Tears Soak A Calloused Heart

Chapter Three: From The Bottom Looking Up

Joe slipped through the front door of the house and was glad to see that Curt was still sleeping.  He slipped through the quiet house and up the stairs to his room.  He was bound a determined to avoid any confrontation with Curt until it was time for him to leave for work.  After his day the last thing he wanted to do was add to his problems.

For the hour or so he had to wait he mostly just laid on his bed and listened to the tapes he had put into his stereo.  His mind just sort of went blank.  Then the time came for him to leave.  The time passed and finally Joe roused himself from his trance and slipped out of the house.

The walk to Kendrick's General Store was nearly a half an hour but most of the time Joe didn�t mind it.  It allowed him time alone where it was quiet.  When he was walking there was no one to bother him, get on his nerves or shit on him.  He was alone and free in the world when he was walking.  Of course he eventually reached his destination and the peace was at an end.  On days like this with the chill of winter still present he nearly froze during the walk and did not enjoy it any where near as much as he wished he could.  He also was dreading returning to work with his injured arm.  It had been bothering him all day and he was unable to use his left hand properly.  For the most part he had just kept his hand jammed in his pocket and his elbow close to his side.

Kendrick's General Store was a prototypical small town country store.  It had low ceilings, narrow aisles and creaky wooden floors.  The store offered all variety of items from deli goods to hardware supplies.  While they offered a wide variety of things their main output was still beer, cigarettes, gasoline and pizza.  Joe thought that really said something about the unwashed and inbred customers of Kendrick�s.

As Joe entered he saw Laura behind the register.  He hated that bitch.  She was so spiteful and rude though Joe was certain he had never done anything to make her hate him so much.  He thought she was probably just bitter because she was still jockeying a register in a backwoods country store while Joe still had his whole life in front of him.  Little did she know that his life was drawing to a close.

Laura shot him a dirty look as she rung up a customer's purchase and Joe studiously ignored the fact that she was even there.  He enjoyed ignoring her because it seemed to make her so much more irate.

Joe pushed on through the door marked 'Employees Only' and entered the back room that doubled as both a locker room and storage area.  From the room there were four doors besides the one Joe had entered by.  One went outside to the rear of the store, one was narrow and went to the equally narrow employee bathroom, one was a wide and heavy door that went to the cooler where all their perishables were stored and the final door went to the small office used by Harriman, the manager of Kendrick�s.  As Joe crossed the room and prepared to take off his jacket he heard Harriman rustle around in the office and approach the door.  Joe knew what was coming next and he wasn�t at all in the mood for it.

"Hey, where the hell have you been?"  Harriman said as he emerged from the office.

Joe turned and looked at him but didn't say anything.

"First off,"  Harriman continued.  "you're a half an hour late.  Again."

Harriman stopped and looked at Joe apparently waiting for a response and excuse from Joe.  Joe knew he was late he just didn't particularly care so he didn't say anything.

"And where the hell were you yesterday?"  Harriman continued, growing louder and harsher as he went.  "You think you can just not show up when you're scheduled?  Laura had to work an extra shift yesterday because you decided to stay home.  Get your shit and get out of here.  You're fired.  I'm sick of dealing with you."

Joe wasn't particularly surprised that Harriman had fired him.  He had seen it coming anyway.  He hadn't liked the job and had grown so frustrated with Laura and Harriman's idiocy but he still needed the job.  His mother and Curt were leaving less and less food around the house.  Joe was convinced that they were purposefully avoiding feeding him or allowing him to eat.  Joe had been using his meager paycheck from Kendrick's to feed himself at school.

Without a word Joe turned and walked out of the back room of the store.  Laura was still glaring at him but now she sported a cruel smirk.  She knew.  Joe continued ignoring her and walked over to one of the coolers.  He opened the door and removed a two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew.  He tucked it under his arm and walked for the front door of the store.

"Hey!"  Laura hollered after him.  "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Joe raised his right hand and extended a middle finger at her as he walked out.  The door swung closed with a jingle of bells and he could hear her hollering inside.  He heard Harriman speaking but she kept right on hollering.  Joe just held the bottle under his arm and walked back out onto the road.

