All in the Family (10 page)

Just as he was ready to explode in her, the door swung open. Herman stood in the door way, a bottle of vodka in his hand. Ryan stopped mid-thrust. Herman had his head down, his hair awry, greasy strands in his face. When he looked up, he saw his wife, whom he still held love for, sprawled on the bed, a young man on top of her, his face as red as his ass.

Herman felt the tingle, a tickle inside. It tickled at first, and then it began to burn. He felt his blood boiling as anger rose.

“God damn it!” he yelled. “Loretta, can’t
shoo
keep your pants on? Just for a little while. Can’t
shoo
just... just...” His words were slurred, and now he was at a loss. He could only stare at the love of his life and some punk kid fornicating in his own bed.

Her green eyes caught his, and she said, “Sweetheart, this wasn’t my idea!”

Ryan pushed himself up and out. A sloppy sucking sound came from their genitals, and then he was on his feet at the foot of the bed, gun in hand. His pencil thin erection swayed in front of him. He trembled. His whole body quaked; spasms ran all through his muscles, mostly nerves. He always had bad nerves, got them from his mother’s side. At least that’s what she told him, but now it was worse, he was caught with his pants down, literally.

“Ya better just stop right there,” said Ryan. His voice crackled, but he tried to sound menacing. “I’ll...I’ll shoot.”

It started suddenly, taking Herman by surprise, but it washed over him like a flood. His anger was gone, clean from him; replaced by a tickling laughter. It swept over his face, and he burst out laughing. Now why he laughed was anyone’s guess at the moment, but it took him so hard that he dropped to his knees.

Ryan watched him, dumbfounded. He didn’t know how to react. Here he stood, his pants at his ankles, and his rape victim’s husband cackling with laughter before him.
To beat it all,
he thought,
I’m threatening this man with an empty gun. Fuck! What’s with this guy?
He glanced around, looking for a quick escape.

“You’re going to threaten me?” Herman said between convulsions. “You’re threatening me in my own home; with that pea shooter? A nine millimeter, are you serious? You better hit me in the head or in the heart. This isn’t the movies kid.”

His outburst had subsided, and he was still on his knees. He looked at the bottle in his hand. Smirnoff Vodka, eighty proof. It was a glass bottle. Now the anger was back. He felt it smothering him. Now, that boy would be sorry that he ever stepped foot in here. Herman pulled himself to his feet using the dresser next to the door.

He finished the last of the vodka with one swig. It was now or never, and Loretta had to find out about his secret sooner or later. He looked the boy up and down. Ryan hadn’t bothered to pull his pants up yet.

“Pull your pants up, boy.” Herman’s voice could freeze water.

Ryan attempted this with the gun in his right hand; he more or less squatted and grabbed a belt loop of his pants with his left.

Suddenly, Herman smacked the bottle on the edge of the dresser. The bottle shattered down to a jagged circle that extended about three inches from his hand. Just as quickly, he charged the boy. With hatred and an inhuman force, he jammed the serrated glass into his throat, bringing the boy up from his hunched position.

Ryan stood, still conscious for a moment, gasping for air without avail. Blood began to pour from his jugular vein and seep around the glass into his stomach and lungs as well as running down the front of his shirt. He glanced around; saw the horrified look on Loretta’s face. In that final couple of seconds of his life, he wondered if she thought he was any good. His brain fired its final sparks, and that was the end of Ryan Brown, pizza delivery boy.

Loretta sat up in the bed, silently observing the situation. Herman hunched over the body on the floor, breathing heavily and salivating like a mad dog.

“What did you just do?” asked Loretta after a moment. “Herman!”

“Don’t call me that!” Herman snapped. “I killed him. He deserved it and you know it; coming in to my house and on to my wife like that. I killed him, just like I killed,” he paused, a long pause and looked away.

“Killed who? Herman?”

“I’m not Herman! It’s Frank now. Herman is dead now! Call me Frank.”

The look of horror deepened on her face. She couldn’t believe what she heard. Then for a moment, she wondered how he would react if he knew about all the other men. She wondered for that moment if he would be able to believe that his wife had fucked so many other men.

Then he pounced on the bed, pinning her wrists. She struggled a little and then was still. He was just looking at her. That same boyish look he had when he was younger and when they first married. He looked at her hard; he looked through her. He was not the same man she once knew, yet all at once, he was the same man and much more.

His crotch pressed against her wet vagina. The juices of the few minutes she was with the boy were now soaking the fly of his pants. She could feel him stiffening behind the fabric.

“Oh, Herman,” she moaned, as the excitement came spilling back in. His hands momentarily ceased the excitement as his grip tightened. “Honey, you’re hurting me.” She began to squirm again.

“It’s not Herman,” he told her. “I told you, it’s Frank.” With a quick movement he took her wrists in his right hand and slapped her with his left

The iron taste of blood seeped across her tongue. She swallowed hard.

“Call me Frank.” He gripped her tighter. “Call me Frank!”

“Oh, Frank!” She wiggled her hips. “You wanna fuck me baby? You wanna fuck me with that big dick of yours? Put it in me baby.”

With his free hand, he freed his hard-on. He slid his penis into her slowly. He took his time, inching it in, enjoying her sloppy feel.

That was the night they made love not just sex. They hadn’t made love since before Jessica was born. That was also the night that Loretta met Frank, the new Frank, and she slipped a little further from sanity.

* * * *

It was nearing eleven. The cops and ambulance had left some time back, and Bobby was on his way home. Trick or treating was over, his bag was half full and his nerves had him on edge. Something intrigued and yet worried him at the same time. His father never came on the scene. He expected to see the hearse, that old black meat wagon, outside the house. None of the three times he passed the house did his father show up.

