Dave Zeltserman: Small crimes

I watched as she made a beeline towards their bedroom. She closed the door behind her. They tried to keep their voices low, but the walls were thin and I could hear most of what was said.

'Your son is home. He's in the kitchen right now.'

'Can you keep your voice down? Joey's going to hear you.'

'The door's closed. He's not going to hear me. I want you out there with me.'

'I'm tired. Let me rest for a few more minutes.'

'Oh no you don't. You come out there with me!'

'Jesus, Irma, he's your son. He's not going to bite you.'

'I want you out there with me. You're the one who insisted that he stay here!'

'Alright, alright.'

I heard him get off the bed. The door opened and my mom came out first with my dad tailing behind her. He gave me a weak smile as he passed by and then walked over to the kitchen sink to fill up a teapot. My mom went back to stirring her sauce. After a minute of that I told them I was going out.

'You're not going to join us for dinner?' she asked, actually surprised.

'I don't think so. I'll be back later.'

'Why don't you join us? I'm making ziti and meatballs.'

I'd rather not, especially if the two of you are going to be so damn ashamed of me.'

'Don't be like that,' she snapped back at me. 'How do you expect us to feel after what you did?' My dad looked up from his teapot but didn't say anything.

I had to get out of there – I could feel my hands trembling. As I turned to leave I heard her call my name.

'Stay for dinner,' she said. 'Joey, you shouldn't go out tonight. The town paper printed a story today about you being released and what happened. They put your picture on the front page. It would be better if you didn't go into town.'

I stared at both of them for a long moment, barely able to recognize either of them. Then I turned and got out of there as fast as I could.

More than just my hands were trembling by the time I got to my car. I had to take a dozen or so deep breaths before I could calm myself down. It's funny, but after all I had lost, I'd hung on to the thought that I wasn't completely isolated. That I could somehow reestablish my relationship with my parents and use that as a starting point to rebuild my life. I used to lie on my cot and idealize the way it would be when I got out. That they'd forgive me in their hearts and mean it when they said they'd help me get back on my feet. But I had just been kidding myself. It had never been like that with the two of them, and now they were nothing but two old people who were willing to let me live in their house for a few weeks.

The hell with it.

I sat in my car for a long moment before I felt I could move. And then I drove to Zeke's.

Zeke's Tavern is a few blocks from downtown Bradley. It's been around since the early nineteen hundreds and is a hangout for cops and locals. A dark cavernous place that always smelled heavily of cigarettes and stale beer. Inside were a couple of pool tables, a dartboard, a jukebox, a few beat-up tables, and a long chipped and stained mahogany bar. Zeke's had a kitchen in the back where they'd cook up burgers and other standard bar food.

I spotted Bill Wright and Tony Flauria sitting at the bar. They were joking about something but stopped when they saw me. I nodded at them and got back only blank stares in return. I moved to the opposite end of the bar, waved the bartender over, and ordered a cheeseburger and a pint of a local brewed ale.

About the time the bartender was placing the pint in front of me, Flauria had gotten off his bar stool and was heading towards me. Bill Wright looked somewhat queasy around the eyes as he tagged along. They were both cops. Flauria, as far as I knew, had always been clean.

Flauria stopped about a foot from me and gave me the evil eye.

'How you doing, Tony?' I said.

He sniffed a couple of times in the air. 'I thought I smelled a pile of shit coming from over here.'

'I'm doing great,' I said. 'Thanks for asking.'

Flauria just stood glaring at me. Then through wire-tight lips, 'You disfigure anyone lately, you pile of shit?'

'Not yet, but the night's young.'

'You dirty piece of shit,' he stated, his beefy face flushed with malice.

'Joe, what the fuck are you doing here?' Bill Wright asked. 'You should just get the hell out of Bradley and consider yourself the luckiest fuck alive.'

'Big words coming from you, Bill. I thought you'd be buying me a beer right now for keeping my mouth shut all these years.'

'I don't know what the fuck you're talking about,' he said, but he didn't look too good, his skin color dropping a shade. Flauria, though, was still simmering with violence.

'Why don't the two of us step outside?' he offered.

'I don't think so, Tony. I got nothing against you and see no reason to hurt you.'

'You got no reason to hurt me?' he asked, flabbergasted. 'After what you did you think you have the right to walk in here and act as if you belong here?'

I could sense his thick body tensing. I sat quietly and drank my beer, my eyes focused straight ahead. Bill said something to Flauria about it not being worth it. In the bar mirror I could see him forcibly restraining Flauria, and Flauria was just barely smart enough to let himself be restrained.

'Let's get out of here,' Flauria spat. 'This place smells too much like an outhouse.' As he and Bill left Zeke's, he pointed a thick finger at me and warned me not to come back. 'You're not welcome here.'

The bar was mostly empty but the few people that were around were staring at me. A blonde, about twenty-five, came over and sat down next to me. She had come into the bar about the time Flauria was being forcibly restrained.

'Wow, that was something,' she said.

I didn't say anything. I really couldn't.

She made a loud sniffing noise. 'I don't know. You smell pretty good to me.'

I turned to see her grinning. She was thin, maybe a little too thin, but nice to look at. She had on dark granny-type sunglasses, which was a funny thing to wear in a place like Zeke's – making me think that she was a druggie. Her grin melted into a soft smile. 'You look pretty good too. Anybody ever tell you you look a lot like Bruce Willis, at least when he had hair?'

'Thanks, I guess.'

'People have told me I look like a young Meg Ryan. What do you think?'

It was hard to tell who she looked like with the dark glasses she was wearing, but she was blonde and thin, and I guess I could see the resemblance around her mouth.

'I'd take you over her any day of the week,' I said.

'In that case, why don't you buy me a drink?' she asked. 'How about a Cosmo?'

'I have no idea what that is,' I said, 'but if you want it, I'll buy it.' I waved over the bartender, who had taken a more sullen attitude towards me, and ordered a 'Cosmo'. I watched as he poured vodka, Triple Sec, and cranberry juice into a cocktail shaker and wondered why anyone would want to drink that. She let me take a sip of it after it had been poured into a Martini glass. It was too sweet for my taste.

'Come on, what was going on here before?'

I turned to face her. With her long straight blonde hair and shit-eating grin, she reminded me a little of Elaine, at least before Elaine had turned sour. As I looked at her I noticed her body was more athletic than thin. Her arms and face were nicely tanned. It took an effort to look away from her.

'Old business,' I said. 'Nothing I'd like to talk about.'

I could feel her staring at me. It did something to me to feel her staring at me.

'Come on,' she said after a while, 'you tell me your secret and I'll tell you mine.'

'I'm sorry. I'm not in the mood for this.'

'Okay, I'll tell you mine anyway.' She reached over and whispered in my ear, 'I haven't had a good lay in months.'