The Shoe on the Other Foot

 

 

Bill:  I called y’Mom.  She’s on ‘er way.

 

I had been transferred to Pre-Op and was about as settled as I would be until it was time to slide on over to the table itself.  Bill perched uneasily in a straight chair.

 

Deb:  You did, huh?  How’d she take it?

 

Bill:  What the hell’s that s’posed t’mean?

 

Deb:  You know you scare the shit out of her.

 

Bill:  When’ve I ever done anything t’scare her?  Jesus, the things you pull outa your ass.

 

I managed a goofy grin, Demerol fueled, no doubt.  Mom still reacted much like a rabbit in headlights when Bill was around her, but she had told me that she was beginning to relax some.  Rainer’s arrival had done a lot to help the process.  Mom said she’d never seen such a big man handle a baby so gently; maybe he wasn’t such a scary sort after all.  I hesitated to correct her.  He was plenty scary.  The hands that she saw cradling the fragile body of the child were still quite capable of killing someone.  I knew that.  I had seen it happen.

 

Deb:  She’s not used to so much testosterone in one place.  My dad had cojones, but not so big, and not brass.

 

Bill:  You and y’mother are both nuts.

 

Deb:  So endeth the lesson.

 

Before Bill could come up with anything sufficiently evil to say in response, my mother arrived followed by, of all people, Sam.

 

Sam:  So, what’s up. L’il Sis?

 

I patted myself on the belly, like some kind of whacked-out Santa Clause.

 

Deb:  Got Bill’s evil twin in here, they’re gonna go get him.

 

I introduced Sam, who responded immediately by unseating Bill and holding the chair for Mom.  He was in gentleman mode, and Mom was somewhere between overwhelmed and charmed.

 

Bill:  Suck up.

 

Sam:  Mind your manners, boy.

 

Bill had been on the edge all day, just looking for an excuse to vent. Sam was the perfect opportunity.  He had wandered in unexpectedly and come as close as anyone had the entire time to making Bill look like a fool, with the exception of Bill, himself.

 

Bill:  Where d’you get off callin’ me boy?!  I got a yard ‘a dick and a washtub fulla balls and you’re callin’ me boy?!

 

Mom quietly turned white.

 

Sam:  You’re outa line, young man.

 

Bill:  I don’t give a national fuck!

 

Deb:  Bill…

 

Bill:  Calm y’ass down, Punk.

 

Deb:  I’m not the one trying to detonate, here.  Wait a minute…maybe I am.

 

Sam:  He botherin’ you, Ma’am?

 

Mom shook her head.  Whatever else she was trying to do, she was lying through her teeth.  Bill was bothering the hell out of her.

 

Sam:  If you want, I can take him for some wall-to wall counseling.  You just say the word.

 

Mom:  What in the world is he talking about?

 

Deb:  Bill’s having a conniption…

 

Mom:  I see that.

 

Deb:  …and Sam’s more than willing to take him outside and beat the crap out of him.

 

Mom:  Someone will call the police.

 

Deb:  Sam is the police.

 

As if prompted, Sam briefly displayed his badge.  Mom regarded it uneasily, as thought it was primed to explode.

 

Bill:  Dawg here’s a hell of a cop.  He brings somebody in, y’know damn well the cat’s innocent.

 

Deb:  What was that for?

 

Sam:  He’s lookin’ for trouble.  He knows just where to find it.

 

Bill:  I don’t need t’look f’trouble…

 

Deb:  You are trouble.  Please don’t start anything, Bill.

 

Bill:  Who you talkin’ to, girl?  Anybody’s startin’ anything, it’s gonna be that glorified postal inspector over there.  Hey, Dawg, ain’t you got some fake watches or Boxcar Willie tapes t’go impound?

 

Sam:  No, but I can find some trash to kick to the curb.

 

Deb:  There’s plenty of drugs around here if you two can’t settle down by yourselves.

 

Mom:  You know all kinds, don’t you?

 

Deb:  Bill and Sam are brothers.  You’d never know it, but they are.

 

Mom:  Brothers?  I hope they don’t see each other too often.

 

Bill:  Don’t I wish.  ‘Stead, I got the bastard livin’ with me.

 

Deb:  It’s not like he’s there all the time, Bill.

 

Bill: Principle.  I gotta look at ‘is shit if I’m not lookin’ at him.

 

Mom:  Is he kidding?  Does he really live with you?

 

I nodded fairly cheerily.  I was still pretty blazed, after all.

