Date: Mon, 20 Dec 1999 19:19:02 EST
From: Theatre83@aol.com
Subject: ALL FALL DOWN, Chapter 2

TWO.

    After the hour-long dinner my father retired to the den, the only light
illuminating the small room was the blue flicker of the television screen.
In one hand, the remote; in the other hand, a bottle of beer.  "Honey!" He
would call every thirty, or so minutes; the one word got my mother out of her
seat, into the kitchen, then into the den with a new beer.  The process had
become a precise art that now took her only eight seconds.  Simon and I
lounged in the living room, always, after dinner; we were working on a one
thousand piece jigsaw puzzle that my mother found in the attic.  The puzzle
was of a greenhouse...All containing the same type of flower with a few
tables scattered here and there.  We had been working on it for two months
and were only a mere quarter of the way finished.
    "Do you have a stem leaf for this flower, Simon?" I didn't dare call
Simon any of my lovey-dovey names, which I use around my mother or when we're
alone.  He looked at the puzzle, then at me, and then at the puzzle again.
    "Are you insane?  Look at the puzzle, Gabe!  Look at it!  All of the
flowers are the same; all of the tables are the same.  This puzzle is
impossible!  I don't even know why we're attempting it."
    "Simon, we've been working on this puzzle for over two months...We're no
longer ATTEMPTING this puzzle, we're LOST in it."
    "Same difference."
    A deep slurred voice from in the den: "Honey!"  A fridge door opening,
bottles clanking, pop!, fizz!, footsteps, silence.  Eight seconds flat.
    My watch beeped: 9:30 PM.  "Are you ready to go to bed?" I asked.
    "Sure thing," Simon said.
    I found my mother.  "Mom, Simon and I are going to bed."
    "Sleep well, you two," she said.  She kissed each of us on the cheek.

    In my room, I turned on "who i am" by Andy Kuncl and stripped down to my
boxers; I climed into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin.  The night
weather was becoming chilly and goosebumps covered my bare skin.  Simon
turned the television on muted and stripped down to HIS boxers, climbed into
bed next to me, and snuggled up against me, resting his head on my shoulder.
His icy hand rest on my naked chest; I kissed his head and stroked his hair.
"Alf" was on the TV, and even muted, we laughed at the funny parts; "Alf" was
our favourite show.
    Simon lifted his head and kissed me; a moment later, he rolled on top of
me.
    "Simon," I said, "I don't feel like it tonight."
    "Don't feel like it?  Why?"
    "I can't stop thinking about dad and mom."
    "What about them?"
    "I'm pissed at my dad -- if he hits mom again, I'll snap, I swear."
    "I know it sucks, but at least be glad that your parents are together."
    "Yeah, but not willingly!  My mother is afraid to leave dad because of
what he might do."
    "Are you sure?"
    "Yeah, she told me, once."
    "Gabe, we need to tell someone about this."
    "I know we do, but mom said not to.  She begged -- pleaded!"
    "I know, Gabe, but if we don't tell, who knows what might happen!"
    "I'm going to wait it out a little bit longer.  Wait it out and see what
happens."
    "If you wait out much longer, you may not like what happens."
    "What do you mean?"
    "Well, let's face it: not to be mean, or anything, but your dad is a
psycho --"
    "Yeah --"
    "Who knows what he's capable of doing.  It could be anything.  One day,
HE might snap and do something drastic."
    "Like what?"
    "Who knows what!  It could be anything."
    "I want to tell, but I know mom will be upset with me --"
    "How could she be upset with you when you may be saving her life?" He
asked, his voice inflection raising and his tone become stern.  He finally
said what he had been avoiding saying directly the whole conversation.
    My voice was whispery: "Do you...Do...Do you think that dad would kill
mom?"
    Simon looked at me and stroked my cheek.  "I can't say one way or the
other; I've heard stories, though.  Plenty.  Now..Stop worrying and get some
sleep."
    "I love you," I breathed, my mind racing.
    "You too," he said.

    Gunshot.  Gunshot.  Gunshot.  Body fall.  Thump!  Thump!  Thump!  "Nooo!"
 A scream.  "Boy!"  Slur.  Slur.  Deep.  Deep.  Gunshot.  "Bastard!"  "Nooo!"
 "Your fault."  Your fault.  Fault.  Fault.  Fault.  Your.  Your.  Fault.
Your fault.  You.  You.  You.  Gunshot.  Gunshot.  Falling.  Falling.  Thump!
 Thump!  Down.  Down.  Down.  "Your fault."  Fault.  Fault.  Dead.  Dead.
"Ring around the rosie."  Dead.   Gunshot.  Gunshot.  "Pocket full of
posies."  Thump!  Thump!  Thump!  Gunshot.  Gunshot.  Body fall.  Down.
Down.  Stairs.  "Ashes, ashes, we..."  Gunshot.  Slur.  "Boy!"  "Bastard!"
Fault.  Your fault.  Thump!  Thump!  Fall.  Fall.  Body.  Body.  "ALL FALL
DOWN!"

    I shot up in my bed, my hair matted to my scalp and forehead with sweat.
I looked at the clock, 2:36 AM; I looked at Simon, asleep.  I laid back down
and slept through to morning, the dream never coming back.