The Birth of Bane (26 page)

He said,
“There’s something else here now.”

The moment he
said it, I knew he was right. That was why I was shying away from
all the new sensations. That was why the house was suddenly more
menacing, why it snapped at us for no reason. It had to be. Eli had
hit the nail right on the head. It was like a flood-gate of
understanding burst open and it washed away all the indecision and
fogginess. Everything became clear, focused.

I had looked
over at him, sucking the inside of my left cheek.

“
It’s not
nice.”

To this day, I
have no idea how or why we said it simultaneously. It was the only
time we’d ever done so.

*****

The following
day, Eli said during dinner, “Mom, did you know your knife is
gone?”

My mother froze
in mid-chew. “What knife, honey?”

Valerie and I
exchanged frowns.

“
The one you
found in the Library closet,” he said nonchalantly, putting a
dabble of mashed potatoes in his mouth.

“
What?” she’d
said, pushing away from the table. She walked into the kitchen to
look upon the window sill above the sink, where she displayed
it.

There was
silence among us. Not even forks clinked against the
tableware.

Then, “Jerry,
have you seen it?”

I was
dumbfounded. “It isn’t there?”

“
No.” My
mother’s voice quivered.

Someone had
taken Affliction’s Key. How long ago was anyone’s
guess…?

~~~~~~~<<<
ᴥ
>>>~~~~~~~

Chapter
Sixteen: “Eyes Everywhere”

Scott Brubaker
was nearly as tall as my tallest uncle, and would’ve towered over
Lenny if the two had ever stood side-by-side. He was thin, but
muscular – athletically built one could say. He was six years
younger than my mother, thirty-two, when he came into our lives. I
knew from the moment I met him, he was very different than my
one-time father. One could see it in his expressions. He wore them
upon his sleeve and they were almost always jovial.

He was a light
complected man with his amber eyes and dark brown hair, combed back
in a tamed version of a pompadour and cut high along the back of
his neck. He was one of the few men I’ve known who actually grew
sideburns. His grew down the middle of his earlobe and were as
thick as the hair atop his head. His face tended toward narrow, his
features blending together like it had been sanded down to an
inhuman smoothness that shouldn’t have existed on a man as manly as
he. He had a square jaw and a five o’clock shadow that never seem
to go away no matter how many times he shaved during the course of
a given day.

His presence
around the house on Lincoln Drive was minimal at first. I think my
mother was concerned over the effect her dating another man would
have on Elijah, which might sound unfounded, made moreso by the
abusive nature of her marriage, but my mom wasn’t about to bring
strife of any sort into our newly remade household. So, Scott and
she stayed away at the beginning of their relationship, preferring
to stay at his Culver City condominium when they shared time
together.

She hadn’t been
worried over me or Valerie, and often used us as a springboard for
the various questions that popped into her mind. It had been so
long since she’d last dated, they were aspects of her newfound
condition that made her wonder. Often, those questions were posed
to us, though sometimes they were a little too risqué for Valerie’s
taste, as if she had anything to complain about. The little tart
was contemplating the very same thing my mother was experiencing;
only she and Jose were teenagers. But then, Valerie was always
little off-kilter when it came to sex and its’ verbalization. I
guess one could say she was a private person in this regard, better
suited for discussion with her significant other and no one else.
My mother’s open, curious conversations gave her the
heebie-jeebies.

Over time,
Scott’s visits became more frequent. In the beginning, he came by
for quiet dinners or for the odd lavish brunch on the weekends. His
stays were short, but became much longer as the weeks passed and we
all, my mom included, felt more comfortable with him around,
integrating into the family.

I liked him. He
played sports like I did, watched sports too, which I really
enjoyed, because no one else in the family was so
inclined.

Eli, sometimes,
but he was too young and lacked the patience to sit down and watch
a full game with me. On most occasions, he was in and out of the
room so often. He missed as much as he saw, so I couldn’t count him
as a sports fan, yet. He would be when he grew older, but at the
time – no.

Having Scott
around to cheer - or jeer - alongside me was golden. We weren’t
always for the same team either, and this often led to long, if not
loud, discussion on whose choice was the better. We capped on each
other so hard, my mother would sometimes come from whichever room
she’d been in just to make sure we weren’t actually
fighting.

With time, her
interest peeked and she began, more often than not, to sit with us
and watch what was transpiring upon the screen of the television.
That was how she learned to love football and basketball as much as
she does nowadays. It all started back then with Scott and I
talking shit to one another as we feuded over the Lakers vs.
Boston, or the Raiders vs. the Steelers.

It was the first
healthy contact I had with a male older than me, one who I’d
eventually look up to as a mentor. Scott Brubaker taught me a
lot.

We talked about
my training for the upcoming spring when the Track and Field season
began. At the moment, I was on the Cross Country team, keeping my
“running” muscles in shape, which, I had come to find over time,
were quite different than those I exercised in the weight room.
Lifting free-weights and working on machinery made me strong, but
they did nothing to improve endurance. That had to be earned with
mile after mile of pounding upon a road or along a hiking
trail.
Plus, I was competing on
the collegiate level now, and it was a whole new can of worms.
Training was on an entirely different level, seven or eight notches
above anything I’d done in high school.

Though he hadn’t
been a runner when he was younger, Scott still had a lot to share
