Luca's Story Ch. 13
Chapter XIII--The Storm
_And when the house was left in shambles
Who was there to handle all the broken bits of glass
Was it mom who put my dad out on his ass or the other way around
Well I'm far too old to care about that now_
_So, what about taking this empty cup and filling it up
With a little bit more of innocence
I haven't had enough, it's probably because when you're young
It's okay to be easily ignored
I'd like to believe it was all about love for a child_
_It's kinda nice to work the floor since the divorce
I've been enjoying both my Christmases and my birthday cakes
And taking drugs and making love at far too young an age
Oh but they never check to see my grades
What a fool I'd be to start complaining now_
-Jason Mraz, "Love for a Child"
Luca approached her house slowly. Dusk was long past, and the crickets chirred idly in the grass. Even the sweater she was wearing seemed only a flimsy barrier to the icy chill gripping the early November night. Luca put her ear to the door, its long floppy length thudding slightly as it shifted and smacked into the door. There was nothing. The house was deathly quiet, and the lights seemed to all be off. She hadn't realized just how much she had hoped there would be screaming and yelling. The quiet made her fear much worse.
Sliding the key into the lock, she stopped, turning to the driveway. She realized her mother's van was gone. Biting her lip, she turned the key, and the bolt drew away. The door opened freely, and she looked down at the latch. It had been broken from being slammed too hard. All that held the front door shut was the bolt now.
"I don't like this," Beccah said flatly. Harold was no longer around, having been scolded rather harshly over the phone by his mother for having been gone so long. He had stolen away along their walk to Luca's, stealing a kiss from Beccah before scurrying off.
Shaking her head, Luca agreed. "No, this is bad." She closed the door behind her after Beccah stepped inside and turned the latch that kept it shut. Then she finally worked up the nerve to turn on a light.
What she saw wasn't as shocking as she was thinking it would be, but just as bad in the overall destruction. There was shattered glass, an overturned chair, a hole in one of the walls, quite a few stains and various sources for those stains scattered all about, as well as so many other random things all over the floor. Luca had never quite realized just how much crap they had in the living room.
"Jeez, what the hell happened here?"
"I've only heard my mom throw things once before in my life, and that was just the vase," Luca whispered in reply, memories of the fight her parents had the night she tried to kill herself surfacing in her head. This was way beyond that.
Beccah pointed. Through the kitchen, down the hall that led to Luca's father's office, there was a glow cast out onto the floor from a crack in the door. Luca started forward, Beccah behind her. The crunch of glass beneath her feet made her stop for a second. She looked down, seeing fine glass from the chandelier that hung over the dining room table. She didn't even want to know why it was here in the living room.
They finally got to the door. Luca pushed it open slowly. The door pushed its way over a haphazard stack of papers that had been tossed beside the door. That was when she heard a loud click and looked up at her father's desk, finding herself staring right into the barrel of a revolver.
For a half-second, Luca's heart stopped. Then her father let the gun fall away, un-cocking it. "Shorry... thoh'choo 'ere Norm. Prick shaid he's on 'is way tuh khill me." Randal's left hand was resting casually on the neck of a handle of Largo Bay. It was almost finished. Luca couldn't know if he'd drunk the entire thing or not, considering Randal kept his private stash only for when clients visited his home office, but she believed he had. His right forearm and his left shin were bandaged up, and there were several tears and scratches all over him.
"Dad, what happened?" She asked.
"Bish throo me out," he said groggily. "Tried tuh 'tak me. Ah came back uh bit lhater, bushee'd gawn off wid da girls. Lef' this." He dropped the gun aside much to Luca's relief, and lifted a paper up from beside him to hand to her. Stepping forward, Luca took it and began reading.
"Randal,
If you're reading this, you came back to the house. I told you never to do so again, but at this point it doesn't matter anymore. I can't be in that place right now anyway. It feels so dirty, all thanks to you and that slut. If you wanted girls like that, if that's what makes you feel like a man, then you should have made that clear twenty years ago. You have stolen the best years of my life from me. I will own everything of yours for this. I will destroy you for what you've done to me and the family we created. I hope you're happy, you bastard."
Below that, there was no signature, no name, no location where Susanne had gone off to. There was, however, a series of spots on the paper that looked to be dried tears.
"I've never heard her use that kind of language before," Luca whispered to Beccah. She then looked to her dad, wanting to ask him how long ago this was, but he was passed out, head lolled to one side.
Luca gingerly stepped over a scattered pile of FASB documents and leaned down, picking up the gun from beside Randal's hand. She then popped the chamber open and let the bullets fall right into a glass on the desk that was half-full of water tinged brown from a drink Randal had bothered to pour several hours earlier. Luca went to his safe, which was open, and took out the box of remaining rounds.
"How do you know about guns?" Beccah said in a light whisper, though it was hardly necessary. Randal was deep into a black drinker's sleep. She very lightly pulled the mostly empty bottle from his hand and set it on the table.
