Body of Ash (30 page)

Perry was young and full of life; he wasn’t even old enough to buy a beer. The older Angela became, the more she realized just how little her brother experienced. He would never get married and have a family. Ralph was furious that Perry defied him, refusing to speak of the boy for the longest of time. Angela was the only one who made the trip to Parris Island, South Carolina to witness his graduation from boot camp. If only her parents could have seen Perry standing proud in uniform, but Angela was the only one who could cherish the memory. For that, she understood why Sylvia had her regrets.

It’s not the same…

Despite her insistence, she had doubts. Her mother didn’t put up a fight about Perry leaving because she feared Ralph’s anger. Did Angela fail to fight for Rachel because of Brian? Her excuse was that she was putting off a confrontation until she could make a new home for just the two of them, but would she simply have let Rachel go and not fight for her if Brian settled back down and stopped whoring around? As much as she hoped she would have made the right choice, knowing Rachel forced her to wake up by running away wasn’t a comfort either. Her mother was right. She needed to learn to stand on her own without waiting to see what Brian would do.

Flipping her turn signal on, Angela had an idea. Despite a few short conversations by phone, she hadn’t actually stopped at Jason Thompson’s home.  Rachel’s boyfriend insisted that she wasn’t with him and according to the young man’s parents, that was true, but Angela had a hunch the two were in contact. If she could convince Jason of her intentions, she could talk him into passing the news on to Rachel.

Or better,
ask
Rachel to hear me out.

The Thompson’s owned a large home off Clayton Road. Even with only the front lights on, Angela could see that the house had a sprawling front lawn. The exterior of the colonial
was quite lovely, the beaded clapboard siding and the attached barn contributed to the original aesthetic of an early American home. Black shudders adorned the windows, creating a striking contrast with the white structure.

Overall, the house was charming and served to remind Angela how very little she knew of her daughter’s life. If Rachel had been involved with Jason since last year, the two must have spent a great deal of time at the property with his parents. It saddened her to know their time wasn’t spent in her own home. Through Angela’s rigid expectations and the pretense of appearing perfect, she had discouraged Rachel from bringing anyone around in a long time. It was a family pattern she had grown accustomed to, but it was wrong.

Three people shouldn’t be able to live under one roof and still feel lonely.

Their rehearsed performance came at a cost. Now as Angela stared at the front entrance of the Thompson residence, it was almost more than she could swallow.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” her mother asked, with hand on the doorknob.

Angela knew it would be easy to let Sylvia takeover, to just stand at her side while her eloquent mother did all of the talking. But, the older woman was right about one thing. It
was time for Angela to gain her independence and take the lead. If she wanted to begin a new life, one worthy of her and Rachel, she needed to stop letting the world happen around her and become a part of it.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I need to do this on my own.”

43

BRIAN

Friday 6:45 PM

Bent over the sink, Brian splashed his face with cold water. His stomach rolled from the movement, causing his mouth to produce more saliva with the building nausea. With eyes bloodshot and face pale, he looked almost as shitty as he felt.

Having rummaged through the refrigerator in an attempt to sober up, the leftover stuffed peppers mixed with his Jack Daniels sat like a god damn molten rock in his sternum. Burping up the taste of garlic and stomach acid, he was tempted to bend over the toilet and gag himself until it all came up, but he refused to relent. He had to get his ass moving out the door and there was no way that was happening if he was still three sheets to the wind.

Angie and her mother left in the Subaru. The two had been gone for well over an hour. As it was, he insisted he would be leaving just behind her to search for Rachel. But, by the time he worked his way upstairs and sat down on the bed to change his clothes, his head was spinning and he needed to close his eyes for a few minutes. Awakening fifty minutes later to the door bell ringing, he sat up all disoriented with his spit running in pools down his neck.

He hadn’t sobered up one bit. Eating seemed like the next logical step, until the food hit his digestive system. The heartburn and alcohol combination was enough to knock anyone out – but he couldn’t crawl back under the covers no matter how much he wanted to.

If I don’t have my ass out of this house, Angie will crucify me.

As he dragged his toothbrush across his gums, Brian knew Sylvia would be all too willing to sit back and dictate how Angie did it.

“Make sure you cut his balls off while you’re at it.”

It was all too easy imagining the sick pleasure Sylvia would get from watching him squirm. The old bitch never liked him. When her husband, Ralph, was alive, the old man made it clear he couldn’t stand Brian either. How two people so damn stuffy and full of themselves could have a woman like Angela as their daughter was baffling. Unless she was really ticked off, Angie was easygoing and not much for complaining. Even if she was asking the most damn intrusive question possible, Angie would do it with a soft voice.

Sylvia was hard around the edges. Her stare, her words, even her damn birthday cards were harsh. No matter what he did for her – painting her fence, carrying crap to her attic, running her BMW to the dealership in Danbury, it wasn’t enough. Even before he turned into a shit husband, Sylvia turned her nose up at him. There had been a few occasions, while she bitched and moaned and he pretended to listen, that he whispered a quiet thanks to God for not fixing him up with a woman like that.
A woman that would make his adult life almost as bad as his childhood.

