Penance

Chapter 2-2

A black dude walked by. Everyone made fun of the guy because he had a deformity that caused him to carry his hand behind his back. It dangled there, like a tail. Jimmy tried to meet the guy’s eyes and smile, but the guy only glared at him.

“You’re the evil one,” he whispered and hurried by.

Jimmy snorted and flipped the guy the bird.

He didn’t notice the car at first, but when the yellow Camaro came around the block a third time, Jimmy moved away from the wall and started walking west on Lawrence.

The car pulled over to the lane closest to him and slowed to match his walking speed. Jimmy hurried. The car hurried.

Jimmy glanced over his shoulder and could see the top of his building. He wished he could be there; his eyes burned and his limbs felt heavy. He just wanted to sleep.

The Camaro had pulled a little ahead of him and had pulled over to the curb. As Jimmy passed, he heard the thonk of the car’s door lock being released. Jimmy slowed and glanced into the car’s dark interior.

A guy with a bush of kinky hair, colorless in this light, and wire-rim glasses smiled out at him from the car. He had turned in his seat so he was facing Jimmy.

Jimmy swallowed. He’d been on the streets enough to know what this guy probably wanted. He slowed down, coming almost to a stop.

Suddenly the noises from his mother’s bedroom came back to him.

He looked out of the corner of his eye at the guy.

The car’s driver was still staring at him.

Was he smiling?

Jimmy chewed on his lip.

“Hi.” The voice coming out of the car startled Jimmy. Jimmy stopped chewing his lower lip and turned to the car. Took a breath and moved toward it.

Leaned inside.

The guy’s pants were open.

“How you doin’?” Jimmy said.

* * * *

In the morning, the man came back to him. Dull streaks of sunlight filtered in through rectangular windows high up.

The man looked different in the sunlight, wearing chinos and a plaid shirt. Almost fatherly. He smiled at Jimmy and squatted down beside him.

“How you feelin’ today, son?” He began to loosen the clothesline around his wrists.

The tone of his voice, the gentleness of his touch, and his demeanor were so different from the man he was with last night that for a moment Jimmy was unable to respond. But then he remembered the fury in the man’s eyes and decided he’d better answer. “A little sore.”

The man undid the ties that bound Jimmy’s feet. “Yeah, it’ll take a little while. You bled quite a bit, but it’s pretty vascular back there. I’m sure you’ll be okay.” Jimmy shuddered.

“You like the room? It’s the attic; I fixed it up myself.” Jimmy looked around. Was he supposed to compliment the guy or what? “Want some breakfast?”

The thought of food made Jimmy’s stomach churn. But the last thing he had eaten was a Twinkie and a Coke at ten o’clock yesterday morning. He couldn’t afford to get weak on this fucker, or he’d never get free. “Um…yeah.” Jimmy forced himself to sit up, even though the pain began a dull throb. He shifted his weight to one side to try to diffuse the pain.

The man stood and left the room. In a moment he returned with a tray. Jimmy couldn’t see from where he sat what was on the tray, but the man was beaming at him. “Close your eyes, son,” he said, his voice giddy with excitement. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Jimmy shut his eyes, feeling his stomach drop. A light sheen of sweat broke out on him.

Hot breath in Jimmy’s ear: “Open ‘em.” Jimmy opened his eyes and looked down at the tray on his lap. Eggs, bacon, biscuits, a little bowl of strawberry jam, milk. Fine…except a cigarette had been extinguished in the eggs, which looked hard and old. The bacon sat in a pool of congealed grease. There was a blot of what looked like come in the jam and the milk smelled sour. Three or four cockroaches scurried around in all of this, feasting. He looked at the man, and completely unbidden, tears began to roll down his cheeks. Angrily, Jimmy lifted the back of his hand to wipe them away. He set his lips in a line, swallowing the sorrow, determined not to let the guy see him like this.

The man grabbed his face and squeezed so hard Jimmy was afraid his jaw would break. The smile disappeared. “Don’t cry, kid. I hate that. Didn’t your daddy ever say, ‘Don’t cry or I’ll really give you somethin’ to cry about’?” The man paused for a moment, thinking. “Hell, you probably don’t even know who your old man was. Your mom probably doesn’t know, either.”

Jimmy stared at the plain white walls. He was right.

How did he know?

“You gonna eat?”

The question hung in the air, suspended. The words, dreaded, seemed to linger, almost echo. Jimmy wanted to go back to the time before the man had said them and somehow make him not say them.

Jimmy’s breathing came a little quicker. “I can’t eat that. I can’t.”

