“I know you, don’t I?” he asked, the twang in his voice thick.
Angela looked him up and down, admiring his choice in boots and the brown stain of dried sweat around the edges of his hat.
“Greg, Greg Hunter,” he said.
The name brought Angela back a few years, but she knew him at once. They went to high school together. She even remembered a heated petting session under the football bleachers in their junior year. She smiled; this would be easier than she thought.
“How could I forget you, Greg,” she said.
He smiled a wide toothed grin and then ordered a round of shots for the both of them. It didn’t take him long to start reminiscing about their high school years. Greg turned out to be a historian of sorts, at least in the town’s lowliest of information. He had dirt on nearly every person they’d gone to school with, and from the sounds of it, that included Angela and John.
“I heard you had to go up to the hospital in Manassas a while back,” he said.
He threw back another shooter then motioned to the bartender to bring another round. Angela was surprised by the comment. She’d tried to keep her visit to the psyche ward as hush as possible. Her sister didn’t even know about it. She finished off her drink as she tried to think of a response.
“You went to that mental hospital?” Greg asked.
Angela let out a big laugh. “No, my son had some problems during birth,” she said. “They wanted to take him up there, not me.” Greg smiled, but she could see he was deciding if he was going to believe it or not. “He lost oxygen during birth and it affected his brain,” she said. “They wanted to run some tests on him, that’s all.”
She watched Greg’s shoulders relax and she knew he’d bought it.
“He okay now?” he asked, uncomfortable with the conversation.
“He’s great,” Angela said. “Everything’s great.”
Greg pulled out the charm from then on, moving further down the bar every ten minutes. By midnight, they were practically standing on top of one another. Greg bought more rounds than either of them could count. He was on to the slurring and smiles stage, while Angela struggled to maintain.
She poured several drinks onto the floor when Greg wasn’t paying attention. Even so, she’d had to finish off more alcohol than she’d had in a long time. She wasn’t responsible for keeping the conversation going; Greg was more than willing to carry on with his opinions of everyone they’d ever known. Angela looked at her watch and considered moving the plan along. Greg caught her checking the time and he took the opportunity to grab a hold of her hand and pull her close enough that their sides were touching.
“You’re not going to call it a night are you?” His eyes fell to her chest and he didn’t appear to have the ability to hide it. “We still got a lot of catching up to do.”
“Why heavens no,” she said. “But you know,” she looked over at the entrance, “we sure could talk a lot easier somewhere else.”
Greg’s smile made him look ridiculous. Angela held back a laugh.
“Where did you have in mind?” he asked.
“Why not my house,” she said.
Greg’s eyes found a moment of clarity and he looked up at her face.
“Your house? What about John?”
“Don’t you worry about him,” she said, then put the palm of her hand on his chest. “He won’t bother us.”
Greg looked stumped. He appeared to be calculating the pros and cons of the decision, but got lost somewhere in the process. Finally he nodded. “Let’s go,” he said with a grin. “I’ll follow you.”
#
John was losing his mind. He paced back and forth in the living room stopping every couple of turns to peer out the window. Angela told him to try and watch television, but that didn’t last very long. She’d been gone for five hours and he considered calling the bar.
He’d been against her plan, but she worked him over like she always did. He couldn’t stand against her and she knew it. She’d always worn the pants in the family, a trait handed down from his father, something Angela always picked at him about. John swore under his breath, took another look at the living room window, and then continued pacing.
“I can’t do this,” he said.
He adjusted the grip on the hammer he was holding.
“There’s no way.”
He stopped moving and looked down at the clawed end. Angela told him the clawed end would work the best. He shook his head and tossed the hammer on to the couch.
“What the hell are we doing?”
John couldn’t see Alex’s door from the living room, but he’d heard the scratching. He didn't know why the boy scratched. John wondered if it was a sign that he needed to eat. Angela said that had to be it, but John had his doubts. He’s trying to communicate with us, she’d said. Are you going to turn your back on him now, when he needs you most?
“Shut the hell up,” John said.
He picked the hammer up off the couch and as he did, a beam of headlights slid across the back wall. John dropped down to the ground and froze. He listened and waited. The truck shut off and the sound of a second vehicle coming to a stop hit him like a ton of bricks. He knew she’d done it. There was someone with her and she meant to follow through with the plan. John wanted to run out of the house, but he didn’t have time.
The key hit the front door lock before Angela’s voice reached John’s ears. He turned on his heels and as fast as he could move, ran down the hall and into his bedroom. He stood on one side of the doorway with his heart pounding in his ears. Sweat ran down his face as he adjusted his hold on the hammer. He heard a man’s voice, followed by Angela’s.
“I like it.”
“It’s home,” she said.
“Well, why don’t you show me the rest of the house,” the man said.
John felt sick. He could hear them kissing. He heard his wife moan like she did with him.
“You want to see the bedroom?” she asked.
