I got up that day just like always. I brushed my teeth for two minuets and forty-five seconds like I always do. I walked down the street, five point seven blocks, and went into an Italian restaurant at nine fifteen in the morning exactly. I went into the kitchen and into the back room, sat, drank a cappuccino and listened to Alexander Dontonio. He had a slight twitch in his neck and was fat. He smoked fat Cuban cigar. He drank from fat wine glasses. His fat gold chain around his neck held some medal that I didn’t recognize and never cared to ask. He was fat. Very, very fat. I don’t like fat people. But I tolerated Dontonio because he was my paycheck writer. He asked me how I was and if I wanted a glass of wine. I declined. I didn’t drink. I wanted milk. I asked for milk. His kid brought me a glass of milk. It was cold. I like cold milk. His kid started humming a song as he walked away. It had a strong beat I remember. It sounded like a military march song. His kid started to sing the words. “Give that chicken fat back to the chicken and don’t be chicken again.” Dontonio yelled at his kid. He said not to sing that stupid song. He added an EH like he always did at the end of his sentences. I liked the way he said EH! He yelled it while lifting the back of hand toward his kid. EH! I liked the way it ended his sentences. He said it like he was saying the explanation point. It made me laugh when he said it. I liked it. EH! I met no one like him before in my life. Even the soviets weren’t like this. They were funny people. I liked them a little bit. They were funny. I liked the way they drank. I liked the way they danced. I liked the way soviets would do this little kick with their feet that I never could quite do. It was like a tip-ity tat thing. It’s hard to explain. I liked the dance they did too. They would kick their feet out and HEY! It reminded me of Dontonio’s EH! I had meet a guy kind of like Dontonio in the Corp. But he was a young skinny kid who insisted on calling me Harry. I hate being called Harry. My mother called me Harry. My dad named me and mom didn’t like the name. She called me Harry. I don’t like mother. Mother was mean. She was like the full blown version of my worst nightmare when I was awake. Mother was silly. She acted like she loved me when we went to church but mother never loved me. Mother was mean. I don’t like mother. My skin jumped thinking about her. Dontonio asked me if I was okay. I nodded quickly. Brooklyn is a noisy place. I don’t like it. Have you ever seen Arkansas? I wanted to go to Texas someday. I didn’t go there with the Corp to train. I was in the Marine corp. Have you seen DC? It’s a scary place I hear. Dontonio looked at me and tapped the table to get my attention. He passed me a piece of paper and smiled. I smiled back. I don’t know why. California is pretty.
Bam! I didn’t mean to do it. I hate flies. Flies. I hate flies. Flies. Flies. Flies. It landed on my shoulder and laughed at me. B.B started laughing at me. Kill the fly he told me. Kill it. Kill. It. B.B hated flies too. Not B.B like the gun. My brother had a B.B gun. Mother yelled at me. How was I suppose to know what would happen when he fired at the can in my hand? B.B, kill the fly. B.B. I don’t get it. I didn’t know what would happen. Mother was very upset. How could I be so stupid she asked. How. How. Why was I such a burden to her she wanted to know. Once Robert killed a fly with a B.B gun. Mother said that wasn’t right. She killed flies by dumping her Gibson on them. She said that way they died happy. How did she know? Flies. Happy. Gibson. I didn’t get it. How did she know flies liked Gibson? Maybe they liked their martinis with a twist. Or an olive? Maybe they wanted a shot of rum or tequila. Did she have a connection with the flies? The fly is walking down to my elbow. I hate the fly. If anyone had a connection with files it would be mother. Mother. Harry. Bebe. I didn’t get it. It wasn’t my fault that my brother shot me with his gun. I didn’t know. Mother hated it. Mother hated me. She told me to wash my hands in bleach. We were out of bleach. We had ammonia. I used that. She was mad. I hate flies. Stupid flies. Dumb flies. Annoying flies circling my head. I hate flies. Maybe I should just BAM! I shot it. It died. I got court-martialed. There’s a hole in my elbow. The fly died. I laughed. Ha. Mother would have cried. Ha. Mother. Cry. I liked that. Ha. Maybe it’ll stop bleeding soon. My sergeant yelled at me. Stupid man. Couldn’t he see I killed the fly? Have you ever been to Maine? I like Lobster.