She would have had me hung, drawn, and quartered years ago.

Although he never took a liking to his wife’s parents, many times, Brian found himself curious about Perry. From the photos plastered all over Sylvia’s house, he looked a lot like his mother. He wasn’t big boned like Ralph and he didn’t have his father’s wide spaced eyes. Instead, Perry had an average build, not much over five seven from the images of him in the snapshots, with coloring much darker than either parent. It was his smile that caught Brian’s eye. None of the
Bennetts
relaxed enough to do that.

Angela used to talk about her brother a lot – especially in the early years of their marriage. When the anniversary of his death came along or it was Perry’s birthday, she would become down and find the need to revisit her memories of him, of their life growing up in Long Island before moving to Sharon, Connecticut. The two had been close, in a way Brian could never relate. From the stories, it sounded like Perry was good at getting under her skin and could annoy the crap out of her, but it was all in good fun. There wasn’t a warped history between them like what Brian and his siblings shared.  Perry looked out for her and made her laugh. It was too bad things ended the way they did.

When Angela and Brian were planning on having several children, she always insisted their first born son be named Perry, in honor of him and how short his life was. She told Brian that if it made him feel better, he could name their other sons after his brothers, Jonah and Ethan. Brian snorted at that thought – he would rather name his boys Lucifer and Judas, but never bothered pointing that out. Since Angie didn’t get pregnant again, it didn’t really matter. Names came and went, just like their plans for a houseful of kids. 

After a quick splash of after shave, Brian headed downstairs to leave. Despite still feeling the grogginess of his buzz, he would try his best to hold it together. Some people did it every day; surely he could act sober if they could. He thought of the old-timers who worked for his dad’s farm and what they used to say when arriving at work smelling like booze – “you’ve got to bite the snake that bit you, son, otherwise ain’t no work getting done.”  From what he could recall, half of them were either hung-over or working their way through a bottle of dandelion wine, while the other fifty percent were proclaiming Jesus saved them from the devil of drink – sometimes switching places within the week.  Shaking his head, he stepped out the door and fumbled for his keys.

“Happy Halloween Pastor Jones,” a small child in a lion’s costume stared up at him. Two arms jutted out, shoving a candy sack in his direction.

“Oh, well happy Halloween to you, also,” he smiled. Trying to keep his voice steady and body from swaying, he turned to his door, locking the house tight.

“What’s wrong? You don’t have any candy?” The child asked, but was unwilling to move. He stared from Brian to the door and back again – waiting for the reverend to change his mind and produce a bowl of chocolates.

“I’m sorry Buddy, I’m fresh out and need to get some more. Why don’t you come back later when my wife’s home. She’ll have something good for you.”

Finally taking the hint, the child turned and bounced down the sidewalk. Glancing about, Brian could see an entire grouping of children heading his way.

Oh shit.

Swiftly, he headed to the Cadillac. With his gut still nauseous, the ground felt like it was rolling beneath his feet. Dragging the back of his hand against his forehead, his skin was beaded with sweat. Despite washing his face and using mouthwash, the smell of the booze seeped through his pores.

My neighbors can’t catch me like this.

Grasping for the auto lock, his thick fingers jabbed at the buttons until he heard the audible chime of his doors unlocking. Climbing in, he could hear the children halt at the bottom of his driveway. Their painted faces confused as to why the big house on the corner of Maple and Oak wasn’t passing out treats.

Sorry kiddos – no goodies here for you tonight.

Sighing, he remembered how the bounty of candy once gave him pleasure. Now-a-days it wasn’t candy that brought him joy, but women. Daisy, the waitress he had a thing for at Lucinda’s Diner, tasted sweet – he would be willing to bet his life on that one. Her curves, her smile – she really got him going. It was the hair though that really turned him on. Often he fantasized about her going down on him, her red tresses slipping through his fingers while she ran her tongue over the length of him.

A few times he had thought about slipping her a little note with his number on it. Daisy didn’t wear a ring so he figured she wasn’t attached. Brian was a good looking man and she seemed to brighten up when he paid her a little attention – his hardest thing
was knowing
whether a woman wanted him for his body or if she just had a respect thing going on because he was a man of the cloth.

Brian wished women were as easy to read as men.

For him, he just had to glance down at his boner to know he was turned on. Women needed to be coaxed and encouraged to let go of their morality before they were willing to put out. They needed to be seduced and romanced, all while given the permission to let go of what was right and wrong. As if a man wanting to fuck gave a damn about a woman’s conscious, but still, they needed to hear it.

Now that he was growing tired of Marge, Daisy would be the recipient of his efforts. It might take a little time because she worked with the public, but if he could learn her address and whether or not she lived alone, he could stop by with the excuse of wanting to offer her a little something special for all she does for everyone else. A little something to make her open her door and invite him in, maybe a gift card or spa basket, where without the accusing eye of the public, the two could really get to know one another.