Rumble (32 page)

the whole story, or at least enough

of it to understand your reasons,

so no use arguing them. I’d like

to say I feel this way because

my mom and I are close, but that

isn’t the truth. Nor can I say moral

bankruptcy doesn’t run in this

family. But I am highly offended

that my father decided to move

you in here so soon after Mom left,

and completely pissed that you chose

to make your first official act

as woman of the house erasing

my brother’s presence completely.”

She Opens Her Mouth

Wisely closes it again.

We have nothing to say

to each other right now.

“I’m going to make myself

a sandwich. I’ll eat in here. Alone.”

First I return the Glock

to the safety of its lockbox,

then I go slap peanut butter

and jam on a slice of bread.

Grab a couple of beers,

which slims a six-pack

to four. Screw it. Maybe Dad

will think Lorelei is a lush.

If not, whatever. He owes me.

The sandwich goes down

in four short bites, a can of brew

in three long swallows.

My stomach is full, the rest

of me hollow. I sit on Luke’s bed,

watching
Batman Forever

on my laptop. Val Kilmer

as the sad, dark superhero.

Like me, minus the superhero.

About the Time

Batman and Robin reach Claw

Island, I hear a very loud voice

at the far end of the house.

It’s so loud, in fact, that it rises

above the noise of the movie.

I take it Dad’s home. I brace

for confrontation in:

Three. Two. One.

Bam!
The door slams against

the wall.
What the hell got into

you? I bought you that gun for

target practice, not to go running

around playing vigilante. You

could have killed Lori!

“Uh, yeah, Dad, that’s what

I told her. On the bright side,

I didn’t shoot. She isn’t dead.

And things are looking up for Batman.”

He crosses the room in two long

strides.
Turn that fucking thing

off. This is a serious matter,

smart-ass. Where’s the Glock?

I shut down the laptop. Stand,

to feel less vulnerable. “I’m not

giving up the gun, Dad. I think

my reaction was totally reasonable,

considering I came home to what

I thought was an intruder.”

You realize an actual intruder

might have had his own gun?

Or might have taken yours away

from you and used it himself?

Barring all that, how would

you feel if you actually shot

and killed someone, either

purposely or by accident?

“Excellent questions, Dad, and

I promise to think them over.

But they would be moot if only

you would’ve bothered to communicate

the fact that you were moving

your girlfriend into my home.

Not to mention sanctioning

turning this room into her office.”

Better that than a shrine.

Tension Bleeds

From his shoulders and neck

and he starts to turn away.

Confrontation over? What if

I don’t want it to be?

It’s time to move on.

I notice Lorelei standing just

across the threshold. “You certainly

don’t seem to have a problem

with that, Dad. You moved on before

this room became a shrine.”

He starts to turn back, but Lorelei

gestures for him to really, truly move

on. He goes over, kisses her softly.

The door is still open when she says,

It’s a lot to drop in his lap

all at once. Give him some

time. He’ll come around.

At least she stopped what might

have turned ugly. At least he isn’t

bitching about me drinking his beer.

Slipping into Sleep

I notice Luke’s scent

has faded from the pillow,

which now smells a lot

more like me. When

Luke’s clothes are in

boxes, and these sheets

are washed and this bed

is gone, every vestige

of Luke will have vanished;

the only thing left, memories.

I reach into my recollection,

find us again in the shade

of that bridge discussing

alternate evolutions. He

was ever so much older

than the sum of his birthdays.

Maybe he was an alien

after all. Maybe he did

find his magic, and then

he was ready to go.

The Alarm

Wakes me at seven thirty.

I’ve kicked off the covers

during the night, and I shiver

beneath a pale sheet of light.

I will never come into this

room again. “Goodbye, Luke.”

No point in making the bed,

I leave it in disarray. I dress

in the same clothes I had on

yesterday, not bothering to

shower. I circle the room once,

touching the walls, which will

likely be some awful neutral

shade by the time I return home.

I look for proper mementos of

my brother, choose the clock

and a picture of the two of us

that is sitting on the nightstand.

I put those in my room, along

with my laptop. Then the Glock

and I head over to the range.

I’ve got a job, and the thought

of making a few extra bucks cheers

me a little. I might need the cash.

On the Way Over

I come to a decision. When I arrive,

Uncle Jessie is just unlocking the door.

I bring the Glock in with me. “Do

you happen to have a locker available?”

I should know this information,

anyway. Some people prefer to keep

their weapons at the range, so Uncle

Jessie has a storage area, complete

with lockers.
Sure. I’ve got three

open. Why? You want to use one?

“Yeah. Since I’ll be out more often,

I might as well keep my pistol here.

There’ve been some burglaries in

the neighborhood. Better safe than sorry.”