Dontonio is looking at me as we walk down the park. He’s asking me about being in the corp. He likes listening to the stories I tell him. He likes it I think. His son, Ricky, does too. I call him tricky dick sometimes cause his name is Richard but he goes by Ricky. Have you ever heard of the Texas Rangers? Dontonio is showing me a picture of a guy. We’re walking to the airport, or to a bus to get to the Airport. He wants to talk to some one. I don’t remember his name. Rual? Rall? His last name reminds me of car oil. Cartroil? Castor? Something like that. We are on the ground now. I was thinking of mother during the flight while Dontonio was rambling about something. I don’t talk much. My brother was a talker. I loved him. The air is very humid and the sky is bright. A breeze makes me smell salt. I hear birds. I see the beach and wonder if Earnest Hemingway ever saw this same ocean. I love Hemingway. He wrote so real. So much of his writing was real. He liked to use good adjectives too. He didn’t over use them though. A lot of people over use them. Last time I read Hemingway I was in a chair in my apartment with the window open. It was four in the morning. Brooklyn was quite for once. That was last night. I can hear Dontonio introduce me to people. They kiss his ring when they shake his hand. Italians. They slap me on the back after Dontonio makes a joke about me. I didn’t hear it or want to hear it or care to hear it or feel the need to hear it or think about hearing it. We are walking to a big car. There are a lot of them. We all get into a different one in pairs. I rode with Dontoino. We are going to a big hotel and a bar later. I hope they have milk. Dontonio is asking me if I remember when we met. I did. I was homeless. He gave me my job. I just got back from the little island nation that’s all spread out like some one hit it with a sledge hammer and that’s where all the pieces lay. He introduces me to someone named Hidell when we get to the hotel. He says he is a real good shot. He asks if I want to go shooting with him. I say sure. I love guns. This gun was an Italian gun he told me. It’s their infantry gun. It was a good gun. I liked the feeling of it my hands and the scope pressing against my eye. We shot at pigs. I love pigs. I love pork. Bacon. Pork. Ham. Yum. Pigs. Pigs. Pigs. Pork. Pork. Pork. Yum yum yum. We are going to eat the pigs we killed at a cook out. I am excited to eat the crispy skin. Yum. I could eat a lake of pigs. An ocean of pigs. A sea of pigs. A bay of pigs. Bay of pigs. Dontonio said something about that today. I like the name. Something about that guy and the bay of pigs. Something about the guy he likes and something about the guy he didn’t like and what he didn’t know they would do or not. Dontonio is odd. He is fat too. Bay of pigs. Ha. Ha. Ha. When I shot at the pig I missed. Hidell said he thought I was in the military. I told him I had been. He said he thought I was a marksman. I said I had been but lost my ranking before I got out. He shook his head. Ducked down. Breathed. Shot. The pig died. He shot it right in the brain. He didn’t hit any other pig. He just blew the brains out of the one. He was a very good shot. He heard something. He looked up. Shot. A bird fell to our feet. He was a very good shot. He asked me what I did for Dontonio. I told him my job and he laughed. With out a gun? He asked me. I told him there were many ways to kill a pig. I took out a cigarette and lit it. He smiled and asked me nothing more. I could tell he wondered how I got in with Dontonio. I’m sure he thought I was a nut. Nut. Me? Nut… We rode back with the pig in the back of a old jeep to a big house. It was big and looked like Dontonio’s Italian villa. He had a house in Texas. It wasn’t as big. It was a lot more spread out than stacked up. This was stacked up. Big spirally things and big pointy roofs on the balcony. It wasn’t Dontonio’s house. It was Rall’s or Raul’s or whatever his name is. He was Cuban. Cuban. It’s funny how Cuban’s say Cuba. It’s like que-bah. But not really. They smoke big cigars in que-bah. They smell like the wind when it goes through the trees. Dontonio offers me one. I breathed in the scent and exhaled. I felt like it was dirt in my cigar but I liked it. It was better than any thing I’d smoked before. We meet big brother to Raul or Rallie or who ever he was. He was a funny looking man with a queer way of doing things. He spoke a little bit odd too. His words sounded funny and different than I was used to but I could understand him okay. He kept talking about some one and something about an m-barito or embargo. He was mad at the man. He kept saying it was stupid. Dontonio did his EH and spat at the mention of the man’s name.