John was sure his heart was going to explode.
“Hell yes,” the man said, slurring his words.
John poked his head around the side of the doorframe. The light from the living room shined down the dark hall onto Alex’s door. The small turn leading into his bedroom blocked the view. The shadow of two figures filled the light in the hall and John jerked his head back and wrapped both hands around the hammer.
“I always knew you wanted a piece of me,” the man said.
“Then you need to give it to me,” Angela said.
Her voice was deep and slow, almost a whisper. John was getting angrier by the second. He could hear them rubbing on one another, then he heard the sound of clothes falling to the floor.
“Come on, let’s go in here,” the man said.
The tone of Angela’s voice changed. “No, don’t touch it,” She said in a frantic response.
“Don’t go getting angry with me,” the man said. “What the hell’s the matter anyway?”
“Come on, damn it,” Angela said.
John could tell she was talking to him and not the man in the hall.
“Oh, I’ll be coming,” the man said.
John could hear them push and pull at one another.
“Get off me,” she said now sounding scared.
John prepared himself. He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. He was about to step out into the hall when Angela’s voice stopped him.
“Just wait,” she said. Her tone was more relaxed, coaxing.
“Forget it,” the man said.
John could tell he was further away.
“I don’t get it,” the man said. “You bring me back here. You give me the signs, then go and turn all Ms. Prissy on me.”
John risked a glance out in the hall and didn’t like what he saw. Angela was standing by herself, her back against Alex’s door. She was naked except for her heels. The man was back at the entrance to the hallway in the living room. John could tell by the look on her
face that she’d seen him. He was stunned by her and couldn’t help, but stare. He stood there mesmerized by her body, despite of everything going on.
“I’m sorry,” Angela said.
The shadow of the man moved in the hall and caused John to pull back. He heard him take a few steps and then stop.
“It’s just that it’s been a long time for me,” she said.
John could tell she was back in control of the situation and she knew it.
“Is that right?” the man asked.
“You have to be gentle,” she said.
“Oh, I can be gentle.”
The man continued down the hall, then a second later, the sound of lustful kisses filled the enclosed space. John was angrier than before, and seeing his naked wife made the situation worse. In his head, he could see the man rubbing his dirty hands over her body.
“I want to go in here,” the man said.
Angela hesitated. “My bedroom’s right down here,” she said.
“I don’t want to go in there,” the man said, sounding clearer than he had before.
“This is my son’s room,” she said.
“He in there?”
“No, but-”
“Then who the hell cares?” the man said. “You can wash the sheets before he gets home.”
John knew he had to act. The man wasn’t going to be swayed into the bedroom. John readied himself again, holding the hammer firm. The sound of Alex’s door opening filled the hall. John panicked as he took a step out. He couldn’t see Alex’s door or the man. Angela was in the doorway, her butt covered by the man’s hands. John crossed the distance in two steps, but froze when he heard a noise from within the room. The moan was loud and angry and the sound of it made John shake with fear.
“What the hell is that?”
John heard the man’s question and the panic in his voice. Angela was trying to pull away from him, but the man clamped on to her and wouldn’t let go.
“What the hell’s in here?”
John couldn’t will himself to move. The moaning turned to a snarl like a wild dog. Angela pulled herself away and grabbed a hold of John. She tried to get the hammer from his hand, but he wouldn’t let go.
“What is this?” the man asked. “Get off me.”
Angela stopped as the man screamed. She leaned toward the door and then pushed John with all her might. John stumbled back and lost his balance. He hit the ground with a solid smack and the hammer slid across the floor under the bed.
“Damn it.”
John lifted his head and saw the man step out of Alex’s room, slamming the door behind him. Angela was standing in front of him, blocking the way.
“Get him,” she said.
“Get who?”
John knew she was screaming for him. He flipped over on his hands and knees and reached under the bed.
“Get the hell out of my way.”
John heard Angela cry out followed by a loud slam against the wall.
“I don’t know what the hell your problem is, give me those,” the man said.
“Damn it, get him.”
“Your freaking dog bit me,” the man said. “You are crazy. I bet you did get put up in that hospital.”
John heard the front door open and then close. He still couldn’t find the hammer. The sound of a truck revving was interrupted by Angela running into the room.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked.
“I lost the damn hammer,” John said.
Angela pulled at him to get up. “He’s getting away.”
He got to his feet and headed back down the hall, but once he reached the front door, he still didn’t have a plan. He pulled the door open in time to see a truck backing down the driveway. In a plume of smoke, the tires spun out as it pulled away.
“Go get him,” Angela said, pushing past him and out the door. “What are you waiting for?”
John turned to face her, she was still naked.
“What do you want me to do? He’s gone.”
Angela eyed him coldly and stomped her heel on the ground. “You’re going to fix this,” she said. “You’re going to fix this or we’re finished.” She didn’t give him time to respond before she turned around, headed back in the house, and slammed the door behind her.