 

Deb:  Oh, yeah.  But if they get out of hand, Elmore straightens them out.  Or Ryan.

 

Mom knew about Elmore and Ryan.  She kept trying to set Elmore up with my kid sister and my kid sister kept telling her to knock it the fuck off.  And Ryan had once spouted Irish at her and Jade had been forced to drag him out of the room.  Oh, yeah, Mom knew about those two.

 

Mom:  I still don’t understand how you manage that great big house.

 

Deb:  I have help.

 

Mom looked from Bill to Sam and back to me.  I could tell what she was thinking.

 

Deb:  Oh, no, not these two whack-jobs.  Jade and I manage, and we have a maid service come in to do stuff for us like dust and wash the floors.  It’s worth it.

 

Just then, the anesthesiologist came by to introduce himself and shoot something into my IV line that made the Demerol seem like pink lemonade by comparison.  The bed started to move.  It was time to face the music.

 

I woke up for a moment in what I took to be the recovery room. 

 

Bill:  What’s takin’ ‘er?

 

Nurse:  She’s had a surgical procedure, Mr. Strannix.  She won’t be running the mile any time soon.

 

I forced my eyes open.  The nurse was futzing with the IV line.

 

Deb:  He’s not usually like this.

 

Bill:  She woke up?  I heard ‘er.

 

Nurse:  Mr. Strannix, please.

 

Sam:  Get outa there, young man.  Ya bug the woman.

 

Bill:  Getcher paws off me, ya asshole…

 

Deb:  There they go…

 

Mom had gone home when I got back to my room.  She’d probably had too much of a good thing with Holmes and Moriarty perfecting their act all evening.  It was after midnight when they finally got me settled in with bad television channels and a morphine pump.  Bill and Sam stood on either side of the cement slab of a hospital bed.  They didn’t appear to know what to say.

 

Deb:  Go home.  I’m fine.

 

Bill:  Ya sure?

 

Deb:  Sure as I can be with a butt load of a controlled substance right to hand.  You’ve had a hell of a day, Bill.  Go home.  Sammy, make him go home.

 

Sam:  When was the last time anybody made this shit do anything?

 

Deb:  I can’t remember, either.  He’s been vibrating all day.  I think he might blow up if he sticks around much longer.  He’s makin’ people nervous.

 

Bill:  Aw, hell.

 

But Sam was on to me.  Gerard couldn’t be called sensitive or intuitive on a good day, but he could manage to read the odd billboard now and then.

 

Sam:  C’mon, boy.  Let’s go.

 

Bill:  What’d I tell ya ‘bout callin’ me boy?

 

Sam:  Never mind that, fool.  Let’s go.  You can come back tomorrow.  The girl needs rest.  Stand over her like that, y’look like a goddamned gargoyle.  Move out, sailor.

 

Early morning…

 

Rhino:  Daddy get up now.

 

Rhino had climbed out of his crib and marched down the hall to his parents’ bedroom.  Strangely enough, only Daddy could be found in the wide bed.  Mommy wasn’t there, and it looked a little strange.  Rhino was no shrinking violet.  He clambered up onto the bed, as always stopped to wonder for a split second why his own bed didn’t feel like this, and then crawled over toward the shock of white that identified the top of Daddy’s head.

 

Rhino:  Daddy!

 

The stack of blankets groaned and pushed at Rhino.  The baby knew what this meant.  Go ‘way, boy.  Rhino inserted a finger into Daddy’s near ear.  He would not have been the son of the man he was trying to wake up if he had bailed.

 

Rhino:  Daddy!!

 

It was the finger that did it.  Daddy reared up straight, as though scared of something.  He caught sight of Rhino.

 

Bill:  I thought I told ya.

 

Rhino grinned up at his big father, displaying his new teeth.

 

Rhino:  Daddy up!  Now!  Mama?

 

Bill:  You get big enough, boy, gonna bust ya right in your grille…

 

Daddy was only grumbling, not hollering like he did at Unc’ Sam.  Rhino knew Daddy was going to get out of bed now.  Daddy tended to do what he was told.

 

Bill:  What’n hell you want at this hour, midget?

 

Rhino:  Eat brefast.

 

Bill:  How in hell d’you eat this early, squirt?  If God’d wanted people t’stuff their faces, He wouldna invented coffee.

 

Daddy stood up and pulled on his pants.  He grabbed Rhino onto his hip and instantly regretted it.

