Creeps by Darren Hynes Page B

place with sand and a beach and palm trees and the bluest ocean I had ever seen. I was tanned and taller and said just the right things and everyone seemed happy spending time with me. Then I woke up and my sister, Wanda, was there and I thought I might claw her eyes out.”
    Marjorie nods and goes to say something but decides not to. Her mother’s in the window again, except more of her: a shoulder, a whole eye, some nose, mouth … ear. Marjorie turns back to Wayne. “Go on home now.”
    â€œOkay. See you tomorrow.” He starts to go, but her voice stops him.
    â€œShe used to take care of Dad but now she can’t take care of herself so what am I supposed to do?”
    Wayne doesn’t know what to say.
    It starts to snow.
    â€œNever mind … just thinking out loud. Go home.”
    Wayne stays where he is.
    â€œGo home, I said.”
    Wayne turns around and walks down the streetand when he’s in his own driveway he looks back and Marjorie’s still standing where he left her and the streetlight’s making her glow but he doesn’t dare gawk because that’s all anyone around here is good for.

TWELVE
    His father is sitting at the kitchen table holding a bag of frozen corn against his face when Wayne walks in. He points at the cast-iron frying pan near his feet and says, “Struck me with it, she did.”
    Footsteps in the hall. A door opening and then slamming.
    â€œShe’s packing her bags,” his father says. “What’s new?”
    Wayne notices the nearly seared-shut eyes and drooping brows and the way he’s listing, as if aboard a boat. His dad takes the corn away, exposing a huge welt. Moans while working his jaw. Puts the bag back. “Two Jesus beer and this is what I get.”
    The sound of music, then Wanda appears, her iPod stuck in the waist of her track pants. Christina Aguilera sings something about being beautiful no matter what they say while Wanda goes to thefridge and grabs a Diet Coke and pulls back the tab and swigs. Scrunches up her face because the pop’s burning and then says, “She might actually get out the door this time.”
    His dad grunts. “And go where?”
    No one says anything.
    â€œShe’s got nowhere.”
    A door suddenly opens, followed by: “Son of a bitch!” The same door slams.
    â€œAm I?” his father shouts. “That what I am— ouch! ” He holds his cheek for a moment and then says, “Who hit who, for Jesus’ sake?” He looks at Wayne and Wanda. “Could have blinded me.”
    His mother’s voice again. Muffled. Must be in the closet yanking clothes from hangers, Wayne thinks. “Youngsters!” she says. “Come here so I can talk to you!”
    â€œGo on,” his father says. “See what the loony wants.”
    Wayne goes to his parents’ bedroom and opens the door and sticks his head in. His mother is sitting in the middle of the floor with her face in her hands. A filled suitcase lies open on the bed. She lifts her head. “Where is he?”
    â€œSitting at the table.”
    â€œShould have hit him harder. Drunk bastard.”
    She wipes her eyes. “Coming with me?”
    Wayne steps into the room. “Where?”
    â€œAnywhere that’s not here.”
    Wanda comes in and sits down on the bed and says, “His cheek’s purple,” then takes a sip of her Coke.
    â€œHope he dies.”
    â€œMom.”
    â€œWell what’s he good for, Wanda?”
    Wanda doesn’t say.
    â€œAlways taking his side, you are.” Their mother gets up and goes over to the bed and zips up the suitcase and grips the handle and lifts and says, “You two coming?”
    Silence.
    â€œOr you can stay with Him and what kind of life will that be?”
    Wanda looks over at Wayne, then back at their mother. “But you’ll come back.”
    â€œNo—”
    â€œWe’ll pack and then