The man with the big nose, the big brother man, was saying that something had to be done. I didn’t understand what they were talking about. I didn’t care. I eat the pig they had barbequed. The man asked if I was okay in the head. Dontonio said I was off but on enough in the right way. We stayed in que-bah for a few days before flying back to New York. Dontonio was asking me if I understood what was going to happen. I told him no problems. I understood enough. He apologized that I wasn’t going to be the head of this one. I told him I understood. He asked if I’d be willing to help Hidell. I said I would. It didn’t matter to me. Dontonio took care of me either way. I wanted to work to make him see that I was a good guy to have around. He said I’d be leaving a week before it happened because he didn’t want to risk me getting stuck at the airport or anything. I was leaving the fifteenth. He walked me through what would happen that day and that Hidell would help me out with what I needed. I nodded. He asked if everything was okay. I nodded. He asked if I needed anything for the job. I nodded. I needed a new pair of binoculars and the measurements. Hidell was getting the measurements he said. He’d get me a pair of binoculars before I left in November but this being only July he had some other jobs for me to do. He asked if I could take care of a competitor. Some one was moving in down the block. He didn’t approve of them being there. He said that they hadn’t paid the price to live on the block. He said they were trying to take over the crime of the area. I didn’t like that. I need Dontonio. He was my life at this point. I need his money to pay for my life. I need his work to make me sane. He was like my dad and my brother. He was nice to me and called me chum and kid and bud and pal and he told me I’d always have a place in the family. He said he’d always take care of me. Dontonio didn’t like the new guy, I didn’t like him and he had to go. Go. GO. GO! How did I get into this work. I need a job. Dontonio had one. He had been helping me out and then I heard he wanted some one gone. I made them gone. He liked how I did the job. I did it for him all the time. Some time he said just hurt. Sometimes I forgot. He was always nice though. One time he helped me out of trouble with the police. He said he’d help me and he always did. He’d say didn’t I tell you’d fix it? He did. He always did. I loved him like a father and like a brother all at once.
I left to take care of the job. I walked into the store and asked, very very nicely for the money they owed Dontonio. They laughed at me. They said I looked stupid. They said I wasn’t scary. They said they wouldn’t pay. Scary. Stupid. I showed them. I did my job. Got the money. Cut the gas lines. Lit a cigarette. I’ll show them scary. Stupid corpses. I walked to Dontonio and gave him the money. He smiled at me and asked if there would be any more problems. I said no. Now he could buy a new store front. It had some fire damage. That’s okay. It was cheap. Dontonio said I could live above the new place once it was fixed up if I wanted. I didn’t. I liked my place and the plant that was in the window. Dontonio looked at me. What’s with the hair he asked. I shrugged. Come on. He said I should look the part of his right hand. He got my hair cut and told me to keep a comb in my pocket. Comb your hair when you are getting close to doing your job. He said that’s what all the real ones did. Okay. I wanted to go to Alaska and build a hut and be left alone. A little house. A little piece of land. In Alaska. I wanted to be in Alaska. Why? Cause no one can get you there. Dontonio promised me that he would buy me a piece of land in Alaska and I could live there once the November job was done. I’d be there by Christmas, if I wanted. He told it was a great idea. Great idea! Hunt the caribou. Build a snowman. So he combed my hair the way he wanted it.
I had been walking my post as a sentry just like always. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back. And then I saw him in the woods! In the jungle just ahead of me! He was coming closer and closer. He thought I didn’t see him. He thought I didn’t know. He thought he was silent. He thought he was stealth. But then! THEN! In a moment! In a fleeting second I was on top of him! We fought in the jungle! Rolling over each other! Rolling! Fight! Fist fling ever direction! There was nothing but our own instinct to survive pushing us in our fights we fought! Hand over fist. Fist! Fist into face! I looked up seeing the other sentry approach and then. Then. Then. Then he was gone! Out from under me. I shot. Shot into the darkness but he was gone. GONE! Gone! Gone. Gone and I was under investigation yet again. Yet again.
