Junkyard Blues

Chapter Fourteen

61 C Chapter Fourteen e finally reached Derrick’s house that eventful evening. It was already a few minutes past 10pm. He was anticipating and hating the fact that he was going to knock at the door and stand there waiting for the door to be open for him by an annoyed Derrick and for the obvious questions to start flying. The obvious questions that were going to be accompanied by a patronizing lesson on morality and on walking about in the night. But when he reached the door it was still unlocked. Derrick was sitting alone in the living room, staring at the television screen and probably actually seeing nothing. He had that too familiar look, that look that always came about when he and his dragon lady had been at each other’s throat. Or more precisely when the dragon lady had been at his throat. It was becoming frequent (that all so familiar look on Derrick’s face), and Jude somehow had that sense of premonition that it was going to keep getting worse. And somewhere deep inside, he believed he was the reason it was getting worse and was going to keep getting worse. It was his presence in this place, his presence that was like a catalyst. It’s because you’re here, all those constant angry words flying around. She doesn’t want you here or anybody for that matter. But she’d always been that way. It’s getting worse and you know it. But it’s not my fault. I didn’t ask to come here; I don’t even want to be here. The strain was showing on Derrick. That constant strain of having to be on the tip of his toes, of having to walk into the house already knowing that it was just going to be another plain night of nagging, another plain night of having to stand before a one man court of law and answer to accusations that were completely bogus. It was showing in that look of weariness, showing in that strained manner he tried constantly to keep a semblance of normalcy, showing in that constant air of belief he had around him; that false belief that he was living with a woman in his house and not some nutcase who could have excelled in a mental asylum for the criminally insane. The sight of that constant strain was always capable of getting to him, for it showed just how vulnerable Derrick was, just how lonely he was even when he had that all too H 62 irritating patronizing and all-is-normal air around him. It always somehow reminded him of their mother, a woman who had simply decided to wear that strain as a gown, wrapped it around her and bowed to it as her husband had chosen his own path in life. That path that had left them all completely wanting, that path that was the reason for all the trouble he had faced and was still facing in life, that path that in some twisted way, Derrick was following blindly. He felt the familiar anger start to rise. “Where’ve you been all day long?” Derrick asked without looking at him. The question came out in a conversational tone, a tone so free of all the patronizing air that Jude felt his heart miss a beat. “I needed to talk to a friend,” Jude replied. “Okay,” Derrick nodded. Why are you doing this to yourself? Jude wondered looking at Derrick. How was it that Derrick could not see what he was doing to himself? How was it that he could not look at the mirror and see the truth as it was, that truth that the woman he called a wife was only a slow poison, a slow poison that was only going to kill him at the end of the day, first drive him mad and then kill him while he was lying there his mind already gone to kingdom come. It’s not your problem, padre. But why can’t he just see what’s happening to him, why can’t he just make the decision and kick the psychopathic demon out before she drives him completely crazy? I told you it’s not your problem, padre. You’ve your own shit and it’s not simply shit, so stop looking at somebody else’s shit. Jude sat before the television screen; he suddenly felt that need to assure Derrick...