He couldn’t die young
The key busted off in the lock. Twelve goddamned hours in the foundry, a written warning from the lead jackass, a flat tire on the bridge, and now a busted key. He stared at the stub sticking out of the keyhole. He could hear the television. The whole neighborhood could hear it. He banged on the door. He walked around the side of the house and saw Buddy playing a video game. He smeared a hole in the window with his sleeve. Buddy had gotten fat. The crack of his ass peeked out and the handles on his sides hung over his jeans. He watched him for a few seconds then banged on the window. Buddy tried the door but it was jammed. He looked at his father through the window. He threw his hands up at Buddy and pointed to the bedroom. Buddy sat back down in front of the television. He ran around the side of the house and broke the door in. He rubbed his shoulder and looked at Buddy on the floor. They had been close in the beginning. The boy wasn’t blood, but he’d raised him since he was three. He walked into the living room, what there really was of it, and turned off the television. Buddy sighed. He grabbed the controller from Buddy’s hand.
“Listen here, you little fuck. I bust my ass to keep you and your mother comfortable. And I ask for nothing back, not jack or shit. But I’m telling you now, you show me a little more goddamned respect. You got that, you little motherfucker?”
Tears welled in Buddy’s eyes. He looked at Buddy’s fat belly and felt horrible. He turned the television on and handed him the controller.
“Jesus. I’m sorry, Buddy. I had a hard day. You’ll find out.”
He sat next to Buddy on the floor. He grabbed the other controller. He nudged Buddy, “Alright, show me how to kick your ass, Buddy. I wanna be the yellow car.”
He began the course but ditched his car around every corner. Each time he wrecked he said, “Fucking controller,” and Buddy laughed. He tossed the controller on the floor and rubbed Buddy’s head, “Alright, Buddy. You took me down. We still pals?”
Buddy nodded at the television. He looked at the clock over the antenna, “Your mother been sleeping all day, Buddy?”
“Yes.”
“She been drinking all day?”
“Yes.”
He spun Buddy around to face him. He rubbed his eyes. Today had been worse than most of them. He stared across to Buddy, “You know I’m working hard to give you a better life than this, don’t you, Buddy?”
Buddy nodded.
“Shit, you already have more than I had at your age, Buddy. If I could find a better way to make some better money, I could spend more time with you. I really do love you.”
Buddy scratched his nose. He smiled at Buddy, “Well, don’t just sit there with your teeth in your mouth. Give your old man a hug.”
Buddy hugged him. Buddy was nine. He let go and rubbed Buddy’s head again, “Alright, that’s enough. You fag.”
Buddy laughed and watched him get up, walk into the bedroom and close the door.
***
He turned the light on. It smelled like an abandoned whorehouse. She groaned. He dimmed the light, “Son of a bitch. You been asleep all damned day.”
She rolled over. Her eyes were red. Her hair looked unwashed for weeks. He looked around, “It stinks in here.”
She sat up, “This town stinks.” She took a drink from her bottle and coughed. She’d put on some weight herself. He still loved her but not as strongly as he once did.
She lit half a smoke, “I fucking hate this place. I can’t get a job and I can’t stand television. I can’t get motivated, baby. We need to move, I want to move.”
He sat on the corner of the bed, “Where?”
“Back to Vegas.”
“Vegas.”
“This job is killing you. This town is killing you. And it’s making Buddy and me fat and boring. We moved here for your brother, but he’s dead now. I can’t do this anymore.”
He stared at the wall, “Vegas.”
She set the bottle on the night stand and put out her smoke. The smoke climbed the paneling and waited in the corner.
“How long has it been since you fucked me?”
He made a face and shrugged at the smoke, “I don’t know, a couple of weeks or so.”
“Four months and nine days.”
He thought about it. He looked at her. He was failing the only two people he had. He stroked her arm, “I’m sorry, baby. Jesus. This job is eating me alive. We’ll go to Vegas, we’ll move back.”
She got up and killed the light. Payday was in two days. She took off her nightgown and crawled into bed. He stood up and opened the door, “Buddy, you’re not going to school tomorrow. Turn that shit off and start packing your room. We’re moving back.”
Buddy turned off the television and ran to his room. He watched Buddy’s door close, and he closed theirs. He undressed in the dark and crawled into bed with his wife. He kissed her and ran his hand down her side. Outside two young blacks began to hot wire his car.