by Gina Ranalli
“Zion!” I screamed, trying to wrestle myself out from under him.
His response was to punch me in the face multiple times and then the director called cut and the scene faded to black.
94
Water splashed into my face and I heard myself groaning.
I heard a man laugh and say, “We should make her pick the lint out of the rugs for a few hours, huh?”
More people laughing.
A woman’s voice: “Give that lazy cunt some more water, Zion.”
He gave me more water.
95
When I tried to open my eyes, I discovered that the lids weren’t working properly. They were stuck somehow. Gummy.
I heard my parents talking and thought I was ten years old again, probably late for school and in big trouble. I decided that today would be a great day to skip, go hide out in the woods and smoke cigarettes.
I had a headache.
96
After a while, I knew exactly where I was and what was happening, but I didn’t move. I kept my eyes closed and just listened. I knew I was on the living room couch and they were in the adjoining kitchen. They were still talking and joking but beneath that I heard a child crying.
My child.
He was in the house and alive and at least well enough to be howling. I thought he sounded okay. Scared maybe, but okay.
Quickly, ignoring every muscle and bruise that shrieked in pain, I sat up and forced myself to see through swollen eyes.
They noticed my moving right away; from where they sat at the kitchen table, they had a perfect view of the living room. Immediately, Zion jumped to his feet and ran over to me.
“Think you’re going somewhere,” he asked. “You’re not going anywhere. Right, Dad?”
My parents both rose from the table and came into the living room. My father grunted at my brother and sat down across from me in his favorite armchair. I was amazed at how old he looked. He’d lost most of his hair and what little remained of it was white and wispy. He was gaunt when he’d always been chubby. His shark Skin had taken on a mottled dry look, like it would crumble at the slightest touch.
My mother didn’t look any better. The veins covering her body had withered into dried up worms and I wondered how she could even be alive. How did her blood travel through those wrinkled old roots?
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, breaking into my house?” my father wanted to know.
“Taking back what’s mine.” My answer was firm, without fear and without hesitation.
“No, no, no,” he said. “You owe me!”
“I don’t owe you shit, you sick bastard! Where is my son?”
“He’s my son now!”
“You’re insane!” I started to get up from the couch but my brother stepped forward and shoved me back down.
My mother cackled.
“Maybe I’ll keep you too,” my father added with some amusement, showing me how his teeth had yellowed.
“Yeah, good idea,” I said. “No one will ever notice I’m gone.”
“You’re not too big for me to back-hand, you know,” he said.
I made a show out of rolling my eyes, knowing he’d always hated that.
“You upset your goddamn mother!” he yelled suddenly.
I waited for Zion to glance away before making another attempt at rising. But again, he caught me. He was standing too close. If only he would back up a few feet…
“You sit still,” the old man bellowed. “I’m talking to you!”
I couldn’t believe he was trying to intimidate me in the same ways he had done when I was a child. I had the urge to laugh in his face. Either than or spit in it.
“Always the smartass,” my mother spoke up suddenly. “You never knew when to leave well enough alone.”
I looked at her. “Oh, you’re telling me you can take my kid and I should just “leave it alone”?”
“You ungrateful bitch!”
I shook my head. “That’s an old fucking tune, mom. I don’t owe you psychos anything.”
“Oh no? Who the fuck raised you? Who the fuck fed you?”
“Don’t start with that crap again. You sound like a broken record.”
“I’ll give you a broken record!” my dad shouted, shaking a fist at me.
“No, you won’t,” I told him. “You’re not man enough anymore. Isn’t that why you have little precious Zion here doing all your dirty work for you? Hell, you probably can’t even get it up anymore, if you ever could.”
His face flushed crimson and he stood up fast, charging across the room at me. “You fucking talking to me with that mouth, you little bitch!” He actually swung at me but I stood up fast and shoved him into Zion. They both staggered but didn’t fall and my father, absolutely seething with rage now, attempted to come at me again. But now I was on my feet and moving fast. I whirled around them both, bringing me closer to the stair and the second story of the house where they were keeping my son.
“Fuck you all,” I said and pulled my gun out of its shoulder holster.
97
My mother barked laughter. “Oh, she has a gun! Oh, we’re so scared!”
She was clearly an idiot, but both my brother and father looked at least vaguely alarmed. Then my dad recovered and said, “Oh, you’re gonna shoot us now? Throw away your whole life and go to prison? You talk about your fucking kids! You’d never see those bastard freaks again!”
“Just shut the fuck up and stay where you are,” I said. “I’m going up to get my child and none of you are going to do a damn thing about it.”
“This isn’t a movie, little Sky,” my father said in a sing-song voice. “You come in to my house, waving a gun at me, I got every right to blow your fucking ass away. That’s the law! You’re threatening my family!”
‘My gods,” I said. “You guys have turned into the Texas chainsaw family.”
Zion made his move and lunged at me. I shot my gun into the floor near his feet, scaring the shit out of him, and he jumped back to his former position. Air hissed out from between my teeth. And I hoped it didn’t show that the shot had scared me nearly as much as it had scared him.
“Okay, put the fucking gun down, Sky,” my father said. “Come on, before someone gets hurt. You’re taking this too seriously.”
“Oh, you want the gun, dad? Because I’ll give you the fucking gun!”
“You don’t have to give it to me. I’m just asking you to put it down. You’re upset.”
“You’re fucking right I’m upset!” I screamed, making them all cringe. “And why do you think that is?”
“Calm down Sky,” my father said, taking a step towards me. “You need to calm down. Go wash your face.”
I realized only then that I was crying. That was what he’d always said to me when I cried. Go wash your face.
