Small Crimes (21 page)

What
really got to me was the look on her face when she was waiting for me to
explain myself. It was the type of look you might see at an accident site when
a bystander catches a glimpse of something he wishes to hell he never saw. And
she knew damn well I was lying! She knew it, but went straight into denial,
pretending everything between us was hunky-dory.

By
the time I got to my parents' house, I was feeling worse than shaky - kind of
weak in the knees, like all I wanted to do was get to bed, lie down and hide
from the world. When I opened the door I saw both my parents sitting in the
den. They had the TV set on, but it was obvious they weren't paying attention
to it. When they turned to me, my mom's mouth started to move as if she were
chewing gum and my dad looked as if he dreaded what was about to happen.

'Can
you sit down, Joey?' my dad asked.

'What's
this about?'

My
mom's mouth was closed but it was still moving furiously. It seemed like an
effort for her to stop it. 'Do what your father tells you to do,' she demanded
sharply.

I
took a couple of steps into the room. 'Look,' I said, 'I'm tired and I don't
have time for this nonsense. What do you want?'

'Sit
down!' my mom ordered, her voice shrill and bordering on hysteria, her mouth
once again chewing away on her imaginary gum.

'If
this is about what happened at church—'

'Elaine
called us today,' my dad said. He had slouched forward and was wringing his
hands. He could barely look up at me. 'She told us how you drove to Albany the
other day and how you called this morning. Courtney's been upset all day about
your call.'

At
first I was numb. Then as I looked at them, at my mom's raisin-like face rigid
with fury and my dad's hangdog beaten expression, I could feel the blood rush
to my head.

'You
lied to me before,' I said. 'You knew where my daughters were and you lied to
me about it.'

'Son,
listen to me—'

But
I didn't. I turned and raced out of the room.

The
blood was now boiling in me. I was actually seeing red, honest to God. I
started choking on the treachery and unfairness of it; that my own parents
would conspire with my ex-wife to keep me away from my daughters.

My
parents must've sat in their chairs stunned. I don't think they had any idea
where I was headed until I locked the door to their bedroom. Then I heard some
activity from them, but I ignored it. I started pulling drawers from the
dressers and dumping their contents onto the floor. My dad knocked meekly on
the door, asking me to unlock it, and then my mom joined in, rapping on it
frantically, but I ignored them. And then I found the pictures.

There
were maybe fifty of them in total. They were all of Melissa and Courtney taken
at different ages. As I looked at them, I felt the rage that had been burning
inside me fizzle away. Both my girls looked a lot like Elaine. They were both
petite and blonde. They both had such thin legs and arms. As I went through the
pictures and saw my girls as they grew older, I could see some of me in
Courtney, at least around the eyes. And there was a little bit of me in Melissa
too; this sorrowful little smile that she had. Both girls had grown up to look
a lot like Elaine; they were both pretty as hell, but there was just enough of
me in both of them to keep them from being beautiful.

The
rapping on the door had grown harder and more frantic. My mom yelled at me not
to dare go through her things. The combination of it - her yelling and the
rapping - knocked me out of my thoughts. I felt a heaviness settle in my
throat. I closed my eyes and tried to swallow back the emotion that was
fighting its way forward. I was damned if I was going to let the two of them
see me cry. It took some effort, and some deep breathing, but I got myself
under control.

I
went over to the door and opened it. The two of them stood there, shocked,
their eyes first going to the mess on the floor and then to the stack of photos
that I was holding. My dad looked like death warmed over, my mom's shriveled
face was livid.

'You
had no right going through my possessions,' my mom squeezed out in a tight,
cold voice.

'Shut
up.'

'Don't
you dare talk to your mother like that,' my dad said without much conviction.

'You
two can go screw yourselves,' I said. 'You're going to lie to me about my
daughters? You couldn't even let me see pictures of them? Go to hell.'

'Give
me those pictures,' my mom demanded. And then she made a grab for them. I
backed away and raised my hand so I was holding them above her head. She
started hopping up and down trying to reach for them.

'You
give those back to me or I'll call the police on you,' she forced out between
hops. She was breathing heavily now. 'What you're doing is stealing.'

'Go
right ahead and call them,' I said.

The
whole situation was so laughable that I couldn't help myself. I just started
laughing like a crazy man. Maybe I was having some sort of minor breakdown, I
don't know, but I just kept laughing away as my mom hopped up and down trying
to grab those photos from me.

The
gunshot brought me out of it. That one shot was really made up of almost four
simultaneous noises - the gun blast, glass breaking, a whirling rush past my
ear, and then the bullet thudding into the wall. Four distinct noises all
within the span of less than a second. I pushed both my mom and dad down and
then drove to the floor.

Just
before I hit the floor there was another shot and the sound of another window
shattering. Then I heard tires squeal as a car raced away. At first my mind was
completely blank, and when it started working again, all I could think was that
sonofabitch Junior had tried making a go at me. I got to my feet and raced to
the front door, but the car was long gone.

