The Devil's Monologue, page 5
“You bastard,” Mom said coldly, breaking the silence as she shoved her pink swollen hand into the pocket of her jeans.
Dad raised his shaking hand up to the side of his reddened cheek. I was scared that he would hit her back after that, but he made no attempt to retaliate.
What did you do, Dad?! I wanted to scream, but held back. Mom wasn't done with him yet.
“So, all this time you two acted like enemies, like you hated her, when you really had the wool over everyone's eyes. Are you still seeing her? Do you still love her, Jackson?! Who else knows about this? Does the whole damn town know what a fool I am?” she cried out, the tears streaming faster with each rise of her voice.
Dad remained silent.
“I guess I'm the big joke around here now, huh? I bet everyone goes around saying, 'Oh look, there's the cheater's wife! Wonder how stupid she is to not know?!',” she released her hand and slapped him again, harder this time, flinching from the pain. The sharp snap of skin on skin repeating over and over again in my head.
“How could you keep this from me? From us! What the hell were you thinking? They're in the same damn class for God's sake, Jackson! What if he had said something to JJ?!” she screamed pointing toward the staircase. Towards me. I panicked, Does she know I'm here?!
Dad stood still, head down. He looked painfully belittled and sad. My heart pitied him.
“No one else knows. The kid doesn't even know as far as I'm aware. Trina never even told her parents,” Dad replied quietly, lowering his gaze.
Mom looked shocked, almost sad. Who doesn't know what? What kid is he talking about? I wondered feverishly, hoping Dad would spill his beans. I began firing off in my head the names of all the kids in my class trying to pinpoint who it might be.
“I don't have anything to do with them, I swear. I haven't even talked to her since she was pregnant. I chose you, Sarah. You and Jacky. Doesn't that count?”
Mom thought for a long time before answering, “Does it count to them?” was all she said bluntly and walked out of the room.
17
That moment changed how I saw the world. Of course, Mom knew I was at the staircase that night. She always knew. They sat me down the next day and explained how we all make mistakes in life, and how sometimes we have to take responsibility for our actions by doing the right thing even when we don't want to.
Blah blah blah. What happy horse shit.
All I got out of that discussion was that Harvey fucking Carter was my brother because the Old Man couldn't keep it in his pants in high school. I wasn't his only son. I wasn't his number one anymore. I would have to share his heart forever with a skinny, nothing, geek, loser.
That new knowledge tore a hole in my heart that only refilled with hatred. I hated Harvey Carter from that moment on. I hated that he was a part of me. Worse yet was that I couldn't tell anyone or family's dirty secret. Not like I'd actually want to admit it, but no one could ever know he was my brother. No one.
Turns out that was a lie too.
*
Pop Pop walked into the front entryway without knocking as usual. Having built this house years ago he just assumed it still belonged to him. I hopped down the stairs and met him as he began to walk through to the kitchen where Dad was reading the paper.
“Hey, Pop Pop!” I said eagerly. I loved having my grandpa over. He was tough and took no one's crap. I wanted to be just like him. Plus, he always brought me caramels.
“Hiya, Jacky. Dad home?” he asked already knowing the answer, but being cordial anyway. He may have been a hard ass, but he grew up with manners. Even if he never knocked.
I pointed toward the kitchen, following closely behind as he dropped two soft caramels into my hand from the confines of his jacket pocket. Dad looked up from his coffee and paper, unimpressed with his father's lack of privacy. His face hardened slightly as he set the newspaper down on the long wooden table. Pop Pop either didn't seem to notice Dad's irritated face, or just didn't care.
“We need to have a little chat, Son,” Pop Pop announced, all sincerity gone from his voice, his own face now hardening.
Dad nodded for me to leave. I stepped out of the kitchen compliantly acting like I was heading outside, but hovered just far enough away from the door to not be seen.
“What do you want, Dad?”
“Bank statement says you're giving money to the whore again,” he replied frankly.
My mouth went dry and my insides boiled furiously. Now he was giving them money?! So not only was I being forced to share a blood line with this little turd, but now I had to share my father's hard earned money to support that lazy good for nothing whore. I wasn't exactly sure what a whore was, but if Pop Pop called her that, then so did I.
“You checking up on me again? I thought we were over that kind of crap. I'm just doing the right thing, Dad.”
“Doing the right thing would have been making that bitch get an abortion,” Pop Pop growled.
I could hear Dad's teeth grind in frustration at Pop Pop's blatant disrespect. It suddenly occurred to me that my grandpa knew about the other kid. I thought Dad said no one else knew? Why did Dad lie to Mom again? Why did he lie to me?
“Dad, it's been almost ten years. When are you going to give it a rest?”
