The Trouble with Being Born: A Novel

Father

39 I’m going out with Donna D’Antonio this afternoon. A double feature at the Chief Theater: Douglas Fairbanks Jr. in Party Girl and then Edward G. Robinson in Little Caesar. I’ve already seen Little Caesar, but it’s a good picture. This is Rico speaking, Rico, R-I-C-O, Little Caesar, that’s who. I got almost a whole dollar, and five dog food labels too, so she can get in for free. We’ll have us some cokes, some popcorn, and I’ll get a little balcony action. I hope Party Girl is first, get her warmed up. I got my Arrow shirt, my good blazer and slacks, my twotone bucks that cost my father three dollars at Montgomery Ward. And my felt fedora. It’s hot, but I’ll still wear a tie. Ten cents a dance, that’s what they pay me, gosh how they weigh me down. A little Aqua Velva…damn, I look nice. What time is it? Almost one thirty. I’m supposed to meet Donna at the theater at a quarter after two. The newsreels start at two thirty. I got a little time. I think Ange is doing the ironing , maybe I’ll ask her to give my tie a quick one-two. “Hey Ange. You got time to give my tie a quick one-two?” “C’mon. Don’t be like that.” “Just a quick one-two.” “Thanks.” “Pa’s looking for me, huh?” “What’s he want?” “Well, you ain’t seen me, okay?” “I’m going to the pictures with Donna.” “I’ll be back in time for dinner.” Father 40 father The tie’s hot in my fingers, and I have some trouble getting it right. There we go, perfect. It looks good, crisp. I’d better get going. I’ll go out the back, in case my father’s in the living room. One last glance in the mirror, and I’m off. “What?” “I’m in here.” “I’m going to the movies.” “What?” “Okay, I’m coming.” Damn. I don’t know what he wants. He probably wants me to go to the store or something. I should have left, goddamn it, I should have left. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” He’s standing by the front door, putting on his cap and jacket in the mirror. He turns and gives me the once over. I don’t feel good about this. “Where you going all dressed up?” “I’m going to the pictures with Donna. A double feature at the Chief.” “You’re going to the pictures, huh?” He turns back to the mirror and adjusts his cap. He don’t say nothing. I stand there waiting. I hear some moke grind his gears in the street outside. My father opens the door and stands in the frame. “Come here.” I walk to stand behind him. I think he’s going to tell me about cars and gears and stuff. “You see the grass?” “Yeah, I see it.” “It needs mowing.” “I’ll do it when I get back.” “You’ll do it now.” “I’m going to the pictures, I got a date.” “Whatdya say? I’m not going to tell you twice.” “Why can’t I do it when I get back?” “Because I said you’ll do it now. Don’t talk back to me.” “I’m not talking back, but I made plans.” He turns and backhands me hard in the face. “Ow. I’m not talking back. I’m not talking back.” “The next one I close my fist.” “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll mow the grass. Yes sir, I’ll mow the grass.” He steps out the door. “I’ll be home by four. The grass will be mowed by then.” Goddamn son of a bitching fuck. Fucking fuck goddamn . I got to mow the grass. I had a date, I had plans, and he wants me to mow the grass. Nothing ever works out for me, 41 father nothing ever works out. I hate my fucking father, I hate my fucking father. I was gonna get some action this afternoon, I was gonna get some action, but now I gotta mow the goddamn fucking son of a bitch cocksucking grass. Look at it, it looks like a fucking jungle out there. Goddamn motherfuck it to hell. I slam...