I
went outside and could see from the street the two windows that were shot out.
I had a pretty good idea where the shots came from. A car must've stopped in
front of the house and fired the shots before speeding off. The first one had
missed me by inches. It had been too close to have been meant as a warning.
Whoever fired the shot was trying to blow my head off.

As
I was standing there a couple of the neighbors poked their heads out. I yelled
to them, asking whether anyone saw anything, but they just shook their heads
and went back inside.

I
ran back into the house and to my parents' room. Both of them were still on the
floor. My dad looked out of it and my mom was making little mewing noises as
she clutched at her hip. I saw where one of the bullets had hit the wall, and dug
it out with a penknife. My guess, it was a seven millimeter, probably fired
from a hunting rifle. I got on the phone and called the police and asked them
to send an ambulance. Then I went over to my parents.

My
dad was sitting up, but was still completely out of it. I helped him to his
feet and walked' him over to the bed. After I had him laid down I went over to
my mom and knelt next to her.

She
looked like she was in a great deal of pain as she clutched at her hip and made
tiny sobbing noises.

'Mom,
do you think you can stand up?' I asked.

'Get
away from me, just leave and get away from me!'

'You
don't mean that. You're in pain. Let me—'

'I
said get away from me! And get out of my house! I don't ever want you back
here.'

She
had her eyes shut and tears were streaming down her small withered face. As I
knelt next to her, she let go of her hip with her right hand and swung out,
catching me on the side of the face. There wasn't much to her blow, probably
weaker than what a three-year-old might do, but the shock of it sent me to my
feet and stepping away from her.

The
hell with it. The hell with both of them.

I
looked around and saw that when I had dove to the floor after the first
gunshot, I had flung the photos and they were now scattered across the room. I
bent over and started picking them up. I was only partially paying attention to
my dad, but noticed he had gotten off his bed and was standing beside me. All
of a sudden, he started pummeling me, hitting me with both fists -not hard
enough to do any real damage, but hard enough to hurt. And hard enough to
almost send me to the floor. I caught my balance and moved back a few steps
before turning to face him.

'You
heard your mother,' he cried. He had his fists clenched and was waving them at
me. 'Get out of our house!'

'Dad.
Come on—'

'You're
not welcome here! Get out!'

He
took a step towards me and I just shook my head and left the room and kept
walking until I was out of the house. When I got to the curb I sat down. As I
waited for the police to show up, 1 looked over the photos that I had grabbed.
I had only been able to pick up six of them. Still, it settled me down to look
at images of Melissa and Courtney as they smiled shyly at the camera.

The
cruiser came quickly. It's not every day in Bradley you have shots fired at a
residential home. The siren turned off and Bill Wright and a younger cop that I
didn't know got out of the car.

Bill
stood for a moment and peered at the two broken windows before addressing me.

'What
happened here?' he asked.

'Someone
took a couple of shots at me from outside. The first shot missed me by inches.'

Bill
turned his gaze back towards the windows. 'You called for an ambulance. Is
anyone hurt?'

'I
pushed my parents to the floor after the first shot. I think my mom might've
broken her hip.'

'It
was just you and your mom and dad inside?'

'Yeah.'

Bill
turned to the younger cop. 'Mike, go inside and see how they're doing. Take
their statements, and also, give the station another call, make sure an
ambulance is on its way.'

The
younger cop, Mike, gave me a funny look before leaving us. Bill stood awkwardly
for a moment and then looked back again towards the house.

'The
ambulance should've been here by now,' he muttered under his breath. Then to
me, 'Did you see anything?'

'No.
After the shots were fired I ran outside, but whoever did this was long gone.'

'Any
idea who might've shot at you?'

'No
idea. As I told you, I didn't see anyone.'

Of
course, that wasn't what he asked. Annoyance disturbed his long narrow face. He
turned to stare at me for a few seconds before looking away. In any case he let
it drop.

'Why
were you waiting outside for us?'

'My
parents didn't want me in their house.'

He
nodded as if that made perfect sense. He asked, 'You haven't looked around for
shell casings, have you?'

I
shook my head. I dug one of the bullets out of the bedroom wall. It looks like
a seven millimeter. I left it on top of the dresser.'

'I'll
see if I can find any casings.'

He
took out a flashlight and started searching the ground. I watched as he walked
back and forth. After a few minutes he found one and held it up with a pencil.
At that moment an ambulance pulled up. Two EMT workers jumped out of it.

'You
took your time coming here,' I said.

Neither
of them bothered to look at me. One of them told me they left as soon as they
got the call. The other one addressed Bill. 'What do we have here?' he asked.

'An
elderly woman might've broken her hip.'

Without
being asked, I told them that my mom was sixty-three. The EMTs ignored me and
opened the back of their ambulance and took out a stretcher. Then they made a
beeline to the house, leaving me and Bill Wright alone. I just sat and stared
at him. Eventually, he flinched under it.

'You
were holding up the ambulance,' I said.

He
pretended not to hear me.

'What
were you hoping for?' I asked. 'That I had gotten hit and would bleed out
before help could get to me?’

‘I
don't know what you're talking about.’

‘Bullshit.'