Pop Pop slammed his fists on the table hard, rattling and clanking the ceramic coffee cup and saucer, “I'll give it a rest when you get that home-wrecking wench and her little bastard out of your head! I told you back then she was no good. I told you to just cut your ties. Now look! She's got you by the balls for the rest of your life!” he screamed, shaking his fists in Dad's distraught face.
“I ended it! Just like you wanted! I told you it was over! Why won't you accept that?!” Dad yelled back.
“I want this shit stopped, Jackson,” Pop Pop ordered.
“I'm not a little boy anymore, Dad, or a naive teenager. You're not going to be able to control me forever,” Dad answered angrily.
“You'll do as I say until I'm six feet under, dammit. Do you understand me, Boy?” Pop Pop hissed back.
There was a long cold silence that filled the air, broken only by Mom's arrival through the front door. I quickly darted out of my hiding place and into the living room. Thoughts were reeling in my head.
I desperately wanted to know why Pop Pop hated them so much. Whatever it was made me hate them too. Somewhere deep down inside, I even started to hate Dad at that moment as well.
*
My respect for the Old Man faded faster than a boy band after puberty. The realization that he was nothing more than a liar and a cheater made me sick to my stomach. Pop Pop eventually found out that I knew about the other kid and took me under his wing until he died. He replaced my father in a large part of my heart. The Old Man went from being my superman to my archenemy by the time I entered high school. Things were just never the same after those few fateful encounters. No matter how much I wished to go back to the way they used to be, once I knew, it could never be reversed. Maybe that's why I started drinking so much.
18
Coach Gregg sat humped over his desk, head down, nose in an old swimsuit magazine. He looked up expectantly as I entered the musty gray office.
“Have a seat, JJ,” he motioned toward the tattered green leather chair in front of his chipped desk. The cushions were so cracked and pointy that it could have almost been considered a torture device. It seemed fitting since I was in here to get my ass handed to me.
“Recruiter called again today. Said you were an hour late, and when you finally did show up, you were drunk off your gourd,” he stared accusingly at me. I lowered my gaze, more annoyed than ashamed.
Fuck that recruiter, I thought angrily.
“Yeah, sorry, Coach. It won't happen again,” I schmoozed with a slight grin.
“You're damn right it won't,” he thundered back, “They pulled the offer, JJ,” he said irritability.
I went numb for a second. I was sure I didn't hear that right. I even laughed a little at the thought of them actually revoking my scholarship offer.
“What did you say, Coach? I don't think I heard you right,” I played dumb, my heart still hoping. Thump thump. Not now!
He pressed his lips together in a tight scowl, shaking his head, “Boy, you need to get your shit straight, understand? I did all I could to help you, but this time was just too much. I'm sorry,” he left it at that and got up to open the dirty metal door.
Thump thump. I just sat, afraid to move. Afraid this nightmare might actually be real. I felt the all too familiar thump thump banging in the caverns of my chest. My breath became slightly jagged, my palms sweating.
“Coach, I...,” I started.
“Sorry, JJ,” he replied flatly, cutting me off. His thick finger pointing rigidly toward the opened door.
No! This isn't how it's supposed to be! I screamed in my head.
Thump thump thump.
I play football. I go to college. I get the girl. I get the fuck out of this town!
I repeated step by step how I had mapped out my entire life after leaving this wretched place. This wasn't right. This wasn't how my story ends.
Thump thump thump.
My hand clutched my chest, trying to stop the incessant beating. Coach stood motionless at the door, completely unsympathetic.
Thump thump thump thump.
What the fuck is happening?!
I tried to stand. My vision became a blurred white blob mixed with cartoon style swirling stars. My hands quickly grabbed the edge of the cold metal desk.
Thump thump thump thump.
I can't take this, I confessed, letting my hands slip from the cool desk, slamming into the concrete floor with a jarring thud. The glimmering white flashes turned into dark black and purple holes as the room disappeared, an ignorant smile painted across my unconscious face.
Thump. Thump.
Thump.
*
I still hate that fucking game, and that recruiter.
19
“Hey, Seth, how's it hanging?”
“Short, shriveled, and always to left, Son. Price of old age. How are you?” Seth Fairley gave a slight chuckle as we exchanged our usual banter.
“Could be better,” I admitted out of the blue, surprising even myself. I wasn't sure why, but I needed to say it out loud. Seth looked quizzically back at me, but didn't press further. He gave me a half, “I know what you mean”, smile and ushered me into the Old Man's empty work office.
We stood in uncomfortable silence for a long five minutes. I shoved my hands in my pockets, suddenly unsure of what to do with these things that dangle at my sides. I began to panic at the thought of having an anxiety attack in front of Joanna's father. That thought in itself nearly threw me off a cliff. I could tell Seth was getting a little nervous himself. He rocked absentmindedly back and forth.
Heel to toe. Heel to toe.
