- The Things We Wish For
- Milo, ME. 04463
24 October 2016
- Milo, ME. 04463
- The Things We Wish For
Hell staggered through the front door. The evening’s calm vaporized as three heads turned in unison to meet Jess’ arrival. His unsteady gait and cloud of menthol gave up his secret: the monthly government checks had arrived. Tonight there’d be a wad of cash to flip through, cigs for all, a new tin of chewing tobacco, a case of beer for the fridge, and something for the VCR. To Jess, this was providing. The hunter had returned to cave and family with fresh kill. The family he stumbled in on, his family, was being looked after. By him. His honey Shirley. Shirley’s older child Linda. And Callie, the little thing he and Linda had produced. There they sat before him, arranged on the floor in front of the TV. They looked to him and he stood there, flush, reveling in the moment. With a beer in one hand, the opened case of Budweiser under his other arm, he took several irregular steps into their midst. The girls, he acknowledged. For Shirley, though, he presented the prize. Putting down the beer he swiped at his aged corduroy shirt jacket and with a sweep of his hand presented her his gift for their weekend, a baggie of heroin syringes.
Linda knew the routine. She knew the progression. It was roughly the same every month, going back too far to remember. Not always the needles and their numbing contents, but always the beer and the cigs and the waste that would flow along with it all.
The government checks were always a relief. But they were also the opening of a horror show that would last three or four days. Then the money would dry up and life would wind back to its usual dull day-to-day drip.
Wisely she shuffled towards the bedrooms but did not stand up. To do so might be taken as a provocation. Instead she reached and used a bit of little Callie’s mess as an excuse. Time to clean up. Time to put away the many toys and sippy cups. Time to tidy and get the place into a pretend semblance that this was to be a party evening.
She knew from repeated experience it was best to be out of arm’s reach. She could sense the distance Jess could reach with a single step and a shot from his right arm. She needed to be outside that range. If she was far enough for him to take two or more steps, she felt better. Better to know it’s coming.
But the trailer home, their home, was only so big. The front door entered into the middle of its length. Linda, having created her suitable excuse, got to the door that lead to the bedrooms, her arms full of toys. “Callie, come help me with Mr. Boo Bear,” she said. Callie flopped to her tiny feet and came running. A thousand little steps later she was at Linda’s feet and they headed off to Callie’s and her room. She glanced back long enough to see Shirley examining the baggie and turning off the TV with the remote that was ever in her hand. Linda didn’t want to know more.
- ~oOo~
A half hour later Linda stepped quietly back from the bedrooms. Mom and Jess were outside. Their small silver George Foreman grill was set up on a scrap of wallboard supported by Jess’ saw horses. Mom was mixing up something brown in a bowl in her lap, making burgers. Jess was nearby, beer in hand, rolling on about something at the garage.
She stepped through their line of sight into the trailer home at a moment when they were both not looking. Once in the kitchen, she made up dinner for herself and Callie. There was not a lot to work with but she managed a canned Chicken & Stars soup for Callie and an assortment of things for herself. Jess had not brought any groceries tonight. If she was lucky she’d be able to snag a $20 from him tomorrow and walk up to Tradewinds for something. Sometimes he’d refuse. In those cases she would either wait until he was not looking or incapacitated. Then she’d lift something from his wallet or shirt pocket. Once, he’d given the $20 but only allowed her to go as far as the Milo House of of Pizza. She’d obeyed but then had to watch as he and Shirley consumed most of what had been meant as the entire family’s dinner.
Slipping quietly back to the bedrooms, soup bowl for Callie and plate of chips with relish and honey for herself, she and her sister spent the evening playing and then getting ready for bed. Callie was a sweet spirit and so far open to the odd meals her big sister produced.
Later in the dark, the fighting began. Callie was asleep next to Linda and she listened to Shirley and Jess going at it out in the main room. She dared not get involved. Her room’s light was out and she was relieved that her mom and Jess kept the action out there. For a long while the TV blared. Sometimes shouting erupted. But for Linda, there in the dark sharing the bed with little Callie, it was an oasis that was able to remain cloaked for the night.
Somewhere near 4am, Jess, not quite able to stand yet comfortably slumped in the main room's collapsed sofa, took the safety off the pistol of one of his several guns, took aim and fired.
[Edited 10/24. Thanks to petemork for suggestions & corrections.]