M.I.A.

by Michael Allen Dymmoch

  Finn’s ma let me in. “Good morning, Jimmy. Finn’s in the kitchen.”

  He yawned when he saw me. “You’re up early. Hey, how come you’re not in Greenville?”

  “I got canned.”

  “That why you’re so bummed?”

  “No. Listen, I need you to front me some cash.”

  “Sure. How much?”

  “As much as you got.”

  “Why?”

  “Better you don’t know.”

  “You rob a bank or somethin’? No, wait. Then you wouldn’t need money. What’s this about?” He got that you’d-better-give look on his face and waited.

  “Beth’s pregnant, and we gotta get out of town.”

  “Why run away? Where would you go?”

  “Maybe we’ll go to Vegas and get married. Beth’s dad is trying to make her get an abortion.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “Better she doesn’t know where we went. Then she doesn’t have to lie.”

  Finn shook his head sadly. “You’re off your fuckin’ nut.”

  “Are you gonna lend me the money?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah. Wait here while I get it.”

  He was back in two minutes. He handed me a roll of bills and waited while I stashed it in my pocket, then he held out his hand. “Good luck, man. You’re gonna need it.”

  “Thanks.” I started to go, then had a thought. “Finn, what happens when you marry your first cousin?”

  “You turn into a hillbilly.”

  “What?”

  “My dad says half the hillbillies in the country’re married to their first cousins.”

  “I’m serious, man.”

  “Seriously, you can’t marry your first cousin. It’s against the law.”

  “What if you didn’t tell?”

  There was a long wait while he thought about it. Then he said, “Probably nothin’ if no one found out.”

  “No shit?”

  “Remember when Hutchings’s dogs had puppies?”

  “The yellow Labs?”

  He nodded. “The father dog was the bitch’s brother. And none of ’em came out with two heads.”

  “Yeah, but those are dogs. I’m talking about people.”

  “A lot of people are dogs.”

  “Don’t be a dickhead!”

  “Biology’s biology, man. If you married your cousin—if you could marry your cousin—you’d probably get kicked out of your church, and everybody’d think you were a retard.

  “But that wouldn’t matter to your genes.”

  After we left Finn’s, we went to my house to get some things. I figured it was safe. Ma wasn’t home—her car wasn’t in the drive. I told Beth to raid the fridge and pack us a lunch, and I went up to get my emergency stash. While I was at it, I threw some clean stuff in my duffel and dug out my junior class ring. It wasn’t a diamond, but I guessed it would do until I could get one.

  I nearly ran into my ma when I came back in the kitchen. I couldn’t tell who looked more shocked—her or Beth. It was one of those “Oh, shit” moments.

  Then Ma and Beth started to talk at once. Then they both shut up.

  Ma recovered first. “Good morning, Beth. Jimmy.”

  I said, “Morning, Ma,” and Beth said, “Good morning, Mrs. Fahey,” at the same time.

  “Where’s your car, Ma?”

  “I left it at John’s shop for service.”

  Before I could ask her where she’d been, or how she got home, she said, “Don’t you two have work today?”

  Beth got really red. And I must have, too, because Ma suddenly went on alert. “What’s the matter with you?”

  Beth and I looked at each other—we couldn’t help it. Ma went to full parental vigilance mode. She pointed at the couch and said, “Sit.”

  We did.

  Ma looked from Beth’s lunch bag to my duffel and said, “Going somewhere?”

  Which caused Beth to break out in a crying fit. So, of course, we had to tell her.

  Even though I didn’t want to run crying to my ma to bail us out, it felt kinda good getting it off my chest.

  Ma didn’t freak. She handed Beth a box of Kleenex and asked, “What did you think you were going to do?”

  “Go somewhere my dad can’t find us.”

  “You didn’t think he would look here?”

  “We weren’t gonna stay,” I said. “Just get some stuff and leave.”

  “Where?”

  I shrugged.

  Ma said, “You’re not running away.”