 

Bill:  Damn, boy!  Nothin’ worse than smellin’ dead shit first thing.  Come on, I s’pose I gotta scrape ya down.

 

Rhino:  Mama?

 

Bill:  I’ll take ya t’see y’Mama later, Rhino.  She got sick, but she’s gonna be fine now. 

 

Rhino:  Mama sick?

 

Bill:  That’s what I said.

 

Rhino:  Mama yak?

 

Bill:  What?

 

Mick and Nuala joined Bill at cribside.

 

Bill:  Whadda you two want?  What’s he talkin’ about, yak?

 

Nuala:  Da said you’d get us our cereal, Uncle Bill.

 

Bill:  Damn white of ‘im.

 

Mick:  Yak means barf.

 

Bill:  Barf…oh.  That.  Naw, she didn’t barf.

 

Rhino:  Mama home.

 

Bill:  Not yet.  Couplea days, I think.

 

Mick:  Did she hafta get surgery?

 

Bill:  Why?  Who toldja that?

 

Nuala:  Da said the only way Aunty was gonna get any rest was if they surgically pulled your head outa her arse.

 

Bill:  He did, eh?

 

The little caravan had found its way to the kitchen.  Nuala instantly commenced to gathering up breakfast food, dishes and spoons, the tools of the event.  She indicated, through not-so-subtle hints, that Uncle Bill should pour milk and juice and quit fooling around with coffee long enough to make toast and jam.  Bill eyed the child steadily, in a look calculated to stop clocks.  Nuala continued onward tranquilly, indicating that the orange marmalade was Da’s and they ate the strawberry jam with the Flintstones on the jar and not to forget the peanut butter, which was Rhino’s special favorite, and Bill wondered just when children had ceased to be intimidated by him. 

 

Elmore:  She gotcha whipped, Bill?

 

Elmore had made his way quietly to the kitchen and poured off the first cup of coffee before Bill got a crack at it.

 

Bill:  Can it, Pratt.  Too damn early and I don’t feel like kickin’ your ass just yet.

 

Elmore chuckled genially at him, stroked Nuala’s hair gently as she passed him, and dodged what appeared to be a crunchberry hurled in greeting by the baby.  Gus caught the thing on the fly, and then took Baska’s head in his huge jaws when the smaller dog thought to protest.  Baska stood, tail whipping.  Gus held her until the tail slowed down and finally stopped.

 

Sam came down next, on his way out early as usual.  Seeing that there was coffee, he made an executive decision to stop for some.

 

Sam:  Helluva stay at home mom, there.

 

Bill:  Shut up.

 

Sam:  That the best you’ve got, boy?

 

Bill handed Rhino a slice of toast thickly spread with strawberry jam.

 

Nuala:  Aunty never puts that much jam on Rhino’s toast.  He gets all sticky.

 

Rhino had gone into the toast and jam more or less face first and giggling.  Dogs were ranged around the base of his highchair, waiting for the inevitable.  Sure enough, when the jelly was completely licked off the toast, the remaining bread went over the side.  Dogs scrambled for it.

 

Rhino:  More, p’ease, Daddy!

 

Bill had been about to pour himself a cup of coffee, but knew better than to delay the arrival of toast.  Quite tolerantly, for him, he replaced the coffee carafe and reached for a fresh slice.  Sam finished his cup and decided he had time for a second.

 

Sam:  Up for a refill, young man?

 

Elmore nodded and extended his cup.  Between the two large mugs, the carafe was drained entirely.  Sam turned off the warming plate.

 

Bill:  Either ‘a you shits wanna earn y’keep, here?

 

Bill had gone from toast to cereal.  Mick always ate crunchberries in a big way.

 

Sam:  Nope.

 

Elmore.  Looks like ya got it under control, Bill.

 

It looked, for the moment, like everyone was settled.  Rhino was licking the jam off his second slice of toast while Gus and Baska jockeyed for position on the floor and Norman balanced on the back of the highchair seat itself.  Mick and Nuala were eating contentedly.  Bill reached for the coffee carafe.

 

Bill:  What the hell…?

 

Bill looked to Elmore, then Sam and, back to Elmore.  He said nothing, but his movements as he restarted coffee were a tad bit on the abrupt side.  He was watching the two men out of the corner of his eye.

 

Nuala pulled her chair over to the counter and began the climb to the top of the refrigerator, where the bananas were kept.  By doing so she got herself directly in Bill’s way.  Bill had decided that, as long as he had to be up, he would make himself a scrambled egg and cheese sandwich.  He came close to knocking the little girl off her pins as he turned to look for a cheese grater.

