Bookmaker, The by Chris Fraser

serious. Joe Sr. and Rose seemed to approve—publicly at least.
    “Their courtship continued for another six months or so , and although pressured, she never gave in to John’s advances. Audrey insisted she was a good girl and would wait for marriage. Then came the day that would change the lives of the Walker family forever. Now, I wasn’t there for the whole thing, but for most of it, and I will tell it to you as best as I can remember it. I’ll never forget the date, August 26, 1939. In fact, it has become somewhat of an anti-holiday for me—a dark day.”
    * * * * *
    At that point, I stopped him. It occurred to me that today was August 26. Had he planned to do this today?
    “Isn’t today the twenty-sixth?” I asked.
    “Yes, the twenty-sixth,” he said. “It’s no coincidence, I wanted to talk about this on the anniversary. This is always hard for me, do you mind if I ask Matador to join us?”
    “Of course not.”
    He pulled out his cell phone and called. Matador said he’d be right in—as if he’d been waiting for the call.
    He arrived quickly and was dressed for work. His dusty overalls stained with sweat. And he smelled just like the insidious odor I’d been overwhelmed with every now and again since my arrival.
    “Have a drink , Mattheus,” Preston said. I caught Matador’s reaction—he knew this was serious if he was being called by his real name. He made a scotch rocks for himself and freshened up Preston’s; mine was still full. He handed Preston his drink and sat next to him on the couch.
    Preston put his hand on Matador’s shoulder and said, “Today’s the twenty-sixth,” and with that Matador knew the date’s significance.
    “Today’s the day, huh ?” he said somberly.
    I lit up a Camel, they hit the joint , sipped their drinks, and Preston began again.
    * * * * *
    “It was 6:00 in the morning and Mother had been up all night worrying. Audrey hadn’t come home, no call either. It was a school night and it just didn’t make any sense, this wasn’t like her. Phillip and I were preparing for school and Father was getting dressed for work when, in a chaotic flurry no one could ever have been prepared for, Audrey came bursting in, crying and bleeding from her groin area. Blood dripping down her legs spotting the hardwood floor—a macabre sign this wasn’t dried up blood, it was still flowing, still fresh, still coming. We grabbed her and sat her down on the couch. Audrey was hysterical and my mother was close to joining her.
    “‘Audrey! Audrey , darling, what happened! Why are you bleeding, talk to me!’ Mother shrieked.
    “‘Audrey, who hurt you ? Who the fuck did this?’ Father screamed. ‘Was it John, did John do this to you? Talk to us, please, say something!’
    “I ran to get a towel for the blood, and by the time I returned, Audrey was starting to form some words . She finally blurted out, ‘I’m a whore! I deserve this! This is my punishment! I deserve to die!’
    “The hospital was secluded an d antiseptic—the waiting room was empty. Mother was shaking and praying silently. Father fumed and paced the hallways, muttering curses under his breath. Phillip and I stared blankly ahead, wondering how we ended up in the emergency room on what started out as a normal Wednesday morning.
    “‘Mr. and Mrs. Walker?’ said the doctor in white scrubs , addressing my parents with a well-trained countenance that gave away nothing. ‘Your daughter has lost a lot of blood, she’s currently sedated and we’ve managed to stop the bleeding, but only temporarily, we have to act fast. She’s asked for her parents. You can see her, but only briefly. You have a few minutes while we prep her for surgery.’
    “We all looked at each other in collective terror.
    “The doctor went on, ‘She’s losing blood, we need to get her into the operating room to try and stanch the wounds, but she insists on talking to you first. Please humor her and stress the immediacy of the situation;