when it came to building one’s stamina and cardiovascular
fortitude. He’d been a wrestler and on the Lacrosse teams in high
school. His coaches had taught him a slew of techniques and
practices that he, in turn, passed along to me on those languorous
afternoons when we played catch or were waiting for the next
televised game to begin.

It proved
fruitful as I went on to compete with a good degree of success
during my college years. I was never quite All-American, but I got
close as a senior. I guess being ranked 31
^st
in my
event in the country wasn’t all that bad. I like to give Scott a
degree of credit for my success therein.

One such Sunday,
Scott stayed the night.

Valerie had
slept in the guest bedroom (self-exiled), so my mother and he could
have a degree of privacy.

I smiled hugely
at my sister when she brought her pillow and her favorite
throw-blanket up to the second floor, asking, “What’s wrong, Val?
Are you afraid you might hear a little “Oi, Oi, Oi” and thought it
better to sleep up here?”

She scowled so
deep, her entire face nearly vanished into her brow. “God, Jerry,
you are sooo gross sometimes!”

I snickered all
the more when she slammed the door in my face.

What a
prude!

When we all
seemed okay with this latest twist in our lives, Scott began to
spend the night on a more regular basis. For some reason Sundays
and Wednesdays were days he stayed the most, although he did put a
spin on the routine now and again. On Fridays, my mom stayed with
him, so Valerie and I were put in charge of Eli for the remainder
of the day and night. It wasn’t all that big of a deal, even for a
pair of teenagers. He was a good kid, properly behaved and
all.

Of course, it
wasn’t like we didn’t spoil him when she was gone, so I’m sure that
was one of the reasons he minded his manners when he was under our
immediate supervision.

Sometime near
the beginning of November, no more than ten minutes after Scott had
left that day, Lenny called the house. I remember, because I picked
up the phone and for the first time in quite some time, he didn’t
hang up.

“
Put you mother
on the phone,” he demanded through the corner of his mouth. I could
almost imagine him speaking through clenched teeth.

“
What for?” I
asked, equally demanding. As far as I was concerned he wasn’t my
father, so there was absolutely no need for me exude any degree of
respect for the man. He’d almost killed my baby brother! So, he
could go suck an egg and choke on it for all I cared.

“
Boy, don’t you
take that tone with me…” It was his ominous tone.

“
Or
what?”

He was
silent.

I couldn’t waste
the opportunity. “How’s your plastic nose?”

“
PUT YOUR MOTHER ON THE MOTHER FUCKEN
PHONE!!!
”

Well, touchy,
touchy!

She must’ve
heard him yelling through the phone, because suddenly my mother was
on the line, on the cordless she’d left in the living room where’d
all watched a movie together. “What the hell do you want, Leonard?”
She sounded fatigued, but it was the weary sort, the type she’d
express when something tedious was dampening her mood.

“
How’s the new
boyfriend? Did he go home for the night?” I could hear the
smugness, the false sense of control he felt he had over
her.

It also told me
he’d been up the hill again. He was probably calling from the
payphone down the street at the HiHo Market. He was becoming so
predictable; the games seemed more stupid now than
sinister.

“
Why does it
matter to you, Leonard? You have Roxanna,” then she chuckled, “Or
whatever the hell she’s calling herself this week.”

His reply was
immediate. It was like he hadn’t heard her, though. “You should
watch out, Pillar. I could be around any corner waiting for
you.”

“
When are you
going to leave us alone? Why don’t you just go away? You never
liked being a part of this family in the past. Why bother now? Why
are you doing this?” There was a slight tinge of emotion creeping
into my Mom’s tone. She was getting tired of the hassle. We all
were actually.

“
How was the
movie? I think Robert De Niro played a really good Al Capone don’t
you?”

I looked at my
mother from across the room. How had he known we had watched The
Untouchables? Scott had grabbed a VHS copy at the rental store
before he’d come over. We all watched it in the front room on the
TV. How could he have -?

“
He was watching through the window!”
mouthed my mom, pointing at the front
porch.

“
How did you -?”
I began.

“
I know, because
I have eyes everywhere. All of you should remember that. I’m
everywhere. I could be right behind you, right now…”

I felt a shiver
go up and down my spine. That asshole was on the property! He
wasn’t just watching from the top of the hill anymore. He was right
outside the front door!

“
What’s wrong,
Pillar? Is something the matter?”

“
You better
leave us alone, Leonard.” Her voice intensified, her eyes
narrowing.

My
one-time-father laughed, throaty, much too harsh. He was forcing
the act. There was no merriment coming from within. “Oh, but Pilly,
I’m not done with you. You and I have unfinished
business.”

“
You’d better leave my mother alone, you asshole! Or I’m going
to mess up more than just your face this time!”
I yelled into the phone.

The entire house
went quiet for a moment.

Then, I heard
Valerie’s foot falls as she came from her room with Eli in
tow.

It was too late.
Lenny had hung up already.

My Mom pushed
the “talk” button on the cordless as I put the receiver back in the
cradle, closing the line.

“
What was that
all about?” asked Valerie from the far side of the dining
room.

My mother
sighed, walking over to Eli to cup his chin and give him a
reassuring smile.

“
Jer, what’s
up?” I could see from the look in her eye she wasn’t going to give
up.

“
It was Lenny on
the phone, talking shit,” I supplied, taking a seat at the dining
table, feeling just as worn out as my mom.

“
Is he coming?”
asked my little brother, his voice quavering.

My mother sank
to one knee. “No, sweetie, he isn’t. He doesn’t live here anymore,
remember? Mommy and the police said he can’t stay here anymore. Not
after what happened.”