"The pruno was delicious," I said, and even speaking those awful words sent a flicker, some sparks shooting through my good hand.
He snorted, fiddled with one of his sprawling eyebrows, rolling the hair into a point. "Pruno is a lot of things, but it's never delicious."
We nursed the next couple warm ones, not really talking too much. Finally; he said, "What are you doing here anyway? I thought we made the pruno because you were too broke to go to bars."
"This was an emergency."
He tapped me on my crooked arm. "That's an emergency."
I shrugged my shoulders.
"I'm a cheapskate," he said, "but even I'd fix that."
"I will."
"You should break it first"
"What?"
"Listen," he said, "you're going to have to pay more if you go with your arm like that. First, you'll pay for the doctors to break it. Then you'll pay for them to reset it."
"So what?"
"So break it yourself and save the money."
"That's crazy"
"I'll break it for you."
"Out of the question."
"Just remember who told you first," he said, holding his Michelob bottle up in my direction and taking a swig, making a crude aahhh noise when he finished swallowing his latest mouthful. "It would be my pleasure to break your arm."
Little Man
Letch asked for one good reason why I was taking so much shit from Sean Bourke. "Stand up for yourself," he said. "Fight fire with fire."
"What fire?" I said.
Letch told me to shut up and showed me a way to karate chop a guy in the Adam's apple. He showed me a way to twist someone's wrist behind their back so far it would break. He showed me his favorite move: how to lean in close to someone you were arguing with and say, "I didn't hear what you said," and when they started repeating their words, you head-butted them and cracked their nose.
"While they're standing there bleeding," Letch said, pretending to clutch a busted nose, "that's when you put your balls into stomping them mightily."
Sean had been beating up Skyler and me all year at school. Madeline had tried calling and telling the office about it, but they didn't do anything to stop him. Sean had moved to Phoenix from Wisconsin. He wasn't that tall, but he was fat and a lot stronger than us.
"After you do that," Letch said, laughing, "he'll offer to shine your shoes every day before class."
The next morning, Letch said, "I want you to do it today, Rhonda."
"What?"
"Get even with Sean. Do it before your mom comes back. That way the school will call me." He fuzzed my head. "Unless you like getting your ass kicked like a faggot." I shook my head no, and Letch said, "Make me proud, boy."
At lunch, all the kids were either playing tetherball or standing around talking. Sean was with one of his friends, over on the field. I'd told Skyler that I was going to kick Sean's ass. He said, "How are you going to do that?" and I said, "Letch taught me some tricks." Skyler told a bunch of kids what I was going to do. At lunch, all the kids were standing around waiting for me to make my move. No one thought I'd be able to do anything to Sean, but they were all excited to watch me get pummeled again. Skyler believed in me. He knew if anyone was mean enough to help us with Sean, it was Letch.
When I finally walked over to Sean, there were like fifty kids waiting for it.
I walked up to him, and he said, laughing, "I hear you're coming to kick my ass," and I said, "What?" and he made a fake scared face and said, "Are you going to beat me up?" pretending to bite his nails. "I can't hear you," I said, and he said, "What, are you deaf?" I took another step toward him. I was right in front of him. I said it again, "I can't hear you."
He leaned down a little and repeated himself, and I shoved every sliver of anger in my entire body up into my forehead. And right when Sean was in the middle of his sentence I thrust my forehead forward, crashing into his nose. He fell straight to the ground. He fell so fast there wasn't time to kick him in the balls like Letch had told me to.
Sean held his nose with both hands, screaming.
I started kicking him and I can't really tell you how many times I did it because once I started, he kept turning into different people: he was my mom so I kicked him; he was Letch so I kicked him; he was my real dad who I didn't know so I kicked him. I kept kicking until a teacher pulled me off and walked me to the principal's office.
Letch got to the school an hour later and met with me and the principal, who filled him in on what I'd done.
"I can't believe this," Letch said to her, shaking his head. "This will not go unpunished. I can promise you that."
The principal asked me to wait in the hallway so she and Letch could chat by themselves, and I left. I sat outside her office. The nurse's was across the hallway, and through the window I saw Sean walking with his mom. He held a bandage to his nose, and his head was tilted back.
I smiled.
Letch and the principal walked out, and he said, "I can't tell you how sorry I am about this. His mother and I will make sure this never happens again."
She nodded approvingly.
As soon as he and I were outside, he said, "Congratulations, little man."
He'd never called me little man before. I liked it.
"How'd you like it if I took you out for a steak?" he asked.
We went to a restaurant. He ordered two beers from the waitress and she giggled, saying, "He don't look twenty-one," and Letch said, "They're both for me, darling. I'm very thirsty," but when she brought the beers and had walked away, he slid a bottle to me, saying, "Here's to you busting noses, Rhonda."
We both drank.
It's hard for me to know how much to tell you about Letch because I don't want you to like him. But the truth is there were a lot of days where he was all right.
We drank our beers and ate steaks and everything was fun.
"Are you going to tell mom?" I said.
"Hell, no. She wouldn't understand."
"Where is she?"
Letch looked at me for a minute without saying anything. Then: "Do you miss your dad?"
"I don't remember him."
"At all?"
"Nothing."
"Jesus."
"Where's my mom always going?"
Letch finished his steak, his beer. "You'll have to ask her that one, Rhonda." He paid the bill, and right when we were leaving, he fuzzed my head and said, "I want you to know I'm real proud of you."
Black Lungs
I lied to old lady Rhonda, after I'd gotten home from Vern saying he'd like to break my arm. I lied because how much more was I supposed to take that day? Handa told me about her big boy, Hector, and Vern offered to break my arm, but the worst part wasn't what he'd said, worst part was that it sounded like a good idea to me. I wanted him to break it. Smash the bone into glorious splinters. I wanted him to let me have it, the way Letch used to. So when I got to my apartment, and when old lady Rhonda came downstairs to watch "Wheel of Fortune," the first thing out of my mouth was, "Tomorrow's my birthday," and she said, "Really?" and I hated lying to her, really hated it, but I needed something good to happen, so I said, "Why would I lie?" and she laughed, which made me laugh, which made me feel a little better.
We sat on the burned couch, with our mugs of vodka. Commercials played on the TV. "Wheel of Fortune" would start any minute.
"This is so exciting," she said. "We'll have a little party. I'll bake a birthday cake."
"You don't need to do that. Let's just spend the night hanging out."
"What's on your wish list?"