Know Me (Truthful Lies Trilogy - Book One) (34 page)

“
Son...p—please, sit.”

Here goes nothing.

I was gonna rip his heart out and watch it
pulse its final beats in my hand. That
had been my plan.

But Trev calmed me d
own in the car.

And he convinced me that it’s time to lay
this dog to rest. That it’s time to either have my say out with
him, and end it for good; or have my say out with him, and start a
new relationship with the dude.

I opted for the former.

We sit. “Would you boys like a
drink?”

I shake my head. I’m ready to go into it, but
dad’s politeness is throwing me off my feet.

“
Water, sir.”

“
Deck?”

I shake my head again. I don’t feel steady
enough to speak. When pops is out the room, Trev puts a hand on my
shoulder. “Easy, homeboy. Easy. Just breathe.”

I bite my fist. Tears fight to get out my
eyes.

Mom.

The night she
died
, I think,
you were fucking
that...puta!

He brings in the water
, a fresh can of PBR in his hand. “Trevor,
that was a great game against the Wildcats this season.”

“
Thank you, sir.”

“
Look, I know you and me’s had our
differences. And...I just wanna say...I’m sorry...for attackin’ yo’
race an’ all. I was...just very angry about things and...you was in
the way. I just want you to know that...if you’d been Mexican, I
woulda made a wetback statement. Hell, if you was white, I woulda
prob’ly called you a cracker. I was just...angry. Punchin at
anythin in the way.”

“
Yes, I always knew that, sir. It was
a...rough night all around, sir.”

Rough night? Talk about a
fucking euphemism.
Bitch
actually cocked her fucking gat aimed at my head. And I almost
snapped pops’s jaw.

By now my leg’s tapping so hard
I think I might crack the
floor. Cutting into this dreamily pleasant Hallmark moment, I throw
my blood-covered axe: “OK, you guys had your say. Now it’s my
fucking turn.”

“
Raymond”—I can’t call him pops, just
doesn’t taste right—“I was actually gonna come in here and crack
your fucking head open. But, again, Trevor here saved your
ass—”

“
Haven’t we had enough of that—”

I stick a trembling finger up. “I wasn’t
finished.”

He sits back and bites his tongue. I can
sense his rage as much as mine.
Belly aside, Pops really is a large man, and when we went
at it last time, he got in some good punches.

“
So, I was actually gonna come here and rip
your head off. Maybe commit Manslaughter One, who knows. Then Trev
convinced me not to.” He gives Trev a tight nod. “So, on the drive
here, and a few times around the block, I had to go over it, you
know. In my head:
What the fuck am I gonna say to him?
”

“
I know, son.”

“
And, it was all whirlin around pops.
Flying at me in all sorts o’ directions. Because, you know me, I
talk with my fists”—my chin starts trembling, my fists
clench—“and...and... You know what I fuckin’ wanna know?
WHY!?
WHY
!? How could
you
fuck
her?
Knowing Ma was in the hospital, sucking in her last breaths!
How?”

Trev lets me shout it out.

Tears
sting my eyes, and I fucking hate that shit, because I’m
trying to be tough here. I’m trying to tell this mother—this
mother—this... “Just...WHY!?”

Pops shifts, sips some beer. He sits
forward.

“
Why, pops?
Why?
I mean, she was your damned wife! My mother—”

“
I know, son. I know.” His beer trembles.
He puts it to his lips, decides against it. Puts it on the
table.

He starts rocking back and forth. I’m also
rocking.

He tries to explain. “I—I—I just... I
can’t—”

And then a tear breaks through to his
cheeks.

But
that just ain’t enough to make me forgive him.

Not
nearly
enough.

He doesn’t talk. Only fights off the sobs.
And I receive
some
consolation
that at least he feels bad. It’s nowhere near enough to absolve
him. But, at least he’s human. A despicable, sad human.

But...
human
.

And that makes me feel a little
better.

He wipes his face with his hand. His
chin’s shivering so much that he can’t speak. “I—I...” Then he
breaks down, hands to his face. He breaks down into loud gasps of
manly tears.

There’s something very
pitiful—
but
also humbling
—about
watching a grown man collapse into tears because of his
regrets.

Heavy, heavy
regrets
. The kind you
can never pull away from.

I get up, go to the window. Run a hand
through my hair.

Give him time.

On my
part, one tear breaks loose. I’m thinking of mom. I think
he and I are crying for the same thing in a way. We’re just crying
because, damnit, it needs to be cried about. Because there ain’t
nothing you can do about that shit!

She suffered. And s
he died. And it’s final. And it
sucks.

W
hat was then left of his and my relationship shattered to
pieces.

And it’s sad.

So we cry,
’cause there just ain’t nothing either of
us can do about it.

I get my tears under control a lot faster
than he does. Less regrets, I
figure.

I turn from the window. Look at him. He’s
relatively under control
now. Relatively. “If I could take it back, I would. There
ain’t nothin I can do about it son. I betrayed my wife, in the most
despicable way. Living with it all these years has been my
punishment. I know I ain’t taught you shit. Hell, it was Trevor’s
uncle who taught you how to play football. I think the only thing I
ever passed down to you was my stubbornness, and my proclivity for
booze. And weed.” He looks up at me. “Don’t think I never knew
about you smokin it up.” He points at Trevor. “You too, son. I hope
you not into that shit no more.”

“
No, sir.”

