Page 239 - Some Dance to Remember

Some Dance to Remember 209

pulled his belt from his jeans and wrapped it around his thick hand. “I’ve
had enough, squatface! This is the end of it!”
Ryan quickly rose from the table. Deep down he hated the triplets, but
he was afraid that Thom might hurt them physically as much as he and
Sandy had hurt them emotionally. Ryan turned to Abe. “Get up, Abe,”
Ryan said in a low voice, “and head for your room.”
Abe looked at his uncle in contempt. “Why don’t you fuck off,” he
said. “I don’t need your help. You’re nothing but a faggot queer anyway.”
He reached into his plate of SpaghettiOs and threw a sloppy handful into
Ryan’s crotch. “We don’t need you here to help us anymore,” Abe said. “I
don’t like queers in our house.”
I had never seen Ryan get truly angry before; but truly enraged he
became. “Your house! Your house?” he said. “You ungrateful little bastard.
This is my house. I own this house.”
The entire kitchen drew to a startled halt. No one had ever seen Ryan
so furious.
“You’ll never eat another bite in my house,” Ryan said.
“Oh, yeah?” Abe took a tablespoon, dug it into the food on his plate,
and hauled it to his open mouth.
“Drop it,” Ryan said.
“Fuck you,” Abe said.
Ryan’s anger descended. He scooped Abe’s plate up off the table in
the flat of his hand and shoved the dripping salad and SpaghettiOs into
Abe’s face.
“Get him!” Thom shouted. “Get the little bastard!”
The plate in the face knocked Abe to the floor. He lay in an instant
garbage heap of food. He rolled over on his belly, his chin on the linoleum,
and with both hands he shoveled the mess into his mouth. Ryan sprang
from his chair. He dropped to the floor, straddling his nephew who was
almost as big as he was, and squeezed the boy’s cheeks to force his mouth
open.
“Spit it out!” Ryan commanded. Even in his rage, I noticed a cool
deliberateness, as if he anticipated every move. He was like Annie Sullivan
taming Helen Keller. “Spit it out!”
Thom stood over the two of them. “Listen to your uncle,” he shouted.
Ryan shouted up at Thom. “Don’t call me their uncle.”
Abe grit his teeth together. Ryan squeezed hard on his cheeks with
one hand and with the other forced his nephew’s lips open. He dug two
fingers into the thrashing boy’s mouth. He pulled the food spewing out
of the boy’s face.

©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
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