Valium and Viagra at one of the pharmacies, score some blow at whatever strip club they stumble into, then end up in a brothel, drunkenly trying to put it to a couple of bargain-basement whores. A bowl of menudo and a couple of beers for breakfast, and if they stagger back across the border right when it opens at five, they’ll be home in Santee or wherever by six.
Malone has another beer and, why not, a shot of tequila too. He planned on keeping it together tonight to show Luz she was wrong about him, but, really, what does he have to prove to the bitch? Pretty funny how she acted all badass until he got up to go, then all of a sudden didn’t want to be alone.
“I’m going to be with my daughter,” she said, like that excused everything.
Yeah, well, hey, I had a daughter too, he could have said.
Annie, my Annie.
The only thing that upset him about Val getting pregnant was her being sneaky about it, not telling him when she went off the pill. She knew he hated working for his dad’s construction company, and they’d agreed to hold off on having a baby until he got his own thing going. It’d be a couple of spec houses to start—green-certified, solar-heated, gray-water-reuse system, all the trendy bells and whistles—and then he’d find investors and bump up to apartment buildings and office complexes. Val couldn’t wait, though, wanted what she wanted, and suddenly faced with having to provide for a child, Malone lost his nerve and decided to stay under his dad’s thumb for a few more years.
The old man had always ridden Malone hard. Every opinion he ever had was wrong, every decision he made a bad one. By the time Malone was twelve he’d given up trying to figure out why his dad hated him and had set about plotting his revenge instead. He knew other boys who were at odds with their fathers, and many of them threw themselves into booze or drugs, attempting to punish the bastards who’d brought them into the world and then made their lives miserable. But Malone went another way with it.
He took every insult and every bit of abuse the old man dished out, stood tall under the constant barrage of criticism and unexpected verbal jabs, and never let the son of a bitch see that he’d hurt him. His plan was to outlast him, to let him punch himself out, and then lean over him as he lay gasping for air and spit in his face. He’d leave the ring having proven himself the stronger man without ever laying a hand on him.
With this in mind, Malone did well in school—honor roll, student council, all that crap; he got to work earlier than everyone else and left later; he married the right girl, moved into the right neighborhood, and drove the right car. And when Annie came along, he loved her like his father had never loved him.
She was a beautiful baby and grew into a beautiful child, with wispy blond hair and round blue eyes. Malone was awestruck by her innocence and the sweet simplicity of her affection. “Up, Daddy, up,” she’d say. He’d sweep her into his arms and hold her close, and the gentle tap of her heart against his chest became the secret cadence that kept him going.
But where is that heart now, those little hands, and those blue, blue eyes?
Malone orders more beer and more tequila from the waiter with the tired smile, then raises his empty can to the thrill-seekers at the next table, Fatboy and Tattoo Slim.
“How you doin’?” Slim says.
“Great,” Malone says. “You guys?”
“Ah, you know, getting there.”
Fatboy chuckles and repeats his friend’s assessment. “Yup, yup, getting there.”
“Let me help you out,” Malone says as the waiter returns. “Another round for these gentlemen too, boss. Por favor. ”
“Thanks,” Slim says.
“Yeah, thanks,” Fatboy says.
Malone waves it away. He and his new buddies watch two soldiers stroll by with assault rifles hanging across their chests. They look like kids, mean little kids. One of them whistles and gestures to
Malone has another beer and, why not, a shot of tequila too. He planned on keeping it together tonight to show Luz she was wrong about him, but, really, what does he have to prove to the bitch? Pretty funny how she acted all badass until he got up to go, then all of a sudden didn’t want to be alone.
“I’m going to be with my daughter,” she said, like that excused everything.
Yeah, well, hey, I had a daughter too, he could have said.
Annie, my Annie.
The only thing that upset him about Val getting pregnant was her being sneaky about it, not telling him when she went off the pill. She knew he hated working for his dad’s construction company, and they’d agreed to hold off on having a baby until he got his own thing going. It’d be a couple of spec houses to start—green-certified, solar-heated, gray-water-reuse system, all the trendy bells and whistles—and then he’d find investors and bump up to apartment buildings and office complexes. Val couldn’t wait, though, wanted what she wanted, and suddenly faced with having to provide for a child, Malone lost his nerve and decided to stay under his dad’s thumb for a few more years.
The old man had always ridden Malone hard. Every opinion he ever had was wrong, every decision he made a bad one. By the time Malone was twelve he’d given up trying to figure out why his dad hated him and had set about plotting his revenge instead. He knew other boys who were at odds with their fathers, and many of them threw themselves into booze or drugs, attempting to punish the bastards who’d brought them into the world and then made their lives miserable. But Malone went another way with it.
He took every insult and every bit of abuse the old man dished out, stood tall under the constant barrage of criticism and unexpected verbal jabs, and never let the son of a bitch see that he’d hurt him. His plan was to outlast him, to let him punch himself out, and then lean over him as he lay gasping for air and spit in his face. He’d leave the ring having proven himself the stronger man without ever laying a hand on him.
With this in mind, Malone did well in school—honor roll, student council, all that crap; he got to work earlier than everyone else and left later; he married the right girl, moved into the right neighborhood, and drove the right car. And when Annie came along, he loved her like his father had never loved him.
She was a beautiful baby and grew into a beautiful child, with wispy blond hair and round blue eyes. Malone was awestruck by her innocence and the sweet simplicity of her affection. “Up, Daddy, up,” she’d say. He’d sweep her into his arms and hold her close, and the gentle tap of her heart against his chest became the secret cadence that kept him going.
But where is that heart now, those little hands, and those blue, blue eyes?
Malone orders more beer and more tequila from the waiter with the tired smile, then raises his empty can to the thrill-seekers at the next table, Fatboy and Tattoo Slim.
“How you doin’?” Slim says.
“Great,” Malone says. “You guys?”
“Ah, you know, getting there.”
Fatboy chuckles and repeats his friend’s assessment. “Yup, yup, getting there.”
“Let me help you out,” Malone says as the waiter returns. “Another round for these gentlemen too, boss. Por favor. ”
“Thanks,” Slim says.
“Yeah, thanks,” Fatboy says.
Malone waves it away. He and his new buddies watch two soldiers stroll by with assault rifles hanging across their chests. They look like kids, mean little kids. One of them whistles and gestures to
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