He walked up the street. He could see his house, the front lights were off. Something odd caught his eye; a pizza delivery car sat parked outside the house. Surely they were closed for deliveries now.
Oh, well,
he thought as he crossed the driveway to the sidewalk in front of the porch.
Hope they enjoyed the pizza.

He stopped when he heard a car approach. It was the car in which Jessica had left. She climbed from the passenger’s side and waved at him. She took an extra minute at the car and then shut the door and came across the yard.

“What’s up little bro?” she asked.

“Not much.” He looked at her and cocked an eyebrow.

“Get me any candy?”

“No. Get me any good grades?”

“What do you mean?”

“You have a little stain right here.” He pointed to her blouse, under her chin. She looked down, and he flicked her nose. They both laughed and then they went inside.

Inside, a warmer bag lay open on the floor.

Jessica looked at Bobby, and he returned her perplexed look. He shrugged. She looked around and then held up her finger.

“Shh!”

She removed her shoes and crept down the hall. The door to her parent’s room lay open. The sounds of ecstasy became louder and louder. She reached inside for the doorknob and couldn’t help but look.

They were on the floor, her mother on top of her father, her naked back to the doorway. Her moans and shrieks came and went, they were muffled and then loud. She saw her father’s arms reach up toward her mother’s face. That was when her voice was muffled. Was there someone else on the floor with them? She was sure there was another person next to her father.
I’ll be damned,
she thought.

She grabbed the door and pulled it part way shut.

“Next time you guys wanna have a threesome with the pizza boy, a little warning would be nice.” She shut the door, let out a sigh and then a giggle.

“What were they doing?” Bobby asked.

“Don’t worry, but there might be pizza in the fridge.”

Bobby smiled and then ran toward the kitchen. He returned a moment later.

“There isn’t any. Do they have it in their room?”

“Just enjoy your candy,” she said.

Chapter Eight

Jessica looked outside her window. She had only been up for a few minutes. The sun shined brightly on the street below. The pizza delivery car was gone.

A light frost glistened on the windshield of another car that sat parked by the curb across the street. Another car sat parked in front of the house, its windows were clear and frost free. The sunlight sparkled on the red and blue light bar. The cops! What were they doing here?

In the foyer, Herman stood talking to an officer.

“Yeah, Herman, we had one hell of a night last night. One guy had his house broken into and his dog killed, and the kid who killed his dog died in a long drop from the second floor. A pizza delivery guy went missing after a final delivery just a few houses away, we figure he took all that cash and ran. Now today isn’t sizing up to be much better.” The officer took off his hat and scratched his head. Replacing the cap, he said, “We got report of a body today, it was ...”

When Jessica entered the room, a silence filled the room that tensed her muscles.

“What?” she asked.

“Honey, could you just go in the kitchen and see how breakfast is coming along?” Herman asked.

The tension wound tighter, like a piano string. She felt as if the room might cave in on her if she didn’t turn right then and leave.

After she was gone, the officer continued where he had left off.

“We think it was the body of that missing boy that your son went to school with. Some hikers found his body down by the river a couple of miles from Great Gorge. We think he may have been fooling around by the train tracks and fell off the cliff. That’s what we think, but we can’t rule out foul play at the moment. We’d like you to come take a look. They’re trying to get a lift over there to get his body out right now, so we should have time to get over there before they get him up. Being a coroner and an undertaker, your opinion is important to us. We hope you understand.”

“Certainly, let me get my coat.” Herman turned to retrieve his coat from the rack in the corner.

Jessica entered the empty foyer as she heard the cruiser pull away from the curb. “Breakfast is ready,” she said with a sigh as she saw there was no one in the foyer, and then she went to wake up her brother.

The drive to where the body was found was quiet, but now near the edge of the gorge, there was a bustle of activity. Several police cars were parked nearby, and a fire truck with a boom and a wench slowly lifted the body out of the gorge.

The wait was excruciating. Everyone waited to see what the body looked like.

“Where were you last night?” Captain Moore directed his question at Herman. “We have a body on ice for you down at the hospital. A boy broke into a house, probably looking to steal some jewelry or something. Man did he get a surprise. That dog was almost as big as he was. He got a lucky hit with that little splinter picker that he had.” Captain Moore spit a brown wad of tobacco juice on the frost covered ground.

“Sorry sir, I was indisposed last night, but I will pick him up later this morning,” Herman said. A chill ran up his spine as a cool tingling breeze blew past. He wondered if this would go off without a hitch. He stepped off to the side and watched as the basket swayed back and forth on the end of the cable. The cool breeze blew again, and he saw the basket smack the rough face of the gorge.

When it was at the top, several police crowded around to see the body. It was a young person, or at least a small person, not an adult. The skin was a hue of blue-gray and black where blood had collected in old bruises. The body was bloated from having been in the water. The face was contorted and badly misshapen; its blackened tongue hung out between the teeth, the lips curled back to bare missing teeth. At least one arm was broken; it hung over the basket, bent where the forearm should not bend. The hands were curled into death grips.

One of the curious officers turned quickly and spewed vomit from his mouth. Spitting and gagging, he braced himself beside the fire truck. This was what Herman saw every day, this grotesque side of life; death. The side of life that no one wanted to talk about, the twisted faces, the agony that the body experienced as it died; this was Herman’s life.

“What do you think?” Captain Moore asked.

Herman stared at the body, examining it. Then he said, “I don’t know. I could try my best to clean him up, but he looks like he’s been down there for a while. I don’t know if we could get a positive I.D. on him or not.”