Rule of the Bone (16 page)

I asked if him and my mom were splitting up and he said no, they just needed to give each other a little space on account of she had gone into AA, he said and now he was going to have to do the same if he wanted her back and he did. He was going in today as a matter of fact.

My
morn
? I said. In Alcoholics Anonymous? Like she's an alcoholic?

Yeah, AA or something like that, one of those groups that meet over at the hospital. AA or Al Anon or Ali Baba or PLO or some damn thing, it don't matter, they all say the same shit. They're right though, Chappie. They are. They get you straightened out and keep you there. But your mom, she's turned into a real hardass on this drinking thing.

It turned out she herself wasn't exactly an alcoholic he explained, or at least she said she wasn't but she was like in this group of people who all claimed their husbands and wives were alcoholics and drug addicts et cetera and they got together once a week and talked to each other about it and according to Ken if you wanted to get your wife back you had to go into AA and give up booze or drugs or whatever they said you were addicted to.

Sounds weird, I said and he said yeah, it was but he really wanted her back so he was going to do it.

You want some help cleaning up? I said. She might be willing to come back home if the place is clean and all and I'm here now. I was thinking I kind of needed her to be living here with or without Ken because my grandmother's place was this small one-room apartment in the Mayflower Arms in town with no kitchen and only this tiny alcove for a bed which meant my mom was sleeping on the couch so no way I could live there with her.

Ken thought that was a terrific idea and smiled for the first time but first would I check the fridge and see was there a beer. I did but didn't enjoy it especially because the fridge was so filthy and I knew I'd be the one to have to clean it. In spite of Ken being such a neatnik and all I'd never seen him lift a finger to clean anything himself. It was always me or my mom.

I brought him his beer and handed it to him and when I did he grabbed my wrist real hard. What the fuck's
this
? he said meaning my tattoo.

Nothin', I said and tried to get away but he wouldn't let me. You little
pussy
! he said. You fucking
twat,
getting yourself tattooed like some kind of fucking fag. You got one on your ass yet? Lemme see, fag, lemme see your ass, he said and he made a grab for my shorts and when he did I slipped out of his grip. I ran back into the kitchen and he hollered, Get the hell back here, I'm gonna fuck you right once and for all!

I could've gotten out the door easy then and he wouldn't've caught me, he was drunk and half naked and I'm a good runner but instead I reached into my backpack and pulled out the gun and turned and very calmly walked back into the livingroom just as he was coming around the coffee table and I saw he had his boner again.

He saw the gun though and stopped. He goes, Oh c'mon, Chappie, just give me that. You don't know how to use that.

Try me, you sonofabitch. C'mon, let me burn you with it, man. I mean it.
Please
! I said. I really wanted him to take one step toward me or to call me a fag again or a twat or a pussy. I really wanted him to say he was gonna fuck me right. I wanted to hear the words one more time, that's all, and for him to take one more step toward me. Just one. Because I wanted to kill him. I have never wanted anything in my life as much as I wanted to kill my stepfather at that moment. But I knew I couldn't do it unless he said one more bad thing to me or took one more step toward me. It was like a deal I had made with God, like I had been given legal permission by God to shoot the fucker in the face but only if he went one step further than he'd already gone in my life, only if he went one step beyond all the nights he'd sneaked into my room and made me touch his dick and suck on it for him and then called me a little cocksucker, one step beyond all the lies he told to my mom and made me tell too so she wouldn't know, all the times he said he'd cut off my dick if I told and no one'd believe me anyhow because everyone knew that whatever happened was my own fault because I was the one who sucked the cock, one step beyond all the times he hit me and then was sorry and came into my room to apologize and lay down on my bed and ended up jerking off in the dark next to me. Please, please, Ken, call me a twat, call me a fag, come at me now, reach out and try to take this gun away, try to grab my wrist,
please
!

He didn't. The sonofabitch. He fell back onto the couch and put his head in his hands and started to cry. It was the first time I'd ever seen him cry and he cried like a little kid, sobbing and drooling with snot running down and everything, his shoulders and back jumping like he was throwing up. It was pretty pathetic but I didn't feel one bit sorry for him. I was only sorry that I hadn't been able to shoot him in the face, a lost opportunity that I knew would never come my way again.

