Page 33 of Pages of My Heart
The undeniable gain is that now he can see his ma whenever he wishes, although both he and Donnie will need to ensure she is taken care of. The money she earns from ironing won’t be enough. Evie has her job at the factory, but soon she’ll be getting hitched and making a new home elsewhere.
It happens quickly—the knife slicing into his father’s stomach. Once, twice. Then a brutal third time. The two men run as his pops, clutching at his wounds, falls heavy to the ground. He and Thomas stand in stunned silence for a moment, then Thomas is dragging him into the alley, running toward the crumpled body. Even at a distance Charlie can see the blood soaking through his father’s white shirt at a terrifying pace, spilling through desperately clutching fingers.
Then they are there, standing over his father’s body.
“Shit, Charlie! Should we call for help? It doesn’t look good.” Thomas bends over as if he’s about to administer aid, but Charlie doesn’t want that.
“No!” He pullsThomas back.
His old man tries to speak, writhing in pain, eyes darting frantically, the whites too bright. Charlie’s body grows warm with excitement. With pleasure even.
“I hope you fuckin’ die in pain,” Charlie says, voice low and harsh. He gathers saliva in his mouth, then spits on his father’s face. It hits the corner of his mouth and across one eyebrow. “That’s for all the times you laid hands on Ma, you sick son of a bitch.”
His father is fading fast, spluttering, face turning a sickly gray.
“Charlie, if we’re not going to help, then we need to go.”
The quiver in Thomas’s voice doesn’t escape him, but this is a very special moment in time. Every beating Charlie took at the hands of his old man flashes before his eyes—belts, rods, fists, broken bones and cigarette burns. Hands squeezing tight around his throat. His sister’s sobs. His ma unconscious on the kitchen floor more times than he can count. Purple, blue, and yellow mottled skin. The muffled screams deep in the night as his father took whatever he wanted from his mother’s flesh. All the times he was ridiculed for being too soft, too weak, too much like a girl. It all rushes through him in this moment.
Thomas tugs at his hand, pleading now. “Charlie, please, let’s go . . .”
Charlie leans over his father and looks him straight in the eye as he answers.
“But I wanna be sure he’s dead.”
Once the coffin finally comes to rest, they each throw some dirt over the bastard and it’s done. As people approach his mother to give their condolences, Charlie turns to Evie.
“You okay, sis?”
“I’m fine, Charlie. And so is Ma. You don’t need to go worrying about us, all right? It’s better this way andyou know it.”
She gives his hand a little squeeze and he forces himself to nod.
“You must want to speak to Tom.” At the mention of his name, Charlie glances over Evie’s shoulder to where Thomas is standing off on his own and finds the man’s eyes already on him. “Why don’t you invite him over for the afternoon? Listen to the radio. Ma and I are visiting Aunt Lydia, and Donnie says he’s going out to get drunk.”
Charlie feels uneasy at Evie’s suggestion. It’s as if she knows how badly he needs to be with Thomas. “Why would I do that?” he stutters, defensive. Too defensive.
“Um, because he’s your best buddy? Jesus, Charlie.”
“Right. Sorry. Well, uh, yeah . . . maybe. But only if you and Ma will be okay.”
“We will.” Evie looks to her left. “See, Tom is waiting. Invite him now.”
Charlie kisses Evie on the cheek and wills his nerves to settle down. He needs to stop being so suspicious of everyone or he’ll end up delusional. Of course it’s normal to spend time with a friend in these circumstances. Evie is simply being thoughtful.
Charlie reaches for his father’s neck.
“Charlie, stop!” Thomas yanks on the back of his shirt, pulling him away. A strong arm spins him around and then Thomas’s big hands are gripping him around the biceps, shaking him a little. “You’re better than that. I want him dead too, but not like that! Let’s just get the hell out of here before the coppers show up.”
Charlie looks down at his father lying next to them. His body is mostly still now, but his eyes are open, and a gurgling noise sounds in his throat. Without second guessing himself, Charlie pulls Thomas in and kisses him hard on the lips. Thomas appears too shocked to really respond, but it doesn’t matter. Charlie needsthis. At the sound of his father’s violent wheezing, Charlie ends the kiss to find the old man’s eyes wide with shock.
With disgust.
Charlie’s mouth twists into an ugly but satisfied smile. “I love him,” he declares to his father, “and there ain’t a fuckin’ thing you can do about it.”
His father gives one last gasp and then his body goes lax. And just as people say, his eyes turn to stone, like someone extinguishing a light. All the breath rushes out of Charlie and in its place he is filled with a perverse sense of hope. Thomas puts two fingers to his father’s throat, feeling for a pulse, and then nods to confirm.
He’s dead.