On his long cold walk home he discreetly smoked a joint he had in his cigarette pack.  With each puff he calmed down and his sinking feeling lessened.  His day had been pretty bad so far, worse than usual and that was really saying something considering the state of his life lately.  He looked forward to BK's party tonight.  He decided on his walk that he was definitely going to go.  He was also going to drink himself into oblivion.  He then thought of Jenny.  He didn't think that she was actually interested in him, how could she be, but he still was going to go and perhaps he would even talk to her with the help of alcohol induced bravado.

He also made up his mind that it would be tomorrow.  Tomorrow would be his last night in the world.  He would climb into a bathtub full of warm water and slice the arteries in his arms and legs.  The water would prevent the wounds from clotting and he would be at peace finally.  He would die in the warm, soothing water.  Asleep, never to wake again. 

***

Before Joe knew it he was walking into the driveway of his house.  He noticed that his mother's car was still parked there, meaning they were both still home.  As he approached the house he tried look thorough the windows but could not see any movement.  He hoped that if he was quiet then he wouldn't have to deal with them.

As he stepped up to the door and heard the television on inside his hopes sunk.  He pushed the door open and saw Curt on the couch mindlessly watching the television.  To his right his mother was standing in the archway that lead to the kitchen, leaning against one side and glaring at Joe.

"What are you doing home so early?"  She accused.

Joe closed the door behind him and thought quick

"Harriman didn�t need me today."  Joe responded as he walked past her into the kitchen.

She turned around as he set his bottle of soda on the counter.  He took his jacket off and tossed over the back of one of the chairs.  He quickly tucked his left hand into the pocket of the black sweatshirt he had taken to wearing around the house as well as under his jacket.  He grabbed his soda and was about to pour himself a glass and put the bottle in the refrigerator but then quickly thought better of it.  He did not want Curt to be able to get at it.

"Did you even go?"  His mother said.

He stopped and looked at her.

"Of course I went."  His annoyance saturated every word.

"Uh-huh."  She said as she rolled her eyes.

He spun around to face her.

"Where the hell else would I go?"  He nearly yelled.

She looked at him for a moment and it was obvious she didn't believe what he was saying.

"I don't know.  You tell me."

His rage flooded through his every nerve.  His fist tightened around the neck of his soda bottle.  He really wanted to just hurl it right at her face.  Instead he stormed past her and up the stairs.  He slammed his door and sat down on his bed.  He panted and tried to calm down.  After a few minutes of just breathing deeply and trying to relax he did.  He opened his soda bottle and took a drink.  He placed it next to him on the floor and laid down.

When he was young he had put glow in the dark stars all over the ceiling so when the lights were off the entire ceiling glowed and Joe felt like he was peacefully adrift among them.  Now that he was older he still got the same comfort and would find himself lying on his bed for hours just staring unthinking at the gulf of tiny lights before him.  He would just drift, alone and at peace through the nothingness.

He drifted for what could have been hours when the door to his room burst open with a loud bang as it struck the wall.  Curt was standing on the other side with Joe's jacket clenched in one hand.  He tossed it into the room where it landed heavily in the middle of the floor.

"Pick up your fucking messes."  He said harshly.

Curt was looking to throw down, Joe just knew it.  Curt did just this sort of thing all the time.  He always wanted to start a fight.  It was like the guy got off on being a rampaging asshole.  Joe didn�t want to fight.  He just wanted to be left alone.  The fact rather surprised him after everything that had happened.

After a moment Curt continued on a different track.

"Where's that packet of alfredo noodles?"  He asked.

"What packet of alfredo noodles?"  Joe asked in as neutral a tone as he could muster.

"The ones that were in the cupboard."  Curt answered exasperated.

Joe had to think for a moment to figure out what the hell Curt was talking about.

"Oh, I ate them last night."  Joe said, still maintaining the neutral tone.

"Those were for supper tonight."  Curt said with his ever present harshness.

Joe had a feeling that that was the fight that Curt was going for.  He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.  He leaned on his hands and shrugged, indifferent to Curt's attitude.

"Sorry."  He said in a tone that hinted at the fact that he wasn't really.

"You know, it'd be nice if you had just a little bit of respect for the other people in this house."

