "Well?"
How can you say such a thing, Anthony? No, I don
'
t want one. I want to make
you
mine.

"You think I want your money? I've lived just fine without it up to now."
Just fine? I know how you live, son. I know where you
'
ve been, what you
'
ve done.

That can't be true, can it? Has an invisible eye been looking my way?
I can forgive you for all of it, Anthony. The drugs. The men. Even the...
thing.

Now the tears really make me mad, chinks in my invincible armor. 141

146

That
'
s a hard thing to forgive someone for...
to forgive a son for.

Screw it. Tears or no, he's got it coming now. "
You
forgive
me?
I didn't turn my back on you, didn't leave you under Ma's thumb.

You knew what she had become, what kind of life that meant for me. Where were you, Pa, when I went hungry? Where were you, Pa, when that bastard...

never mind." 142

147

Prozac Can't Help

Lift me out of the place I'm in now. Thinking about my mother always drops me here, abandons me clear below mania into a field of solid blue. Maybe I should confess my condition, request a lithium fix. The Prozac has lately left me tossing and turning well into the night. Then, despite its antidepressant buzz, I'm tired from staying awake.

Sleepy by day; wound up at night, brain fighting my body's need for REM refreshment. I suppose I could ask for sleeping pills, but they'd drop me way down into the blue, maybe so deep I could never crawl back up. Or I could own up, ask for lith, but once I start, I can never stop. 143

148

And it has side effects, too--

lethargy weight gain, massive diarrhea. (Thirty extra pounds, despite chronic runs?)

Something else can help, the thing I crave more than clarity. Self- medication--of the most critical, physical type. I should wait until after dinner. Can't go to the table like Hansel and Gretel, trailing crumbs of red. Besides, waiting, anticipating, can be the best part. 144.

149

The Dinner Crowd

Seems quite subdued, the usual chatter strained, as if no one really wants to discuss their visit from home--or lack of one. Only Stanley seems his usual obnoxious self--poking and pushing and asking the questions no one wants to answer:
So how did it go? Any cool news? Anyone die? What
'
s your sister look like?
God, he's such a clod. I go for my plate--fried chicken, corn, and mashed potatoes. They definitely wanted to impress any parent who might inquire about tonight's meal, which is definitely the best I've had since I've been here--just enough salt, for once. As I turn toward the girls' 145

150

tables, Tony comes through the door. I try to catch his eye, but he keeps both of them fixed on the floor.

Stanley calls,
Hey, dude. How did it go? Any cool news? Hey, man... what
'
s up with your eyes?
Tony glances up, and even from here I can see the problem with his eyes-- they're red, swollen, and that can mean only one thing, something well beyond the realm of Stanley's business. 146

151

Tony
'
s Fists Clench

As he turns toward the offensive lout.
Shut the hell up, you fat fuck. I
'
m sick of you and your whining shit.

You'd think Stanley

would get the message, but the idiot dares,

I
'
m whining? Looks like you
'
re the one

doing the whining today.

Suddenly the room moves--guys push away from their tables, expecting (hoping for?) a fight. Girls jump up, move in for a close-up view of the action. Tony is ready to deliver. I've never seen anyone so intent on bestowing a blow or two--or anyone quite as deserving as 147

152

Stanley, who finally

finds some semblance of brains and says,

Hey man, just kidding.

Besides, if you hit me, it
'
s back to isolation.

Tony grabs Stanley by the cheeks, pinches them

pickled beet red.
I don
'
t give two fucks about
isolation, or you. Screw with me again, you
'
re

dead.
148

153

Melted Dr. Boston

All those pretty words worked, just like I wanted them to. Who knew a poet lurked inside my brain?

I understand better now,
said Dr. B.
Thank you, Conner, for opening up instead of playing it cool.

But I did play it cool, and in the end, she rewarded me with Level One. I can't pretend it wasn't my goal.

So I'm on my way to the dining room, where I'll sit with hungry lunatics, all of whom will turn to stare at the new guy. Paranoid?

No more than I need to be. Trust is just a five-letter word, one that comes before "not." 149

154

Still, I've got to make Dr. B believe I trust her completely, that I, Conner Aaron Sykes, wear my heart on my sleeve.

Don
'
t you feel better with all of that out in the open?
she asked.
Sharing your feelings is no small accomplishment.

Despite her corny way of putting it, I do feel somehow relieved, like I'm cutting teeth on psychoanalysis. 150

155

They don't bite one of the hands

that feed them. Speaking of food, a decent smell drifts toward me, arousing at least one basic need.

I step through the dining room door and stumble upon an interesting scene--a guy threatening to polish the floor with a dude three times his size. Everyone's watching them, but, as I predicted, all eyes now rotate toward me.

Catcalls quiet, as if everyone mistakes me for a member of the goon squad--where are they, with the stakes anted this high?