I turned around then and went into the kitchen and picked up my backpack and put the gun inside it and stepped out the door and shut it behind me. Standing out there on the deck I felt incredibly calm and almost old, like I was an elderly and had already lived my whole life and was only waiting around now to die. It was a cool gray day and looked and felt like it was going to rain. The leaves on the trees'd turned upside down and silver. The wind was blowing and a bank of dark clouds was building up over toward Jay which is where a lot of summer storms come from in Au Sable. Slowly I walked down the steps past my old rusting dirt bike and out to the street where I stopped for a minute and thought about Willie and wondered if he'd still be alive if I hadn't run away. Probably none of us'd be alive if I hadn't run away, I decided and then I turned left toward town and after a few minutes of walking real slow like in a fog I speeded up some. I was thinking I'd better walk fast if I was going to get to the clinic where my mom worked before the rain started.

By the time I got to the clinic I'd gone all trembly and loose in the limbs. Even my jaw hung down and my mouth was open like I'd been shocked by the sight of something awful, a way bad accident or a bloody crime and I suppose I was. My hands were wet and my knees felt watery and I was afraid I was going to flip out if anybody looked at me the wrong way like with suspicion or even a hint of disrespect. And I was dangerous, wicked
dangerous
because after the deal back at the house with Ken I was aware now that I was carrying chrome, I was a dude with a loaded niner in his backpack who could start blasting if he wanted to and who could blast an actual person and not just some rich guy's view of the mountains. For the first time I understood how these pissed-off ex-employees or some divorced guy who didn't get child custody can walk into a post office or a Pizza Hut full of people and pull out his heater and start firing and not give a shit who gets hit. I didn't
want
to do anything like that of course but I felt like if one little thing went wrong in the next hour or two I wouldn't be able to stop myself, that's how far gone I was on account of my stepfather and the collapsed situation at our house and family and the fact that ol' Willie was dead and no one seemed to give a shit and I was trying to come home again but no one seemed to quite get that either, not even me.

The clinic is a low brick building at the edge of town near the ballfield where there was a Little League game going and some parents sitting in the bleachers watching like it was the World Series so nobody noticed me when I walked by. I almost felt invisible or like I was watching a movie with me in it even when somebody passed me on the sidewalk or drove past on the street. Everything was weirdly normal except for the storm coming up and the trees swirling around in the wind.

The waiting room at the clinic was empty of customers and silent like a morgue, spooky. I walked up to the receptionist, this blond mound of renown around town named Cherie who I knew by her reputation from guys but also slightly from before when she used to come around the house with my mom after work sometimes for a beer, and I said, Is my mom here?

She slowly looked up from the
People
magazine she was reading and said, Huh?

My mom. Is she here? I wanna talk with her, man. Who's your mom? she asked evidently not recognizing me on account of my hair grown back and no more mohawk or nose rings and earrings which in the past'd kept people from actually looking at me and seeing my face for what it was which was the whole point of course. But now I was into accepting I-self as I-Man would say and as a result I didn't give a flying fuck what people thought when they looked at me.

I said my mom's name and suddenly everything registered in Cherie's mind, meaning who I was and that I wasn't missing and presumed dead anymore which raised up a whole lot of new questions in her small mind that I did not particularly want to answer so I said, She's still in bookkeeping, ain't she?

Oh yeah, sure. But listen, Chappie honey, where have you
been
?

Call her in bookkeeping, willya, and tell her that I'm out here in the lobby and I want to talk to her about something important, I said and I turned around and walked across the room to a far corner behind this big plant where I set my pack on the floor and took a seat and crossed my legs and folded my arms. I studied the No Smoking sign and waited.

A minute or two later here came my mom looking all frazzled and scared like thanks to Cherie she expected to see me covered with blood or something. I love my mom, I really do, despite everything. And I especially loved her then when she came running out from the bookkeeping office and rushed past Cherie at the receptionist's desk and by the time she got to me she had her arms opened wide like a real mom so when I stood up I kind of walked right into her and disappeared inside. That's what it felt like anyhow. Then she was like crying and saying things like, Oh Chappie, Chappie, where have you been? Let me see you, let me
look
at you! I've been so worried and all, honey, I thought you were
dead
!

She told me she'd been sure I'd been burned up in that fire but Ken had kept saying no and then when my friend Russell showed up again she'd started to hope maybe Ken was right. And now here you
are
! she said brightly and stood back and held me by my arms and smiled and I smiled and then she hugged me again and so on back and forth like that until we'd pretty much covered the reunion scene and were ready to move on to more serious stuff.

