Chapter 1
Some of my earliest recollections are of his eyes upon me. Watching. Waiting. There was something sinister in his gaze, in the touch of his hand. It felt like a lick or a sniff, as if... he were tasting me. In his embrace, in the extra squeeze, he was checking to see if I was ripe. I guess somewhere in the back of my consciousness, I always knew what he wanted.
At a distance Uncle Nick smelled sweet, like cherry pipe tobacco. Up close he just stunk. Mom thought it was cute the way he fawned over me. Who knew what Dad thought. This memory comes to mind like a snapshot in time, I was on his lap, my new Easter dress fluffed around me. There was Mom and Dad standing at the dinner table. Mom, a drink in one hand a cigarette in the other, her mouth open in a laugh. In my palm I held a hardboiled Easter egg.
His hand under my bottom I remember he used his thumb, he didn’t say a word, he just watched my eyes. When he pushed my panties aside, his other hand held out a chocolate bunny. It hurt a little, and I knew it was wrong, but I wanted that chocolate bunny.
My hands quake at this memory, his memory. I whored myself for a piece of chocolate. I was nine I think, and at fifty-three I can still smell him, but for some reason the taste of chocolate lingers too.
It’s been almost twenty hours, I think my son Johnny’s plane should be touching down about now. I know my son, if he said he’s coming, he’ll be here. We planned this out when he was down last, he knows I’m terminal, now that the time is come I made the phone call. I see the pain pills on the table, they stare, just like Uncle Nick. This time I’ll pass. I want to be awake, I want to be awake when Johnny gets here, and I guess, I want to be awake when I die.
I can feel the ache so deep it must be molecular, I don’t know if the cancer is trying to gnaw it’s way out or burrow deeper. But I know its time, I’m decaying from within, piece-by-piece I feel me crumbling, tumbling off into the abyss.
You wouldn’t know it now, but I used to be good looking. A real head turner, better legs than Betty Grable, that was my claim to fame. Too bad I wasn’t a child of the sixties, mini-skirts, hot pants and all that. Back in the forties we had to wear skirts, long skirts. I had a nice face too and a spontaneous infectious laugh, or so they said, but try putting food on the table with that.
You see in my life I had to work hard, it was something my father taught me. He said the Irish got a bad rap, bunch of lazy drunks. He’d say, work smarter not harder, leaves more time for drinking. I guess I will never be as smart as he was. My memory of him seems fixed, even now when I picture him I feel my head tip back, I’m looking up.
Daddy taught me the only way to make money in this world is to own your own business. He must have started his machining company when I was real young or maybe even before I was born. It was noisy and dirty, except for his office. There I would find him behind his magnificent mahogany desk, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows, neck tie hung loose from his neck like an ill fitting leash. Mom and I would bring him lunch, he’d be busy, mostly smoking cigarettes, but with fixed concentration. My father was a talker, I could sit and listen to him babble for hours on one subject or another, and sometimes he would talk about nothing at all, but he always had my attention.
Uncle Nick wasn’t really my Uncle you know, he was actually my grandfather, my dads, dad. Mother said he didn’t like being called grandpa. It made him feel old. He always dressed to the nines, had a Clark Gable mustache, hair slicked back like he walked onto a movie set. He was loaded too, you could tell, there was a reverence paid to people with money. My Daddy’s voice took on a different tone when talking to him, more serious if you know what I mean. He was the only man I can recall Daddy used that voice with.
I think Uncle Nick was what you’d call a ‘silent partner’ in my dad’s business. Daddy wanted to buy a new piece of expensive equipment for his company and he knew Uncle Nick was fond of me. So, the day he went to Uncle Nick’s for the loan he dressed me up and took me along.
I recall wearing a pink dress and I had a matching ribbon in my hair. Daddy drove over to the big house and took me into Uncle Nick’s smelly study. He motioned with his eyes for me to sit on Uncle Nick’s lap and Daddy took a seat across the desk from us talking in his serious voice. Here Uncle Nick is going over the loan details with my dad and he’s got his thumb in me. I didn’t pay any attention to either of them, it was as if they didn’t exist. I just wanted to know when I’d get the candy.
They stood to shake on the deal, their hands almost gripped together when Uncle Nick said. “If it’s all the same to you John, I’d like Pattie to spend the afternoon with me. I thought she might enjoy a pony ride.” I watched Uncle Nick study my daddy’s eyes. Before they shook he said, “Deal John?”
It was the first time Uncle Nick got me alone. I knew he liked putting his thumb in me and at the time as long as he gave me candy we were even. I guess. Once alone he ran his eyes over me, gave a sniff and told me I needed a bath.
“Uncle Nick, I just took a bath.” I said.
The corners of his mouth curled to a smile. “I bet you never took a bath eating chocolate and drinking soda.”
I said, “Couldn’t we ride the pony first?”
He said, “We have the whole afternoon besides I have to call over and make sure the pony’s are ready.” Even at that young age I knew what he was up to. He wanted to see me naked and I remember thinking, Ok, let’s just get it over with so I can ride that pony. First he filled the tub and has me get in. He tells me he’s going to wash my back and sat on the side of the tub, then he leans over and accidently on purpose falls in. Next, he got out and began to remove his wet cloths. That’s when he turned to me and grinned. Like a thundercloud he loomed over me, his grin, a crescent moon. Soon the storm enveloped me. His hands, his face scoured my lips, my chest, between my legs. It hurt. I don’t know if I said a word.
When Dad picked me up that night he knew I was mad, we didn’t say a word to each other the whole ride home. I think he thought I was angry I didn’t get a pony ride. I was upset... it was so strange, in a tangle of darkness I felt pressure between my legs. There was a searing pain and I heard a sharp cry. The report shot from between my lips like the crack of gunfire, a warning shot that ricochet off the porcelain and around the room. Uncle Nick began to moan and tremble. He stiffened. My eyes opened, something pressed into my face, my mouth. I was scared... I screamed.
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