“He’s not coming home,Mom.”
She glared at me and rounded the desk. I kept my eye on her hands and the rags that lined thedesk.
“You can try to talk your way out of the beating, Chad, but it’s not going to work. Your father will be home any minute,” shereplied.
She pointed to the mini grandfather clock that sat on the mantle behind my father’s desk. It was 5:25 p.m. My father would have been off work at 5:00 and been on his commutehome.
She was waiting for him. She was expectinghim.
“Mom, he’s not coming home ever again,” I said as calmly aspossible.
My father had been given the maximum sentence, which carried life. He was never getting out ofprison.
“What the fuck are you talking about,Chad?”
“Fuck! For God’s sake, Mom! I’mRyan!”
My heart pounded, and I knew my blood pressure had gone through the roof. This, on top of the other shit that preceded this, was too much forme.
“He’s never coming home!” I yelledback.
She stalked towards me with one of the towels and begun to swing it as she nearedme.
“What did you do?” she screamed at me. “What did you do? What did youdo?”
I shielded my head from her swinging towel and pushed Marie outside ahead ofme.
“Call Chad,” I toldMarie.
“What the fuck is wrong with her?” Marie asked as she pulled her cell phone out of herpocket.
Marie and I sat on the porch and heard my mom through the screen door calling the train yard. Over and over, she called asking to speak with my dad. While we waited for my brother, the aches had begun settling in for me, and the stomach painreturned.
“Hi, it’s Liz Hudson. Do you know if Brad has left yet? I had supper on, and he hasn’t shown up yet,” my mom recycled this phraseagain.
“Ry-Ry,” Marie said my namesoftly.
I looked up from hiding my eyes in my forearms and made eye contact with her. She pointed at the seat, or I thought she was pointing at theseat.
“You’re bleeding, baby,” shesaid.
I quickly took my feet off the tattered metal chair and parted my legs to look down. Some blood had begun to seep through my jeans. I stood and lookedaround.
“How long did my brother say he’d be?” I asked her and put my hand on my stomach to ease thepain.
“He should be heresoon.”
Just then, my brother’s truck pulled up, and I hurried down the porch steps to talk tohim.
“What did you do?” he asked as he sauntered towardme.
“Fuck you, I didn’t do a damn thing. I brought money over and let her talk me into her usualgames.”
“Ain’t that a shame? Once a pussy, always apussy.”
I had had it. I was bleeding and needed away. I ignored his jab and explained whathappened.
“On top of all of that, this is the millionth time she’s called meyou.”