 

Bill:  What’n hell are you doin’, Nuala?

 

Nuala:  We want a banana.

 

Bill:  Thought you were trainin’ t’climb Denali, girl, just ask f’the damn thing.  I’ll get it down.

 

He removed Nuala and set her on the floor, shoved the chair back to the table and pulled two nicely ripened bananas off the bunch.

 

Mick:  Rhino, too, Uncle Bill.  He’ll holler.

 

Nuala was busy getting herself arranged at the table and didn’t tell Bill not to give Rhino an entire banana to himself.  He rarely ate more than a quarter of one of the fruits and would have cheerfully smeared a part of it onto his head and thrown the rest to the dogs if he’d been given a chance.  Sure enough, he crushed the soft meat of the banana in both fists, crammed a handful into his mouth and rubbed the other hand through his soft black hair.  The dogs set up an eager whine.

 

Nuala:  What’s Denali, Uncle Bill?

 

Bill:  Someplace I’m startin’ to wish I lived.

 

Ryan arrived in the kitchen as Sam rose to leave.  He was carrying the mug he only used when the kitchen was too busy for his tea and the only thing there was to drink was coffee.  The mug looked roughly the size of a bathtub, and it was the only way he could get enough caffeine into his system to make the drink worthwhile.  Ryan filled his mug, topped off Elmore’s cup, and poured the remainder into a travel mug Sam was holding out for the purpose.  The toast Bill had made and buttered to receive his egg and cheese mixture was waiting on a plate.  Ryan took the toast and headed back upstairs.  Sam put his mug in the kitchen sink and left, carrying the steel travel mug with the last of the coffee in it.

 

Bill:  Dammit, dogs, outa my face!

 

The animals refused to budge, and Bill had already forgotten he’d ordered them out.  The goddamned coffee was gone again.  For the third time, Bill started a pot.  When the coffee was running, he yanked the frying pan up off the stove and turned to where he had left the plate of toast.  The egg and cheese had already started to slide out of the pan when he realized that the toast had disappeared.  Bill wasn’t a fan of messes and tried to stop what he had started, with only partial success.  About half of his sandwich filling landed on the floor, and then he was up to mid-thigh in a boiling sea of dog.  The only thing to be said for the situation was that there was nothing to wipe up.  Bill put what remained of the eggs onto a plate and slipped in more toast.  Ryan brought his empty coffee mug down, took the eggs, got himself a fork, and headed back upstairs.

 

In the meantime, Jade had arrived to begin the cleanup process.  It was usually how things went in the morning.  Deb got up and started the little ones eating, threw the dogs out so they wouldn’t be in the way, and generally got everyone going.  By the time Jade came down, Deb was ready for a shower before going outside to tend to the animals.  Jade made sure Elmore was off and running, got the kids ready for school if it was that time of year, and loaded up the dishwasher.

 

Jade:  Jesus, Bill, make the dogs go outside, what’s wrong with you?

 

Bill:  Don’t start with me, Jade,  I’m…goddammit, did you see a plate of eggs here?

 

Jade:  That’s why you put the dogs out.  Between Gus and Baska, I swear they’ve eaten some of the dishes.

 

Bill had no better explanation.  The look he turned on the dogs sent all of them, down to Yazzy and Dawg, hurtling for the back door and the safety of the yard.  Bill threw the back door open so the animals could leave, and they ran for their lives.

 

Meantime, Elmore had showered and shaved and dressed for the day.  He came to the kitchen one last time, carrying a 64 ounce travel mug.  He used it for the coffee he drank endlessly though the day and night.  The entire carafe of coffee he poured into the huge mug lasted him through the commute and for as long as it took to get the urns up and ready at the Corner.  He would refill the mug off and on all day.  Sometimes, to be a shit, Ryan would make it about half and half Bushmills and coffee, and Elmore would have a hell of a night.  Just as he did every other morning, Elmore filled his mug, said goodbye to Jade and the children, and walked out.  He passed Bill, sipping.

 

Bill:  Gonna put a fuckin’ flap in that goddamned door…

 

Jade:  Cats will get out.

 

Bill:  So the fuck what?!

 

Jade:  You can be destroyed, Strannix.  Just let one of those cats out.

 

Ryan strolled in carrying the empty plate, which he put in the sink.

