Read Online The Devil Walks in Mattingly by Billy Coffey - Free Book Online
Authors: Billy Coffey
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spared from contemplating what he’d lost.
“You’re drunk,” Lucy told him. “I think that’s what my mother would say.”
The anger in his eyes flamed, then fell. He moved slowly and eased Lucy against the wall, embracing her in breath that was neither beer nor liquor but something other. He said it was his fault for not being there and her mother’s for leaving so soon. Lucy waited for him to include her own guilt in the fracturing of what their family could have been, but no blame was given. She felt his large body pressing against her and thought at least there was that. And when Lucy’s father said he couldn’t quit drinking and didn’t know why, Lucy knew for him. He had fallen into alcohol for the same reason she had fallen into boys—because such things hid the smallness inside them. And they both stank for it.
He loosened his hold and took in Lucy with sodden eyes. Ran his fingers through the strands of her dark hair. She met his gaze and saw in her father a sadness and a longing that tilted the pendulum back to her mother with such force that Lucy feared it would never sway back.
“Your mother had hair just like this,” he said, the last wordsslurring into juzzlitethizz . “I loved her hair. Used to stroke it every night. I think I miss that the most.” He held her again. “I miss her more now. Do you know why, Lucy?”
She shook her head.
“Because now I know you’ll never be like her.”
Her tears came in long sobs that stained the front of her father’s shirt. He held Lucy as long as he could bear and then released her. He walked to the coffee table and laid down fifty dollars and whatever silver he carried in his pocket. On the way back, he stepped onto the wrapper. It made a crinkling sound that turned Lucy’s stomach.
“I think it’s time we talk about sending you away,” he said. “Somewhere you’ll have some supervision. I thought I could trust you, but I can’t.” He moved to the door and opened it, pausing with one foot on the porch and the other in the foyer, half in Lucy’s life and half out. “I know there’s only a couple months of school left, Lucy. And I know you’re of age. But I’m still your father, and you will still obey me. If not?” He paused. “Well, I guess if you want to act like an adult, I’ll have to treat you as one. That means you’ll be responsible for your own home and your own money. College included. You will not see that boy again, Lucy. You make sure of it or I will.”
Lucy huddled against the wall long after her father had gone. It was just her and the creaking walls.
9
For the first time that day (for the first time in weeks), I felt relaxed. Evening air rushed through the truck, drowning me in the outside and drowning out Zach’s warbling from the backseat.Kate was on the phone with Timmy. Her notebook lay open across her lap, the pages pinned down by her right hand.
She’d been speaking of Lucy before Timmy called. I’d nodded in all the right places and said all the right things, more than happy to discuss Kate’s newest name if it kept conversation well away from my dreams. That pretending didn’t feel right. Felt, really, like another lie. I’d done that a lot to Kate in the years we’d known each other, which practically meant our entire lives. I told myself it wasn’t so much a slew of falsehoods as it was the continuation of one—like legs extending out from the same hairy spider—but that notion offered little comfort.
“Jake’s got a call,” Kate said into the phone. “It’s almost eight, Timmy. Nobody’s gonna come in there this time of night on a Saturday. Close up and come on as soon as you can. Joey and Frankie will be there.” She grinned, said, “Good, love you,” then switched to the other line. “Hello?”
I took my eyes from the road long enough to see the color drain from her face. Kate’s back stiffened against the seat, allowing the wind to tousle her hair. Zach kept to his singing in
“You’re drunk,” Lucy told him. “I think that’s what my mother would say.”
The anger in his eyes flamed, then fell. He moved slowly and eased Lucy against the wall, embracing her in breath that was neither beer nor liquor but something other. He said it was his fault for not being there and her mother’s for leaving so soon. Lucy waited for him to include her own guilt in the fracturing of what their family could have been, but no blame was given. She felt his large body pressing against her and thought at least there was that. And when Lucy’s father said he couldn’t quit drinking and didn’t know why, Lucy knew for him. He had fallen into alcohol for the same reason she had fallen into boys—because such things hid the smallness inside them. And they both stank for it.
He loosened his hold and took in Lucy with sodden eyes. Ran his fingers through the strands of her dark hair. She met his gaze and saw in her father a sadness and a longing that tilted the pendulum back to her mother with such force that Lucy feared it would never sway back.
“Your mother had hair just like this,” he said, the last wordsslurring into juzzlitethizz . “I loved her hair. Used to stroke it every night. I think I miss that the most.” He held her again. “I miss her more now. Do you know why, Lucy?”
She shook her head.
“Because now I know you’ll never be like her.”
Her tears came in long sobs that stained the front of her father’s shirt. He held Lucy as long as he could bear and then released her. He walked to the coffee table and laid down fifty dollars and whatever silver he carried in his pocket. On the way back, he stepped onto the wrapper. It made a crinkling sound that turned Lucy’s stomach.
“I think it’s time we talk about sending you away,” he said. “Somewhere you’ll have some supervision. I thought I could trust you, but I can’t.” He moved to the door and opened it, pausing with one foot on the porch and the other in the foyer, half in Lucy’s life and half out. “I know there’s only a couple months of school left, Lucy. And I know you’re of age. But I’m still your father, and you will still obey me. If not?” He paused. “Well, I guess if you want to act like an adult, I’ll have to treat you as one. That means you’ll be responsible for your own home and your own money. College included. You will not see that boy again, Lucy. You make sure of it or I will.”
Lucy huddled against the wall long after her father had gone. It was just her and the creaking walls.
9
For the first time that day (for the first time in weeks), I felt relaxed. Evening air rushed through the truck, drowning me in the outside and drowning out Zach’s warbling from the backseat.Kate was on the phone with Timmy. Her notebook lay open across her lap, the pages pinned down by her right hand.
She’d been speaking of Lucy before Timmy called. I’d nodded in all the right places and said all the right things, more than happy to discuss Kate’s newest name if it kept conversation well away from my dreams. That pretending didn’t feel right. Felt, really, like another lie. I’d done that a lot to Kate in the years we’d known each other, which practically meant our entire lives. I told myself it wasn’t so much a slew of falsehoods as it was the continuation of one—like legs extending out from the same hairy spider—but that notion offered little comfort.
“Jake’s got a call,” Kate said into the phone. “It’s almost eight, Timmy. Nobody’s gonna come in there this time of night on a Saturday. Close up and come on as soon as you can. Joey and Frankie will be there.” She grinned, said, “Good, love you,” then switched to the other line. “Hello?”
I took my eyes from the road long enough to see the color drain from her face. Kate’s back stiffened against the seat, allowing the wind to tousle her hair. Zach kept to his singing in
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