Chapter 2

I woke up early the next morning to the sound of cousin Billy crying in his bed. I could tell it wasn't the kind of crying someone might do because they were in physical pain. These were tears of emotional pain that I was hearing. It took me a little bit by surprise that Billy would embrace his pain by crying rather than lashing out angrily. His crying was somehow scarier to me than his tantrums had been. I stayed quietly in Dale's bed, hoping that Billy wouldn't notice that I was there, witnessing his distress. The crying continued on long enough though that I either had to get up and go to the bathroom or else wet myself in the bed. I got up. I saw Billy looking at me as I opened his bedroom door and walked over to the bathroom. Neither of us spoke. After I finished up taking my whiz, I went back to the bedroom and started putting on my clothes. Billy had composed himself by now and was sitting up in bed smoking a Camel.

"He really clocked me didn't he Jackie? I just barely saw his hand move, and then, pow, and my legs just wouldn't hold me up anymore. He sure packs a wallop, your old man." Billy sounded like he admired what my father had done to him. "I wasn't really knocked out you know, not all the way at least. I'm not saying I could have fought back or anything, just that he didn't knock me out cold. I knew it when he lifted me up and put me over his shoulder." Billy ground out his cigarette in the ashtray by his bed and got up and used the bathroom himself. When he got back to his room ten minutes later he was shaved and his hair was combed. He started to dress just as I was finishing lacing up my sneakers. "I guess I better get over to your house and see what Uncle John wants to tell me." We walked over together. I saw my Aunt Margaret in the kitchen, but she didn't say anything to either Billy or me. We walked into my house and I saw my dad sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee and having a cigarette. He motioned Billy over to a chair across from him and told him to sit down.

"You ready to listen now? Or do you want to run your mouth at me some more?"

"I'm listening, Uncle John."

"OK, good. Now the first thing I'm gonna tell you is that I wasn't blowing smoke last night when I told you that it's OK to be pissed at Dale and whats her face, Margaret. They both really stuck it to you. But, of course, you can't really kill either one of them. You have to just let it go. It's over. Maybe you loved her, whatever, you sure been sniffing around her for a lot of years, since you and her were babies almost. She found a chance to get away from marrying you and she took it. Dale deserves a good kick in the slats for letting her talk him into doing what they did, but you know in your heart it was her doing all along don't you? She must have talked Dale into it because he sure wouldn't come up with a doozy like this all on his own. So, I'll make a deal with you, Billy, a real honest to goodness deal this time. You tell your folks you'll leave Dale and Margaret alone, that you are through with the both of them. When they come home, whenever that is, you can do to Dale what I did to you last night. One punch though, and that's it, you hear me?"

"That ain't enough!"

"Maybe so, maybe not, but it's all you're gonna get. So take it or leave it, I'm not negotiating with you, I'm telling you. In the long run your best revenge will be watching the way she ruins your brother's life. That poor bastard is going to regret the day he ever let her get her claws into him, you just see if I'm not right."

"Uncle John, I loved her, I still love her! It's not enough." Billy looked like he was going to cry again. I hoped for his sake he didn't do it. My pop hated crybabies worse than anything.

"Jesus H. Christ, Billy, listen to yourself! You never loved her, she was just a pretty ornament you wanted to have. I'll grant you that she looks really good, but what does she have besides that? Looks are great when you're just out for some fucking, but maybe they're not that good though when you're looking for a wife and the mother of your kids. I guarantee you that you'd never have been able to hold on to her anyway. Neither will Dale, although he has more of what she's looking for than you ever will. Be content with knowing that you were the first one to nail her, that Dale's only getting your sloppy seconds."

"I'll think about what you told me, Uncle John. Right now, to be honest, it sounds like you're just out to help keep Dale from getting what he has coming to him. And, that ain't right. But I'll think about it." Billy turned around and walked outside.

"You know Yutch, that is one bull headed son of a bitch, your cousin Billy. He and I are gonna lock horns again before this is done, and that's too bad. He's the best of that sorry bunch over there. At least with Billy, you don't have to try to guess where you stand with him, he'll let you know. Your Uncle Bill is backing the wrong horse in this race. Somebody's going to have to teach Dale that the whole fucking world doesn't revolve around his skinny ass. I hope Billy doesn't wind up killing him over this, but I can't say I'd really blame him if he did."

Billy went back to work that day, catching a ride to work with a friend. My dad went out to the sub base to work and I left for the golf course to go caddy. Like my father, I had a bad feeling about how it would all end. I disagreed with his assessment that Billy was the best of the Blackwells though. Billy was the most like my father, but Dale was certainly the better person between the two brothers. I really hoped that my father's intervention would keep Billy from doing too much damage to Dale. I hoped that Dale would be able to come back for visits and still be able to finish his education.

When I got back from the golf course later that evening, I saw Billy sitting on the Contino's porch steps playing with Theresa's year old son. Theresa was sitting further up on the stairs, beaming a tremendous smile as Billy played with the boy. Everybody in the neighborhood knew that it was Billy's son, and I thought it was a good thing that Billy was starting to pay the boy some attention. I watched for awhile as the two played together, Billy tickling the little kid and little Billy laughing so hard it filled up the early evening air.