She wanted to know where I'd been all these months and who I'd been staying with naturally and I lied a little bit so she wouldn't think I'd been hiding out in Keene and then Plattsburgh just down the road practically and could've come home easy anytime I wanted. Instead I said I'd been across the lake over in Vermont almost to New Hampshire living on a commune with these old hippies who ran an organic school. I didn't know what that was but I could tell the words organic and school eased my mom's mind somewhat although she's a long ways from being a hippie. She's just not scared of them is all and believes anything organic is good, just too expensive and of course school is the magic word. So it was like I was hanging out with rich people.

She hugged me some more and commented on how healthy and tanned I looked and I told her how I'd been doing a lot of gardening for the hippies and lately with the garden in and all I'd had a little free time and I'd started to miss her a lot so I'd come over from Vermont for a visit maybe, in case she wanted me to visit or stay a while or whatever.

I was being careful because I wasn't sure if she'd want me back again after everything I'd put her through this year and once she knew I was okay she might get mad like before and slam the door on me again, although to tell the truth it was never really her who slammed the door last summer when I left home, it was Ken and in a sense it was me myself. My mom just kind of went along with the boys which sad to say is how she's always dealt with her problems. Until now that is, with this new AA program she was into and which seemed to've gotten her to move out on Ken and all even if it was only to move in with Grandma. Still, this was a promising set of developments, I thought.

I told her I'd already gone by the house and had seen Ken and knew about Willie getting whacked. Yes, she said, she was sorry about that, it was sad and all, he was a good cat. But it was an accident, you know, just one of those things that happen in life. She said Willie changed after I left and didn't come home much anymore so she wasn't all that surprised when she found him pancaked on the road a few houses down one morning when she went out to work.

I didn't want to hear about it. Yeah, well, lots of things've changed, I guess. Ken's pretty messed up, it looks like. And the place is too, I said. You oughta see it. You'd be disgusted. By the way, Ken explained to me what happened, I told her. About you guys separating, I mean, and you staying at Grandma's.

He did, did he? Did he say separating?

I don't know. I guess I just thought it. But he's really one messed-up dude, you know? I mean, the guy's kind of sick, don't you think? He's like a pervert. You know what I'm saying?

I was trying to figure out how to tell her for the first time about Ken, about what he'd done to me when I was a little kid. I wanted her to know about the ugliness that still connected me and him and how I hated it and was dying to get it out of my life but couldn't as long as I had to deal with him as the price for being with her and keeping everything a secret. It meant that I couldn't actually
be
with her, I couldn't be with my own mom in a clean way until her husband, my stepfather was out of her life once and for all and there weren't any more secrets, none and it didn't matter about the drinking and the AA and all his promises to get straight because it was the secret of the past that he carried with him,
my
secret past, it was the ruined part of my life that he brought into the room with him like Dracula's cape over his shoulders and a werewolf's mask over his eyes so that whenever I saw him I was scared and felt ugly and dirty and weak. With Ken anywhere in the neighborhood I felt the exact opposite of how I felt when I saw my mom alone with just me and her for instance like now or when I was with I-Man or Rose or even ol' Russ. With them I was the Bone whether they knew it or not but with my stepfather I was still little Chappie lying in the dark alone. Except when I had the gun.

It's the drinking that makes him sick, Chappie, she said. It's the alcohol. He's allergic to alcohol, that's why he acts the way he does. You have to understand that.

Bullshit, I said.

Oh come on, Chappie, please, let's not get into this. Let's just leave Ken out of this, okay? It's
our
reunion, okay? Don't spoil things, honey. And I wish you wouldn't swear.

Yeah, well, are you gonna get a divorce from him? Are you? ‘Cause you oughta. I mean it. There's things about Ken that even you don't know. Stuff I heard. Stuff I
know.

I don't need to hear whatever you
heard.

Yeah well you oughta kick him out of your house right away anyhow so we can move back in and clean it up. He's completely fucked it up, sorry about swearing. But it's your house, ain't it? Didn't my real father give it to you? Ken, he's just the stepfather, you know. He doesn't have any right to live in that house unless you say so. Besides you should see what a mess he's made of the house, it's really gross and disgusting.

Chappie,
please.
I want you to keep out of my business. Ken and I are trying to work things out, and we will, if you'll just stay out of it.

Me?
I said and my voice went all twinky and high like a bicycle bell.
Me?
You think
I'm
the problem? Ha! That's a laugh.

She looked over my head like she was enjoying the breeze.

It's
Ken
who's the problem, not me, I said but it was useless I knew.