In Texas I had a pull pork sandwich. Yum. Pork. I love pork. It was good. Hidell was talking to me telling me about the plan. Listen, he said. Put down the food and listen. I told him I was. I asked if he liked my hair. He didn’t care. He told me about the plan. I was suppose to help him. I was suppose to make sure he did it right. I was suppose to be sure he didn’t go over time. I was supposed to be Dontonio’s right hand. I was suppose to walk with him so we could both get used to the building. He said that we would memorize all the exits so we didn’t get caught. We would make a few exits too. I nodded. He ran up, he ran down. He ran up he ran down. He laughed at me when I kept passing him on the steps and waited outside the building. He asked me how I could run so fast. I asked him if he had ever been in combat. He said no. I told him that I pretended Charlie was on my six. I kept running cause Charlie wanted to kill me. I didn’t know who Charlie was I told him. He laughed and asked where Dontonio had found me. I didn’t know what to say. He would run up to the window and open up and empty the back pack, pretend to twist a bunch of pieces together, bring the invisible thing to his eye, say pop, and then start to untwist the invisible thing again. Put it in his back pack, pretend to throw the back pack down the garbage chute and run down the steps a few layers, lock a door and pretend to take off his painter suite, threw it into a trash bin and ran down the rest of the way. I followed him and repeated his actions when he did. Then I’d beat him down the rest of the stairs, not even dazed.
Marina was such a lovely flower. She and I meet in the Soviet Union. She was gorgeous and was a beautiful flower. Lovely flower. Amazing flower. Marina. Marina. She was my best friend and was to be my wife as well but. But. But. She’s dead. She died. Died. Died. I miss her. She died. Died in the Soviet Republic. Died in the USSR. Died in the union of soviets. Died. Died. She couldn’t get any medicine. Died. Because she couldn’t get any of the pills she needed. Died. Because she couldn’t get any antibiotics. Died. Died because she was waiting in a line. Died because she wasn’t with me. Died. Because she was with me. Died. Died. I missed her so much. It took me so much to get to the USSR and then to meet her. Now she’s dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. And I missed her. Died. because when the government pays for everyone. The people get nothing. Nothing. My Marina died with nothing. Nothing except our daughter inside of her. Nothing. Everything. Anything. Nothing. All of it and none of it. My Marina and my Jackie. Dead. Died. Dead.
We were sitting in the building. Sixth floor. My painter suit was uncomfortable because he had made me wear a pretend police uniform underneath. All of a sudden though. All of a sudden like. Just real fast like. POP then he swore. POP POP he fired twice more. He swore again. Let’s get running he said. Okay. He did what he always did. I glance back out the window and saw what he did. The man was dead. The man was dead. Dead dead dead. Kennedy was dead. He broke down the weapon and threw it down. He ripped off his suite. We never did that. Take it off he yelled. He yelled. Don’t yell at me I said. Don’t yell? He asked. He grabbed my chest and yelled to my head. I just shot that man dead! I just shot the president you dunder head! Take it off! I’ll yell if I have to he said. I took it off slower than we usually did and threw it down the chute. He ran down the steps my uniform was uncomfortable. We ran out the door and then he was dead. Hidell dropped dead! A bullet in his uniform. A bullet in his chest. I was scared and I ripped off the uniform. Just my black pants. Just my white shirt. I don’t know what he did. I don’t remember what Dontonio said. Where was he? Where was he. My papa. My friend. People keep dropping dead.