“Then wear it, you ungrateful little shit.” A handful of eggs came at his face, and Jimmy closed his eyes. “And then we’ll give you something to eat. Something I know you like to eat, you little slut.”

Jimmy tried to curl into a ball, to not feel the sticky wetness of the food as the guy shoved it into his face, his ears, his hair, and rubbed it into his naked body. He could only wait, at this point, to find out what the cockroaches would feel like on him. The assault stopped, and Jimmy opened his eyes.

The man stared at the wall, his eyes fixed on a point. He mumbled, “Gotta get him out of here, don’t I, Aunt? Marianne and Becky will be back in a couple days and I gotta get him away, so they won’t know.

“Don’t I, Aunt?” The man’s eyes almost looked glazed. Jimmy felt that the guy didn’t even know Jimmy was in the room with him. There was a dead quality to his voice. No emotion.

Jimmy turned over, drawing his knees up to his chest. He didn’t want to hear any more.

* * * *

Darkness. He had to get away. The empty room was lit only by the silver from the winter moon outside. Jimmy knew that if he didn’t get away, this man would kill him. He wondered how he had come so far so fast. Three years ago he’d been stealing candy from the corner drugstore. Hide and go seek. Wondering about s*x.

Now, he knew too much.

Footsteps outside the door. Jimmy tensed, drawing his freshly bound ankles and wrists to him, curling, trying to protect himself.

The door opened and Jimmy closed his eyes. He felt the man drawing near and heard the creak of his knees as he knelt. Maybe if I pretend to be asleep he’ll leave me alone. A hand, clammy and warm, ran down the length of his body. Jimmy shuddered.

“I know you’re awake.” The voice was expressionless, cutting through the darkness. The deadness of tone made Jimmy’s skin crawl. “So you can open your eyes and look at me.”

Jimmy did as he was told, rolling over to face the man. He had brought a candle into the room. Squatting naked beside Jimmy, the man looked paunchy. His stomach hung in folds between his legs, covered with a thick matte of black hair. His d**k, red and hard, jutted upward. No, please, sir, no more. On the floor was the same can of Crisco. Jimmy whimpered, trying to wet the inside of his mouth with his tongue, but suddenly, there was no spit.

“Like what you see?” A smile, brief, flickered across his face, then died. “You must…or you wouldn’t be in the line of work you are.” The man leaned close, so close Jimmy could smell his breath, fetid. “But this can help you, son. I hope you can see that.”

His face then twisted up, without warning, into a grimace of rage. “You know, it’s kids like you who have just about ruined my marriage, ruined my life in fact. If it weren’t for the likes of you—” The man’s voice had risen. He stopped to calm himself, then continued in the same dead tone. “If it weren’t for the likes of you, I’d be happy. A good family man, not having to sneak out behind my good wife’s back and try to help the trash like you that grows on those streets down there. It’s my calling. I have to help. But I’ll fix things.”

Jimmy stared at him, waiting for the pain, not sure what kind of response might stop what he was certain was coming.

“Well now you can let me help you, or at least try to.”

He rolled Jimmy over on his side, away from him. Jimmy felt heat at his back, then the drip of hot wax on his skin. He winced, more out of surprise than pain. The wax dried quickly. The man rolled Jimmy over and dripped the hot wax on his p***s. Jimmy flinched and the man pressed down on Jimmy’s stomach. “Hold still. It’ll go better if you cooperate.” He continued dripping the wax until Jimmy’s d**k and balls were encased in it. “I’m gonna untie this rope,” he whispered, “so we can take care of your lessons more freely. No tricks, or you’re one dead kid.” The man backhanded Jimmy across the face. “Understand?” “Yeah.” Just let it be over soon.

The man took Jimmy’s calves and pressed them to his chest, so that Jimmy’s ankles rested on his shoulders. The man moved in close, and in his mind, Jimmy went somewhere else.

* * * *

Later, the man came back, looking tall and menacing in the light from the candle. He was wearing a long, hooded robe and holding a plate in his hand. “I brought you something to eat.” He set the plate down next to Jimmy. The smell hit Jimmy first. It was a plate of s**t. “You’re going to eat this time, young man. Don’t you want to grow up to be big and strong?”

Jimmy looked at the plate and his stomach churned.

“Go on, eat it up.”

Jimmy reached out and touched the plate. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. He implored the man with his eyes, but the stare he got in return was dead. There was no life in those eyes, no light, not even the reflection from the candle.

