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Forty-Two
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House of Sighs Forty-One:
FORTY-ONE:The CryingJack was ten years old again, there in his backyard.He dropped the bloodied scissors and the blades pierced the lawn in a V. Glanced away from his father. Saw the white slash left behind in the sky by the airplane.Jack’s dad had him by the collar of his shirt. A cooking apron covered the old man’s chest; it was smeared with fingerprints of grease and barbecue sauce.“I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it,” his father said. “You look at me when I’m talking to you. Don’t you blubber on me, boy. March yourself in that house now!”Jack propelled through the air as a thick finger jabbed into the back of his neck. “Did you do it? DID YOU?”In the memory, Jack couldn’t recall if he answered yes or no.Kimba the cat ran underneath his feet and Jack almost fell again, caught by his father, who proceeded to slap him around the ears. “Did you do it? Did you do it? Jesus, boy.”They stepped inside the house and the stench of cooked onions wrapped around them. It m
House of Sighs Forty
FORTYThe shock of Sarah’s slap knocked the anger out of him, leaving Jack empty for a few seconds. Soon his anger swooped back in, filling him up, relieving him. The memories vanished.He smiled.Sarah slapped him once more.Finished now, she clenched her fist and realigned her knuckles.Click-crunch.His smile was gone.Sarah didn’t let her pain show. “I get it,” she said. “Things are bad and this is how you get through. Now, I’m not saying you’re a bad guy. I’m saying it’s okay to be shit scared. But picking fights is feeble, Jack. You know what that means, don’t you? Feeble?” She looked him up and down. “And calling the kid names. Ha. And as for me? Newsflash, Jack: sticks and stones and all that jazz. From the dropped-pie look of you, you’re in no position to be calling anybody anything. And there ain’t nothing wrong with my hair!” Sarah raised a crooked finger in his direction. “So suck my dick and call me madam, ’cause I’d sooner let you than watch you kick a kid when he’
House of Sighs Thirty-Nine
THIRTY-NINEWes left the house. All he wanted to do was go to his garden and dig for the sake of digging; there, at least, he was at home. The soil was safe and didn’t rebuke when shaken. Only Wes didn’t quite make it to the bed where the roses grew. Exhaustion deposited him on the last step at the back of the dwelling instead.Dog barked at him from the end of his leash near the clothesline.“Shut up.” But the Rottweiler persisted. “Shut the fuck up!” Wes ran to the animal and kicked its head with the heel of his boot. Dog howled louder, charging again. Wes backed off, the world spinning. He fell to his knees and tore at the grass as though scrambling for answers buried beneath.
House of Sighs Thirty-Eight
THIRTY-EIGHTMichael heard the barking and thought of Mr. Maclachley’s junkyard. He used to pass the old man’s auto-wreckers every day after school. The chain-link fence stretched the length of the block, it being the only barrier between the eleven-year-old schoolboy in the ill-fitting clothes and the old man’s guard dog.Before boarding the route 243 bus to town, Michael thought the worst fear he would ever experience was that evoked by Mr. Maclachley’s Rottweiler. In its bark, young Michael heard screaming, gutted children, laughing maniacs—noises that stalked him even into nightmares where he was running past the fence as fast as he could, the black monster leaping at the mesh through clouds of dust.One day his sports sneakers fell out of his backpack. Michael hadn’t dared go back for them. When he got home, his mother yelled at him.His father went back for the shoes.Maclachley’s dog never attacked him, of course, or any of the other kids who had to run the dreaded junkyard
House of Sighs Thirty-Seven
THIRTY-SEVEN4:37 pmJack wriggled through the ten-inch gap in the door until he could wiggle through no more. His hand swiped the air and landed on the hood of the pickup. Pebbles of broken glass pinched his palm. He strained, veins sticking out in his forehead, and relented. “It’s too tight.”Michael, Diana, and Julia watched the house for movement from the back of the bus. The last sighting had been four minutes earlier. Diana kept the time, her watch angled towards the light.Sarah crouched next to Jack on the warped steps; he held her arm to keep himself steady. From here she could see over the top of the destroyed pickup. The rear was elevated, the nose pinched tight to the ground. This angle gave them enough cover to worm out of the bus and onto the hood and then slide to the ground without being observed.Assuming one of them could fit through.It had been discussed: their aim was to get someone to the garage. There, they hoped said person would discover some sort of weap
House of Sighs Thirty-Six
THIRTY-SIXThe glass on the hood stuck into Julia’s palms but didn’t break the skin. Every muscle in her body tensed. Elbow quivered. Inside, her baby continued to grow, unaware of what was happening, of the world it was fated to be born into.Hair swished across her eyes. Blew it aside.You can do this, she said to herself. You’ve got no choice.The house faded into shadow as clouds filled out overhead. A hot gust of wind rattled fairy lights in the dying trees.***As best as Michael could tell, there wasn’t a possibility of Julia being seen until she was off the truck and on the ground, at which point she would be out in the open and visible to all eyes. “Please, please, please, be safe,” he said.Diana moved away from the others. Hatred boiled, rolled to the surface like fleshless bones in a pot. They deserved to die, everyone except Julia, a girl who was too young and stupid to know better. How adults—including Diana herself—could let something like this happen baffled her.
House of Sighs Thirty-Five
THIRTY-FIVEJulia’s hipbones, already beginning to widen in the early stages of motherhood, struggled to fit through the gap. Both hands were on the hood now, her grip sliding due to cuts in her palms—the skin had relented in the end, a reminder that there were no guarantees in this game. She experienced no pain, though; nor was there fear. Adrenalin wiped it all away. Body twisted. Hips slid free of the pinch.“Come on,” Julia said. “Come on.”She pulled her right leg through the door and lowered her kneecap against the hood. A muscle gave way and she fell flat onto her chest, leg slamming against the grillwork. Oxygen emptied from her lungs. So many adult concepts had been forced upon her today that something as natural as breathing seemed a complication, a hiccup in her fight for existence. Breathe! She took a mouthful of air and her mind focused.***“Everyone down!” Michael half-yelled, half-whispered.The curtain in the window shifted: the mother, not the son this time.Di
House of Sighs Thirty-Four:
THIRTY-FOUR:The ShedFeet pounded earth.The faces in the bus slid from view, drawn into time-lapse blurs as Julia increased speed. Her hands swung in tight fists, back and forth, hard and fast.The shed loomed closer.Julia was a mouse under the eye of an overhead hawk.She increased her speed but it just didn’t feel quick enough. Every step was half a step too short. She faltered, regained her footing, pushed onwards.Run.The shed door swallowed her whole.Darkness. The temperature dropped. A chill rocketed up her back like lightning in reverse, electricity retracing its jagged steps home to the clouds. Breathless, Julia dropped to her haunches. It took some time for her eyes to adjust.I made it. Her victory was so powerful she almost forgot where she was, and that she was only running from one hell to another.I did it! I did it!Her parents would be proud. If only they were here to witness her bravery. They would smile at her and clap their hands. When she returned t
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