Edwin cheated on mother. Mother slapped me. Edwin slept with another. Mother beat on me. Mother. Mother. I hate her so. Mother. Mother. I loved her so. Edwin was daddy when I was six. Edwin was nobody when I was nine. Six. Nine. Nine. Six. Mother and Edwin. Fast and Furious. Edwin and mother. Crash and burn. Edwin cheated. Mother beat. I don’t know why they hated each other. I don’t know how they loved each other. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t. I guess mother was lonely. She wouldn’t have been lonely if she was nicer to me. She would have been happy if she were nice. She would have been happy if I wasn’t alive. She would have been happy if I were good or if I were bad. I don’t know what she would have done if I was different. But? Different? Different in what way? Way long ago my dreams would have encouraged me to change. But now. Now now. No. now. Now. Now. No. I can not change. I don’t know how to change. Things. Things are so messed up. Pork. Pigs. Surrounded. Surrendered. Sit. Stand. Fast. Fail. Bebe looked at me. Smiled. Bebe. Ah, Bebe. The police car was dirty. DIRTY! It’s filthy back here! I told the police. Defiantly dirty. I wonder if my plant is still alive back in Manhattan. I’m sure Dontonio would take care of it. He’d take care of me. He’d take care of it. He’d come and he’d have to help me. I was like a son, a brother, a friend. Please. Perhaps. Please will bring him to me. Please. Press. Less rest. Up all day. Up all night. Edwin hated me. His son was nice. He let me stay in New York with him once. I liked him. Once though. Then he kicked me out. Mother and I had to leave. We really left. And I. I had been doing really so much better. But. But. We left. All I did was poke his wife with a knife. Hardly a tap. Hardly a tap. Just a scratch. Mother didn’t like it when I hit her back either. It was a big fight. A whole big thing. A whole big thing. Dontonio would have laughed. I miss Dontonio. My mother said I’d never get a friend. I showed her. My fingers. Ink. Ink. Ink. Ink everywhere. I hate ink. It’s everywhere. Oh. Ink. Why ink? Black black on my finger tips. All black all over. Why the ink? Now on paper my fingers press. What is this purpose if you please? What what did I do. The ink won’t come out. The ink won’t come out.
They arrested me and threw me in jail. I called my papa to throw my bail. He didn’t answer. He didn’t care. Why wasn’t papa here? The cops asked me. They looked me in the eyes. Did I shoot Kennedy? What a surprise. My mother never thought I’d mean anything. And here I was. Mother always said I was a nothing with a nothing name and a nothing future. Mother always liked my brother better. I won’t be dead. I won’t be dead. But here it is. I mean something now I guess. Mother said I should get smart and study something I can learn, like how to pray and beg. She said that’s all I’d be good for. Prayin’ and beggin’. But mother didn’t know that I’d measure up to this I guess. Maybe mother would come and see me in jail. Maybe she would post my bail. I never remembered why mother hated me. There weren’t a lot of things I did wrong. I guess I didn’t do anything right though. Now I was here. A fat man staring at me while my eyes danced in the past. People kept asking is that the guy? Is that the guy who killed Kennedy? I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t do it. I don’t think I did. Mother always said I was a loser and a pauper. But pauper was too big of a word for me to remember now. Where was Dontonio? I missed him. I missed him so much. He said he’d always be there. He said he’d always help me. Where was my Dontonio? My father and my brother. Bebe was standing in the corner looking at me. You did it. He said. Remember? You did it. Bebe looked at me and smiled. I didn’t do it I told him. It wasn’t me. The fat man looked at me. You didn’t do what he asked. I told him I wasn’t talking to him. Bebe was laughing at me. Come on boy! He laughed. You’re in the big leagues now. How did I get here? I asked B.B. How? B.B lit a cigarette. We picked you up. The fat sergeant interrupted me and B.B again. We picked you up at the movies. The fat man was annoying me. I didn’t like fat people. I don’t like you I said. He seemed very annoyed with me. Whatcha’ going to do kid? B.B. asked. I don’t know I said. The fat man looked at me odd. You okay Oswald? He asked. I shrugged. Bebe I asked. But he was gone. BEBE! Bebe. Bebe. Now he’s gone just like Dontonio. I love that man.
In jail Dontonio visited me. He said he was my uncle. How was I doing he asked. What do I do? I asked. Keep it straight kid. Take the hit. It’s okay. They can’t convict. They got no evidence. You can’t shoot straight. They have no evidence. Take the hit, for me. Okay Okay. I felt lonely. I felt alone. I felt bad. I didn’t even have any pork to eat in jail. People kept talking to me. Kept asking me about the event. What was I suppose to say? I had ordered the gun, but I used Hidell’s name. I didn’t know what to do. What was I suppose to do. I didn’t tell anyone that we weren’t trying to kill the president. I didn’t tell anyone anything. It wasn’t my job to kill the president. I wasn’t my job to kill Connally either. Or was it? No one had to know that Dontonio wanted the lady dropped. That’s what he said, drop her. What was I suppose to say? Sorry, I was trying to kill the lady? Jackie freaking O. Who cares? That lady is psycho. You should have heard what Bobbie said about her. Didn’t I tell you? Bobbie was the one who wanted her dropped. I don’t care why, was it my job to care?
