coming around.”
His face twists when he says the name, venom
seething under his words.
“What a charmer Hank was. With his drinking.
And his fists. At first the drinking was just a little more than what was
usual. Instead of a few beers at a party, or a whisky on a Friday night after a
big week, it was seven or eight beers, or five or six whiskies. I guess he
wanted to hide it until he knew he’d won my mom over.”
Gabriel’s fists tighten, and the necklace
with it.
“His drinking kept up, and when he felt safe
enough, the beatings started. Chastisements , he called them. For when
I’d screwed up. And after a while, looking at him the wrong way was enough to
screw up. But I knew my mom was desperate. I knew she—somehow, God knows—felt
something for the bastard. Maybe it was just knowing that there was a man
around, taking care of things. I don’t know.”
He pauses.
“I got out of there when I was eighteen. I
took a tree felling job, three states over and up by the Canadian border. I
just wanted to make money. Enough to come back and buy a stake in the farm.
Enough to make Hank see that I wasn’t a little kid he could smack around
anymore.”
His jaw tightens, turning into a steel line.
“I even found a girl. She was French-Canadian.
Her name was Claire. I thought she’d be the girl I married, the one who would
have all my children.”
My heart flips unpleasantly, hearing that. I
try to ignore the jealousy I feel, just hearing another girl’s name.
“I took her home with me on my twenty-first birthday.
To meet my mom. To see where I grew up. To show her the photos I still had of
me and my dad, the guy I’d been telling her about for what felt like forever.”
He closes his eyes for a moment.
“I didn’t tell my mom we were coming back. I
wanted to surprise her. When we got there, she wouldn’t open the door. When I
finally went around back I saw that it was because she was trying to hide a
black eye. And then I saw all the faded bruises on her arms. And so I walked
straight out to the field where Hank was working, and I hit him as hard as I
could, and I just kept on hitting him.”
He breathes out again. I can still see the
fury in him, the rage of so many years ago.
“Eventually Claire pulled me off him. She
got me back into the house. And Hank, asshole that he was, decided to drive
straight into town to see a doctor. And to see the police, he kept yelling. He
kept shouting how he was going to have me arrested, have me thrown in jail. My
mom went with him.”
Gabriel goes silent, for so long I wonder if
he’s going to talk again. He just sits there, a man half in light, half in
shadow. My beautiful man.
His voice shakes when he starts speaking
again.
“Hank was probably already half drunk. But
they found a bunch of freshly-opened cans in the back of his truck. When they
finally got to the scene.”
I feel cold, like icy water’s been poured
through my bones. I know what Gabriel’s about to say, but I don’t want it to be
true. I don’t want to hear him say it, to make it real.
“My mom never felt a thing, they said.
Neither did Hank, for that matter. The driver of the truck Hank hit had two
broken legs and a cracked ribcage, but he recovered. After a while.”
I sit, numb, listening to the misery pour
out of him, wanting to do something, to say something, that will take his pain
away, but not knowing what to say.
“I lost my mind,” he says. “Every day was
just . . . gray. Claire tried to get me out of it, tried to get me to come back
to Canada with her. But I wouldn’t leave the farm. Not when it was all I had
left of my family. After a little while she started acting strangely, but even
that didn’t matter. I knew she was cheating weeks before she finally confessed.
She said that something had ripped a hole in me, a hole that couldn’t be filled
because I didn’t want it to be. She left a little while afterwars, and I have
no idea where she is now.”
Finally
His face twists when he says the name, venom
seething under his words.
“What a charmer Hank was. With his drinking.
And his fists. At first the drinking was just a little more than what was
usual. Instead of a few beers at a party, or a whisky on a Friday night after a
big week, it was seven or eight beers, or five or six whiskies. I guess he
wanted to hide it until he knew he’d won my mom over.”
Gabriel’s fists tighten, and the necklace
with it.
“His drinking kept up, and when he felt safe
enough, the beatings started. Chastisements , he called them. For when
I’d screwed up. And after a while, looking at him the wrong way was enough to
screw up. But I knew my mom was desperate. I knew she—somehow, God knows—felt
something for the bastard. Maybe it was just knowing that there was a man
around, taking care of things. I don’t know.”
He pauses.
“I got out of there when I was eighteen. I
took a tree felling job, three states over and up by the Canadian border. I
just wanted to make money. Enough to come back and buy a stake in the farm.
Enough to make Hank see that I wasn’t a little kid he could smack around
anymore.”
His jaw tightens, turning into a steel line.
“I even found a girl. She was French-Canadian.
Her name was Claire. I thought she’d be the girl I married, the one who would
have all my children.”
My heart flips unpleasantly, hearing that. I
try to ignore the jealousy I feel, just hearing another girl’s name.
“I took her home with me on my twenty-first birthday.
To meet my mom. To see where I grew up. To show her the photos I still had of
me and my dad, the guy I’d been telling her about for what felt like forever.”
He closes his eyes for a moment.
“I didn’t tell my mom we were coming back. I
wanted to surprise her. When we got there, she wouldn’t open the door. When I
finally went around back I saw that it was because she was trying to hide a
black eye. And then I saw all the faded bruises on her arms. And so I walked
straight out to the field where Hank was working, and I hit him as hard as I
could, and I just kept on hitting him.”
He breathes out again. I can still see the
fury in him, the rage of so many years ago.
“Eventually Claire pulled me off him. She
got me back into the house. And Hank, asshole that he was, decided to drive
straight into town to see a doctor. And to see the police, he kept yelling. He
kept shouting how he was going to have me arrested, have me thrown in jail. My
mom went with him.”
Gabriel goes silent, for so long I wonder if
he’s going to talk again. He just sits there, a man half in light, half in
shadow. My beautiful man.
His voice shakes when he starts speaking
again.
“Hank was probably already half drunk. But
they found a bunch of freshly-opened cans in the back of his truck. When they
finally got to the scene.”
I feel cold, like icy water’s been poured
through my bones. I know what Gabriel’s about to say, but I don’t want it to be
true. I don’t want to hear him say it, to make it real.
“My mom never felt a thing, they said.
Neither did Hank, for that matter. The driver of the truck Hank hit had two
broken legs and a cracked ribcage, but he recovered. After a while.”
I sit, numb, listening to the misery pour
out of him, wanting to do something, to say something, that will take his pain
away, but not knowing what to say.
“I lost my mind,” he says. “Every day was
just . . . gray. Claire tried to get me out of it, tried to get me to come back
to Canada with her. But I wouldn’t leave the farm. Not when it was all I had
left of my family. After a little while she started acting strangely, but even
that didn’t matter. I knew she was cheating weeks before she finally confessed.
She said that something had ripped a hole in me, a hole that couldn’t be filled
because I didn’t want it to be. She left a little while afterwars, and I have
no idea where she is now.”
Finally
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