The smooth rhythmic motion had an alarmingly calm effect to my thrumming head. I watched his feet intently, counting my breaths as his brown leather wingtips buoyed on the linoleum floor.
“Is...there...anything I can do to help?” Seth suddenly asked, breaking the silence and my concentration with jackhammer force, scaring the piss right out of me. My tension quickly eased seeing the sincerity in his eyes. I wasn't sure what to say.
Make your daughter date me, wasn't exactly easy to spew out, but that was all I could think to say. I frowned and lowered my head, ashamed once again at my lack of confidence.
“You know I'd do anything you and your father. If I can help in any way you let me know, okay?” he smiled that fatherly smile again. I wished the Old Man would look like that again.
I laughed nervously, “Uh, just put in a good word for me at home, will ya?”
Seth's eyes flashed with sudden understanding, “Women are a complicated species, JJ. Even when you think you know, you don't. I'll do what I can, Son. I'd be honored if my Joanna ended up with a nice boy like you,” he answered and patted me on the back. The genuine smile on his face saddened me. If he had only known the things I have done, maybe he wouldn't want a “nice boy like me” around his daughter.
That's all over now, I reminded myself. I was turning over a new leaf, just for her. I would win that girl over if it killed me.
20
There I go again, fixating on my grand days of old, getting all sentimental like some damn chick. A lot of good that ever did me. I should have just stuck to being an asshole, I thought angrily. At least when I was a jerk I could pretend to be happy about it. Pretending, yes, but it was better than feeling like shit all the time. You know, “ignorance is bliss”, and all.
My muddy boot kicked at the decaying red book at my feet. It's crumpled pages jutting out from every angle of the ripped cover. I lifted my thick boot and punted that worn out piece of crap across the dirt. It landed with a disquieting thud against the cold silver mirror, landing upright, staring back at me with smug maniacal laughter.
“Fuck you too, Shakespeare,” I growled.
21
My palms were sweating as I gripped the thick copy of “Romeo and Juliet” in my bumbly hands. The ancient fabric soaking up all of my nervousness. I wasn't even sure if the pages I had marked even meant anything. They sounded good, I think.
What the fuck am I doing? This is so stupid!
I paced back and forth along the bumpy sidewalk, my boots making the faintest scraping sound, which sounded thunderous in the still night. I had gone over this time and time again in my head. Each time, I willed the end result to my liking, deep down always fearing what might actually happen.
No, this is going to work. She will love me.
I peered up at the picturesque little house that held my “Juliet”. I wanted so badly to see her face, hear her voice, touch her skin. My entire being resonated with the thought. The book, now damp, grew heavy in my hand. I could feel myself beginning to lose my nerve.
I opened the musty pages to the first marked section, picked up a jagged rock from the edge of the sidewalk, and chucked it at her window.
Plink!
I waited.
After several painful seconds, I grabbed another, slightly larger rock.
Plink!
It was actually a comfort to know I hadn't exactly lost my aim lately, despite losing my mind. A pale glow suddenly illuminated from my target window. Now, I only prayed it wasn't the wrong one.
The silky curtain slowly eased away from the glass, revealing Joanna's delicate face. She gazed around until she found me standing frozen on the sidewalk. I let out a sigh of relief, my heart almost melting. How did she do this to me?
What I hoped would be flirtatious curiosity was instead a loathsome angry scowl that welcomed me to her front yard as she opened the window. I pushed forward.
“Uh...a rose...a rose..,”I declared with a an awful stutter, my hand raised in true overly dramatic fashion. Shit, what was the next line?
“Why are you here?” she half yelled through a whispered voice down at me.
That grand old nervous nausea came roaring back, washing away any confidence I had some how mustered.
“Just...just wait. I'm trying to find...,” I thumbed clumsily through the pages, not remembering which bookmark had the line I was looking for. My fingers jammed and became knotted lumps on my hands. My heart started to pound as I felt the all to familiar thump thump beginning to rear its bastard head.
“Go home, JJ,” Joanna said, not bothering to whisper this time.
“No! Just wait!” I yelled back, slightly louder than I had anticipated. I didn't mean to be so aggressive, but she needed to goddamn wait! Flip. Flip.
Where the hell is it?!
Aha!
“A rose. By another name would smell sweat. I mean sweet!” I squinted hard at the worn pages in only the faint streetlight to read by. No, that's not right!
Thump. Thump.
“Let..let me try again,” I sucked in a deep breath, willing my active heart to shut the hell up for just one second. My fingertips tracing over the faded ink, but before I could open my mouth again to speak, the window was closed and the curtain drawn.
Thump thump.
I swam in my own shame and stupidity. Thump thump thump. My throat started closing, sweat now raining off my forehead, spilling dishonorably onto the blood red book in my hands. I wanted to throw that fucking book as hard as I could right into her window until she choked on the words I meant to say.
