Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela (47 page)

Grand Jury—‖

―Kid, you don‘t have to remind me of all that stuff. I get enough

of that every day. How ‘bout we talk about something else.‖

―Like what?‖

―Like what you been up to all these years.‖

Since the answer that came immediately to mind,
Trying to avoid

this day
, was nothing Nick wanted to say out loud, he shrugged and

said, ―Taking care of Mom and working. Before that… school.‖ Nick

was almost appalled to realize that his two-phrase answer had neatly

and truthfully summed up most of his life.

Sam nodded almost eagerly, saying, ―Yeah, I heard. That nun, she

says you went to college, and even past that.‖

―She has a name, you know. Sister Ciera.‖

―Whatever. So, all that schoolin‘—is that why you ain‘t had time

to get married or have kids or nothin‘?‖ When Nick didn‘t immediately

answer, Sam added, ―Or are ya gonna tell me that‘s ‘cause of me and

your mom?‖

Nick hesitated only a second more before answering firmly, ―No,

it‘s because I‘m gay.‖

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293

The surprise was plain on Sam‘s ruddy, unshaven face. ―No shit!‖

Almost to himself, he muttered, ―Guess I get the blame for that, then.‖

―It doesn‘t work that way,‖ Nick snapped. ―Not that I care if you

don‘t understand—or approve.‖

To Nick‘s surprise, Sam simply shrugged. ―Guess I got no room

to talk.‖

―What does that mean?‖

―Nick,‖ Sam drawled, leaning forward conspiratorially, ―what the

hell do you think I‘ve been doin‘ for sex these last twenty years?‖

―I never gave it any thought.‖ Nick rubbed his forehead in

disgust, adding, ―And I wish to God it had stayed that way.‖

―Yeah, well, fuck you, your highness. When‘d you get so snotty

and full of yourself? Guess it‘s all them fancy degrees you got makes

you think you‘re better ‘an everybody else.‖

―I never needed a degree to think I was better than you, Dad!‖

Nick didn‘t even discern the raised eyebrows and stares from the

room‘s other occupants, so stunned was he that he‘d let that title slip

out, unbidden but unavoidable.

―Bet it don‘t hurt though, right? Especially when that
Sister

Ciera
,‖ Sam imbued the term with bitter sarcasm that Nick barely

noticed since his father went on to add, ―told ya she was teachin‘ me to

read.‖

Nick was shocked into near incoherence by his dad‘s confession.

―She never—why would she need to—what are you
talking
about?‖

Sam pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his worn

denim work shirt and lit one with fumbling fingers, berating himself

with a quiet oath. ―Fuck.‖ After a long drag, he seemed to regain his

composure and squinted at Nick, saying, ―Nothing. Forget about it.‖

―Dad, you can… you could
read
… I remember….‖ Nick faltered

as he tried to confirm his supposition by searching his memories for an

image of his father reading something—anything. Finally he said, ―You

used to sign contracts. I‘m sure I remember—‖

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Assiduously avoiding eye contact by studying the smoking

cigarette in his hand, Sam muttered, ―I could sign my name, yeah, but

your ma, she always had to read them contracts for me.‖

As Nick struggled to assimilate this new information into his

worldview, one thought predominated. ―You‘d think you would‘ve

been grateful to her—‖

―For what?‖ Sam spat. ―For holdin‘ that over my head?‖

―Mom wasn‘t like tha—‖

Sam either hadn‘t heard or didn‘t care for Nick‘s response as he

bulled ahead, snarling, ―So what if she gave me that little bit of help? It

was still
me
doin‘ the work—
me
puttin‘ food on the table and a roof

over both your heads.‖

―What you put over ‗both our heads‘ was violence and fear,‖ Nick

insisted bitterly.

