The True Tale of the Monster Billy Dean (30 page)

“Still wering this Billy?” he says. “A memento of hapyer days?”

He tugs the scarf puls me closer. He crosses the ends of the scarf & tiytens it arownd my throte. I look into the blak senter of his eyes jyst lyk last tym.

We watch each uther & evrything goes still.

“You would have done this on the day of my birth” I gasp. “Wudnt you?”

“Wud I, Billy?”

“Yes. Thats why you came back. And if you hadnt taken me in yor arms and lookd into my eyes . . .”

He pulls the scarf tiyter & I cant speak. I imajin his hands tiytening arownd Mams throte as her voys caym screemin throu the afterlife into Missus Malones parlor.

“Yes” he says. “Yes Billy. Youre rite. And I cud hav done it many other tyms. But I fel in love with you, my son. I loved you & hav always lovd you.”

He tugs the scarf tiyter so I can hardly breeth.

He must no that the nife is in my hand for wen I plunj it into him it draws a deep siy and a smile from him.

“O thats rite Billy” he gasps. “Giv me yor blessing. Woond me. Mayk yor masterpees upon me. Do it. Put an end to it. Good boy. Yes, agen. Agen.”

Hes falling agenst me. I try to hold him up.

“Im sorry” he wispers. “So sorry, my son.”

And he falls, and its done, and maybe this truly is how it was always intended to turn out.

So I kill my father.

He lies dead in the room in which I grew & I lie weeping at his side.

I hear the outside dore opening. I hear footsteps and I hear the voyses of Mr McCaufrey and Missus Malone.

I hear them calling out in frite to see my mother lying dead at Jesus feet.

They call my name.

“Billy! Billy!”

Missus Malone appears befor me. She sees my father and she sees the blood dripping from the nife in my hand. She comes strate to me and lifts me up and hugs me tite & we stand ther for a moment in the horra of it all.

She leads me to the kitchen.

The butcher is neelin on the floor beside my Mam.

Jack & Joe ly dead nereby.

A group of followers is visibl beyond the windo in the nite.

“Veronica!” calls the butcher. “Veronica!”

He leens rite over her. He opens her mouth & breeths into her. He breeths into her. He pushes her chest. He calls her name & he breeths into her & breeths into her & into her.

“Veronica!”

And beleev this as I rite for it is trew. She moves. She stirs.

He goes on calling goes on breething into her.

She moves. She stirs.

I can not beleev that it is trew but it is trew.

She opens her eyes.

Mr McCaufrey helps her to rise from the flore.

He helps her towards me.

“O Billy,” she says. “I thort Id lost you!”

Sharpen the pensil. Finish it qwik. Tel what we did.

We lift Dad from the flor & lay him on the dusty mowsnibbld bed. Missus Malone asks us to leav her with him so that she can prepare him. We wait for a time then she cums to us and says that its done.

And Mam and I go in. Me with his blood on me. She with the brooses of his fingers at her throat.

Ther are candels burning arownd the room. He lies with the purple silk all exposd. The blood is washd from him & his fase is carm & he seems at peese. His hands are crossd upon his chest. We kiss his cheek. Mam cowms his hair. He is alredy turnin cold so cold. The smell of him is stil on him and the memrys rise from him.

Mam neels by the bedside & I think she prays.

I lay the aynshent masterpees besyd him. I put mor childhood things ther too. A plastic gorilla, an old pensil, a pitcher of Mam I drew wen I was smarl, a pictur of myself, an aynshent fayded paje of unreedabl riting. Mam put sum small things ther too. An earring. A lock of her hair. A choob of hair cream.

I go to the kitchen and I start to bring the statews to him. I dont no what she wil think of this. She watches & wunders & then says, “Yes. It shud be so.”

And she helps to carry them. We stand the statews arownd the bed, Saynt Francis Saynt Sebastyan Saynt Catherin Saynt Patrik The Virjin Mary and all the rest. We leen them on the warls and on eech other and on the bed so that they wont fall. We work carfuly & tayk our time for meny of the statews need to be repared wen theyve bene moovd. We hang an aynjel from the lite cord. We lay fragments of aynjels wings arownd him on the bed.

I carry The Infant Jesus in & stand him closest of all.

Mam takes a broken fether for herself & won of Jesus hands.

Mr McCaufrey helps us to drag Jack & Joe in ther and lie them at the bed foot.

We turn off the lite.

A shaft of moonlite & glittering dust fall upon his fase.

“He looks byutiful,” says Mr McCaufrey.

“He dus” says Mam.

I hear the scratch of mise beside the warls. An owl hoots. A dog barks.

“Is it finishd?” says Mr McCaufrey.

“Yes,” says Mam.

Then we kiss my father 1 last time and we back away.

The butcher has a box of tools. He screws the inner dore bak onto its hinjes. He nales a bord acros it. He paynts words on it.

He screws shut the second dore as wel.