Johnson took over. Everyone made a big freaking deal that Jackie freaking O held the bible in her bloody outfit. Who cared? Bobbie wanted something formed to investigate the ‘event’. He was all hot and heavy about. He said the mob did it, the Russians, everyone and no one. He did it. HE DID IT!
The warren commission. I hate that stupid thing. They kept saying I did it. I did it. They kept saying I did it. I did it. But I didn’t. Hidell did it. But he was dead. Some random bullet killed him. I heard he was a cop. A real one. Dontonio hired a real cop to shoot Kennedy. What do you know? Now I’m a cop killer too. His family was screaming bloody murder and demanded I die quick. I heard a lot of people said that I was going to die. Die die die die die die. Die? For what? I didn’t do nothing. Remember? Dontonio said he had the cure all pill. It’d fix everything. He was planning on talking to Bobbie. Bobbie was going after the mob long before all this. Bobbie was a hero. He was a good ol’ boy. Ha. Haha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Bobbie, a good ol’ boy. His granddaddy was a bootlegger with Dontonio’s. His daddy sold his soul. His sister was crazy. Good ol’ boy. Ha. Dontonio had what he called proof positive that I’d get out. Bobbie hired Dontonio. He released a picture of good ol’ boy and Jackie kissing all steamy. That’s why Bobbie wanted her gone. It was to keep her from telling Johnny. She was feeling guilty, being catholic and all. When the papers got a hold of it they ran. Bobbie was royally and totally doomed. The cops stared looking at my history. I’m just a crazy boy, right? I’m just the boy who flashes back and sees the dead, right? I’m just the nut who the ol’ man in New York looks after, right? Two words. As if. As if. As if. As if. As if. As if. As if. As if. As if.
Then, it happened. It changed. My life. It. Was. Over. And at the same time, it began. I never felt the same about myself or my life or the life I lived after what happened next in my life. It was sad. It was hard. It was happy. It was good. It felt right. It felt wrong. If I didn’t do something though, my life would end. Abruptly. Quickly. Strongly and with lightening coming out my nose. I had to. I felt like a loser and a champion after what I did next. I felt like a killer and a hero. The world hated me for something I didn’t do. Or did I? So, here it was. The switch. The change. The point where I have to decide. I could die for Dontonio, in fact I would. But, is that who I am protecting? Or, or am I protecting stupid man Hidell? I would have to sacrifice someone. Someone. Someone. I don’t know who or how. Would Dontonio help? But that, that was the change. In my heart. In my head. In my soul. In my body. In my life. In my death. That was the change. Dontonio, all big in New York, was talking to the press. I got a paper in prison. They said they still didn’t know what had happened and needed answers. Dontonio called me the freak he took care of. FREAK. Freak. Freak! Freak! Freak? Me, a freak. A freak! I’ll show him! I didn’t do it I screamed. I didn’t do it, but if I did here’s how! I told the cops about my daddy Dontonio. Listen Listen! It wasn’t me, it was Hidell! Dontonio is the man. He was the one who told us what to do! Look look! Here are the plans! Here are the ideas and the blue prints! See, see, this ticket, it was bought by big Dontonio. Stop Children what’s that sound? Everybody look what’s going down. Battle lines are drawn. I can’t be right, since everyone is wrong. There’s so much resistance. Dontonio. Me. I had to decide. I sat in my jail cell. I was kept away from everyone. Everyone hated me. Maybe, maybe I could kill myself, then people would be happy. But. But. But. I didn’t do it. Doesn’t that matter? Is it just a lying contest? Is it just a cover up. I didn’t do it! I’m innocent! I’m innocent! I have the proof. I have the proof. But what do I do with it. I lay back down. I’m starting to think. My mind is open. My mind is open. My mind is open. My mind. My mind my mind. I feel so foggy still. I feel so confused. I start to cry.