That’s a lie, but I don’t really want to

tell him I came damn close to taking

out my future stepmother. I only want

to shoot targets. I don’t want to be sorry.

It’s a Slow Afternoon

Uncle Jessie and I spend

most of it sitting side by side,

shooting the breeze, which

isn’t quite as exciting as

the target shooting I did

earlier in the day. I even

got paid for that time since

I was helping an older lady

learn how to hit what she

pointed her gun at. But now,

two members out back and

the office empty, talk turns

to Dad, and how I came

home yesterday to find out

he’s moving his girlfriend in.

I omit the part about almost

shooting her. “I found Lorelei

dismantling Luke’s room.”

Lorelei? Not the same one

he used to go with, is it?

When I say yes, he shakes

his head.
My, my, my. Last time

I saw her was right before I deployed.

She was about ready to pop.

Pop?

“You mean ‘pop’ as in have

a baby?” Something else no

one bothered to tell me?

Well, yeah. Looked like she

swallowed a basketball.

Had a little girl with her, too.

Holy crap. She’s got
kids
?

I’m getting sick of surprises. “You

deployed ten years ago, yeah?”

Hell, yeah. Fallujah or bust.

Don’t know what I was thinking,

joining up. No one’s a hero in war.

He goes on to tell Iraq stories.

Some I’ve heard, others are new,

but I’m not really paying attention.

I nod and grunt, toss out

a comment or two when something

he says sinks in. But mostly,

I’m stewing about Dad, his woman,

and her children, damn them all.

The last thing I want is new siblings.

When I Get Home

Dad and Lorelei are eating

dinner. I slam the front door,

stomp into the kitchen. Dad

gives me his pissed expression;

she just looks hopeful.

He:
Where the hell have you been?

She:
Hey, Matt. Join us? I made—

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

Total lie. “And I was at work.

Sorry, I forgot to tell you Uncle

Jessie gave me a job. Weekends

and holidays, ten bucks an hour.”

She:
I think that’s great!

He:
What happened to discussion?

I go to the fridge, grab a beer, pop

the tab. “You mean, like discussing

moving
her
in? I don’t remember

that discussion. Or was there one about

scrubbing Luke’s room free of him?

Or wait. Is there, perhaps, a pending

discussion about her kids?”

Dad Tells Me to Stop

Drinking his beer,

stop drinking his Jack,

stop drinking, period,

or he’ll put me in rehab,

I just might have a little problem.

(Dare you to try it, pot-who-calls-the-kettle-black.)

She tells me she’s got

a daughter who’s twelve,

and a son who’s ten,

both of whom will live

with their father so they

don’t have to change schools,

don’t have to lose friends.

(All they have to lose is their mother.)

He says they’ll come to visit

some weekends, and over

the summer. She says not

to worry, they have sleeping

bags and love to pretend

they’re camping out

when they sleep on the floor.

(Wonder how long before they’ll have my room.)

Monday Morning

English class is all abuzz

as Ms. Hannity collects

her five classroom copies of

The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

Just until the school board meets,

she promises.
I’m positive they’ll

retain the book. It’s a necessary story.

It seems some parent challenged

it due to offensive content.

The review committee voted

to keep the book without restrictions.

That angered this parent, who

accused the committee, our librarian,

and the English teachers who offer

Perks
as independent reading,

of “promoting the homosexual

agenda.” He organized a campaign

within his church to insist on a vote

by the school board, and until

that happens, the books are being

removed from the library and classrooms.

Said parent happens to be Hayden’s dad.

I Know That

Because Frank DeLucca’s

letter to the editor is circulating.

Excerpt:

How can any teacher, in good conscience, place pornography on a sanctioned reading list? This book contains graphic descriptions of masturbation, intercourse, rape, and homosexual sodomy. It, in fact, seeks to legitimize the homosexual lifestyle, and if a review committee votes to retain this book, it is promoting the homosexual agenda. Ditto any librarian who displays this book in her library or teachers who recommend it to their students.

Oh, it gets better:

It is not enough to say leave it to the individual parent to decide what his child may read. Too many parents don’t have the time or inclination to observe what their children are reading, and far too many parents don’t raise their children to respect their decisions. That is why we, as a community, must assure that every book our children can access meets high moral standards. This is what God would have us do.

Apparently, God’s into banning books.

Plenty of sex in the Bible. Would he ban that, too?

DeLucca, Raging Jerk

“High moral standards,” meaning

his own. How many decent books

could meet them? How many

decent people could? And what,

exactly, is
his
agenda? Why so

publicly take this to the extreme?

Ms. Hannity vows to soldier on.

My colleagues and I will speak

before the school board. We don’t

believe in censorship, but there’s