"I don't take kindly to being lied to," I tell him. He looks at me for a minute, thinking, probably, thinking "Does he know, or is that just something to say?" But I know, I've always known. He opened his mouth and I could smell his lies, clear as day, clear as crystal, there they were, all laid out, like I was stupid. I try not to be mad, but it doesn't work. I tell myself I'd have done the same thing, but it's for nothing. I want this man dead.
Two days ago it'd have been different. Two day ago he was my son, she was my wife, and I wasn't nobody's fool. Except I was, except I didn't know. I didn't know and I hate to think I liked it better that way. I hate to think I preferred being the fool, being whispered about and having no idea. I could float along without a care and not even know it was me they were looking at, it was me in those sidelong glances. I never knew I was a wretched creature.
I try to piece it together, but I don't know who I'm mad at. He's easy. He's a target. He did this to himself and far as I can tell he deserves whatever's coming. Truth be told I don't know what that is just yet.
She's harder. I don't want to be sore at her, but then I didn't want this to be the case neither, and here we are. I suppose in the grand scheme, she's worse than him and I suppose that makes me worse than her, but I don't much like that idea. The thought that this is laid at my feet frankly makes me ill. I suppose it's my fault I can't trust her. I suppose it's my fault she can't talk to me. I never laid a hand on her before tonight and if there's a God in heaven I never will again, but it's out of my hands at this point. I've done what I can to be a good man, but the evil in this world seems to cry out for something. Destruction?
"She said you was dead. She said you wasn't nothing."
That hurts. But a part of me knew it was coming, I think. It seemed familiar, like a whuppin. Course that don't make it much easier to take. That's another one I chalk up for him. It's not her fault. She doesn't know. She's weak. That's why she ran. She's got that in her. Her dad was simple. Scared. He didn't put up no fight. I suppose, knowing that, I should have seen this coming. It's poor breeding. But I can't fault her for that. There's only so much one person can be expected to be responsible for.
This man wronged me. He crossed a stranger he thought was dead. Part of me thinks that makes things worse. Part of me says he should walk away from this: he didn't mean no harm. Course ignorance's no excuse. Ignorance'll get you killed quick as can be. Quick as spite at this point.
"I want to kill you. I want to watch you die."
He doesn't like that. Didn't expect he would. It's hardly my concern what he feels right now, but that part of me wants to understand, wants him to understand, and wants me to be the bigger man, to let it go and walk away, turn my back on this. But he won't be no different. And neither will she. And my boy, if he is my boy, is going to call this chickenshit daddy? Well that about turns my stomach.
I recognize I'm fueling my own fire. He's not saying nothing, but I'm building my case against him, building it up brick by brick, letting it just snowball right on up, and I think I'm hoping I'll hate him by the end, and that'll be enough to carry me through.
Walking away from this I think will be the hardest thing I've ever done. I've suffered. I've shoveled shit and ate crow. I've had a lifetime of almost and too late, but not doing this, not doing that one thing you do not do, that's what'll get me. That's what'll break me down, show me who I really am, show me who I'm willing to be. There's a thing inside of me, and it's screaming for release. I take a breath and close my eyes, put it away and think of her.
I think of her smiling up at me, years ago like it was a dream. I think of her smiling and she means it. She's happy and I saw to that. I gave her this bright spot, this moment of life that seems for a second to matter, and she gave it right back to me.
I think of her smiling up at me, and the rest is easy.
11 March 2012
No comments:
Post a Comment