―So truth comes out,‖ Sam sneered. ―That‘s what you came here

for. You waited twenty years so you could sit there and tell me how I

ruined your life
.‖

The last few words had been spoken with a sarcastic whine that

wormed its way under Nick‘s skin. He leaned forward and glared into

his father‘s bloodshot eyes. ―No. Not anymore.‖ Suddenly the truth

crystallized for Nick. ―I came to tell you I‘m not going to let you do

that anymore.‖ He stabbed an accusing finger across the table. ―It was

your decision, your doing, and your fault. You did ruin
her life
—and

yours. Over a fucking stupid hammer that probably cost less than the

carton of cigarettes you‘ve got back in your cell.‖

The mocking, arctic laugh that erupted out of Sam was one of the

ugliest sounds Nick had ever heard. ―Jesus Christ, is that what you

think? You still believe that fucking hammer story? Now how ‘bout

some blame for your mom,‖ Sam jibed. ―Never once in all these years

tellin‘ you the truth.‖

Nick swallowed hard and stared at his father, desperately trying to

figure out the old man‘s game. Whatever it was, he decided not to play.

He offered coolly, ―If there‘s any
truth
about that day that I don‘t

already know, it‘s thanks to your handiwork that Mom wasn‘t… isn‘t

capable of telling me.‖

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295

Sam leaned back, taking an indolent drag off his cigarette before

saying, ―It wasn‘t the hammer, kid. It was the suitcase.‖

―What? What suitcase?‖

―I caught her. Packin‘. She was gonna leave me—
and you
.‖ Sam

shrugged and looked over Nick‘s shoulder, eyes slightly unfocused. He

appeared to be fighting a losing battle to seem untouched by the

memory, since each word he offered was laced with more poisonous

anger than the last. ―I made ‘er unpack it all; stood there and watched to

make sure she done it. But she said she‘d do it again soon‘s my back

was turned. Said I couldn‘t watch her all the time.‖ Suddenly Sam

leaned forward and coldly confessed, ―That‘s when I done it, you

know. That hammer I‘d picked up outta the yard just happened to be

handy.‖

The anger that boiled up in Nick was more for that nonchalant

admission than the realization that he‘d been living under the strain of a

malicious lie for most of his life. ―Why the fuck did you say—‖

―That story me an‘ my lawyer cooked up? He said it‘d look less

‗premeditated‘ that way.‖ Sam snorted bitterly. ―Lotta good it done

me.‖

Venomously, Nick shot back, ―I can tell how sorry you are about

what you did to my mother.‖

―I never said I was sorry. What kind of man lets his wife leave

‘im?‖

―The kind of man who… is a man….‖ Nick shook his head.

―There‘s no use even trying to explain it to you.‖ He rose to leave and

looked down at his still seated father. ―So… goodbye, Sam. Oh, and

when you get out? Don‘t look me up.‖

Sam stood up and put his hands on his hips. ―Thanks for nothin‘,

kid.‖

Nick turned to leave without another word, feeling freer with

every step he took out of that room and away from the man who had

been, on the merest biological technicality, his father. On the drive

home, he veered off the road that led to his house and turned the Jeep

towards the nursing facility where his mother lay slowly dying.

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Visiting hours were almost over, but the receptionist buzzed him

through without comment.

He walked softly into the room where only the shallow rising and

falling of his mother‘s chest told him that he wasn‘t too late. Nick sat

down by her bed and took the cold, bony hand that lay on top of the

blanket into his own strong, warm grasp. As he started to methodically

rub her fingers, he saw his mom‘s eyes drift open. ―Nick,‖ she croaked.

