Chapter 20

I walked several blocks before I saw my first cab, which kept right on going. It was a half hour later before I saw another one and flagged it down. The trip back to my father's house was long and silent. I had the driver stop a couple of streets away and let me out. I paid the man, watched him drive off then wandered around for an hour or so, just thinking. Occasionally I'd stop and smash one of the video cassettes, pulling the tape out and shredding it and dump the remains in a dumpster or trash can.

Eventually I ended up in the little park across the street from our house. I took a seat on the bench where I'd talked with the agent yesterday and tried to relax, but it's hard to calm down and unwind when it's nine degrees above zero and the wind's blowing.

Cars started moving along the streets, first one or two, then little parades of four or more. I stood up and stretched, put my hands in my coat pockets and walked towards the house.

I rang the doorbell, three short taps on the button, and stepped back, waiting.

The lights were off inside, the house dark and still. I waited, my heart beginning to beat faster.

I heard movement behind the door. The front porch light came on and the bolt was unlocked with a 'snick' and the door flew open.

Izzy launched herself out the door and into my arms.

"Where the hell have you been? We've been worried sick!"

I held her tight and looking over the top of her head saw my father in the doorway, his rifle in hand, barrel pointed at the ground. He look worn and tired, dark bags beneath his eyes.

"No problems?" he asked.

"None."

He nodded absently. "Good." He turned around and disappeared down the hall.

"Let's go inside... it's freezing out here." I said, pulling Izzy along with me.

I closed the door behind me and left it unlocked.

We all ended up in the kitchen, sitting at the table drinking coffee. I held the cup between my hands, letting it melt away the cold that had infused my bones.

"So tell us already, what happened?" Izzy demanded, frustration and curiosity spilling out of her.

"We talked a little; he taunted me, threatened you and Dad, offered me the sun, moon and stars wrapped up with a pretty red ribbon and then tried to beat me to death. I ripped out his soul and filled the empty space with the feelings I've been draining from you, but a little amplified and locked inside. They'll never go away, never fade away and never leave him alone for as long as he lives. Richard Cruz was, the last time I saw him, laying on the floor, bleeding from a three inch cut across the side of his face and gibbering like an imbecile."

Dad went pale. Izzy shuddered and took a gulp of her coffee.

"Justice." Dad said, a hard finality in his voice that matched my own thoughts.

"Is there anything you want from your old place? Anything you had to leave behind, that you 'd like to get?"

"Some of my clothes and a few books. That's all."

"I'll take you there later. Right now, I need some sleep." I finished the last of the coffee, got up and put the cup in the dishwasher.

I was headed out into the hallway when I felt a hand on my back.

"Ike?" Dad said gently.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"You're a good man. Your mother would be very proud of you. I'm proud of you."

I smiled, sadly. "Thank you." I started to turn away.

"One more thing... just so you know. Ahh... how can I put this? Your room, it's not as soundproof as you probably think. Just so you know." He patted my back and headed off in the direction of his bedroom.

I stood there at the base of the stairs and watched my father's back as he vanished into the back of the house. My mouth hung open like a fish going for a lure. I closed it with a snap and climbed to the top floor.

I took off my coat and threw it into a corner. My sweatshirt, shoes and pants followed. I peeled off my boxers, threw them towards the hamper and climbed into bed, pulling the blankets over me and drifted off to sleep.

I woke just after two in the afternoon and lay alone in bed, trying to muster enough energy to get up.

I did manage to fall out and haul my tired body down to the shower, where I drenched myself with cold water, jumped out and dried off in a hurry. I ran back up to the room, got dressed and went looking for my sister. I found her in the basement, doing laundry.

"Hey, beautiful, ready to go get your stuff?"

"Give me a couple of minutes to get this last load out of the washer and into the dryer and then we'll go."

Her response was somewhat less enthusiastic than I was expecting, but I let it go. I wasn't feeling all that exuberant myself. I figured my body was just coming down off an adrenaline high. That was probably it.

Ten minutes later we were in my rental car and on our way. I drove and Izzy gave me directions, but apart from that we made the trip in silence.

The house was in an upscale neighborhood on the opposite side of town from our little suburb. Two stories tall with brick walls, multiple chimneys, huge bay windows, columns standing sentry, flanking the tall double door main entrance, a four car garage separate from the main building and an enormous front lawn with a stone fountain up top near the loose gravel drive, lightly dusted with snow and ice. The entire place reeked of ostentatious wealth.

I got out of the car intending to follow Izzy inside, but she stopped me.

"No Ike... please. Wait here. I'll get my things and be right back." Her mood was somber and subdued.

I waited...

... and waited...

... and waited.

I paced around the car. I paced up and down the driveway. I sat in the car and banged my hands on the wheel then got out, paced around and got back in again. It was nearly an hour later when Izzy emerged carrying two large gym style bags. I opened one of the back doors and tried to take the bags from her, but she pulled away and threw them in herself, shut the door and climbed into the passenger seat.

Puzzled, I went around and got behind the wheel and started the engine.

I figured her mood was due to coming back to a place filled with unpleasant memories. I figured she'd brighten up the farther away from it we got.

I figured wrong. If anything, her mood got worse; darker, angrier and more withdrawn.

When we pulled up in front of Dad's house, she jumped out before I could even shut off the engine and set the parking brake, yanked open the rear door, pulled out the two big bags and ran into the house.

