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trooper came in to take my statement.
I didn't care.
Jamie's mother arrived in a cloud of Chanel and sat as far
away from me as she was able without landing in the hallway.
Her hair was a perfect helmet of blond, blown to perfection,
curling under her pointed chin. She gave me a frosty look,
then unearthed a novel from her hand bag and began to read.
She didn't seem too broken up that her son had been nearly
beaten to death by two loan sharks from Waterbury.
Perhaps they were family?
It wasn't until later, when gossip finally worked its way
into her closed mind that she understood I had saved her
son's life. Sort of. She thanked me reluctantly.
I couldn't decide if she didn't like the fact that I had been
the one to intervene or that I'd bothered to do it at all.
I'd been there about an hour when my family arrived.
Sarah came waddling in with a bag of hot meatball grinders
from the Pizza Pub; my dad attempted conversation with Lady
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Dupree; my mom sat holding Sarah's hand and giving her a
hard time about her caffeine intake. It humbled me to have
such unflagging support. I had to tell them about Jamie, the
money, the beating and the eviction.
Jamie's nose and jaw were broken and a few teeth as well.
His cheek was shattered. He'd fractured his orbital floor or,
more accurately; it had been fractured for him. He'd
sustained injuries to his ribs and his spleen was enlarged. He
laid in the trauma unit, finally stabilized, a pitiful wreck. His
eyes were swollen shut and he was sedated in order to keep
him still and comfortable. He'd live, but he'd have a painful
recovery. I'd gone in to sit with him after his mother left.
They'd beaten him with a length of pipe recovered at the
scene. Blunt force trauma to the head. It was a wonder he
wasn't dead.
I sat and softly spoke to him. Telling him what an asshole
he was and how I never wanted to lay eyes on his miserable
face again in this lifetime. That he was a feckless prick and
that I hoped he rotted in jail and his mother collapsed from
the strain. I heard a cough in the room, Tony was keeping
watch, and I zipped my trap.
I had things to think about if not to say.
What I'd learned in the last three days was that the image
I had of the "real" Jamie was the tip of a profoundly unstable
iceberg. Beyond the financial crimes to be investigated, he
was involved in illegal gambling. He'd borrowed money from
the wrong people and had then tried to default on the loan.
That much was known. The rest we'd have to wait to find out.
Larry had Jamie's computer as well as his legal documents. I
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by L.B. Gregg
had known nothing and would most likely never recover my
cash. I'd paid for my stupidity.
I got up, hugged my family, and walked out of the hospital
without turning back. I was done.
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141
Gobsmacked [Men of Smithfield]
by L.B. Gregg
Saturday February 14: 12:15AM
When I arrived home from the hospital, I was charmed to
find an eviction notice hanging from a piece of scotch tape on
my front door.
That Kev. What a prince.
I tore it down, stared at it for a half second, and then put
it out of my mind. Nothing was going to change tonight. We'd
get another half foot of snow and I'd freeze trying to dig out,
but I couldn't look for an apartment for a few more days and
he wasn't going to kick me out in the street. I'd deal with this
Monday.
I bent to pick up a small basket, covered by an aged floral
dishtowel, sitting against my new steel door. Mrs. Marsh had
hobbled bravely up the stairs in my absence. I recognized the
act of civility. I blinked back my gratitude at her neighborly
offering of chocolate chip cookies. I knew she'd made them
for me. Her note said simply, "Hope you're feeling better."
I went straight to the bathroom, stripping my
bloodstained, filthy clothes as I went. Inside the steamy
shower, I stood braced against the slippery tile and let the
pounding water ease my aching body. I washed the dirt and
blood and anger I'd lived earlier right down the drain with the
soap suds.
I wasn't devastated by the loss of Jamie and our living lie
of domestic bliss; I was pissed by my own inability to see the
truth which smacked of self pity and I loathed myself more
for it. Now Jamie was gone from my life and while I should
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cry or rage against God or strike whatever dramatic pose the
heartbroken lover should strike, I found myself vastly
relieved.
Free. Open to possibilities.
Jamie had been a different person when we met. Fun.
Outgoing. Wild at heart. We bickered and wrestled and
enjoyed our time together, or so I had believed. Then he
deviated into a monster not like the ones Kayla and Jake
imagined lived under their beds. Jamie was the worst kind of
monster; the one you never saw coming until it was too late
the one you invited in, the one you trusted. It wasn't the
money. It was the pain of being used, taken for granted.
Those were smaller disappointments, really. The larger one
was the man I'd taken for granted. I had to find a place for
that so I could move on. I couldn't imagine what he'd say to
me after this evening with Jamie's blood everywhere and my
harsh words and reckless behavior.
I forced myself out of the shower, refusing to look at my
battered face and hickey laced neck. The mirror and I weren't
going to be friends for a while. I dressed in my sweats and a
UConn T-shirt, pulling on some wool socks to keep off the
chill of the floor. My next place was going to be warmer. It'd
have a better landlord. It would be on the ground floor and
have central air. Since I was dreaming, I added a hot tub to
the list.
I half-heartedly flipped on the TV and flopped onto the
couch with a cup of cocoa in one hand and the remote in the
other. It was snowing again. It fell in the yellow glow of our
lamppost. There would be great skiing tomorrow.
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by L.B. Gregg
I heard him on the stairs before the knock came. My heart
skipped and for the first time, I allowed my need for Tony to
bloom inside me. How could I have been this blind? Sarah
was right; I'd denied myself a chance because I was afraid. I
had settled.
And it came and bit me on the ass.
I let him in, like the night before, but this time I didn't wait
for him. This time I wrapped my arms around him, pulling
him, cold and damp, sturdy and reliable and waiting silently. I
held him against me.
I remembered that first year he conned me into training
with him for the Road Race. I was sure he felt sorry for me, a
skinny, undersized kid. He was a strapping, muscular
eighteen, spending his last summer at home. He pestered and
cajoled and ran steadily at whatever pace I could handle until
I was up to the task of completing the race course with
competence. It was great. Tony was great. Every year he
came back during college and we'd train together, and every
year we'd hit that finish line together. I'd been too afraid he'd
reject me, again, to bother reaching out to him as anything
other than a friend.
I'd been a fool.
"Hey. You all right?" His words were velvet against my ear
as he embraced me. We stood there, in the open doorway,
and something gave inside me. Some piece of resistance I'd
been clinging to. I let his quiet strength fill me.
I took a hiccupping breath as my throat tightened. I [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]