That's just not true, Chappie! she yelled. She was mad now and here it all came again, the same story as before. She said, As a matter of fact, young man, over the last year or so you
have
been very much a problem, wouldn't you say, and otherwise I think maybe Ken and I would've gotten along better. I certainly wouldn't have been so upset all year and he might not've turned to alcohol to deal with his problems and frustrations so much. Really, who knows how many things would've been different if you hadn't gotten into drugs and stealing and all? If you'd've stayed in school for instance and had some decent friends and all, who knows how things would've been different? Only now you're fine and you're back, and that's wonderful, Chappie. I know we'll be able to work things out now, sweetie, all three of us.

No. Fucking. Way.

What do you mean? Don't you
want
to work things out?

Not if it's the three of us, I told her. I mean, I want to be with you, I said. With you I can work things out. But not him. Not if he's there.

Where?

Wherever you are.

Well, excuse me, mister, but you can't make that decision. It's mine to make, if Ken and I are going to stay together. Mine and Ken's, not yours. We're still trying to work things out and I'm at Grandma's only temporary. Until Ken decides to deal with his drinking problem, that's all. And you certainly can't live at Grandma's with me, there's barely room for me there. So if you want to live at home with me, and you're welcome to, I want you to know that, then you'll just have to let me and Ken work things out first. Which we will, and when we do you'll have to put up with Ken, I'm afraid. And you'll have to like it, too. And be nice to him for a change. Many things will have to change, Chappie, for the three of us to go back to living together like we used to, back before you started getting into trouble. And you, mister, are the one who has to do the most changing, she said. You and Ken too, Ken will have to make a few changes too, she said like she'd made a big compromise. Then she stood back from me and crossed her arms over her chest which always meant that she'd made up her mind, she'd staked out her territory and there'd be no more arguing with her now. Only defiance, only open in-your-face fuck-you-mom defiance.

Nothing's
changed! I said. And it never will! Nothing! I guess I was shouting because she stepped back like she was scared of me. You're just trying to set up the same old thing as before! I think I was crying by then. Look, Mom, please please please! Just try, please? Just try and see it my way. I was practically begging her but I knew she wouldn't even
try
to see it my way and probably couldn't anyhow, not without knowing my secret and there was no way I could tell it to her now. It was too late. So I kept on hollering and I made all these stupid demands instead, not because I thought or even hoped she'd meet the demands but because I was pissed at everything that was going down and frustrated because it was too late to change anything and also because I didn't know how else to express myself.

You know what, Mom? You wanna know what? I'll tell you what.
You
should choose! Yeah, you should choose between me and Ken! I said. That's right, choose which one of us you want. ‘Cause you can't have both. That's the one thing I can guarantee. So c'mon, Mom, choose one or the other. Ken or me. Let's get serious.

Stop this! she said. Stop it right now!

Who d'ya want standing there beside you, Mom? Is it gonna be your stupid sicko drunk of a pervert of a husband, or the homeless boy who's your own flesh-and-blood son? Red Rover, Red Rover, who're you calling over, Mom? Is it me or is it Ken?

I was remembering how when I was a little kid in the schoolyard we used to play Red Rover and the teachers thought it was cute and all but it was scary, two lines of kids holding hands facing each other across a distance and the one in the middle says, Red Rover, Red Rover, let Chappie come over, and I'd get all excited like I'd been chosen for something special. I'd let go of the hand of the kid on either side of me and I'd step out there in like no-man's-land between the two lines all alone and exposed and everyone looking at me and I'd wind up and start running straight at the line opposite as fast as I could. I'd slam against the linked hands of the kids who I only remember as being bigger than me because although I didn't realize it then you only call come over to the littlest kids, the ones who are too small and weak to bust through the line. Otherwise if you break through you get to go safely back to your own line and now it's your team's turn to call for the littlest kid to come over and try to bust through and when he fails he gets captured. Back and forth you go until finally there's only one kid left on the other side facing a huge long line of everyone else opposite him, and the last kid realizes that he can't call anyone over anymore because he's all by himself. It was usually the biggest strongest kid in the school-yard like a fifth or sixth grader who ended up standing there all alone and it was interesting because he was the loser. Anyhow I was never him. Instead I was always called over early in the game and got captured and even though I said like Oh no and all, I was secretly glad to be captured. I never wanted to be the big tough kid who ended up on the other side all by myself and unable to say Red Rover, Red Rover, let even the littlest kid in the school-yard, let Chappie come over.