Tim McGregor - Killing Down the Roman Line

You remember that foul evening when you heard the banshees howl

There was lousy drunken bastards singing Billy’s in the bowl

Corrigan wiped his hands, satisfied. He marched back to the house, singing loud and bold.

They took you up to midnight mass and left you in the lurch

So you dropped a button in the plate and spewed up in the church

The phone rang and rang but no one picked up. Not Emma nor Travis. Eyes on his phone, Jim took the corner onto Roman Line too fast, fishtailing the rear end in the gravel. A hair away from crashing into the grader Joe Keefe’s crew had parked on the roadside.

He couldn’t stop the flood of horrific images bubbling in his head. Emma dead, kicked to death by that goddamn horse of hers. Mangled and bleeding at the side of the road, or—

Stop. Concentrate on the road. Don’t anticipate anything, just deal with it when you get there.

The pickup bucked, hitting potholes too fast. Spinning into his driveway, damn near driving straight up the porch steps. The engine sputtered and ticked from being pushed too hard.

He banged through the door, screaming their names.

Nothing. The parlour was empty, the kitchen too. A finger of panic down his backbone.

Travis sat on the bottom step, elbows tilted on his knees. Watching his dad storm into the hall.

“Travis, what happened? Where’s mom?”

The boy flinched, ducking his head and a cold hole opened in Jim’s belly. His son was afraid of him, shrinking at his touch like a dog that had been kicked too many times. His cheek was still red.

“Where’s your mother?”

“Upstairs. She won’t come out.”

Jim’s eyes shot up the stairs to the second floor. Dark. “Out of the bedroom?”

“She locked the door.”

“Is she hurt?”

“She won’t say.” He pulled his elbow out of his father’s grip. “Her lip was bleeding.”

The horrific snapshots were back, flipping through his mind. “Did she fall? Did the horse kick her?”

“You…” Travis sputtered, trying to spit the question out. “You didn’t do it?”

His gut bottomed out. Flipped, burned and roiled. Too many things coming too fast. Horrified at what his son was asking, ashamed that the boy had reason to. How could he think that? He wanted to shake the boy again. Shake some goddamn sense into his head.

It all churns to anger so fast. He pulled away and boomed up the steps two at a time. Calling her name.

The porcelain door knob wouldn’t turn. Locked, but it was old and had never worked properly. Jim shouldered it open. The room was dark, the hallway bulb casting an oblong of light onto the floor.

“Emm?”

A silent form on the bed, curled up. Her back to him.

The floor squeaked as he moved around the bed. Her chestnut hair fanned over the pillow, hiding her face. His fingers touched her brow, meaning to brush the hair back but her hand shot out and stopped his wrist.

“Emm, you’re scaring me,” he said. This wasn’t like her. “Look at me.”

Her grip went slack and he swept the hair away, tugging it free from where it clung to dried tears. His heart stopped at the first glimpse. Her lip was split and bloodied. Swollen, raw-looking. A black cake of dried blood under her nose.

“Jesuschristwhathappened?”

She wouldn’t even open her eyes. Playing dead or suddenly gone deaf. Jim felt the anger churning back. Wrong response, he knew but— He pulled her up by the arms, into the light from the doorway.

“Emma. Talk to me.”

She recoiled from his grip. Knocked his hands away. “Don’t.”

“Okay, okay.” Hands up and easy tones, like talking a jumper down from the ledge. “We should go to the hospital.”

“No.”

She was balancing on a knife edge, he could see that. Exploding or collapsing. He kept his mouth shut and his hands off. Waiting for her to slide one way or the other.

“I messed up.” Her voice a dry-throated hiss. Emma’s eyes came up and bounced off his and dropped again. Mute.

“Who did this to you?”

“I was looking for Travis. The lights were on at Corrigan’s so…”

Done. The rest, history. The bastard’s name was already written on a headstone. “Corrigan did this to you.” Not a question, just confirmation. A gavel banging down a death sentence.

Her eyes went to the open door. “Where’s Travis?”

“Downstairs.” He reached out and touched her arm. Her skin cool and damp but she didn’t pull away. Something volcanic was rising in his throat, boiling his brain and building enough power to geyser. He swallowed it. “What happened?”

She trembled, the tears coming on full force. Emma wasn’t a crier. A yeller, a stomper of feet, yes but rarely tears. Jim waited, useless and awkward before her wet eyes.

“It’s okay now.” He pulled her close. “Just let it out.”

Emma heaved and rocked and after a minute, settled. Her voice was brittle as frost. “He said he’d end everything. Suing us, trying to take the farm if—”

“If what?”

Emma shook her head. Whether refusing to say more or simply disbelieving it all, Jim couldn’t tell. Impatient, he whispered as soft as was able. “Tell me.”

She brushed her eyes with her hands, took a deep breath and blew it out. “He said he’d end it all if I slept with him.”

Puzzle pieces slotting into place, Jim put the rest together. “You refused. He hit you. Jesus, Emm.” His hand rubbing her back, something he knew comforted her. But she didn’t fold into him this time. Emma remained rigid, pulling a hand away to wipe her nose.

“Emm.” He started sinking through the floor, the room spinning. “Is that what happened? You said no and he hit you?”

“Jim…” It was all she could get out. The rest choked off, unsaid.

His hands snapped back. On his feet. Stung.

Emma sputtered but none of it was coherent. Not even words, just sobs. Pleas. She had seen this before. A stupid horror movie. The woman with vampire bites on her neck, the man recoiling. Unclean, unclean! She wanted to explain it, tell him what happened but the only thing registering in her head was this stupid horror movie cliché. Oh God.

“What did you do?” The venom in his voice was just there. Unbidden and unwanted, his gut speaking for him.

“I wanted him to leave us alone.”

“Emma! What the hell did you do?”

The sickening vertigo coming full bore. Jim floundered into the wall and his fingers clung to its edges for ballast. Bile on his tongue, bitter and poisonous. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“I couldn’t do it!” Rage broke through the despair. How dare he? She wanted to kill him. “I said yes but I couldn’t go through with it. That’s when he hit me!”

He heard nothing, clinging to the wall for life. If he let go, he’d be swept overboard and never come back. “How could you?”

“He wouldn’t stop. I tried to fight him off but he just kept coming. You have no idea!”

His lips moved but no words came out. He felt like he was freefalling.

She saw the revulsion in his eyes. Turned away, looking for a rock to crawl under. “Don’t look at me like that!” Again the horror movie trope. A monster shirking the sunlight.

A silhouette broke against the hall light. Emma and Jim froze.

Travis stood, watching. His face dark, backlit from the hallway. Now tilting to his dad. “Why are you yelling at her? It wasn’t her fault! Didn’t you hear her?”

Oh God. He’d heard it all.

Jim was back in the dark river, not knowing which way was up. The panic of drowning. He raised his hands, as if calling for a time-out. A do-over. Anything but this. “Travis—”