Family Ties

“This little shit stain…,” Rich began. He couldn’t bring himself to say whatever he was thinking. Instead he gestured at the cot. “There! With Birdy!”

Harold glanced at me. His face hardened when I didn’t deny it, but he directed his immediate anger at his son. “Richard, go inside. Take Terry with you.” He glanced at his other son. “You too, Daniel. Now. All of you. That’s an order.”

Rich looked mutinous but did as he was told.

Harold seemed to relax once they’d gone, although I wasn’t off the hook yet. He tried to stare me down but I refused to be cowed.

“You’re bleeding,” he said at last.

No shit, Sherlock. I had the good sense not to say it aloud. The man was holding a loaded pistol, after all.

He seemed to notice it himself. He thumbed on the safety and used the distraction to think through what had happened.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“The question is, what are you going to do? Would you like to call the police?”

I stood there like a bump on a log.

He waited.

“No, of course not,” I said at last. “Why would I do that?”

“Rich assaulted you.” He lifted the pistol. “With a deadly weapon.”

I looked at him in genuine confusion. After a moment I wiped blood from my brow and cheek. It didn’t show any signs of stopping, and I already felt a throbbing ache behind my eye.

“Well?”

“No,” I snapped irritably, “I don’t want to call the police.”

He twitched an eyebrow.

“I… might’ve deserved it.”

“You can say that again. What were you thinking? Never mind. I can guess.”

I squared my shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Nothing happened.

We fell asleep. That’s all.” So it was a little white lie. Okay, maybe a big one.

“Even if that’s true, you’ve put me in an awkward position, son. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I’ll leave if you want me to.”

“And what if I ask you to stop seeing my daughter?”

“We both know you won’t.”

He shook his head in frustration. “You and your damned logic.”

“I’m so mad right now I wouldn’t know logic if it bit me in the ass.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. But you’re right, I won’t ask you to stop seeing Birdy. I won’t ask you to leave, either.”

The door to the house opened. He grew angry but then relaxed when he saw who it was.

“Is everything all right?” Anne asked.

Christy appeared behind her. Her eyes widened when she saw the blood.

“Harold, he’s hurt,” Anne said. She turned to her daughter. “Go get the first aid kit. And an old towel. The bottle of peroxide, too.”

Christy turned and ran into the house with a flash of red flannel.

Anne moved to her husband’s side. “Are you all right?”

“Me?” he said. “I’m fine. Just thinking through my options.”

“Why don’t you talk to Rich? He was packing his things. I don’t think he should leave.”

“You’re right,” Harold said. He looked down at the pistol. Then he looked at me. “Son, I don’t think you understand how close you came…” He took a calming breath and let it out slowly. “Rich is very dangerous. He’s highly trained and capable of…” He gestured at my bleeding face. “Well, violence.”

“So am I.”

“With all due respect, son,” he said with a healthy dose of irony, “you’re bleeding and he isn’t.” He let his words sink in. “Give Rich a wide berth for a while. Okay? Just a friendly word of advice, man to man.”

I started to say something sarcastic but thought better of it. “Yes, sir,” I said instead. “And I’m sorry.”

Anne didn’t clear her throat. She didn’t make a sound, in fact.

Harold looked at me in silent appraisal. “Well, you aren’t a coward. But you aren’t very bright, either.” He looked at his wife. “I’ll go talk to Rich before he does anything else stupid.”

She nodded.

He almost ran into Christy on his way into the house.

She looked at him fearfully and then glanced at me.

“Birdy,” he told her, “you have the damnedest taste in men. I haven’t decided if I like this one or not, but at least he isn’t a pantywaist. He may be an idiot, but he has balls.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Jesus Christ!”

Anne winced.

“I did not sign up for this shit,” he finished. Then he stepped past Christy and closed the door behind him.

Anne told me to sit down as Christy handed her the first aid kit.

“Just a sec,” I said. Then I walked to the door to the yard, opened it, and calmly threw up.

Rich and I didn’t even glance at each other over breakfast. Christy looked suitably chastised as well, but no one said a thing about what had happened.

And when Jim asked how I got the cut over my eye—which now sported butterfly closures under a gauze bandage—I told him I’d tripped during my run and hit a bench.

Harry and Marianne arrived with John, who went to play with his cousins. Jim told them the accident story with a chuckle. I faked a laugh and said I needed to be more careful.

My tension slowly lessened as the day wore on. Rich ignored me and acted like nothing had happened. Danny and Terry did the same. The women and girls went shopping after lunch, while the men and boys gathered around

the television to watch the Army-Navy football game.