voice as Me’d coached him to remain calm in the presence of the enemy. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t know him. I want to go back to class.”
The ex-father was getting excitable. Others entered the office to subdue him. In that flushed face emerged the rage that had been hidden. Wire glasses with smudged lenses & behind these the eyes glistened bloodshot. If somebody hadn’t prevented this desperate man from stooping & lunging he’d have grabbed the child in his arms & run with him. It might’ve been like TV, cops shooting rounds of ammunition.
Wolfie laughed to think how mean a kid he was, not to know his own father. & before witnesses! It was of a meanness you couldn’t explain, like grinding a tiny featherless fallen bird on the sidewalk beneath your heel, or smashing a window with your fist just to smash it & instead of crying because it hurt, laughing like a hyena.
Such were the secrets Wolfie kept from Me.
T HAT S ATURDAY NIGHT in Olcott there was a strong wind & pelting rain & Wolfie was awakened at about 2 A.M. by a sound of broken glass & his mother screaming. “Get away! God damn you! Get out of here! You fucker!” Wolfie thought: It’s a man. The tattoo freak. There’d been a signal between them Wolfie hadn’t comprehended, the guy must’ve come after Wolfie was in bed & Me had let him inside, in secret, as sometimes Me did with guys, & Wolfie stumbled in pajamas into the hall outside his room, already he was smelling whiskey, spilled whiskey, this was a smell he knew though he hadn’t smelled it yet in Olcott. Wolfie heard a sound of struggle, another scream of Me’s, & a deeper angry voice he believed he heard, & heavy footsteps, & more breaking glass, & standing in the doorway of her dim-lighted bedroom there was Me naked holding a sheet against her sweat-gleaming body. Me’s hair was disheveled & her mouth appeared to be bleeding. Seeing Wolfie she screamed, “No! Don’t come in here! It isn’t safe in here.” Wolfie was so scared the hairs lifted at the nape of his neck & his bladder pinched but he couldn’t see any figure other than Me, unless the guy was hiding in the closet or bathroom? In Me’s room lamplight spilled strangely against the ceiling & walls, the lampshade was knocked askew & still trembling. It looked as if a wind had blown through the room churning bedclothes & dragging the mattress partway off the box springs. There was an overturned whiskey bottle amid the sheets, & the smell of whiskey was sickening to Wolfie’s nostrils, it had associations of which he didn’t want to think & would not. He saw that the closet door was wide open, & nobody inside. Me’s clothes on the floor looking as if they’d been yanked off hangers. Where was the guy? Was there a guy? He might’ve escaped by the broken window, maybe he’d climbed into Me’s room through the window? (But why wouldn’t Wolfie have heard anything until now?) Me was sobbing angrily & bleeding from cut fingers & cuts on her face & her eyes were so dilated Wolfie thought she must be blind. Staring at him & stammering words he couldn’t comprehend. He saw, on the floor by the bed, a long-bladed knife glistening with blood. Me’d been stabbed! Wolfie tasted panic. Me was furious & not seemingly in pain & when he approached her she screamed at him to stay away, it was dangerous to touch her. “Call an ambulance! Call the cops! I’ve been attacked for Christ’s sake! The fucker tried to kill me!”Me tripped in the bedclothes & threw the sheet down in a rage & Wolfie saw to his horror that she’d been cut, stabbed, in her breasts, her belly, her thighs, & narrow rivulets of blood were running swiftly down her body. Wolfie was in terror that Me would die, & ran to the telephone to dial 911 but Me changed her mind & rushed at him & knocked the phone from him saying it was nobody’s business but her own, she didn’t want fucking cops barging into her home, rather bleed to death than invite cops
The ex-father was getting excitable. Others entered the office to subdue him. In that flushed face emerged the rage that had been hidden. Wire glasses with smudged lenses & behind these the eyes glistened bloodshot. If somebody hadn’t prevented this desperate man from stooping & lunging he’d have grabbed the child in his arms & run with him. It might’ve been like TV, cops shooting rounds of ammunition.
Wolfie laughed to think how mean a kid he was, not to know his own father. & before witnesses! It was of a meanness you couldn’t explain, like grinding a tiny featherless fallen bird on the sidewalk beneath your heel, or smashing a window with your fist just to smash it & instead of crying because it hurt, laughing like a hyena.
Such were the secrets Wolfie kept from Me.
T HAT S ATURDAY NIGHT in Olcott there was a strong wind & pelting rain & Wolfie was awakened at about 2 A.M. by a sound of broken glass & his mother screaming. “Get away! God damn you! Get out of here! You fucker!” Wolfie thought: It’s a man. The tattoo freak. There’d been a signal between them Wolfie hadn’t comprehended, the guy must’ve come after Wolfie was in bed & Me had let him inside, in secret, as sometimes Me did with guys, & Wolfie stumbled in pajamas into the hall outside his room, already he was smelling whiskey, spilled whiskey, this was a smell he knew though he hadn’t smelled it yet in Olcott. Wolfie heard a sound of struggle, another scream of Me’s, & a deeper angry voice he believed he heard, & heavy footsteps, & more breaking glass, & standing in the doorway of her dim-lighted bedroom there was Me naked holding a sheet against her sweat-gleaming body. Me’s hair was disheveled & her mouth appeared to be bleeding. Seeing Wolfie she screamed, “No! Don’t come in here! It isn’t safe in here.” Wolfie was so scared the hairs lifted at the nape of his neck & his bladder pinched but he couldn’t see any figure other than Me, unless the guy was hiding in the closet or bathroom? In Me’s room lamplight spilled strangely against the ceiling & walls, the lampshade was knocked askew & still trembling. It looked as if a wind had blown through the room churning bedclothes & dragging the mattress partway off the box springs. There was an overturned whiskey bottle amid the sheets, & the smell of whiskey was sickening to Wolfie’s nostrils, it had associations of which he didn’t want to think & would not. He saw that the closet door was wide open, & nobody inside. Me’s clothes on the floor looking as if they’d been yanked off hangers. Where was the guy? Was there a guy? He might’ve escaped by the broken window, maybe he’d climbed into Me’s room through the window? (But why wouldn’t Wolfie have heard anything until now?) Me was sobbing angrily & bleeding from cut fingers & cuts on her face & her eyes were so dilated Wolfie thought she must be blind. Staring at him & stammering words he couldn’t comprehend. He saw, on the floor by the bed, a long-bladed knife glistening with blood. Me’d been stabbed! Wolfie tasted panic. Me was furious & not seemingly in pain & when he approached her she screamed at him to stay away, it was dangerous to touch her. “Call an ambulance! Call the cops! I’ve been attacked for Christ’s sake! The fucker tried to kill me!”Me tripped in the bedclothes & threw the sheet down in a rage & Wolfie saw to his horror that she’d been cut, stabbed, in her breasts, her belly, her thighs, & narrow rivulets of blood were running swiftly down her body. Wolfie was in terror that Me would die, & ran to the telephone to dial 911 but Me changed her mind & rushed at him & knocked the phone from him saying it was nobody’s business but her own, she didn’t want fucking cops barging into her home, rather bleed to death than invite cops
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