 

Ryan:  Ye needed a wee bit more egg in ye’re egg and cheese, boyo.  Never mind…I’ll be mindin’ the lass’ beasts while she’s in hospital.  Least I can do, specially since William so kindly fed me and all.

 

Bill:  Only thing I’m gonna feed you, ya fuck, is my goddamn fist.

 

Mick and Nuala stared, fascinated.  Disagreements between their large father and large Uncle Bill were always exciting, lots of swearwords and yelling, but Mama or Aunty always chased them out before the really good stuff started.  Maybe Mama would tend to Rhino and forget about them, so they could watch this time.

 

Ryan:  Maybe another time, lad.

 

Mick:  Aw, Da!  Aren’t ya gonna do it this time, either.

 

Jade:  Go on, you two.  Outa here.  Let’s go get dressed.

 

Bill:  Hang on a minute.  Not gonna do what this time, either, Mick?

 

Mick:  Kick your arse upstraddle your neck.

 

Nuala.  Da says he can do it with his eyes shut.

 

Bill:  Does he?

 

Ryan:  No desire t’make a fool of ye in front of the wee ones.

 

Bill:  No desire t’get your ass killed, more like.

 

Ryan:  Ye like to fight.  It’s in your nature.

 

Bill:  I swear t’Christ, you don’t deserve to live, Gaerity. 

 

Mick:  Da, pound his head down so far he’s suckin’ his tea through a straw out his arsehole!

 

Nuala:  Yeah, Da!  You said you could do it an’ not break a sweat!

 

Bill:  Your Da say anythin’ else I oughta know about ‘fore I bust ‘is face?

 

Mick:  He said you’re so fulla shite you…

 

Mick fell silent, noticing the green eyes of doom boring into him.

 

Bill:  I’m so fulla shit I what, Mick?

 

Jade:  You believe everything a six year old kid says, that’s what. 

 

Jade stepped toward Mick and Nuala, who turned tail and ran for the stairs.  Under cover of the noise, Ryan slipped out the back door and made his way to the barn.  He told himself he wasn’t running away from a fight, he was merely saving Bill the humiliation of a public beating.

 

Bill made a final pot of coffee and stood over it, just in case some other fuck decided to come in and drink it when he wasn’t looking.  Jade returned to the kitchen some unknown time later, carrying a freshly bathed Rhino.

 

Jade:  You know, normally you don’t get down here until everybody’s gone.  We make sure there’s a pot of coffee waiting.

 

Bill stared into his cup.  For Jade, it served as a most eloquent reply, and she was comfortable.  She set Rhino on his feet and set to work straightening up.

 

Jade:  Don’t let him roll around on the floor, Bill, okay?

 

Bill reached, wordlessly, and took the baby onto his lap.

 

Jade:  Thanks.  Good thing Annie’s coming today, I can ask her to do this floor for me.

 

Bill:  Who’s Annie?

 

Jade:  Deb told you we hired her a couple of months ago.  She’s the lady who comes in and helps out once a week. 

 

The bird sailed in on silent wings and landed neatly on Bill’s head.  Wordlessly he batted the thing clear.  It squawked loudly and settled on the counter, while feathers drifted to the floor.  Jade handed it a banana.

 

Jade:  Domesticity.  What fun it all is.

 

Bill watched as Bear trundled hugely across the floor, big with unborn kittens.  She hopped up on his knee and, sniffing, leaned towards Bill’s empty plate.  A fragment of egg and cheese remained, and she ate it.

 

Bill:  Half a dozen damn good reasons to get lost and stay there.

 

The cat gazed at him with infuriating calm, licking her chops.  Slight twitches in her side were visible to the naked eye.

 

Jade:  I know the feeling.

 

Bill:  And ‘bout three reasons not to.  No wonder it took me as long as it did t’get caught.

 

Jade:  Three?  Two I can see, but…

 

Bill:  My goddamn brother.  He’ll move in on my boy an’ next thing I know he’ll be some kinda assbound government shit.

 

Jade:  Last I heard his dad was an assbound government shit.

 

Bill glared at her for a moment, then the death look was replaced by a slight, tired smile.

 

Bill:  As usual, girl.  Ya got me.  Me an’ the boy are goin’ up t’see the Punk.  I’ll feed ‘im, s’don’t wait food.  I’ll see ya later.

 

Bill hoisted Rhino to his hip and headed towards the stairs, to get the gearbag full of spare training pants and clothes and toys.  A few minutes later, Jade heard the front door close.  She got busy while she could.

 

TO BE CONTINUED…..