Joseph woke late from his first night’s sleep since Friday’s execution. The city was buzzing with gossip. He was still groggy, but finally at peace. He barely noticed the attendant hurrying into the room.
With each word whispered into his ear, the corners of his mouth fell in disbelief. “What do you mean it’s empty?”
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“You’re sure it was him?”
“Absolutely, Mr. Atelli. Marko and me were leavin’ to go pick up Ma from the hospital. We don’t like her walking home that late. When he saw us, he got scared. Turned right around and got back into his cab.”
“Listen, Tommy. He can’t talk. Understand?”
“Sure thing, Mr. Atelli.”
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“George, your father and I are getting a divorce. It’s not your fault; you didn’t do anything wrong. We’ve just fallen out of love with one another. Do you understand?”
With that each of the million memories that comprised George’s childhood separated from one another leaving him adrift on a barren ice flow of despair.
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“Dad, I’m serious. Listen for a minute.”
“You’re not in trouble are you? You need money?”
“No, no, nothing like like that. It’s… it’s more personal.”
“Heh, girl troubles? We Thomas men can’t keep ‘em off us.”
“Well, close. But not quite.”
“What? You’re not gonna tell me you’re gay are you?
“Actually… I am.”
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“Bryan Theodore Kramer, this court is appalled by your existence. Not only have you shown no remorse whatsoever, rather you seemed to enjoy hearing the graphic testimony of your wife’s horrific murder. I saw the satisfaction as you relived each terrible moment.
“Therefore, I have no hesitation in sentencing you to death.
“Court is adjourned.”
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“So you’ve never done this?”
“No. You?”
“A few times.”
“K…”
“Look, I suppose we don’t have to. I mean, I want to and all, but I guess we don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s OK. I’m just… thinking.”
“Alright…
“So, are we gonna have sex or what?”
“I guess so.”
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Having sat in this theatre so many times his nerves surprised him. Familiar beads of sweat trickled under his collar, down his sides and behind his knees.
“A few more seconds; it’ll all be over,” he mumbled through a few slow breaths.
*****
“Smile,” he told himself as sweat became tears. “The cameras are still running.”
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She had been there for hours silently praying the Rosary. Her knees ached, and her cheeks were crusted with salt. As she passed each bead between her fingers she wondered, “Will I ever see him again? Is anybody even listening?”
As the sun set Mary blew out the candle she had been holding and left.
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She stood without a coat shivering in the night air. Salt encrusted mascara stained her cheeks. “Please. Just one more chance. I promise, I… I… I’ve changed. It won’t be like it was before. Honest. Just one more chance.”
Silently he allowed her to finish. Then he turned and went back into the house alone.
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My old key opened the front door, and instinct guided me to the drawing room. Twenty years on, the stench of alcohol lingered. I could still taste dad’s mocking breath.
Approaching the aged leather wingback from behind, I raised the pistol. The lowball shattered on the floor, scotch and blood dancing on the Persian carpet.
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