He paynts the words a second time.

Despite the screws & the warnins we all see how exposd he stil is. We start to drag things like chares & cubords & boxes & stand them befor the dore. We heap up many bits & peeses.

Alredy day is braking. Alredy the dawn corus has begun.

I go out into the garden & bring handfuls of rubbl & put them onto the growing heap. We all do this. We bring stones & briks & fragments of ruwind Blinkbonny.

Mr McCaufrey groans.

He slams his butchers ax into the kitchen seelin. He slams agen & the plaster starts to fall around us.

He looks at my mother.

“Its OK, Mr McCaufrey,” she says.

He cums to her with the ax hanging from his hand. He takes her in his arms & they stand together like a singl creecher grown owt of the Blinkbonny smithereens. He holds her for meny minuts. He wispers meny indesiferabl words.

Then he steps back from her & cums to me.

“You are the treasure,” he murmurs. “You are the miracl Billy Dean.”

He slams the ax into the seelin agen.

“Let thees days be over,” he says. “Let all the destrucshon be done!”

He slams agen as the liyt intensifys. The plaster falls in bigger bits. He hacks at the timber beyond the plaster. He yanks at it with the ax blade. He stands on the growing heap and yanks with his grate hands and arms. The kitchen begins to collaps around us to fall on the heep to deepen it to thicken it. Soon we are coverd in plaster and dust and blood from the wounds it gives us as it falls.

For a moment I imajin just standing ther and standing ther until we ar knocked to erth and coverd over and becum just 1 mor part of the devastayshon and of the coming wilderness.

But Mam pulls me back. We move away. We go owtside.

Mr McCaufrey hacks & pulls & yanks with greater violens. He kicks the dore from its hinjes. He hacks at the frame & kicks that away too. He kicks at the bricks with his massiv feet his massiv boots. He shoves with his grate sholders and pummels with his fists. We see how frale the walls are how the plaster that binds the bricks is like dust. He curses the bilders of Blinkbonny that cudnt even bild a wall to resist a butchers fists never mind a bom. He thumps & kicks & groans & yells.

Then gros mor silent as the screechin & the groanin of the house gro lowder. And stands dead stil a moment to gaze owt at us throu the ruwind doreway & the shattad windo. Mam calls his name but its too late. The roof and walls fall down upon him & whats left is just a heep of broken stuff heepd up upon Mr McCaufrey & arownd the room containin Dad.

Folowers rush with us to clear the ruwins from the butcher but of cors he is alredy dead and gon. Alredy the tinyest creechers will be entering him. Alredy he is turnin bak to dust.

I stand ther weeping with my mother. Elizabeth cums to my side & takes my hand.

Missus Malone lenes forward and taps Mr McCaufrey jently with her stik.

“Goodbye good butcher,” she says.

Meny others stand in silens arownd us.

A singl crow appears. It comes to the tiny windo in the roof. It perches a moment on the frame & tips its head so that a singl eye is tilted down towards the unsmashd glass & towards the dimness underneeth. Then it leaps to the sky agen callin its rawcus call. It heds westwards towards the disapearing nite. We watch it go until its just a tiny dot of black then nothin at all.

And the sun rises over Blinkbonny as it must each day & the sky is blue & pink & gold & all the other birds are calling all the larks & blackbirds thrushes spuggys rens & finches singing songs that cum from the furthest reaches of the world & from the depths of time & from the deepest distant casms of ourselves.

Time has passd & much has chaynjed & this is what we did and wher we are.

We cleard the rubble from Mr McCaufrey. We washd the dust & blood & fragments of Blinkbonny from him. We lifted him onto the dor that he had kickd away & then a groop of us carryd him down to the plase wer he had buryd Yankovya. We fownd seller beneeth seller & sellar beneeth seller & reechd a final casm deep down in Blinkbonnys depths.

We lade him ther in the erth by an undergrownd stream.

And then Mam Elizabeth & me prepard to leav Blinkbonny for ever mor.

Missus Malone said she was too crippld to limp away across the world to who nos wer. She wud stay with the gosts & the bereaved. She wud protect the nowledj of the dead father just as she had protected the nowlej of the living son.

She tappd me with her stik.

“You have done wel,” she said.

She gave me a cold kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, William,” she wisperd.

Folowers tryd to cum with us but I turnd them back. They shud heal eech other if they cud. They shud let the dead be dead. If they cudnt do thees things then mebbe they shud seek another harfwild boy or harfwild girl in another plase of devastashon.

“Forgiv me,” I said. “Forget me. Just let me go.”

Wons we began it was so simpl. We warkd 2 days 2 nites beside the river. Warkd throu the wilderness to get around the sity then returnd to the river agen. Arrivd at the sea shore when the tide was hiy & the sea was still. And ther it was as it had always been in pitchers & dremes. It seemd to flote between the sea & sky. Ther was the cassl on its rok the rooftops of the town the grassy dunes.