Joe hung his head.  Not this fucking routine again.  When Curt ran out of things to say he always fell back on that.  Respect.  It was like the pot calling the kettle black for Curt to accuse Joe of not having any respect for the other people in the house.  Joe's ambivalent resolve began to crumble as his rage broke through in tiny bursts of hatred.  He breathed deeply in an attempt to remain calm.

"And how exactly was I supposed to know you were saving them?"  He asked trying as well as he could to remain calm.

Curt seemed to be reveling in the fury that he provoked in Joe.

"Because we told you to leave it the hell alone."  Curt snapped back.

"No you didn't."  Joe said.

"Yes we did!"  Curt nearly screamed.

Joe's resolve crumbled further as he nearly shook with rage.

"I'm sorry if there's finally food in the house that I eat it."  Joe said slowly.

"Oh, don't even start with that."  Curt retorted.

Joe shook with the rush of consciously suppressed adrenaline.  His body tensed and wanted to rush and fight.  It wanted to rip and tear and break bones and make blood flow.  Joe knew he really needed to force it back down.  He needed to stay clam.  Curt had him cornered this time so if he didn�t calm down then it would get real messy.

"Whatever, man."  Joe said as he began to lay back down.

Curt's face contorted with anger.  He apparently wasn't at all happy that he wasn't going to get the fight he wanted.

"Don't you fucking turn away from me when I'm talking to you!"  Curt snapped.

Joe stopped lying down and sat back up.  What the fuck did he just say?  It wasn't like Curt to resort to cliches like that.  Joe was having an even harder time controlling his rage.  His white knuckle method of anger management was failing fast.  Curt's verbal fight might just turn into a bloody physical confrontation.  Joe wanted to lunge and slam his fist into Curt's face, sending him tumbling down the stairs.  That would be fun to watch.

"You know, Curt,"  Joe said, glaring.  "you're not my father."

"You're goddamn right."  Curt answered.  "If you were my kid I'd smack the ever-lovin' shit out of you."

Joe glared at him.  As though he could focus his fury into a blast of ill will aimed directly at Curt's face.  Curt returned the glare with his cold, blue eyes.  Joe's resolve crumbled more and more.  He felt near the point of breaking.  His willpower was reduced to a tiny thread, frayed and ready to break.  Curt finally triumphantly broke away, like he had wan the stare down, and slammed the door.  Joe shook and twitched.

He laid back down but couldn't seem to stop the fury fueled adrenaline from surging through him.  He finally sat up and nabbed his jacket off the floor.  He pulled out his cigarette pack and removed the bowl and the tiny, rolled baggie.  There was only a little left in the bag now.  He sighed and packed it into the bowl.  Using the lighter he lit the bowl and smoked it down.  With each deep inhale he felt his body calm.  He felt almost normal for a change.

When his bowl was finished he tucked everything back into the cigarette pack and placed it next to his alarm clock.  He stretched back out on the bed and just relaxed.  Outside his window the sun sank behind the far hills and night set in.  Eventually Joe looked over at his clock and decided it was time to leave.  BK had told him what time the party would be starting and people would start showing up.  If Joe left right away then, after the forty-five minute walk to BK's house, he would arrive about half an hour late.  He wasn't concerned with the time he arrived.  He knew that people didn�t really show up to a party until about an hour after it was scheduled to start.

He sat up and pulled his jacket on.  He was calm.  Not complacent but at least calm.  He put his pack of cigarettes in his pocket, checked to make sure his boots were tied and left his room.  Downstairs his mother and Curt were waiting for him.

"We need to talk, Joe."  She said.

He stopped and looked at them.

"Sit down."  Curt commanded with a hand motioning toward the rocking chair.

"I was just leaving."  Joe said plainly.

"We're not going to tolerate this much longer, Joe."  She said crossing her arms.

"Whatever."  He said as he moved for the door.

"Joe!"  His mother hollered.  "This is-"

The slamming door cut off the rest of what she said.  He wasn't going to discuss anything with them.  He had somewhere to be.  He wasn't going to allow any of their lecturing bullshit to stop him from getting where he was going.  He exited the driveway and was off for BK's house.


Novels Home
Chapter One: Life Is Cheap, Death Is Free
Chapter Two: On The Way Down
Chapter Three: From The Bottom Looking Up
Chapter Four: As These Tears Soak A Calloused Heart