“
Good. Good. ’Cause you got a future.
Anyway, Deck”—he looks at me now—“so do you, son. And if there’s
one thing I hope you can take away, it’s not to be such a
fucking
unbelievable scumbag
like your old man”—he sobs, several times—“like your old
man is. Because livin’ with that shit is impossible. I can’t tell
you...” He considers his next statement. “...Son, I can’t tell you
how many times I wanted to end it, you know what I mean here? After
she died, after you left... Just...
end
it.” He pauses, and I know what he’s talking about.
Loud and clear,
homes.
“And when you and
I had that brawl...I was
so
ashamed of myself. Trevor, you shouldn’t have pulled him
off me. Deck, I deserved it. Every punch.” He laughs a little. “I
was actually a little...proud”—he clears his throat—“of you. You
pack quite a punch, son.

“
And Catalina... She just gets crazy
sometimes, you know. She woulda never fired on you. That’s just her
way of acting tough. She had a tough upbringing.”

He sees I’m not even half-interested about
his attempted mitigation of Catalina’s insanity, so he moves
on.

“
But, I gotta live with that shit. And that
ain’t no livin’. Because I loved—” He bites his fist, rocks back
and forth like he’s about to puke. “I
loved
Priscilla, Deck. Your mother. And I know my
actions don’t justify it, and that there’s no forgiveness for what
I did, but...it is what it is. I never knew...that night. I never
knew it would be
the
night, son.
And I know you was there, by her side, to the last breath.
And...
thank
you
, for doing that. At
least she didn’t have to go alone. So
I
have to live with it. Not you. You hear what I’m
saying?”

Clearly
.

“
How long...were you with her, pops?
With...the Mexican or Cuban or whatever she is. Before...you know.
How long?”

“
Do you really have to know?”

“
I do.”

He sighs.
“Probably a year or so before...it
happened.”

“
A
year
before mom died?”

He nods.

“
You mean, when we discovered there was
nothing more we could do for her.” I want to be more blunt:
In other words, to
you, mom was already dead a year before. After we knew there was no
more hope.

But I’m in a more amenable frame of mind
here. And even though I can’t say I forgive him, I’m less angry at
him. I can’t even say I
understand
him. Because I don’t. And I won’t pretend to understand
what could drive a man to leave the woman he loves when she needs
him most.

Less angry
. That covers it.

H
e bows his head. “I’ve cried myself empty over it, son.
Like I said, it’s one helluva lesson to pass on, but, please, don’t
never do what I done, kid. Because even though you might be walkin
the same earth as everybody else, you ain’t livin in it—after you
do something like that. It’s worse than death. It’s the living
dead, son. It’s...
unbearable
.”

“
Is she still using?” He knows who I’m
talking about.

He shrugs, defeated. “Sometimes. It ain’t
nuthin serious. Besides, you ain’t one to talk on that, are
ya?”

“
I never used coke. But,
I guess not. I just... I just don’t get it
pops. I just...”

“
Because I’m stubborn, just like you are.
You’re one tough
bastid
to get
off a course of action once you set your mind to it, Declan. And so
am I. It’s the flaw you inherited from me. Or, maybe it’s a gift.
How’s business?”

“
Going well.”

“
See? Your stubborn ass made it happen, no
matter the risks or the barriers. Look, son, I hear you. But
Catalina keeps me in line, you know. Regardless of how we met,
we’re together now. And your moms is gone. There ain’t nuthin I can
do to bring her back. Why take that out on Catalina? It’s not her
fault.”

I’m a little incredulous at his
words.
Not
her fault?
I run a hand
through my hair. “You gonna marry her?”

He shakes his head.

“
So why you still with her,
pops?”

He grabs his beer again, sits back.
“Everythin kinda lost meaning when you left, Deck. Actually, it was
more
how
you left. I
think that’s when it came crashing down on me. That’s when I
realized what it was that I’d really done. How deep it went. Before
that, I had it all explained, justified. But when you found out,
and when you came at me... Well...

“
Then, when you left... I had nuthin left
to live for. Do I love Catalina? Maybe. Would I do to her what I
did to your mother? No. I won’t. Because I learned my lesson. And I
might have done a terrible thing, but I ain’t no animal. If she
wants to leave me, OK. If she doesn’t, well, I’ll take all the
companionship I can get. It’s Karma, son. That’s prob’ly the only
thing I believe in now. ’Cause it makes sense. I know I done
suffered my fair share of it since”—he gasps, sniffs—“since your
moms left us.”

Less angry.
Much less angry.
I heave in a deep breath, look
up at my man Trev. He nods, as if reading my mind. “Pops, I can’t
forgive you for what you done to Ma. But”—another tear cracks in my
eye—“I can...
respect
you...for what you learned from it. And for your attitude
about it. I don’t think I’m gonna come by any more often. I’m
sorry, it’s her or me. She’ll always be the woman you were with the
night Ma.. Well, we been over that.

“
I don’t think we’re gonna have one o’
those throwing-the-ball-in-the-park kinda relationships. But, I’m
gonna take your calls. At least that. I promise you
that.”

Pops sucks it up. Stands. Sticks out a
hand to me. I stand and shake it. It’s all he can do to stop
crying. Eventually he
does crack again, huge sobs of male tears. I hold him, slap
his back. “I love you, son. I’m...so sorry. I’m
so
damn sorry!”

I’m sucking it up myself.
Damn bastard’s
gonna have me forgive him if he keeps on like
this
. “It’s OK, pops. I
hear you. It’s all good. We can move on.”

I don’t forgive you, yet, but we can move on
now. We can try to move on. I promise you that...

He’s got a deathgrip on me.
But it’s all good. It’s all
good, ’cause he’s my pops. Not a throwing-the-ball kinda
relationship. No. But it is what it is.