The Cove (24 page)

“Go home, Ben. Sleep it off,” Tom said.

“You
comin
’ out or not? You gonna face me like a man, or are you gonna act the little chicken shit pussy I know you are?”

Tom raised his hand and then pointed his forefinger at Ben.

“I don’t want any trouble,” he said mildly, as if he was lecturing a child. “
You
don’t want any trouble, either.”

Louise had the distinct impression he would have punched her brother square in the face if she hadn’t been standing there.

“You’re the one who’s …” Ben leaned forward, craning his neck to look up the stairs A looping string of saliva hung from his lower lip, and he obviously was having trouble focusing. “
S’that
you, Lou-Lou?”

“Yeah, Ben. It’s me.”

She came down a few more steps but didn’t go to the door to meet him. Tom blocked her, and she didn’t want to do anything to piss him off.

“You
aw’right
in there?”

“Of course I’m all right,” Louise said.

She frowned, thinking this wasn’t at all like Ben. He could party with the best of them, but he rarely if ever got falling-down drunk and belligerent like this. She cast a fearful glance at Tom, wondering what he was going to do.

“I think the best thing for you right now would be if you went home,” Louise said. “Do you need a ride?”

“I gotta score to settle with your husband, first,” Ben said. He was about to say more, but he belched again, wrinkling his nose at the taste that flooded his mouth. Without warning, he spun around and vomited into the garden beside the steps. Tom didn’t move to help him.

“We don’t have a score to settle,” Tom said once Ben was through being sick after several wrenching heaves. “You got something to say to me, wait until —”

“No! Fuck you, and fuck waiting! I want you … out here … on the lawn … right now
so’s
we can’t settle this once ’n for all. If you don’t, I swear to Christ I’m
comin
’ in.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Tom said, “’specially drunk on your ass.”

“You think I’m scared a’ you? You think I won’t pound the living piss out of you for what you did?”

“What, exactly, do you think I did?”

“You know damned right well.”

Tom leaned forward and lowered his voice so Louise was barely able to hear what he said.

“If this is about that deal I was talking to you about … Forget it. Just keep your fucking mouth shut.”

“What deal? I’m
talkin
’ about my tires. Out at Sand Beach. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about!”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Tom said, sounding genuinely dismayed.

Louise had been at the family house when Ben called for road service, so she knew exactly what he was talking about. She wasn’t sure what this had to do with her husband, but now was not the time to ask questions.

“You think I wouldn’t find out? … You think I wouldn’t know?”

Tom sighed and shook his head as though deeply saddened to see Ben in such a condition.

“I haven’t got the faintest clue what you’re talking about, but if you don’t get off my porch right now, I swear to God I’ll
fuckin
’ —”

“What? You’ll
fuckin
’
what?
” Ben’s voice echoed from the surrounding night. “You’ll arrest me? Or beat the shit out of me?” He snorted. “Go ahead! Try!

When Tom didn’t move or speak, Ben started to laugh, but the tone was so hollow and sinister it frightened Louise.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “You’re fucking chicken shit pussy. You hide behind your badge because you can’t act like a real man.”

”And you do?”

“
Fuckin
’-a, I do.”

Ben lurched to one side and had to struggle to stay on his feet.

“You mean like right now?” Tom said, his voice thick with disgust. “This is what you call being a man?”

“You ain’t nothing but a coward … a cheating, lying piece of shit!”

Suddenly energized, Ben clenched his right hand into a fist, cocked back his arm, and threw a wild, arcing punch at Tom. Before it landed, Tom stepped back and half-closed the front door. Ben’s knuckles raked across the wooden surface, leaving behind a long, thin streak of blood on the white wood.

“
Son
of a
bitch!
” he shouted as he bent over and shook his skinned knuckles. Beads of blood welled up like little rubies where the skin had peeled away.

Tom opened the door wide again and, without a word, surged out onto the porch. Without any warning, he landed a hard jab to Ben’s stomach.

The air
whooshed
out of him like a broken accordion. Ben staggered backwards. He stepped down, jolting when he hit the ground as if he had miscounted the number of steps. He staggered like a marionette, his body jerking and twisting awkwardly in space. Then he went down hard, landing flat on his back on the grass with his arms splayed out on either side of him. His eyes looked dim as he stared up at the stars as though trying to figure out exactly what they were.

“Jesus Christ, Tom!” Louise rushed down the stairs and outside and knelt beside her brother. “You didn’t have to sucker punch him like that.”

“He threw the first one,” Tom said, eyeing her with a cold, steady detachment that told her he knew he had never been in any real danger. “You heard him. He threatened me.”

“What was he talking about — that deal? What deal?”

Tom bit down on his lower lip and shook his head but didn’t answer her. Louise eyed him, her body trembling with repressed rage. She immediately suspected this had something to do with the suitcase of coke she’d found, but she wasn’t going to push it now.

Ben needed help.

“He’s drunk, for Christ’s sake,” she said, staring down at her brother. His eyes were closed now. He was out cold. His breath came in short, watery gasps that sounded like he was drowning. “I have to get him home.” She glanced at Tom, who hadn’t moved from the doorway. “Can you
please
give me a hand?”

Tom snorted and waved his hand at her as if he was shooing a bothersome fly.

“Leave him where he is. He won’t even remember how he got here when he comes to.”

“I can’t leave him outside all night,” Louise said.

“Probably not the first time … or last.”