9
John sat out on the front porch for several hours. He wanted a drink, but wasn’t willing to go back in the house to get it. He knew what was coming. Angela hadn’t gotten what she wanted and there was going to be hell to pay. He tried to rationalize it as long as he could. She was only doing what was best for their son. It was John’s responsibility to take care of the man once she got him in the house, and he didn’t do that.
It was hard for John to understand how they’d got to this point. Love was a crazy thing and he kept telling himself this was all an extension of that craziness. He strolled up and down the driveway stuck in his thoughts. Angela looked out the living room window several times, but he hadn’t seen her in over an hour. He was hoping to wait her out before going in. He planned to sneak in, try and hold off the furry until the morning. She was bound to calm down by then.
The cold was beginning to get to him. His t-shirt and jeans did little to keep him warm. He rubbed his hands over his arms and eyed the living room for movement. He waited as long as he could before deciding it was safe.
John worked his way around to the rear of the house and tried the back door. The knob turned with ease and he slipped inside quickly. A wall of heat hit him in the face as he entered. He hadn’t realized how cold it was. He saw no sign of Angela, heading for the kitchen with swift, silent steps. Within a few seconds, he had a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand and his last pack of cigarettes in the other. He stepped past the kitchen table without looking around, opened the back door, and popped outside.
A few minutes later, the cold was no longer an issue. He took several long swigs from the bottle and lit up a second cigarette before the first one was out. He spent another hour in the back of the house and by the time he came in, his concern for his wife’s mood was all but gone. The back door popped open and he tossed the empty bottle of Jack on the ground before he stepped through.
“You found your nerve?”
John’s head shot up and he found Angela standing at the entrance to the hallway. She’d covered up in one of his old work shirts, but it didn’t leave a lot to the imagination. He found he had plenty of liquid courage. “I wasn’t looking for nerve.” He tossed the pack of cigarettes on the table.
“I thought you quit?”
“I started back,” he said and headed into the kitchen.
Angela stayed in the hall as he turned on the kitchen faucet. He took a few minutes to clean his hands and rub some cold water on his face and through his hair. John knew she was watching him, but he didn’t sense the anger he’d assumed he was going to get.
“I know, I know,” he said as he stepped out of the kitchen and leaned against the entryway. “I messed up.”
Angela eyed him long enough for it to be uncomfortable then smiled. She crossed the dining room slowly, not turning her head. Her eyes were focused as something worked its way through her mind. She came to a stop a few feet from him, leaning back against the dining room table. “You sure did,” she said. “You acted like a coward.” She didn’t say the words any different, but the last phrase cut hard at John. She was still smiling.
“I couldn’t do it,” he said. “It’s not like we’re talking about pulling a cow in the house and-”
“Yes it is,” she said, her voice taking on a deeper note as she pushed off the table and took a long step toward him. “That’s exactly what it’s like. If you had to eat and the only thing that would satisfy you was some stupid cow…” Her smile widened. “…would you have a problem bringing it to the slaughter?”
John knew she was trapping him, but he fell right into it anyway.
“No,” he said.
“This is the same thing,” she insisted, then
took another step toward him and placed her hand on his belt. “Your son needs to eat. We brought a cow in for the slaughter and all you had to do was make the finishing cut.”
John pursed his lips. His head was a mess. Any time he could get away from Angela for an extended period, the weight of what was happening in his house came to the forefront. However, when she got a hold of him, his strength didn’t stand a chance.
“I said I messed up,” he said. “When the moment came, I couldn’t do it.”
He shook his head, disgusted with himself. No matter what was going on in his life, he couldn’t stand to disappoint his wife. She’d had a powerful control over him for as long as he could remember. Angela abruptly turned away and walked back down the hall. John hesitated and then followed after her. She stopped in front of Alex’s door and held her ear against the wood. Like a mother cat, she slowly scratched at the door. She continued the act until a haunting mimic could be heard clearly from the other side.
“Do you want to tell him?” she asked without looking at John. “Do you want to tell your son he’s going to have to suffer because you were a coward?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. Angela pulled her face away, kissed her hand, and held it up lovingly to the door. She walked towards her bedroom with a smile in place.
John sighed heavily as his shoulders slouched. “But, babe…” Angela didn’t respond. He was close to where she wanted him. A small push in the right direction would put things back in the right direction. “Babe,” he said, calling after her as he stepped into their bedroom.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she said. “He’s gone now.” She motioned out at the hall. John stood in the doorway defeated. She sat down on the bed and looked up at him. Her eyes shifted as if trying to think of some way to fix the problem. “What do you think we should do?” she asked. “It’s not like I enjoy letting the creep rub up against me.” She leaned back on the bed resting on her elbows; the edge of her shirt road up far enough to prove she hadn’t put on anything underneath.
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