Mother was taking me to church. She said I had to be a good boy for once. A good boy went to church. I remember that the preacher was grouchy that morning. It seemed so to me. He yelled that lying was as bad a murder. He yelled that sinners need repentance. He said that we were doomed if we didn’t. He said that death in sin was worse than, how did he say it. The human body would die long before the soul. Unless, he said, unless the body had sin. Then the soul died before the body. It confused me to no end. If I could, I’d ask the preacher to explain himself. My mind starts to hurt. It hurts to think about it. My mother was nice at church. When we go home she dumped a Gibson on a fly and locked me in the closet for shooting a cat with a b.b gun. I didn’t mean to. I was aiming for the fence. She locked me in. I hated small spaces. I hated crowded places. I hated small places. I hated mother. Mother was mean to me. She loved Robert though. She said he was an angel among men. I missed Dontonio. I missed him so much. He said he’d take care of me!
I had a cell mate. He was put in with me cause I guess they didn’t care if he killed me. I don’t know. I don’t care. That’s all I know. I don’t know. I don’t care. I know I don’t care. He looked at me real odd. You ain’t crazy like they say are you? He asked. I was crying. Maybe I was I told him. He laughed. It’s okay guy, he said. I’m no killer. I smiled. He was nice. He was skinny. I liked him. He asked me what I was in for. Didn’t you hear? I asked him. I’m the guy who shot Kennedy, or so they tell me. Did you really? He asked me with a little look in his eye like he didn’t care either way. Nope. I said. Ain’t we all innocent he laughed. But I really was, wasn’t I. Look pal. My cellmate said, if I was you and I could prove that I didn’t do it. I’d be telling it to anyone who would listen. So far, all you got is me. Start blabbing. He smiled. His smile was so sweet and kind. You’re like my brother I told him about Robert. He laughed and suggested I call him Richie. His name was Richard. He was a crook. So, I thought. I thought about it. I thought about it a lot. Tell them that I didn’t do it. But Dontonio. I told him about a friend I was trying to protect. He looked around the cell. Do you see him here? He asked me? no. I surely didn’t. You say you want a revolution? We all want to change the world. Tell the truth. Protect my Father. Tell the truth. Protect my brother. Richie smiled. He said he was a veteran. I smiled. Me too I told him. We laughed at that. Tell me the story, kid. He said. Kid. Kid. Kid. Kid. Kid. Kid. Kid. Kid. Just like BeBe. Bebe had been gone for a long time. Okay. I told him my story. Think I can prove it I asked. Yep. He said, he really did. So I did.
I told that fat sergeant about my fat friend. I told him about Dontonio. I told the skinny smoker District attorney about the mafia Dontonio ran. I told the young boy with the internal revenue service about the tax evasion. I told the Marshall all I wanted was three things. I wanted to be free and never go to jail again. I told him I wanted to be free. Free. Free. Free. Free. Free. Free. Free. I told him I wanted a little place and a piece of land in Alaska, the fed’s could afford it. They could. They would. They did. I testified and it was so.
As for the third thing.
It was years after the shooting. I was content. Content! The feds told me to take some pills. They said that it’d keep the monsters away. See. I’m on meds. See? I’m sane. Sane! Sane! Sane. Almost. But now I can make jokes. Bebe doesn’t come around anymore. I don’t miss him that much though. I have new company. I keep taking the meds even though sometimes I get dizzy because they said I had to. I’ve never been one to disobey orders. Orders. Orders. I take orders well.
My brother and I were running through the snow. We were little kids back then. I was eight maybe and he was older. We were running down the street, sleds in hand. I ran and ran and ran through the streets laughing and enjoying being free from mother. She was no where near us and she wouldn’t be home for hours. We were free. We ran to the top of a hill and Robert told me to get ready. Bebe was laughing next to us. Get ready. Get ready! He pushed me off the hill. My sled and I flew through the white stuff enjoying it. We wrecked at the end of the hill. Ran right into a poll. But for that ride, for that moment. For that moment. For that moment. We were just kids. No mother. No problems. Robert told me he remembered when dad once pushed him down the hill just like he did me. Father died before I was born. It was his last wish for my name to be Lee Harvey Oswald. Mother loved him I suppose. Robert smiles and looks me in the eye. You’re nothing like him he tells me. Nothing at all. He says I’m much better than father. He says I’m too little to hurt anyone. Father was a big man. He hurt people. Don’t hurt anyone Lee Robert tells me. Don’t ever hurt anyone. I don’t know if I’ve hurt many people in my life. I know I’ve tried not to. Look out for yourself Robert told me before I left for boot camp. He pats me on the back as I head on the bus. Remember, don’t hurt anyone. He reminds me. He is in uniform too. He left for the war the next day. I didn’t know he was leaving. I wonder if I hurt anyone.
