Read Online Imperative Fate by Paige Johnson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Paige Johnson
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in, I breathe out. Mommy is dead. I bite my lip, clumping the clear coat of gloss. She never loved me anyway , I remind myself, twiddling Daddy’s wedding ring. At his funeral as colossal in attendance as it was heart-wrenching, one of the pallbearers gave it to me. As torture or comfort. That was six months ago, but it may as well have been this afternoon.
It must’ve been so strange to have been a part of their youth, I think, flipping the tiny memento over, trying not to look upon anything in my room that might give me more nostalgic memories. Before I ruined it, I mean.
For two puerile years before my existence, Mama and Daddy adored each other, playing in the snow and drinking all the wine Vermont had to offer. Then, Daddy was a naval man with a cloak-and-dagger drinking problem and Mama was a promising businesswoman with too many magenta pantsuits. In unison, they’d denounce Mama’s family’s “Cult of Domesticity” narrative and went out, hand-in-hand, off to the next adventure.
It took two hours to destroy all of that.
While Daddy was working overtime, fiddling with a job in factory management, Mama was getting wasted at some shoddy tavern with an ambitious nightlife. The trendy kind of shifty she’d never admit to enjoying unless it was in season. And I do mean never .
That night, she ran into Daddy’s brother, Rudy, and just couldn’t shake him. She poured down every drink he bought her and slid out of every almost-embrace on the dance floor. Bad ideas befriended both sides. Mama shouldn’t have been leading him on for free Screwdrivers, knowing how violently emotional Rudy is, and Rudy shouldn’t have been supplying them, knowing how devious the gesture could look to his older brother.
When he and Daddy were kids, Rudy was the type to burn ants or hunt songbirds for hours, sulk and hold obscene grudges when he didn’t get the girl or gadget he wanted. Not liking to work, waiting for Heaven-sent opportunities, Rudy was always jealous of Daddy. His esteemed education, lucrative jobs, or arm candy. Never mind how hard Daddy had to work for those things; he made it seem easy.
But the chief thing Daddy had, that Rudy could never grasp, was a sense of decency, of boundaries. All Rudy saw was the lust for instant gratification. Rudy simply lacks the mental and moral capacity to see otherwise.
I’ve overheard enough of Mama and Daddy’s fights, survived enough my family’s rugged personalities and enough omniscient nightmares to thread together how I think the rest of their relationship went down:
For a night, Rudy wanted to be the lucky man Daddy was, relish the sensation of a beautiful woman. And who is more beautiful than Daddy’s Swedish prize, Carol Price? Who already knew Rudy better than anybody else in the club?
So Rudy took initiative, mad and drunk enough to ignore the consequences. He thought about what his brother would do. His brother would be a man about it, of course; he’d be determined and received. And didn’t most things work out for his brother?
Of course.
Keeping only a goal in mind and no schedule for hindrances, Rudy followed Mama out of the club, his mind distorted in a heinous shade of red and gross generalities.
Dragging on a cigarette, Mama laughed at him as he stumbled closer to her, beside the lightless backdoor. “You’re a joke, you know that, right?” she taunted, extinguishing the stub.
Rudy was quiet, used to slights from pretty women. Sensing Mama’s detachment, he knew he’d have to be quick and efficient to get what he wanted. Surely, Carol would be like all the other pretty faces; if he asked for any kind of relationship, she’d toy with him, permitting no sex, and puncture his feelings in the end. Besides, she wasn’t quite drunk enough to go to bed with someone as homely as him. Nor was she very fast or coordinated in her buzzed state.
Seizing his opening when Mama turned to dispose of her cigarette, he leaped at her throat and threw her
It must’ve been so strange to have been a part of their youth, I think, flipping the tiny memento over, trying not to look upon anything in my room that might give me more nostalgic memories. Before I ruined it, I mean.
For two puerile years before my existence, Mama and Daddy adored each other, playing in the snow and drinking all the wine Vermont had to offer. Then, Daddy was a naval man with a cloak-and-dagger drinking problem and Mama was a promising businesswoman with too many magenta pantsuits. In unison, they’d denounce Mama’s family’s “Cult of Domesticity” narrative and went out, hand-in-hand, off to the next adventure.
It took two hours to destroy all of that.
While Daddy was working overtime, fiddling with a job in factory management, Mama was getting wasted at some shoddy tavern with an ambitious nightlife. The trendy kind of shifty she’d never admit to enjoying unless it was in season. And I do mean never .
That night, she ran into Daddy’s brother, Rudy, and just couldn’t shake him. She poured down every drink he bought her and slid out of every almost-embrace on the dance floor. Bad ideas befriended both sides. Mama shouldn’t have been leading him on for free Screwdrivers, knowing how violently emotional Rudy is, and Rudy shouldn’t have been supplying them, knowing how devious the gesture could look to his older brother.
When he and Daddy were kids, Rudy was the type to burn ants or hunt songbirds for hours, sulk and hold obscene grudges when he didn’t get the girl or gadget he wanted. Not liking to work, waiting for Heaven-sent opportunities, Rudy was always jealous of Daddy. His esteemed education, lucrative jobs, or arm candy. Never mind how hard Daddy had to work for those things; he made it seem easy.
But the chief thing Daddy had, that Rudy could never grasp, was a sense of decency, of boundaries. All Rudy saw was the lust for instant gratification. Rudy simply lacks the mental and moral capacity to see otherwise.
I’ve overheard enough of Mama and Daddy’s fights, survived enough my family’s rugged personalities and enough omniscient nightmares to thread together how I think the rest of their relationship went down:
For a night, Rudy wanted to be the lucky man Daddy was, relish the sensation of a beautiful woman. And who is more beautiful than Daddy’s Swedish prize, Carol Price? Who already knew Rudy better than anybody else in the club?
So Rudy took initiative, mad and drunk enough to ignore the consequences. He thought about what his brother would do. His brother would be a man about it, of course; he’d be determined and received. And didn’t most things work out for his brother?
Of course.
Keeping only a goal in mind and no schedule for hindrances, Rudy followed Mama out of the club, his mind distorted in a heinous shade of red and gross generalities.
Dragging on a cigarette, Mama laughed at him as he stumbled closer to her, beside the lightless backdoor. “You’re a joke, you know that, right?” she taunted, extinguishing the stub.
Rudy was quiet, used to slights from pretty women. Sensing Mama’s detachment, he knew he’d have to be quick and efficient to get what he wanted. Surely, Carol would be like all the other pretty faces; if he asked for any kind of relationship, she’d toy with him, permitting no sex, and puncture his feelings in the end. Besides, she wasn’t quite drunk enough to go to bed with someone as homely as him. Nor was she very fast or coordinated in her buzzed state.
Seizing his opening when Mama turned to dispose of her cigarette, he leaped at her throat and threw her
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