  “But my dad’ll kill Jimmy!”

  “And make Beth get an abortion.”

  That’s when the phone rang.

  Ma gave us a schoolteacher look and said, “Don’t move,” then went to answer the phone. When she said, “Steve?” I limped into the living room to listen on the extension.

  “Bob’s on the way,” Steve said. “He jumped me and knocked me down the basement stairs. I didn’t tell him where you live, but you’re in the book. You better call the cops.”

  Ma said, “Thanks, Steve,” and hung up. She sounded really calm.

  Before she could dial 911 or anything, we heard pounding on the front door.

  I looked out and saw the blue DeVille. “Ma, call the cops!”

  She called back, “Who’s there?”

  “Beth’s dad.”

  “Call the police,” I heard her tell Beth as she came charging from the kitchen.

  The pounding on the door stopped. Something started crashing against it.

  I looked out again and saw Uncle Bobby whaling on the door with a baseball bat.

  It took him about thirty seconds to break the bat. He tossed the pieces aside and started smashing the door with his foot.

  The doorframe shattered like a movie prop. The door flew open.

  And Uncle Bobby—Beth’s dad—came through the doorway like the Terminator.

  Rhiann

  Bob came through the door like a pro tackle. He was two inches taller than my son and at least a hundred pounds heavier. He crossed the living room in four strides and slammed Jimmy against the wall, sending his cane flying. I threw myself at them. Bob swatted me aside, then hit Jimmy in the face.

  John charged in as the blow landed. Jimmy slid to the floor. Before Bob could touch him again, John smashed the bully facefirst into the wall. He grabbed Bob’s collar and dragged him back against the side of Mickey’s old recliner and threw him on it. Bob didn’t get up.

  I went to Jimmy, who pushed me away when I tried to feel for damage. “I’m all right,” he muttered. He didn’t have the same response to Beth when she came running from the kitchen. She slipped past her father, her eyes wide.

  Bob didn’t notice. It had been nearly twenty years since anyone stood up to him, much less knocked him silly. He seemed to be in shock.

  I got to my feet. As I stepped around the recliner to confront him, John got out of my way. But he stayed close.

  I got in Bob’s face. “Can you give me one reason why I shouldn’t have you arrested?”

  “Incest,” he managed to gasp. “That bastard of yours got my daughter pregnant. His cousin!” He opened and closed his mouth several times, but no more sound came out.

  “Jimmy’s not Beth’s blood cousin,” I said. “Billy wasn’t his biological father.”

  “You can’t get him off by lying.”

  “It’s easy enough to prove. What was your brother’s blood type?”

  “B positive.”

  “Well, mine is O negative. And Jimmy’s is A negative. Do you remember enough biology to know what that means?”

  I could tell by the surprised, relieved looks on their faces that Beth and Jimmy did.

  Bob took a minute to consider, then said, “You sleep around a lot?”

  Behind me, I could feel John clenching his fists. I backed into him and reached behind me for his hand. He gave it.

  “You tricked my brother into marrying you,” Bob insisted. “You told him it
was his kid, didn’t you?”

  “Billy asked me to marry him because he loved me. We got married when we did because he didn’t want our kid to be called a bastard.”

  “You just said he wasn’t Billy’s.”

  “Not biologically. But legally, he’s Billy’s child. Billy would have been his father if he’d lived.”

  “Whoever his father was, I’m gonna see the kid goes to jail for rape. She was only sixteen!”

  “Daddy, no!”

  He looked over his shoulder.

  Beth was sitting on her feet, twisting Jimmy’s class ring round and round on her left thumb. Jimmy was still sitting against the wall, but he had one arm protectively around her.

  It seemed to take Bob a long time to realize who was there, to understand what she was saying. Finally he said, “Shut up, Liz!”

  “If you send him to jail, I’ll just marry him when he gets out!”