―Hey, Mom. How‘re you doing?‖ When Agnes‘s only response

was a fretful shake of her head, Nick brought the frail hand to his cheek

and whispered, ―I came to tell you how proud—‖ His voice cracked as

he felt tears well up. Slowly and with great effort, he tried again. ―How

proud
I am of you—for leaving that son of a bitch.‖

Nick‘s statement seemed to rouse his mom, and she turned her

watery, unfocused eyes on him. ―I was gonna go back for you, Nicky. I

wasn‘t gonna leave you—‖

―I know, Mom. You did—you
did
come back for me—don‘t you

remember? That‘s why I‘m here now.‖

Agnes‘s brow crinkled in confusion. ―I did?‖ When Nick nodded

at her, she managed a weak smile as she whispered to herself, ―I did…

of course, I did. I wouldn‘t leave my boy… not for long….‖ She smiled

again at Nick and managed to brush away one of his tears. ―Don‘t cry,

son. We‘re both safe. We‘re gonna be all right, now.‖

―Yeah… we sure are.‖ Her eyes closed again, and Nick‘s

whispered ―Mom‖ failed to wake her. He stood up and leaned down to

kiss her, saying softly, ―Good night. I love you, Mom.‖

By the time Nick parked in front of his house, he was able to

calmly think back on his conversation with his father and feel some

gratitude that at least one of the Zales men had gotten something out of

the visit.

Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela

297

Epilogue:

One River

And see the confluence of dreams

That clashed together in our night

One river born of many streams

Roll in one blaze of blinding light.

—George William Russell

NICK was reviewing his schedule for the day when he heard a soft

knock on the doorframe of his office. He looked up to find Trudy

standing there. Her normally sunny expression was clouded by serious

brown eyes, and her head was cocked as she studied him in an obvious

display of concern. Though he knew it was a slightly irrational

response, Nick was irked. He was thoroughly sick of concern and

sympathy, so he attempted to derail Trudy by extending an airily

cheerful greeting. ―Hey, boss lady, what‘s up?‖

Trudy entered the room and seated herself across from Nick,

answering, ―I didn‘t expect to see you here so early today.‖

His first impulse was to feign ignorance, but he immediately

discarded that idea as futile. Finally resigned to the inevitable

discussion, he said, ―I guess you never been to one of those

interments?‖

―No, no one in my family has ever been cremated.‖

―It takes all of twenty minutes. Including the trip to the

cemetery.‖

―I thought there would be some sort of service—‖

Nick leaned forward in his chair and interrupted, ―We had the

memorial on Monday, remember? I know you do. With all the food you

and Larry brought, Logan and I will be eating leftovers for weeks.‖

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Felicia Watson

―Still, for all intents and purposes, Nick, you buried your mother

today. There‘s no reason to rush back—‖

No longer able to contain his growing frustration, Nick snapped,

―I didn‘t—‖ He managed to stop himself and took a cleansing breath

before starting over. ―Look, I buried my mother a long time ago. Today

was just a formality.‖

―I understand.‖ Trudy reached over the desk and put a gentle hand

on his arm. ―I just don‘t want you to feel like you have to block out

your grief.‖ Her gaze grew more searching as she continued, ―We both

know you have a habit of acting more okay than you really are.‖

The exasperation Nick felt was swamped by Trudy‘s genuine

anxiety for his well-being. Besides, it was impossible for him to argue

against her last point. ―You‘re right, but… for one thing, I‘m getting

better about that, and for another, I really don‘t think that‘s what‘s

going on with me. I‘m actually okay.‖

Though Trudy was nodding in apparent agreement, she asked,

―And why is that?‖

In order to give an honest answer, Nick was forced to give her

question some thought. As difficult as it was to articulate his multi-

layered feelings about his mother‘s passing, he finally said, ―I guess

because it ended better… better than I could have hoped.‖

―I don‘t understand.‖

―She died in peace, Trudy.‖

―Because of what you found out at Fayette County Prison?‖

―Yes.‖ Nick‘s eyes shifted to his desktop as he briefly recalled his

mother‘s final days. ―I think that was a lot of it, what I told her after I

saw my father.‖

―So you‘re glad you went to see him?‖

―Some good came of it,‖ he acknowledged reluctantly. ―Yeah,

I‘m glad.‖ Nick looked up and caught Trudy‘s fleeting smile. ―And if

you‘re waiting for me to admit that I put if off for way too long—‖