him talking about what happened tohim. Some of em you can’t get nothing out of em. Just clam up, go off. Be mental cases. Some of em can take it and some can’t. Plenty of them that ain’t nothing physical wrong with them. Their minds is just gone. Have to push them around in a wheelchair, guys in their thirties and forties, like old crippled people. They crippled, all right. Just in a different way.
It do something to you to kill another person. It ain’t no dog lying there. Somebody. A person, talk like you, eat like you, got a mind like you. Got a soul like you. And everybody have to handle that in a different way. Cause that a heavy thing to handle. That something you don’t forget. You pull the trigger on somebody, it pulled forever. Ain’t like dropping a bomb on him, where you way up high in the air and can’t see what’s happening on the ground, even though you know it’s bad.
You look in somebody’s eyes, then kill him, you remember them eyes. You remember that you was the last thing he seen.
“U sually I just stay in my room. I live with my mother and my brother. But I don’t see them much. They get the red-ass if they have to look at me too much.
“Ah shit. I ought not say that. Hell. I know it hurts them to look at me. I just try to spare them. Stay out of the way. I’ve got plenty of stuff to do in my room anyway. I keep my headphones on most of the time. I’ve got a bunch of books and movies.
“He’s my little brother. He’s almost as big as I am. Only brother I’ve got. I hope they’re here with me. I hope somebody’s here with me.”
* * *
He didn’t even remember Daddy. But it wasn’t any wonder. Daddy’d been gone so long and he’d never seen him to begin with. I’m sure he felt funny. Having to hug this man he knew was his daddy but he never had seen him. Just seen pictures and stuff. Stuff he brought home from the war. Medals, and patches off his uniform. He sent home a luger in the pocket of an overcoat but they x-rayed the package and saw the luger and took it out and sent the coat on home. He was in Berlin at the end.
He didn’t want us to meet him in town when he came home from the pen the first time. He didn’t want our reunion to be held in a bus station. He caught the bus but when he got to town he got a taxi to bring him home. I think Mama was glad of that. But Max didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to act. Daddy kept wanting him to sit in his lap, and he kept going, but after a while he’d get down. He wouldn’t hardly open his mouth. Finally what he did was sit down on the floor and put his arm around Daddy’s ankle. Just sat there holding his ankle.
I guess Max was five or six when he came home. I was eleven or twelve.
He was drunk when he killed that guy. I wish he hadn’t done it. Maybe things would have been different. Or better.
I guess he was drunk on every major fuckup he made. Except for the last one. And it wasn’t even his fault.
T alk a minute then he’d hush a minute. Talk a minute then hush a minute. Like he wasn’t here but half the time. I started to ask him one time if he knowed his face was all scratched up. What I figured, he’d done been in a car wreck. Was how come they had him in here, probably, too, was probably treating him for the car wreck.
But it look like they wouldn’t let him be driving if he was gonna pass out. Don’t look like they’d even let him have a license. I wouldn’t want to be meeting somebody coming down the road passed out. Might run over you.
Was about to get the hunger on me. They come in then down at the far end of the ward. I asked him was he gonnaeat anything but he just shook his head. He was steady sucking that beer. Finished that one and put it under his pillow. Which I ain’t got nothing against a man drinking in the morning if he want to.
Have to lay here every morning and watch them give everybody else their breakfast before they give me mine. Don’t take long, though. Ain’t
It do something to you to kill another person. It ain’t no dog lying there. Somebody. A person, talk like you, eat like you, got a mind like you. Got a soul like you. And everybody have to handle that in a different way. Cause that a heavy thing to handle. That something you don’t forget. You pull the trigger on somebody, it pulled forever. Ain’t like dropping a bomb on him, where you way up high in the air and can’t see what’s happening on the ground, even though you know it’s bad.
You look in somebody’s eyes, then kill him, you remember them eyes. You remember that you was the last thing he seen.
“U sually I just stay in my room. I live with my mother and my brother. But I don’t see them much. They get the red-ass if they have to look at me too much.
“Ah shit. I ought not say that. Hell. I know it hurts them to look at me. I just try to spare them. Stay out of the way. I’ve got plenty of stuff to do in my room anyway. I keep my headphones on most of the time. I’ve got a bunch of books and movies.
“He’s my little brother. He’s almost as big as I am. Only brother I’ve got. I hope they’re here with me. I hope somebody’s here with me.”
* * *
He didn’t even remember Daddy. But it wasn’t any wonder. Daddy’d been gone so long and he’d never seen him to begin with. I’m sure he felt funny. Having to hug this man he knew was his daddy but he never had seen him. Just seen pictures and stuff. Stuff he brought home from the war. Medals, and patches off his uniform. He sent home a luger in the pocket of an overcoat but they x-rayed the package and saw the luger and took it out and sent the coat on home. He was in Berlin at the end.
He didn’t want us to meet him in town when he came home from the pen the first time. He didn’t want our reunion to be held in a bus station. He caught the bus but when he got to town he got a taxi to bring him home. I think Mama was glad of that. But Max didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to act. Daddy kept wanting him to sit in his lap, and he kept going, but after a while he’d get down. He wouldn’t hardly open his mouth. Finally what he did was sit down on the floor and put his arm around Daddy’s ankle. Just sat there holding his ankle.
I guess Max was five or six when he came home. I was eleven or twelve.
He was drunk when he killed that guy. I wish he hadn’t done it. Maybe things would have been different. Or better.
I guess he was drunk on every major fuckup he made. Except for the last one. And it wasn’t even his fault.
T alk a minute then he’d hush a minute. Talk a minute then hush a minute. Like he wasn’t here but half the time. I started to ask him one time if he knowed his face was all scratched up. What I figured, he’d done been in a car wreck. Was how come they had him in here, probably, too, was probably treating him for the car wreck.
But it look like they wouldn’t let him be driving if he was gonna pass out. Don’t look like they’d even let him have a license. I wouldn’t want to be meeting somebody coming down the road passed out. Might run over you.
Was about to get the hunger on me. They come in then down at the far end of the ward. I asked him was he gonnaeat anything but he just shook his head. He was steady sucking that beer. Finished that one and put it under his pillow. Which I ain’t got nothing against a man drinking in the morning if he want to.
Have to lay here every morning and watch them give everybody else their breakfast before they give me mine. Don’t take long, though. Ain’t
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