  Up to this point, John had been silent, hanging back, letting us deal with Bob. Now he held up a hand to silence Beth, keeping his eyes on her father. He disengaged his hand from my grip and gently set me to one side so he faced Bob directly.

  “Still picking on the young and the female, Bobby boy? You haven’t changed much.”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “A close friend of the family. A friend of your brother’s, too. And I happen to know everything Rhiann said is true.”

  Bob sat for a moment with his mouth open, then said, “I know you. Who are you?”

  “They used to call me Smoke.”

  I could tell from the amazed expression on my son’s face that he’d heard some of the legends.

  John ignored everyone but Bob. “Unless you’re ready to sell everything you own to pay your legal fees, you’re going to back off and accept whatever decision Beth and Jimmy make.”

  Bob’s eyes widened and he paled.

  He’d been a senior when I was sixteen, a linebacker on the football team. Shortly after the start of football season, he noticed me, and asked me out. I told him I wasn’t interested, but he persisted.

  One day he started to get grabby. Billy came to my rescue and got knocked around for his trouble. Neither of us mentioned the incident. Smoke would’ve paid Bobby back with interest and gotten himself expelled. But Billy couldn’t hide his fat ear or split lip, and I had a mean bruise above my elbow. Smoke eventually made us give it up.

  The day after he found out he told us to meet him at the football field. We both knew there’d be trouble—the team practiced right after school. We showed up because Smoke told us to and we were used to doing what he said. But we were nervous.

  Billy and I waited behind the farthest goalpost. Smoke took a position between us, a few feet back. He looked tough in his 501 jeans and motorcycle boots. His navy T-shirt was a size too small and showed off the muscles he’d been building.

  “Smoke, what are we doing?” Billy asked.

  “Role-playing. Think of me as D’Artagnan. And you’re Athos; Steve’s Aramis.” Smoke pulled out an imaginary sword and whipped the air with it, then put it away.

  “Does that make me Porthos?” I asked.

  “No! You’re one of my many admirers of the female persuasion.”

  Not far from the truth, though I didn’t say so.

  It took fifteen minutes for the players to get tired or the coach curious. He said something, and Bobby came downfield at a hurried walk. He looked from Billy to me and back. “What’re you doing here?”

  Smoke stepped forward. “They’re with me.”

  “Yeah? Who’re you?”

  Smoke just smiled. “You know what they call guys who pick on smaller guys and girls?”

  “What?”

  “Bullies. Are you a bully, Bobby boy?”

  “You got some nerve,” Bobby said. “You come here three against one—no!—two and a dyke against one—”

  “ONE?” Smoke interrupted. “I count sixteen of you. Seventeen with Coach.”

  The coach had gotten tired of waiting and was heading our way.

  Bobby didn’t notice. He half yelled, “You’re a fuckin’ nutcase!”

  Smoke gave him a demonic grin.

  “What do you want?” Bobby demanded.

  “I want you to leave my friends alone. I mean, just because you’re Billy’s older brother doesn’t give you the right to whale on him. YOU’RE NOT HIS FATHER!”

  Bobby shook his head as if Smoke were hopeless. He pointed at me. “I suppose she’s your girlfriend.”

  “My girl. My friend. My little sister.” He took off an imaginary hat and bowed to me—D’Artagnan saluting his queen. “My Frog Princess.”

  I giggled.

  Smoke turned to Bobby. “She’s nothing to you except off limits. You understand?”

  “If I don’t, what’re you gonna do about it?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  At that point, the coach reached our position. “What’s going on?”

  Smoke turned to him. “I had a burning football question I thought Bobby boy might be able to answer.”

  The coach fell for it. “What’s that?”

  Smoke turned back and answered Bobby’s previous question with one of his own: “How much pain can a linebacker stand before he goes blubbering home to mommy?”

  “Are you threatening one of my players?” Coach demanded.

  Smoke looked at him. “In front of the whole football team and the coach? I’d have to be—” He whirled to face Bobby. “Crazy!”