She stared at him for a moment, but when Tom made no move to assist her, she pushed past him and went into the kitchen where she grabbed her car keys and purse. She threw on a long overcoat over her pajamas and then, still barefoot, went back to Ben, who was still unconscious on the front lawn. Sliding her arm under his head, she raised him a little. His breathing altered, getting deeper and less raspy. His head lolled from side to side, and his eyes flickered open a little when she slapped him lightly on the cheeks.

Still standing in the doorway, Tom folded his arms across his chest and scowled at her.

“For God’s sake, Tom. At least get me a cold washcloth or something.”

“I’m telling yah, Lou. Leave him be. He’ll sober up fast once the morning sun hits him.”

Screw you,
she thought but didn’t dare say. If Tom got pissed now, she might end up unconscious on the lawn, too.

Her knees were damp from kneeling on the lawn, but she kept trying to bring Ben around. After a short while, Tom muttered something under his breath that she didn’t hear and then went back into the house, closing the door firmly behind him.

Louise glared at the closed door, wanting to scream out loud how much she hated Tom, but she stuffed her emotions down and turned her attention to Ben.

After another five or ten minutes, he started coming around. Lying on his back and groaning, he kept rolling his head from side to side. The bones in his neck popped like someone cracking their knuckles. When he exhaled, his breath reeked of sour beer.

“Hey … hey there,” Louise said as she ran her fingertips across his brow and down the sides of his face. Ben started groaning softly, but he didn’t say anything that made much sense. Once his eyes opened to narrow slits, he looked at her and smiled tightly. When he tried to speak, the only sound he could make was a wet smacking of his lips.

“Come on, Big Ben,” Louise whispered as she shifted around and slid her hand around his back and under his armpit. “You gotta get on your feet.”

“What the — Where am I?” His voice sounded like his mouth was full of gravel.

“Let’s see if we can get you down to my car. I’ll take you home.”

“I’m at your place?” Ben looked around, confusion clouding his eyes. Finally, with effort, he lunged forward and sat up. He looked befuddled as he brushed grass and dirt from his elbows. “
What’m
I
doin
’ at your place?”

“Good question,” Louise said.

Having grown up with
Capt’n
Wally for a dad, Louise was used to dealing with people in this condition, but it pained her to see her brother like this. Of everyone she knew, he was the least likely to tie one on and end up having a blackout. She wondered if he was doing crap like this because of his time in Iraq.

Without saying a word, Louise struggled to get him to his feet, cursing Tom under her breath for not helping, and then started walking him toward the driveway where her car was parked next to Tom’s. He leaned heavily on her shoulder, like she was a crutch.

Ben was still unsteady on his feet. Even the slightest change in elevation made him stumble and cling to her for support. Once she got him into the car, draped like an old suit across the front seat, she got in, started it up, and drove away casting a quick backward glance at the house before it receded from sight.

They drove in silence, but long before she pulled into her father’s driveway, she had decided that this was it.

She wasn’t going back home to Tom.

Nobody treats my family like that and gets away with it
, she thought … a Cove-ah through and through.

T
he pain behind Ben’s eyes was much worse than the hangover he’d had the day before. This one radiated out like an exploding star, sending shockwaves through his head every time he moved. Lying in bed, squinting at the sun-lit window, he tried to piece together what had happened last night. Not much of it came to him, and the little that did was hazy and confused. The only thing he knew for sure was that he had been mean to Julia when they went for a walk by the harbor.

After that … he had no idea except that the knuckles on his right hand were skinned and swollen. He’d punched
something
hard enough to hurt himself. He wondered now if it had been a person and if so, then who?

Someone was stirring around downstairs, and the aroma of frying bacon and fresh-brewed coffee wafted up the stairwell.

His first thought was that his mother must be down in the kitchen, making breakfast for him. A second later, the memory that his mother was in the nursing home came back with a jolt.

It must be his father … or maybe Pete.

Maybe one of them had gotten up to make him breakfast, knowing how bad off he was after last night.

Judging by the splash of sunlight spilling across the windowsill and floor of the bedroom, he guessed it wasn’t very early, but his dad and brother would have been up long before now and gone off to work.

Was Julia downstairs?

She might have let herself into the house to surprise him with breakfast in bed, but he doubted it.

He had said some pretty nasty things to her last night. And even if he hadn’t killed their relationship, she had her father to tend to. She didn’t have time to be messing around in his house.

His body ached as he tossed the covers aside and shifted around to place his feet squarely on the floor. He realized he had fallen asleep with his clothes on. When he raised his arm and sniffed his armpit, he quickly pulled away from the sour smell of sweat.

It took some effort, but he struggled to his feet and shuffled down the hall to the bathroom. After running the tap until the water was warm enough, he splashed his face a few times and then stared at his bloodshot eyes in the mirror.

I gotta stop doing this,
he thought, and then it hit him that he’d said and thought the exact same thing yesterday morning. There was a pattern developing here that he wasn’t sure he liked. He was going to have to get his act together.

After urinating and pulling on a fresh t-shirt, he decided he’d shower after breakfast. Feeling as creaky as an old man, he trudged downstairs. Every step jolted his body and sent waves of dull pain up the back of his head.

When he got to the kitchen, he was stunned to see his sister standing in front of the sink, washing a frying pan. A plate heaped with fried eggs, bacon, and two pieces of toast sat on the table next to a glass filled with orange juice and a steaming cup of coffee. With sunlight angling in through the window illuminating it, it looked like a dream.

“’S getting cold,” Louise said, glancing over her shoulder at him. Her smile was thin and pale, and thin shadows cut across her face like old scars.