Grit
11-21-2012, 06:35 PM
The doorbell rings, announcing the arrival of Ildico, our son’s piano teacher. A tall woman, born in Hungary, she’s a prim traditionalist. I open the door and smile.
“Hello Ildico, Gary will be right down.” My words slow at the end, as I register blood on Ildico’s sleeve. Her grey eyes take me in, as she wobbles in the doorway. Is she drunk?
“Orange pekoe. Extra sugar please.” As she steps through the threshold, I notice that she isn’t wearing any shoes.
“Are you alright?” She nods at me, a toothy smile in response.
“Okay.” I say as Gary hustles down the stairs, his tiny legs whirring as he runs towards our piano. They sit beside each other in front of the piano, and the sounds of cautious melodies ring throughout the house.
I settle in the kitchen and pour boiling water in a teacup. The orange pekoe steeps and I add three spoons of sugar. As I stir the brew, a scream from the piano makes me jump, and I spill on the kitchen counter.
Running, I quickly approach the piano, which is situated at the end of the front entrance. Blood is pooling on the tile beneath, and I hear a wet ripping noise. As I circle the piano, I draw a shuddering gasp. Ildico is bent over Gary’s prone body, her teeth tearing noisily into the flesh of his bicep. With shaking hands, I lunge and push her off him. She falls backwards, taking a large chunk of arm with her.
I scoop Gary up in my arms, and run down the hall away from the piano. I rest my son carefully in a kitchen chair, his arm is bleeding heavily. A roll of paper towel is resting on the counter, and I yank at it, causing it to fall over. As I wrap the white towel around his exposed arm, red soaks through.
Footsteps in the hallway draw my attention, and I turn to see Ildico lumbering into the kitchen, her blood splashed face growling at me like a feral animal. With two long strides, I take the iron kettle from the stove-top and approach her carefully.
“Ildico, wha-“ The tall Hungarian dives at me, face first, teeth snapping and I bring the kettle down hard on her crown. A loud crunch as Ildico hits the slate floor and is still, a pool of blood pouring from the wounds in her head. I look in disbelief at the mess beneath, as the red mixes with the cloudy tea. Jesus Christ, I killed her. I place the kettle carefully on the counter, noting that the steel frame has been warped from impact.
Gary groans, and I walk over to him, feeling his head. His skin is cold and yet covered with a fine sheen of sweat. Droplets congregate on his brow, under his nose and through the back of his spider-man shirt. I rub his back slowly, thinking carefully about what I should do. What the hell just happened?
“Are you okay?” I ask, and Gary looks up at me. His eyes are cloudy, the veins blood red and prominent among the white.
“I love you daddy.” Gary squeaks and I rub his head. He needs to see a doctor, that wound is bad. What happened to Ildico? The woman is or was certainly eccentric, but never before violent.
I pick up the phone and dial emergency services.
“I’m sorry but all of our operators are currently busy. Please hold.” The message repeats, and I glance at Gary. I can’t remember hearing a busy signal from 9-1-1 before.
I walk back to Gary and pick him up under his knees and shoulders. I have to get him to a hospital. “Alright, let’s go kiddo.”
“I love you daddy.” Gary whispers again, his small body twitching.
“I love you too.”
***
The hospital is a twenty minute drive from my suburban home, and I’m really pushing the speed limit. Gary hasn’t responded to me in five minutes, his small eyes are shut tight. I push the hair out of my eyes, and let out a tightly held breath. This is not good. Sharon is going to kill me if I let anything bad happen to Gary. Every since the drinking days - It’s like I can do no good by her or Gary anymore. She obviously feels like she can’t trust me, and honestly, I understand. It’s hard to be much good to anyone when you’re as lifeless as a rock on the bedroom floor.
I speed past a school when sirens comes to life, whining and flashing red and blue. I groan and look in the rear view. A cop car is urging me to pull over. Jesus christ, always at the worst times.
I slow the car on the shoulder of the road, and take a deep breath. What can I tell him? There’s a fifty-three year old woman dead at my home, head smashed in by my hands. I never really considered that the law may not understand what happened.
An officer emerges from his squad car, and walks towards my window, which I roll down. I notice he trips on the concrete, and catches himself just before falling flat on his face. The officer is a small man, somewhere around five foot seven, but thick around the middle. He looks down at me through the window for a moment, wearing dark aviators that obscure his eyes.
“License and registration.” He says in a bored tone.
I pull my license from my wallet, and hand it to him, then I reach across the car and pull the insurance from the glovebox. He takes these items and looks into the car. His shaded eyes take in Gary’s shivering form in the passenger seat.
“He’s hurt, is there anyway we can rush him to the hospital?” I plead. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”
The officer simply looks at me, and then at the driver’s license and registration.
