Going Home by Angery American Page B

diaper?” He stood up, and I could see he had wet himself too. I can’t blame them; I was surprised I didn’t piss my pants. He took my hand and led me to the sofa, where he tried to pick up the bag from where it sat on the floor at the end of it.
    I laid the little one out on the cushion. “Can you hand me a diaper, buddy?” He reached in and took one out. He had stopped crying, but the little one was still at it. He reached back into the bag and took a pacifier out and plugged it into her mouth, which did the trick. “Good job. Give me five!” I stuck my hand out, and he swatted it. In undoing the diaper, I was met with a horror. I would rather deal with Lonnie’s brains, I thought. “Yikes!” I said, and little man chuckled. “Can you give me the wipies?” He went back into the bag and pulled out the tub of wipes, set them down, opened the lid, and handed me one. I went to work. By now he was relaxed, she wasn’t crying, and it was quiet, except for the sound of Mandy retching down the hall. I finally got the little girl cleaned up and sat her up on the sofa. “You stay here and watch little sister. I’m gonna check on Mommy, okay?” He nodded.
    I went to the kitchen and found the trash can. The bag in it had a little trash but not much. I pulled the bag out and dumped the contents into the can. I went to the bedroom; Mandy was in the bathroom with the door shut. I went over to the body; grabbing the bag by the bottom, I pulled it inside out up my arm. Reaching down, I grabbed a handful of Lonnie’s hair; it was thick and slimy and at the same time gritty. Lifting the head, I pulled the bag down over it with my other hand and dropped it back on the floor with a thud. “I don’t guess that’s going to help much,” I said. The bedroom was a damn nightmare, and I leaned down to cover the body better with the comforter. In the living room, I heard Mandy talking to the kids; they were crying again, and so was she.
    I walked out to the living room. “Miss, I’m gonna go over to your neighbors to check on them now. You gonna be okay for a minute?” She nodded, hugging her kids tight, with her face buried in their hair. I walked to the door. As I was pushing open the screen door, I heard, “Thank you.”
    I turned to look at her. With tears in her eyes, she said it again, “Thank you.” After all the shit that just happened, this, this is what gets me kinda choked up. I felt a lump in my throat. All I could say was, “You’re welcome.” Then I turned and went out the door.
    Walking out on the porch, I looked down at Thomas’s body; I felt pity for him. If it wasn’t for Lonnie, he wouldn’t be here. He was probably a good guy, if a little dimwitted. I’m sure he has a decent family that will miss him. Grabbing the hatchet by the handle, I wrenched it from his skull. I was surprised at how little blood there was. The hatchet had effectively sealed the wound, which bled very little. Upon removing it, a small flow began. I grabbed his legs and flipped him off the porch.
    “Hello, the house!” I shouted as I approached the neighbors, I didn’t want to be shot.
    The old man stepped out, this time with what looked like an old sixteen-gauge automatic shotgun cradled in his arms. He had cotton stuffed in both nostrils, and his eyes were already turning black. “Only one shot. Wur’d the uther’n go?”
    “Neither of them are going anywhere. Could your wife come over and help her with the kids?” I motioned toward the house. As I did, an old woman came out of the house, holding her sweater closed across her stomach, and made for the house. She didn’t even acknowledge me as she went by.
    When she got to the porch, I saw her look down at the body of Thomas. She didn’t even hesitate, going right up the stairs into the house. “Mandy!”
    “Name’s James. That’s ma wife, Edith. You dun a good thang thur. He been comin’ around the last two days. We always got him to leave, though. Never