  Bobby took a step back. Obviously he thought Smoke was crazy.

  Coach said. “Who are you?”

  “A talent scout for the Bears.”

  “Your name,” Coach said.

  “Smoke. As in, ‘Where there’s fire, there’s smoke.’”

  “I’ve heard of you.” Coach looked uncomfortable. “You’re trouble. Get the hell out of here.”

  Smoke made another exaggerated bow. “As you wish.” He turned to Bob. “See you around, Bobby.” He put his arms around Billy’s neck and mine and steered us away from the field.

  As we left, we heard the coach tell Bobby, “You keep away from those losers.”

  John

  I let Rhiann decide Bob Wilding’s fate. She opted for making peace. And for compromise. She said an ex-football player attacking a cripple was probably felony battery and offered to forget about pressing charges if Bob would lay off the kids. She told him his statutory rape case wouldn’t hold up with the two minors so close in age. I don’t know if she was bluffing, but Bob believed her. The arrival of the sheriff’s new deputy seemed anticlimactic, but reinforced her position.

  They managed to convince the cop that Beth’s call was a false alarm, a family dispute that had gotten out of hand. Jimmy claimed his new bruises were from his accident, and Bob was his favorite father-in-law-to-be.

  Before he took his daughter and went home, I told him she’d better be in school Monday morning, unharmed, or every child welfare agency in the state would be at his door.

  Bob didn’t say a word when Jimmy kissed Beth good-bye and told her he would call her later.

  After they drove away, Rhiann announced she was making dinner and ordered me to stay. Then she went inside and left me and Jimmy to work things out.

  “Are all families this screwed up?” Jimmy asked.

  “Probably. But most people tend to think theirs is the norm, so they don’t think of their family as odd.”

  “Are you really Smoke?”

  “I was. Long ago.”

  “Steve said you loved my mother.”

  “I do. She’s always made me want to be better.”

  “That’s the way Beth makes me feel.”

  He was quiet for a long time; I let the silence draw him out. “If Billy wasn’t—” Jimmy reddened. “Who?”

  “Who’s your biological father?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It seems I am.”

  “All this time—did you know?”

&nbs
p; I shook my head.

  “I don’t feel like you’re my real dad.”

  “I’m not. Mickey Fahey was.” I handed him a picture I carried in my wallet—Rhiann, Jimmy, and Mickey. Happy. I added, “But I’ve always loved your mother.”

  “Then why’d you leave her?”

  “I had to go. She couldn’t wait for me.” I shrugged. It really wasn’t important now.

  “If my dad hadn’t died would you have…” He seemed unsure how to put it.

  “Surfaced?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Probably not.”

  “What would you have done?”

  “Probably gone on as I did when he was alive. Kept my distance.” Enjoyed the Fahey family’s happiness vicariously.

  “But if you always loved my mother, how could you stand to not be with her?”

  How indeed?

  “You didn’t ask to be born. And you didn’t get to pick your parents. But you deserved to have a decent life, two parents who could care for you, a stable environment. I couldn’t give you those. Billy would have, if he’d lived. And Mickey did. All I could have done would be confuse things.”

  I was confusing him now, but he’d get over it.

  “I don’t see how you could have knocked her up and just left.”

  “Don’t you? If you hadn’t survived crashing your car, where do you think Beth would be?”

  “You weren’t in any crash!”

  “Before I met your mother my life was one big crash. If I hadn’t left when I did, I’d have ended up in prison for murder. Where would she have been then?”

  He thought about that for a while. “Are you telling me this is like Oedipus?”

  “The truth usually sets you free, but sometimes it can fuck with your mind.”

  “I think it’s gonna take me a while to get used to all this.”

  “You’ve got the rest of your life.”

  “What are you gonna be doin’?”

  “I’m going to ask your mother to marry me.”

  “What if I’m not okay with that?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not telling you who you can marry.”

  He nodded as if that seemed fair. “Jesus! Now I got a family to support! Do I still have a job?”