Dale phoned over to our house that night after talking with his parents. My father told him that, in his book, he was a sorry son of a bitch for doing what he did to his own brother. He told Dale that it wasn't safe to come home right away and suggested that he and Margaret look for housing up in Massachusetts, by the university. He told Dale that he doubted Billy would travel up that way to do the two of them harm. When he got off the phone, my dad told my mother that Dale wasn't a man and wouldn't ever become one. He said that any kind of man at all would come home and face the consequences rather than hide out for this long. I was hoping that Dale would know enough to stay away until time had passed and Billy had gotten over his blind anger. Billy was always going to be mad, but I doubted that he'd stay killing mad for that much longer. I was about 10:00 that night when we all heard Billy invite my father out to the front yard.

"Hey Uncle John, why don't you come out here. I'm ready to give you my answer now." Our front screen door was latched, but the regular door was open and all of us in the living room heard what Billy was yelling. My father stood up from his arm chair and put his loafers back on. He carefully set his highball glass down on the coaster, smiled at my mother and us kids and walked out the door. He stood on the top steps and looked over at Billy.

"Have you given a lot of thought to what you're going to tell me Billy? I hope you have, boy because once you say the words they won't be easy for you to take back. Now, what's your answer?"

"It's fuck you, Uncle John. It's fuck Dale, and fuck my parents too. Fuck all of you. I'll do whatever I want to with Dale. That's my answer." As he spoke, Billy had his fists balled up at his sides. I got to the door first and watched as my dad started walking down to confront Billy. He wasn't hurrying, but he was making purposeful strides. His hands looked relaxed as he closed the distance between them.

"Not a good answer, boy. I guess I'm going to have to change that answer for you." As my dad got closer, Billy charged right at him, taking a glancing blow to the side of his head as he got within reach. The force of his charge knocked my father backwards, but he maintained his balance and the two started throwing punches at each other in earnest. My father was about six feet two and weighed 225 pounds. Billy was about five eight and maybe one sixty or one sixty five. My father was thirty seven years old and was in pretty good shape, although he smoked a lot and had been known to drink more than was healthy for him. My father was also a very experienced brawler. Billy was seventeen and a very tough boy. He was only a boy though, and had never tried to match himself up against anyone as tough as my dad. Billy got in a wild roundhouse right hand in the first few seconds though, and a cut opened up over my dad's left eye, and blood began running out, into his eye and down his cheek. He was wearing a white tee shirt and bloodstains soon turned the front of it a dark red. After he got hit, my dad backed up and started to circle to his right. Billy charged again, but this time my dad was ready and he landed a solid blow right in the middle of Billy's face. Just from the sound of the blow and Billy's yelp, we knew that the nose was broken. My father hit Billy about fifteen quick body blows, one after another, right away. The sound of each punch could almost be felt by all of the spectators. I looked across for a second, taking my eyes off of the fight, and saw my Aunt Margaret clutching at Uncle Bill's arm, urging him to stop it. He just stood there, a look of total resignation on his face. I looked back to see Billy crumpled up in a ball on the ground, one hand covering his face, the other protecting his groin area. My father circled above him, looking like he was trying to find an open area to kick.

"You want some time to reconsider your answer boy? I need you to let me know if you do, because I'll stop if you say you need some time. Otherwise, I'm going to end it right here and make sure you don't bother your brother about any of this. What do you say?"

"Please, Uncle John, I've had enough, I'll think about it some more." The words weren't that clear because of the nose, but everyone understood what he'd just said. Billy stayed on the ground as he spoke, still covering up as best he could. I was starting to hate what I'd just seen. Nobody deserved to be taken apart like Billy had just been. To say it was brutal wouldn't do it justice. It was clinical, methodical applied mayhem, administered by an expert. Billy had never had a chance and everybody there now understood that. I heard Uncle Bill throwing up over the side of his porch railing. I looked behind me and saw my mother and two sisters crying and my brother covering his ears with his hands. There were another fifteen people outside looking at the two fighters. I saw Tony Contino, Sr. gazing over with a grim look of satisfaction on his face. Maybe he thought that Billy's beating made up a little for what Billy had put Theresa through.

My father relaxed and stepped back away from Billy, and my Aunt Margaret rushed over to kneel at Billy's side. She ran her hand through his hair, whispering words of comfort to him. She was dressed in a bathrobe and bedroom slippers, but seemed oblivious to anything but her little boy's welfare. After a few minutes the police arrived and started asking questions. They took my father and Billy away in separate squad cars. They took them both to the same hospital, my dad for six stitches for his cut, and Billy to have his nose set and to get his ribs x-rayed and then taped up. They brought my dad back home after I was asleep, but Billy was kept in the hospital overnight and released the next morning. No criminal charges were ever filed, and neither was ever arrested or booked for the incident.

I got back from caddying late the next evening. As soon as I walked in the door, my dad sent me next door to get my cousin. My dad had quite a shiner now and the cut over his eye looked jagged and sore. Billy had a bandage across his nose and two black eyes. His left eyelid was closed and a dark purple. His right eye had a broken blood vessel in it and looked terrible. He came with me and was noticeably wincing as he took each step. He looked like a beaten man. I felt confident that he'd agree to do exactly what my dad told him to do from now on. I knew I would have, and from the beginning too, not waiting like he did to get knocked out once and beaten to a pulp another time. Of course, I knew my dad a lot better than Billy did and knew that resisting him was not a wise choice to make. We walked into my house and found my father once again at the kitchen table. He stared at Billy for a long time, probably admiring the damage he'd done to Billy with that one great punch.