“License and registration.” He repeats, in the same bored tone. Every single syllable the same enunciation, every nuance identical.
“I just gave it to you.” I say, eyebrows raising. The hell is wrong with this guy? I can’t help but feel like he’s heavily sedated on pills or something like that.
The officer glances at the papers and my license in his hands.
“License and registration.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Can’t you see my son is loosing blood? Jesus fu-“
“I’m going to need you to step out of the car sir.” The officer says, taking a step back, and placing a hand on the gun at his hip. I throw my arms in the air, talk about a complete mockery of protect and serve.
The officer slides his aviator’s down, and folds them, tucking them in the neck of his uniform. His eyes are bloodshot to an extreme degree, and cloudy with a white haze. Guy must be drunk off his skull. I open the car door and step out.
“What exactly is the problem here officer?”
The officer stares at me again, his mouth opens, bottom jaw hanging loosely. I take a step back as drool falls from his bottom lip and onto his uniformed chest. “Uhh-“
I scream as the officer lunges towards me, hands out, fingers wrapping around my neck. His teeth are bared, red-stained chicklets reaching for my flesh.
I pull the officer to the side, my fingers tightly wrapped in his uniform and use his momentum against him. He falls to the ground, arms and legs wobbling in the air like he’s trying to swim.
Jumping back into my car, I slam the door, and crank the keys. “License and re-“ The officer’s voice from the ground.
Merging back on the highway, I slam on the gas and drive quickly away. Something is very wrong.
***
I pull into the hospital parking lot and Gary stirs. I turn to him and place the back of my hand against his forehead. Cold and still wet with sweat. His eyes flutter open, the veins bright red vines snaking through the white.
“Daddy.” He whispers and I stroke his forehead.
“I’m here kiddo. We’re gonna get you some help.” I jump out of the car and walk around the side, opening the passenger’s door. To my surprise, Gary stands and reaches a small hand out. I crouch down.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, taking his tiny hand in mine.
He gazes blankly at me and then gives me a hug.
I hug him back tightly, and lift him into the air, his small form crouched against my chest.
As I walk towards the hospital, he turns his face towards me.
“Daddy?”
“I’m here baby.”
I look down at Gary and my breath catches in my throat. Gazing up at me, his eyes are ripe with devil-red vines. His mouth widens and with a groan he sinks his teeth into my neck, causing me to cry out and fall to one knee.
“What the hell.” I call out, slapping a hand to the wound in my neck. Gary tilts his head at me and smiles.
“I love you daddy.”
“Hello Ildico, Gary will be right down.” My words slow at the end, as I register blood on Ildico’s sleeve. Her grey eyes take me in, as she wobbles in the doorway. Is she drunk?
“Orange pekoe. Extra sugar please.” As she steps through the threshold, I notice that she isn’t wearing any shoes.
“Are you alright?” She nods at me, a toothy smile in response.
“Okay.” I say as Gary hustles down the stairs, his tiny legs whirring as he runs towards our piano. They sit beside each other in front of the piano, and the sounds of cautious melodies ring throughout the house.
I settle in the kitchen and pour boiling water in a teacup. The orange pekoe steeps and I add three spoons of sugar. As I stir the brew, a scream from the piano makes me jump, and I spill on the kitchen counter.
Running, I quickly approach the piano, which is situated at the end of the front entrance. Blood is pooling on the tile beneath, and I hear a wet ripping noise. As I circle the piano, I draw a shuddering gasp. Ildico is bent over Gary’s prone body, her teeth tearing noisily into the flesh of his bicep. With shaking hands, I lunge and push her off him. She falls backwards, taking a large chunk of arm with her.
I scoop Gary up in my arms, and run down the hall away from the piano. I rest my son carefully in a kitchen chair, his arm is bleeding heavily. A roll of paper towel is resting on the counter, and I yank at it, causing it to fall over. As I wrap the white towel around his exposed arm, red soaks through.
Footsteps in the hallway draw my attention, and I turn to see Ildico lumbering into the kitchen, her blood splashed face growling at me like a feral animal. With two long strides, I take the iron kettle from the stove-top and approach her carefully.
“Ildico, wha-“ The tall Hungarian dives at me, face first, teeth snapping and I bring the kettle down hard on her crown. A loud crunch as Ildico hits the slate floor and is still, a pool of blood pouring from the wounds in her head. I look in disbelief at the mess beneath, as the red mixes with the cloudy tea. Jesus Christ, I killed her. I place the kettle carefully on the counter, noting that the steel frame has been warped from impact.
Gary groans, and I walk over to him, feeling his head. His skin is cold and yet covered with a fine sheen of sweat. Droplets congregate on his brow, under his nose and through the back of his spider-man shirt. I rub his back slowly, thinking carefully about what I should do. What the hell just happened?
