Alex Barclay - Time of Death

Oh my God. What happened to you?

Gavino looked unwell. Mentally. Ren and Domenica glanced at each other and for a moment, shared something human. Gavino stood there, his hands by his side, his eyes moving back and forth between the women.

What is going through your head right now?

‘How fucking dare you,’ he roared at Domenica.

Domenica recoiled with the volume, the force of his anger. ‘What do you mean?’ she said.

‘Oh, Jesus. What do I mean?’ said Gavino. ‘What do I mean? You, you lying bitch! I mean you. How fucking dare you?’

Domenica raised her hands. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘That’s because there are so many things I could be talking about,’ said Gavino. ‘That’s how screwed up this all is. You have no idea what I’m talking about because it could be any number of millions of things you have done to me over my whole short life.’

Ren watched him. He looked medicated.

‘Is he on medication?’ said Ren, without turning directly to Domenica. She kept her voice low. But not low enough.

‘What?’ said Gavino. ‘What did you say to her?’

‘I asked your mother if you were on medication.’ Ren kept her tone even.

Gavino stared up at the ceiling and started laughing. ‘Yeah, like she’d have a clue. Ask her what my favorite TV show is. What music I listen to. Who my best friend is. Oh, hold on, I don’t have any.’ He looked at Ren. ‘Funny, isn’t it — she is my mother. Yet you’re the one who worked out that I’m on medication and it took you, oh…’ he checked his watch, ‘thirty seconds. Well done.’ He turned to Domenica. ‘See that, Mother? She’s good. Yes, Special Agent. I am medicated. Because of that bitch.’ He pointed at Domenica.

She rolled her eyes. ‘Why do kids always blame their parents for everything?’

Shut the fuck up, you stupid, stupid woman.

Gavino’s eyes flared. He looked at Ren. She shook her head, tried to plead in some way, but not quite sure what she was pleading for.

‘Here is why,’ said Gavino, continuing his own train of thought, as if Domenica’s comment had not been said. ‘All my life, I had a cold, heartless mother and an asshole father.’

Domenica rolled her eyes again and looked away. Ren was mesmerized by her ignorance as to what was unfolding.

‘Augusto was a prize prick,’ said Gavino. ‘And my mother was clearly insane. And violent. Who has a violent mother, for Christ’s sake? Probably point zero five per cent of the population. Lucky fucking me. Anyway, blah blah, I was a kid, I was unhappy, blah blah. Then I got a little older and something really screwed up happened. My father began to notice I was alive-’

‘Oh, for God’s sake-’ said Domenica. ‘Where is this going?’

Shut up. Ren spoke to Gavino. ‘Your mother will listen to you, Gavino. She will.’ Ren looked at Domenica, willing her to see. Really see what’s going on here.

Domenica looked confused.

You don’t control the room now, bitch.

‘Go on, Gavino,’ said Domenica.

‘My father noticed I was alive and started to involve me in things,’ said Gavino. ‘And so did you.’ He pointed at his mother. ‘And I liked being given a shit about. I really did. And then I fucked up. I broke his remote-control Ferrari. I stood on a toy car. And Augusto gave me the beating of my life. Mother just ignored me completely — worse than before. If you can actually ignore someone in degrees, that’s what she did. I was eleven years old.’ His shoulders slumped. ‘I will never forget that feeling.’ He paused. ‘It wasn’t what you think: I wasn’t feeling rejected or unloved. I was thinking “I am a freak of nature. I am the product of these two terrible people.”’ He spaced out for a moment.

‘Did you know that Ted Bundy had a child?’ said Gavino. ‘He got married when he was on Death Row and had a child with his new wife. Somewhere out there is a girl whose father is a serial killer and whose mother was a fucked-up bitch who wanted to marry a serial killer. How would that make you feel? But I kind of know how that could make you feel or what that could make you do. That could make you, at eleven years old, go into some shitty-ass barn, pick up a knife and…’ Tears filled his eyes. ‘I knew where babies came from…and I knew that I never wanted to-’

Holy shit. No.

Domenica’s hand shot to her mouth. ‘Did you…oh my God…you didn’t…’

Ren turned to her, amazed. How can you not know the answer to that, you crazy bitch?

‘I started,’ said Gavino. ‘I did enough that I still…but there was so much blood, I passed out. When I woke up, I was bandaged in my bed. And one of the compound wives was sitting beside me.’

‘Where was I?’ said Domenica. Her voice had shrunk away.

‘Oh my God, who cares where you were?’ said Gavino. ‘Don’t you see? There was no point to you any more after that. Apart from making me get obsessed with the future of the fucking universe if I was in it. So for years, I wanted to die, I just wanted to die, but I was too chickenshit. Then last year, I go flash some stolen money about and you go ballistic. And the big irony is that I was trying to impress the chicks — the only way I know how. Some guys get girls drunk, so they can have sex with them. I need to get them drunk enough not to notice my…problem. I can turn off the lights, tell the girl she’s too drunk, and that I have too much respect for her to take advantage of that. Then at least I have something, I have someone beside me, even if it’s only for a few hours.’ He glanced at Ren as if she was the last person who had ever been beside him.

Ren’s heart flipped. Oh, Gavino, you poor boy. He looked young and raw and heartbreaking.

‘Now,’ said Gavino. ‘It turns out that all those however many years being tortured, being in agony every day, none of that shit needed to have happened. If you-’ he stabbed a finger at Domenica ‘-had told me the truth, that you had hand-picked a man to be my father because of his genes. Do you have any idea what it was like to hear that? James Laker — good-looking, intelligent, kind, an athlete. I mean, it’s ridiculous. I’m half of that. I’m not half of Augusto Val Pando. Where is he now, Mother? He is as useful to you as you were to me that day in the barn.’

Gavino raised the gun. ‘I want this so bad, it aches,’ he said. He pointed it at Domenica.

Don’t do it. Do not do it. Live your life. Live your life.

‘Please, no,’ said Domenica, falling to her knees. ‘Santa Maria-’

‘Who do you think is listening to your prayers?’ said Gavino. He walked over to her and pulled her up by the hair. She screamed.

‘Stand up, stand up, you bitch.’

Domenica stood in front of him. Gavino was six inches taller than her. He brought his arm up and put the barrel of the gun into her mouth. ‘I want this so bad,’ he said. He smiled. ‘But do you know what I want more?’ He looked around.

Ren stood, rooted. Please not me. I did love you. I did not want to abandon you. I had no choice. Please not me.

Images exploded from somewhere in the dark attic where she had buried them; wide-eyed Gavino, holding her hand, singing nursery rhymes…images that seemed so starkly innocent against the backdrop of Domenica’s world.

Please do not do this.

‘I loved you so much,’ he said to Ren.

Oh, God.

Ren’s heart started to thump. She knew her eyes were giving away her fear.

‘And do you know what?’ said Gavino. ‘That’s never really gone away. I still love you.’ He pushed his mother to the floor. ‘Because what you were doing to us, well, you were just doing your job. Your job was to destroy her business. But when it came to me, you were not doing your job — you were doing the opposite of that. You were just being you. Your job was not to betray a seven-year-old child, was it?’