I stood between the open driver side door and the body of the car, one arm on the roof and watched her vanish.

This was not how I'd imagined things would be. Events in my life had a disquieting habit of never working out as I imagined.

I shut the door, went around and shut the rear door and went inside.

Izzy wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. I went upstairs. She wasn't in her room or Ivan's old room. I went up one more flight and checked my room. Empty.

Which left the basement. What was she doing in the basement?

Whatever she was doing, she obviously didn't want me around to see it. She didn't want to talk to me, didn't want to look at me, didn't want to be near me.

I started feeling a little rejected. My ribs hurt from Ricky's punch, and lucky me they were on the same side as the bullet hole, but I ignored the pain, got undressed, put on my sweats and left the house.

I started running the same route I had as a teenager; around and around, block after block, house after house, trying to put my doubts and fears out of my mind.

The pain in my side increased with every lap, I ignored it and kept moving. Pick 'em up, put 'em down. You ain't an ex-soldier yet.

I stopped when the sun went down and the street lights came on. I went back to the house and saw Dad's car in the driveway.

I found him in the kitchen sitting by himself, a cup of coffee in front of him.

"She's locked herself in her room." He said by way of greeting.

"We went to pick up her stuff this afternoon. She wouldn't let me go in with her; I had to wait outside by the car. She hasn't said a single word to me since we left that damned place."

"Bad memories." he said.

"I suppose so."

Dad and I made due with leftovers. We sat at the kitchen table in uneasy silence.

"Your mother was diagnosed with cancer when you were twelve. She insisted that we not tell you children. She was a fighter, determined to beat it and see her children married with families of their own. Do you know how they treat cancer Ike? They poison it with drugs and radiation. Poison the body, hoping that the cancer will die before the rest of the body does."

He looked away as tears fell.

"I loved your mother. But not as much as she loved me. The chemotherapy and radiation destroyed her ability to enjoy sex. Eventually she couldn't even tolerate it. She... she made arrangements. With friend of hers, women she knew, women she met. She made... arrangements, for me. I refused, at first. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I was weak and needy. I loved your mother with all my heart and she knew it, but I was never as strong or determined as her. Is it cheating if... ?" his voice trailed off.

"Mom loved you, I know that. I felt it. You loved her and I felt that too. I also know you were both hurting and you both felt guilt and remorse because of what you were doing."

"I should have said no."

"You said it yourself; she was a strong and determined woman."

"True. So now you know my great sin."

"I knew it then. I didn't know Mom had a hand in it."

What could I say to the man? What could I do to ease his guilt? Did I even want to?

'Let it alone Ike. Some pains have to be lived with. Even the ones we inflict on ourselves and don't deserve.'

I stood up, laying my hand on my father's shoulder. "Goodnight."

I went up stairs and sat in front of Izzy's door for an hour, broadcasting my love for her. Then I went to my old room and fell asleep on the bed in my sweats.

I woke early, showered and then sat in front of her door, broadcasting while she slept.

When I heard Dad moving around downstairs I got up and went to the kitchen.

He looked up from the stove when he heard me come in.

"Still locked in?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know what to tell you. Wish I did."

I shrugged awkwardly, my ribs still aching. "I'll just have to think of something else."

"You should go to the hospital and have those ribs checked out." He said.

"It's not that bad. A little sore is all."

He shook his head. "Stubborn, just like your mother."

I sat with him until he had to leave for the office. Then I moved out into the living room and sat on the couch, coffee cup in hand.

An hour passed.

Two hours passed.

Three.

No sign of movement from Izzy's room.

My anger increased, slowly at first. As the hours passed I started feeling rejected as well as angry and the two started feeding one another.

Alone and with nothing to do I got up, went out to the car and drove off, looking for a shopping center, where I bought a fifth of the best vodka they had in stock. I drove back to the house, got out of the car and instead of going inside I went out into the little park and found an empty bench to sit on.

I started out sipping the vodka, but after an hour I was taking long pulls from the more than half empty bottle.

The alcohol was not improving my mood.

'This is not the way to --'

"Shut the fuck up!" I snarled.

I got to my feet and started walking in circles around the bench.

"You know what my problem is?" I said, stopping suddenly and putting one foot up on the bench.

I waited for an answer, but no one was talking. Shit! If I'd known it was that easy I'd have gotten drunk and told them to piss off long before.

"My problem is that I don't have any feelings of my own. I got lots and lots from people I don't even know, I got feelings from my friends... all two of 'em, I got tons of feelings from my loving lover sister, but I got none of my own. Nope. Not allowed to feel things for myself. Fuck!"

I put the bottle to my lips and tipped it back and took a long swallow. I couldn't even feel the clear liquor as it ran down my throat. I should have gotten a bigger bottle, half gallon maybe.

"Statues don't have feelings... just stand around being decorative."

From anger I slipped into the warmth of self pity, and spent several minutes feeling very sorry for myself. That passed quickly when I drained the last of the vodka and realized that there wasn't anymore. Sadness took hold of me.

"What! Is that the way you want to do this, you FUCKS? One at a time? Haven't got the guts to come at me all at once, do you?"

I threw the empty bottle at a tree that was hibernating insolently on the other side of the footpath. I missed by two feet.

Sadness took a hike and was replaced instantly and successively by deep depression, guilt, jealousy, remorse...

That was when I decided that there wasn't enough suffering and misery in my life. I needed more. Much more.