“Are you okay?” I ask, and Gary looks up at me. His eyes are cloudy, the veins blood red and prominent among the white.
“I love you daddy.” Gary squeaks and I rub his head. He needs to see a doctor, that wound is bad. What happened to Ildico? The woman is or was certainly eccentric, but never before violent.
I pick up the phone and dial emergency services.
“I’m sorry but all of our operators are currently busy. Please hold.” The message repeats, and I glance at Gary. I can’t remember hearing a busy signal from 9-1-1 before.
I walk back to Gary and pick him up under his knees and shoulders. I have to get him to a hospital. “Alright, let’s go kiddo.”
“I love you daddy.” Gary whispers again, his small body twitching.
“I love you too.”
***
The hospital is a twenty minute drive from my suburban home, and I’m really pushing the speed limit. Gary hasn’t responded to me in five minutes, his small eyes are shut tight. I push the hair out of my eyes, and let out a tightly held breath. This is not good. Sharon is going to kill me if I let anything bad happen to Gary. Every since the drinking days - It’s like I can do no good by her or Gary anymore. She obviously feels like she can’t trust me, and honestly, I understand. It’s hard to be much good to anyone when you’re as lifeless as a rock on the bedroom floor.
I speed past a school when sirens comes to life, whining and flashing red and blue. I groan and look in the rear view. A cop car is urging me to pull over. Jesus christ, always at the worst times.
I slow the car on the shoulder of the road, and take a deep breath. What can I tell him? There’s a fifty-three year old woman dead at my home, head smashed in by my hands. I never really considered that the law may not understand what happened.
An officer emerges from his squad car, and walks towards my window, which I roll down. I notice he trips on the concrete, and catches himself just before falling flat on his face. The officer is a small man, somewhere around five foot seven, but thick around the middle. He looks down at me through the window for a moment, wearing dark aviators that obscure his eyes.
“License and registration.” He says in a bored tone.
I pull my license from my wallet, and hand it to him, then I reach across the car and pull the insurance from the glovebox. He takes these items and looks into the car. His shaded eyes take in Gary’s shivering form in the passenger seat.
“He’s hurt, is there anyway we can rush him to the hospital?” I plead. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”
The officer simply looks at me, and then at the driver’s license and registration.
“License and registration.” He repeats, in the same bored tone. Every single syllable the same enunciation, every nuance identical.
“I just gave it to you.” I say, eyebrows raising. The hell is wrong with this guy? I can’t help but feel like he’s heavily sedated on pills or something like that.
The officer glances at the papers and my license in his hands.
“License and registration.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Can’t you see my son is loosing blood? Jesus fu-“
“I’m going to need you to step out of the car sir.” The officer says, taking a step back, and placing a hand on the gun at his hip. I throw my arms in the air, talk about a complete mockery of protect and serve.
The officer slides his aviator’s down, and folds them, tucking them in the neck of his uniform. His eyes are bloodshot to an extreme degree, and cloudy with a white haze. Guy must be drunk off his skull. I open the car door and step out.
“What exactly is the problem here officer?”
The officer stares at me again, his mouth opens, bottom jaw hanging loosely. I take a step back as drool falls from his bottom lip and onto his uniformed chest. “Uhh-“
I scream as the officer lunges towards me, hands out, fingers wrapping around my neck. His teeth are bared, red-stained chicklets reaching for my flesh.
I pull the officer to the side, my fingers tightly wrapped in his uniform and use his momentum against him. He falls to the ground, arms and legs wobbling in the air like he’s trying to swim.
Jumping back into my car, I slam the door, and crank the keys. “License and re-“ The officer’s voice from the ground.
Merging back on the highway, I slam on the gas and drive quickly away. Something is very wrong.
***
I pull into the hospital parking lot and Gary stirs. I turn to him and place the back of my hand against his forehead. Cold and still wet with sweat. His eyes flutter open, the veins bright red vines snaking through the white.
“Daddy.” He whispers and I stroke his forehead.
“I’m here kiddo. We’re gonna get you some help.” I jump out of the car and walk around the side, opening the passenger’s door. To my surprise, Gary stands and reaches a small hand out. I crouch down.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, taking his tiny hand in mine.
He gazes blankly at me and then gives me a hug.
I hug him back tightly, and lift him into the air, his small form crouched against my chest.
As I walk towards the hospital, he turns his face towards me.
“Daddy?”
“I’m here baby.”
I look down at Gary and my breath catches in my throat. Gazing up at me, his eyes are ripe with devil-red vines. His mouth widens and with a groan he sinks his teeth into my neck, causing me to cry out and fall to one knee.
“What the hell.” I call out, slapping a hand to the wound in my neck. Gary tilts his head at me and smiles.
“I love you daddy.”