Read Online Creeps by Darren Hynes - Free Book Online Page A

up and then down the road. She starts off in one direction, but then changes course and goes the other way. Then she stops again and sets down her suitcase and puts her hands in her pockets.
    â€œWhat’s she doing?” Wanda says.
    â€œShe coming back?” says his father.
    Wayne doesn’t answer either question, just watches his mother take her hands out of herpockets and wipe her nose and pick her suitcase back up and then start walking again, except faster, the top of her leaning forward as if through a gale. After a moment there’s no sight of her, so Wayne turns away from the window and sees that Wanda has gone and his father is trying to light a cigarette.
    â€œBetter make this quick before she comes back,” his dad says. He puts the Zippo to his ear and shakes it and tries again but it still won’t light, so he takes the smoke out of his mouth and places it behind his ear, then leans against the wall to stay upright. After a while, he says, “She’ll be back.”
    Wayne nods.
    His father makes to go, then stops. “There’s supper in the oven. Fish sticks and French fries. Supposed to have corn, but I used it on my face.”
    Wayne nods again.
    His dad gets as far as the kitchen when Wayne’s voice stops him.
    â€œWhat?” his father says.
    â€œI said maybe you ought to cut back.”
    â€œCut back?”
    â€œMom mightn’t pack so much then.”
    His father doesn’t speak for ages. Then, at last, he says, “Tomorrow. I’ll cut back tomorrow.” He turns and leaves and Wayne goes back to looking out the window in the door and soon hears somethingdrop in the kitchen, followed by curses and then something else dropping and then silence.

    Dear Dad,
    Even though you probably deserved that bruise I can’t help but blame Mom. And when you knock over the garbage can when you’re trying to park the car I blame the bartender at Herb’s Hideaway who never seems to KNOW when you’ve had ENOUGH. When you throw an ornament and it smashes I blame whoever made the stupid thing in the first place, it breaking as easy as that. When you call in sick for work I blame the iron ore company for those awful twelve-hour shifts and when your curses filter into the street I blame the house for its thin walls and when you’re holding on to the toilet I blame the leftovers that must have gone bad and when you lie and say you didn’t touch a Jesus drop I blame Mom for not believing you and when you miss your seat I blame the chair and when you can’t get in because it’s late and you’ve lost your keys I blame the chain they’re attached to and when you can’t remember where you put that twenty dollars I blame Wanda because she’s always rooting around for money and when you’re staring out the window and shaking your head I blame the rainand when you’re sick to death of walking in the bloody door I blame all of us for being here and when you and me are silent at the breakfast table I blame myself for not having anything to say.
    Your son who blames everyone but you,
    Wayne Pumphrey

THIRTEEN
    Wayne lifts his head and sees his mother standing there. He wipes the corner of his mouth and closes his notebook and looks at the clock on the kitchen wall.
    His mom puts her suitcase down and sits beside him. Covers his hand with one of her freezing ones. “You should be in bed.”
    Wayne rubs an eye.
    â€œWhere’s your father?”
    â€œAsleep on the chesterfield.”
    â€œPassed out, you mean.”
    He stays quiet while his mother takes off her coat and drapes it on the back of her chair. “You eat supper?” she says.
    â€œMm-hm.”
    She gets up and fills the kettle and places it onthe burner, then leans back against the counter. Crosses her arms.
    â€œYou back for good?” he says.
    It takes her so long to answer that Wayne thinks she didn’t hear the question, but