“You don’t want to do anything stupid, Sky. Come on, now. We’re your family! Right guys?”
My mother nodded emphatically, but Zion didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t even blink.
“You don’t want to do this. Now come on. Let’s all just sit down and talk about this calmly, like civilized rational adults, right?”
“You’re right, dad. I don’t want to do this. But you haven’t left me much choice.” I stepped back and began easing my way up the stairs, my eyes never wavering from where they stood.
“We’re your family,” my father said. “You know we love you, no matter what we say. We’re just blowing off steam. We don’t mean any of it.”
I backed up another step. “I’m getting my kid.”
“Sure, sure. Get your kid. That’s fine. We just wanted a little visit with him anyway.”
I increased my speed, ascending faster and none of them made a move to stop me. By the time I had reached the top, I knew I’d have to turn my back on them. I knew I’d have to be quick.
Without thinking about it, I turned and fled, heading first for my parents room to the left. Crispin wasn’t in there.
Next to my brothers room and it too, was empty. That left my old room and the bathroom. I hurried further down the hall and flung open the last bedroom door. There seated on the floor was my child, sucking on his tongue thumb. As soon as he saw me he began wailing again, reaching his arms up to me, waving his tongues and repeating “Mommy” over and over again.
I put the gun back in its holster and lifted him into my arms, kissing his tear streaked face. “Are you okay, Crispin? Huh? Does anything hurt?”
He shook his head, still crying and I felt around his body for anything unusual but he seemed ok.
Now we just had to get the hell out of there.
98
I made it to the top of the stairs with out incident. Down below me, they were still just standing where I’d left them, with the exception of my mother who had never even bothered to get up.
I began descending with my son.
“There,” my father said. “You feel better now? You got the kid. Now can we all just relax?”
“I’m leaving,” I told them as I reached the bottom.
None of them said a word and for a moment I thought I would be able to leave without incident. But of course it’s never that easy.
As soon as I entered the kitchen, I heard movement behind me. I sat my son on the table and spun around, the gun already in my hand. The three of them halted at the threshold, crowding around.
“You hurt us bad,” my father said. “Look what you’ve done to your mother.”
“I haven’t hurt you at all,” I told him. “But if you don’t let me out of here, I will.”
“You know that’s not gonna happen, Sky Tongues.”
Zion began walking towards me. I backed up a couple of steps but couldn’t go very far because I needed to stay near my son. I circled around the table, holding the gun in one hand and scooting Crispin across the table by wrapping my free arm around his waist.
“I’m not doing anything,” Zion said calmly, showing me his empty palms. “I’m just seeing you out like a good brother.”
My gaze flicked to my parents and I saw the way they looked at him, their eyes shiny with pride.
Zion strolled casually towards the front door, giving me a wide berth, and said, “You were always a freak.” Abruptly, he changed direction, lunging at me, and I put a bullet through his forehead. He didn’t fly backwards, didn’t stagger around; he didn’t grab the counter and make some profound revealing statement. His brains exploded out the back of his head and he dropped like a stone. That was all.
Both my parents screamed, rushing forward towards their fallen boy and I grabbed my shrieking son and carried him out into a bone-colored day.
99
I called Rabia from a neighbor’s house and told her what I’d done. Then I hung up and called the police. I met them outside my parent’s house, holding my child in my arms, bouncing him up and down, telling him everything would be okay.
And eventually, everything was.
100
As expected, there was a trial, which lasted about a year too long but I was not a flight risk and was allowed to go home and be with my family. Ultimately, I was acquitted of murder, as the jury agreed that I had acted in self-defense.
I was stunned beyond belief to hear that everyone involved with Exquisite Afterlife wanted me back and I took them up on it immediately, anxious to put the whole ordeal behind me.
On weekends I flew back to New Boston to finish up playing Death; it only took a few trips as we were very nearly done when the production had been interrupted.
When it was released, the movie was a moderate success and I gained favorable reviews, but it wasn’t the triumph we’d all expected. It was a cute little movie that is still good to watch on a rainy night when you find yourself alone with a dish of your favorite ice cream.
That’s good enough for me.
101
Both my parents went to prison, guilty of kidnapping. He received a longer sentence as it was established that my mother suffered from a mental illness and had probably only been acting out of loyalty to him. So, really she didn’t go to prison at all. She went to the nuthouse.
My father died in prison and my mother has yet to be released from the asylum. She probably never will be.
I was acquitted of the charge of murder as it was clearly a case of self-defense. I’ve never met a single soul who said they wouldn’t have done the exact same thing in the same situation.
I’ve never regretted my actions.
102
We stopped the series a year later, after its seventh season.
Ratings had dropped drastically since Dove’s departure and we all agreed that it was better to leave quietly than to be thrown out with a fuss.
The party we had was heartbreaking; we’d all spent so much time together, watching each other get married, get divorced, have children, have grandchildren. We’d been there for each other as much as any family ever had and if you happen to catch an episode and think, wow, what a crazy bunch of characters, you don’t know the half of it.
We loved each other and parting company with those you love is always a difficult, if not impossible, task.
It is comforting to know that somewhere, right this very moment, Exquisite Afterlife goes on.
103
I continued working in film for a few years but grew tired of all the traveling it entailed. I wanted to remain close to home for a while and have at least somewhat normal hours.
Rabia is the one who suggested I open my own theater company here in LA and that is exactly what I did. It’s just a small company called Mue Productions, but we have fun and, I think, produce good work.
I’m especially fond of spotting new talent when they walk through the door, some young Mue with drive and passion and not just the desire to succeed, but the need. The knowing that there can be no other way, no other choice.
Besides my family, that is the greatest thrill of my life.
Finding a flower where others saw only a weed. |