The smaller guy pushes off the fat dude's face.
Don
'
t forget

what I said, Stanley, and that

includes messing with my friends.

156

He and I need to become friends. I trail him toward the serving line as an eerie silence descends on the room.

A pretty girl--familiar-- with Hershey bar eyes and auburn

hair inserts herself between us.

She and tough guy trade hellos.

He had it coming, Tony.

Are you okay? Shall assume the outcome of your

visiting day was like mine?
152

157

That Explains a Lot

A visit from home could push me straight over the edge too-- Tony mumbles something about his father, fills his plate.

The girl reaches out, covertly caresses his shoulder, gentle and warm as September wind. Tony presses into her touch.

Inexplicably, jealousy pierces my chest. To be touched in such a way! I could easily become obsessed with this girl. She returns to her seat, but not before gifting me with her smile. Gift? I remember her now--

she's the one I saw earlier, in the hail.
Hi. I
'
m Vanessa,
she says, and I think I could drown in her husky drawl. 163

158

"I--I'm Conner," I sputter, but she's already gone, something altogether new to me--a girl, walking away.

I stare at my fried chicken, corn, mashed potatoes, not

enough salt, wondering why

Vanessa and Tony mourn for families, happily living without them. Mourning them means forgiving them, something I'll

never do.

159

Cardboard Chicken

Lumpy potatoes, way too much salt. It all tastes like crap, and this most definitely is better than most meals in this freak parlor.

Guess I bit the bullet. I pretty much expected a mad rush of orderlies, hell-bent on a takedown. Maybe they were busy giving each other head or maybe they just looked the other way. I bet more than one of them would like to stick a fist in fat boy's megamouth.

160

The mouth in question has wisely disappeared from the room. Everyone else has decided to steer wide of me--everyone, that is, except for Vanessa.

She is an angel, and she's looking at me now. Studying me, no doubt trying to figure out what makes the gay guy tick. I wish I knew the answer myself. But even if I did know, I wouldn't tell her. For some left-field reason, I like the idea of her trying to figure me out.

161

The New Dude

Keeps checking me out too. Maybe he's into guys after all, or maybe he's trying to decide whether or not I am. All he's gotta do is ask.

He's sitting with Todd, who keeps probing him with stupid questions.
Hey, man, what
'
s up? Ya got a name or what? What are ya in for?

The name is
Conner, he says.
Why do you think I
'
m here? I dunno. Maybe you
'
re schizo? You don
'
t look like you use.
167

162

Not meth, that's for sure. He's way too buff to be huffing that shit, and way too clear to be cleaning himself off downers.

Conner grins.
I might very well be schizo, but that
'
s not why I
'
m here. Then you must a tried to off yourself That's
all I can think of

A very good guess, but it
'
s not something I
'
m ready to talk about.

Looks like the new guy and I have something in common, after all. 158

163

Funny How Much

You can learn about someone, by opening your ears while they talk about themselves. 'What did I learn about Conner just now?

That the guy is smart, maybe almost as smart as me. That he's strong, in control, definitely more in control than I could ever be.

Take, for example, my idiotic performance in front of my father today. I should have stayed cool. Instead I crumbled like a cracker. 159

164

But that crap about forgiveness really blew me away. I've done no more or less than I needed to, to get by. Forgiveness? For what?

And now suddenly he appears, like a ghost

materializing from out of my forgettable past--a place I'd rather just leave behind.

A place where faces wear death masks, where cold, white bodies walk the walk of zombies, where memories jump out, scream "Boo!" 160

165

It's Good to Peel Bad

For someone else, instead of myself for a change. Poor Tony looks like he's seen a ghost. I guess that's how his dad looked to him. Funny, Daddy would look the same way to me. He has only come home four times in the last six years, only stayed a week or two when he visited. Each time he's older, grayer, with meaner eyes, from seeing all he's seen.

Yes, your father knows about your mother
Grandma said.
How could I keep such a thing from him?

But he doesn't know about the role I played. Of course, Grandma doesn't know either. 161

166

She probably wouldn't believe it if someone told on me--not that anyone

else has a clue. Only me.

Just another dirty little secret, a nasty filthy secret that won't quit nibbling at me. Mama's better off where she is now, so why can't I leave myself alone?

167

Enough Introspection

I'll focus on something interesting--like Conner. In five minutes flat, he put Todd in his place, without even being mean. All he did was straighten real tall, look Todd in the eye, and basically tell him to mind his own business. You have to admire his tableside manner. Not to mention the vivid aquamarine of his eyes, the wave of his well-styled hair, the width of his shoulders. He catches me staring, smiles, and I feel like ice cream on an August sidewalk.

Lori and Dahlia sit nearby, and they're analyzing him too.
He's so cute!
says Lori.
How would you like to rub up against that?
163

168

Just like a kitty cat,
agrees Dahlia.
In fact, my kitty
'
s purring. Meow!