As for the third thing.
My mother is staring at me. She barely moves. She’s not drunk yet but she is close. When she gets drunk. I know what happens. When she gets drunk she’ll start swinging. Mother likes to hit when she is drunk. It hurts less. It hurts her less. I don’t know why she hits. I don’t know what I did wrong. I don’t know where I went wrong! Mother! Mother! I screamed at her. Mother! What did I do! Let me make it right! Mother! I never could make it right. I never could make her happy. I never never never could. All I wanted was to make her happy. All I wanted was to make her proud. Mother! Mother! I’m only ten. Mother! What did she want from me! What was I suppose to do. I didn’t do well in school. I read too much. Stop being red! Stop! Stop! I tried being a communist to make her happy. I tried to be a Russian to make her happy. I tried everything. She said she wanted me to be a Marxist so I was. She said I should be a dough boy so I was. Mother! Why did she hate me? My mother wanted one thing so I did it and it was wrong and I tried and it never worked. I never made her happy. Mother. She hated me. mother. Why? What did I do? Mother? Mother? You have your fathers name! I can’t do anything about it. Mother. She hates me. She hated me. Mother.
Now, about that third thing.
Father died before I was born. Mother. Father. Brother. I’m all alone. I was sitting on the swing on the school yard. I was twelve. Johnny Richards came up. He called me crazy. He called me mean names. He called me a bad word because I had no father. He called me a mean name because my mother was the town drunk. He called me mean names because the sky was blue. The grass was green. Well, no more. I stood up. Five inches taller fifty pounds heavier. Leave me be I told him. Leave me be and I’ll forget it ever happened. Leave me be. It wasn’t in me to be violent. It wasn’t in me to be mean. It wasn’t in me to pick on others who are mean. That’s what bullies do. We have enough of them. Leave me be he mocked. Leave you be? Fatty. He called me fat. I am not fat. I hate fatties. Fat. FAT. FAT! I made a fist but tried to let it go. He laughed. He poked. He punched. Next thing he was on top of me wailing on me. Then, I’m not sure how. Then though I was on top of him…I was betting the snot out of him. I don’t know how. I don’t know when it happened and switched. It switched. I was wailing on him. I was paying him back for four years of getting hit and chassed off the school yard and being picked on and getting hit and chased off the school yard and being picked on. But---but I was in trouble. Why? I don’t know. I was just trying to pay him back. I was tying to make it stop. Want to know something? He never got within ten feet of me the rest of my life after the whooping I gave him. I broke his nose. Ha. Ha. Ha. It grew back crocked. Ha. Ha. Ha.
Richie was looking at me on the porch as the Alaskan sun went down. Looks like that’s the last well see of her for a while. He said smiling. Twenty hours of darkness and five hours of light. We laughed as the sun slipped lower. He offered me a smoke. I said no. I couldn’t remember if I smoked or not. I didn’t want to anyways. He sipped coffee in one hand and a smoke in the other. He told me a war story and I told him a mob story. He liked my mob stories the way Dontonio liked my war stories. We traded story for story until the darkness was too much for us to take. Then we talked about our future out in Alaska. What we had to do tomorrow. What we had to do the day after. What had to happen at the house. Tonight was different. He looked at me. Why’d you do it? He never asked me before. I looked at him and smiled with all my teeth. I took a swig of my own coffee before watching the solar flares burn through the night. The Auroras are further south than usual. I noted to him. Come on, he said. Don’t change the subject. One thing happens. I said. One thing. One thing and life is over or life begins. Yeah, so he asked. One thing makes you. One thing breaks you. Yeah yeah, why’d you get me out? You didn’t even know me. I could be a funny man for all you knew. One thing says yes to destiny or says no. I told him. I didn’t want the rest of my life to be a mistake. I didn’t want it to be something someone would look at and rewrite. I didn’t want to screw the rest of my life up. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want that. Besides, I added. Bebe likes you.