The candle! Jimmy wondered if he could make it his salvation. If only the man would turn around, maybe he could light the robe, maybe…

But why would he turn?

His answer came from outside. There was a swatch of light that rode over the opposite wall, the sound of a car engine. “What the hell?” the man said and turned toward the door.

Jimmy tipped the candle so its flame touched the bottom of the robe, scared that if this didn’t work, the man would kill him. He watched as the robe flickered and then the flame, bright, burst upward. For long enough, the man didn’t feel it. In the brief time before discovery, Jimmy managed to slink along the wall in a sitting position to a corner. He got up on his haunches, poised for flight.

All at once, with a whooshing sound, the entire back of the robe went up in flame. The man screamed at last, a scream torn from his throat, high-pitched and etched with pain. There was the smell of burning flesh in the room. “Son of a b***h!” the man screamed and fell to the floor, rolling around trying to put out the flame, trying to avoid the stacks of newspaper.

Jimmy darted for the door, gagging on the smell of burning flesh and smoke. His hand was on the doorknob when he felt the grip on his shoulder. He turned the knob, trying desperately to wriggle away, an animal caught in a trap. “No!” he screamed.

Another hand came up and pinioned itself onto Jimmy’s other shoulder.

All at once, Jimmy felt himself being flung backward into the room. He grunted as he landed on the floor, on his back, nothing to break his fall. His head slammed into the desk, making him lose his breath, his chest tightening. Silver specks swarmed before his eyes.

“Ungrateful little sleaze.”

The air was filled with the smell of burnt fabric and a sweeter, more sickening burnt smell that Jimmy could only imagine was the odor of burnt flesh.

But the man’s burns couldn’t have been too severe. He looked unconcerned standing above Jimmy, his mouth straining to form words, his anger peaking. “After all I tried to do…” The guy looked away. “After all I tried to do for him. I only wanted to help him. You can understand that. I know you can. I—”

Suddenly he stopped. Outside, two car doors slammed at the same time. A woman’s voice, her words unclear, rose up to them.

“Marianne.” The guy stared down at Jimmy, his mouth open, as if the boy would have some answer. “I—I gotta get rid of him.” The man crossed to the desk and rummaged around inside.

Jimmy got to all fours, watching him, trying to push down the dizziness so he could stand.

“I have to make sure she doesn’t know, don’t I?” The man brought out a hunting knife encased in a leather shield. He undid the snap and pulled out the knife. It glinted in the silver of the moon’s light.

“This’ll be over quick,” he whispered. “I can stuff him in a closet and get rid of him later.” He giggled. “She’ll never know.”

Jimmy scurried backward, crablike, into a corner as the man began to approach him. He was smiling.

Downstairs, a door opened. A little girl’s voice rose up the stairs. “Daddy? Daddy?”

“Don’t worry, son, you’ll go to heaven now.”

Jimmy put up a weak hand. “Please, man, you can’t. You’ll get caught.”

There was a thunder of footsteps as someone rushed up the stairs.

A woman’s voice: “Becky! Take it easy on those stairs.” Then: “Dwight? Are you up there?”

The man raised the knife, but the footsteps were coming closer and now they both heard a second set of slower footsteps ascending the stairs outside. “Dwight?”

The man looked at the door, back to Jimmy, back to the door.

The door opened. A girl, about fourteen, looked into the room. Jimmy saw frizzy red hair, thick glasses, a bent posture.

Dwight whirled. “Becky, get out of here!” he yelled. The little girl’s face collapsed into tears as she backed out, slamming the door behind her. “Why is Daddy mad at me?” she shrieked, her voice bordering on hysteria.

“Dammit,” Dwight said, dropping the knife to the floor. He hurried from the room.

Outside, Jimmy could hear the arguing. The woman’s voice rose tearfully, asking over and over what was going on, what had burned, and the little girl screamed in the background, “Why is Daddy mad? Why is Daddy mad?”

Jimmy opened a closet door and found his clothes in a heap there. Barely able to stand, he managed to reach down inside himself and find the strength to put the clothes on. Once dressed, he opened the door.

The three people in the hallway froze, staring at him. There was a fat woman, with a stiff upsweep of blond hair; her mouth dropped open when she saw him. She turned to the man.

“Dwight? Who?” She couldn’t seem to form the words.

Jimmy wanted only to get away. “Later,” he whispered, brushing by them.

“Who’s that boy?” the little girl said as Jimmy made his way down the stairs.

Jimmy didn’t wait to hear the answer as he hurried to the front door and out, into the cold December air and freedom.