Tears on a Sunday Afternoon - Michael Presley [26]
I had flipped open a bottle of Heineken and taken a long swig when I encountered Lauren.
“How was the movie?” Her robe was open, exposing her bra and panties. She looked like Dracula’s bride before she was fed.
I grunted. I neither felt like seeing her body nor engaging in any pathetic conversation.
“Donald, you know the situation we’re in. You’re not going anywhere and I’m not going anywhere. The sooner you come to that realization, the better things will be. We can be a normal family.”
She went over to the electric kettle, filled it up with water and turned it on.
“Normal!” I was heated. “This shit could never be normal. Like Kunta Kinte in Roots, I’ll always run away from this shit. You’re fucking crazy; talking about normal. If you look around, you’ll see that there isn’t a single normal aspect of our life. That bitch upstairs uses you as her punching bag. Emerald can’t come into your room and you have to come up with all these lame excuses why your eyes are bruised or your lips are swollen. Wake up; this is not fucking normal.”
Lauren calmly poured the hot water over the tea bag in the cup. “And what you do is better than my situation? Putting your dick into each and every pussy you find is normal? I’m surprised that your dick hasn’t fallen clear off yet. If you die from AIDS, what will become of your precious son? If you love him and you want to save him from all this evil, don’t you think your behavior should change? Do you think that you would be any different if I wasn’t a lesbian? Hell to the naw! You would still be doing what you’re doing. You bastard; you’re sicker than me. You always have been.”
“I doubt that,” I said, finishing up the beer. “Emerald is the only reason I’m here. Every night I pray that our brilliant kid doesn’t get fucked up in the head because of our situation. He doesn’t deserve this.”
“Oh, and you think that if you take him out of this house and go out on your own with him he will be better off? Donald, you’ve got issues too. Just because your mother killed herself after your birth, you feel entitled to do what you do.”
I was stunned as I got up from the island. “I never told you about my mother.”
“You didn’t have to tell me. My father knew everything about you before I took my wedding vows.”
“What does my mother’s incident have to do with this?”
“Nothing, Donald, it means nothing at all. But the fact that you think that somehow you are in a better situation than me is ridiculous. You will be right next to me burning in hell.”
I dumped the empty bottle into the garbage can. “To be honest with you, I don’t know if my son living with me will be the best thing for him. What I’m certain of is that I refuse to let him grow up in this house with you and your whatever the fuck you want to call her. For as long as I’m able to breathe, I will try to get him out of this house. Your other choice is to get that bitch out. You might need her, but Emerald doesn’t.”
“Annette stays and, as we all know, you’re not going anywhere. My father will never allow you to leave with Emerald and, without him, you’re going nowhere. So go to your room, reach into the cooler and drink yourself to sleep, like you do every night.” She sounded like a mother sending a disobedient child to bed.
The gust of wind from her robe was the only indication that she had left. A minute later, I heard the door to the master bedroom slam.
I walked slowly up the stairs. Lauren was certain that I had no choice but to endure this living. In the room, I reached into the cooler and took out another Heineken. I went into the closet and unlocked the safe. I took the gun out and checked for the bullets in the magazine. I returned the magazine to the chamber. I took the gun and walked toward my bed. I sat down on the bed, my head drooped low, the gun in my right hand.
The bar was cloudy, not like most dimly lit bars. This one had gray smoke coming from the floor. I wondered if they had recently installed a smoking gadget to attract new customers. Judging from