"Dad taught me when I was thirteen as part of my bar mitzvah gift," Luca said, double-checking the safe for more bullets. She looked to the bottle set on the desk and took her own hefty swig of it. Beccah looked at her with surprise. "What? My parents just split up, my dad pulled a gun on me, and I have no idea where the rest of my family is. I think I have a right to have a drink."
Beccah thought about it, then shrugged, taking the bottle and swigging a bit for herself. The burn was there, but the sweetness of the rum made it easier. Still, her eyes watered as she watched Luca inspect the bullets. "What are we doing about those?"
"Destroying them," Luca said, taking another swig before picking up the box again and taking it out of the office towards the kitchen.
"What if Norm shows up?" Beccah asked worriedly.
Luca only shrugged. "I'm calling the police. We can get them to have a patrol outside until my dad gets his drunk ass on his feet again." As Luca spoke, she filled the sink with water. Once it was half-full, she poured the rounds in, ruining them. She got out a step ladder, wrapped the revolver in a cloth, and stuffed it to an area far back on the top of the refrigerator, jamming it between the cabinets above and the fridge itself. Beccah watched in analytical silence, arms crossed over her chest.
"You know, you're handling this shitstorm better than I ever would."
Luca turned towards Beccah with a weak little smile, shrugging. "I guess not much bothers me anymore. It's been such a hard semester that all I can do is hold on for the ride and pray."
Luca really thought she meant what she said as she put the step ladder back into place. She really believed she'd become calloused enough to emotional trauma that this was just another scrape on a deep and un-healing scar that would never go away. But when Beccah slid up behind her and hugged her best friend close, the water works came pouring out.
For a good twenty minutes, Luca had her face buried into Rebeccah's chest, clinging to her tightly, fingers digging into Beccah's back. Finally, she pulled away, and wiped her eyes with the palms of her hands. "Thank you," she whispered hoarsely.
"You can't fool a bitch like me, hun," Beccah said in a humorous and yet simultaneously sad tone, brushing one of Luca's curly locks of hair aside. "You're hurtin' inside, and I'm hurtin' with you."
Luca managed another weak little smile. "Let's get the police here. We don't need Norm coming here in a rage fit of furious vengeance."
"Good idea."
The police were called, and the girls began their clean-up of the house, starting with the living room so they could see when the police arrived. When the cops arrived, Luca invited them into the half-cleaned living room. The pair of police just happened to be Dobermans--no surprise there, since half the force was composed of their breed of canine--and looked at the room with some sense of astonishment.
"What the hell happened here?" The first officer, a male by the name of Ulysses, asked with serious concern on his face.
"Dad's been cheating, mom found out," Luca said simply.
"Oh. History of domestic violence?" Ulysses continued. Doing his duty, Luca realized. She couldn't blame him for asking.
"No, never. Mom threw everything she could at him before he left. Then she left, he's back, and now the husband of the woman he's been sleeping with is threatening to kill my father."
"I don't blame him," the other Doberman male chipped in. His name was Terry. He was shorter and stouter than Ulysses, but still had the lean, mean look of his breeding.
"Neither do I," Luca said with a sad little smile. She then went into the full details of what she knew. The police agreed to keep a patrol around the house just in case Norm decided to fulfill his promise, though Ulysses assured her that, like most pissed-off husbands, he stalled halfway to NYC and found his solace in the bottom of a cocktail glass rather than on the giving end of a pistol.
Luca thanked the officers, they moved to leave the house, but then Ulysses stopped, turning towards her. "You're that Reingold girl, right? The crossdresser?"
"Male to female transgender, but yeah."
"Sorry," Ulysses said, actually seeming to mean it. "You know we still have your boyfriend in lockup for that little assault charge."
"Really? His parents won't post bail?"
Ulysses shook his head. "Heard Polaski's pops refused. Said no child of his is going to go assaulting anybody and getting away with it, told us to hold on to him."
Luca sighed, a little bit of disappointment actually creeping into her. All this time, she had been building up everything she was going to spit into Zee's face when he came around to apologize to her, the maelstrom only building with every minute that passed without a phone call. And here he'd been in lockup all this time. "How's he doing there?"
"Oddly serene, that's for certain," Ulysses said. "He's in his own holding cell since, well you know the circumstances, and all he does is sit there, staring at the opposite wall."
"Oh," Luca said, and couldn't hide the disappointment in her face and tone. "Well thank you for the information."
Ulysses nodded his head towards Luca and, before he turned away, said. "You're a brave young woman, Luca. I know not too many at the force agree with that, but I've got a brother who is gay, and I'll tell you it took some serious guts for him to come out to our father. As far as I'm concerned, you've got a bigger set than that whole department of idiots."
"Hey," Terry said defensively, looking hurt.
"Quiet, rook, I'm not talking about you."
Luca smiled her thanks and closed the door behind the two officers.
"Guess that went well," Beccah said softly. "No child services to the rescue or anything."
"Yeah, good thing," Luca said with some sarcasm. She then turned towards the room again. "You don't have to stay, Beccah. I know your parents probably miss you and want you home tonight."
Beccah giggled. "You kidding me? I think me hanging out around here so much is the best thing to happen to them in years. It's like they're on a second honeymoon or something. I've never seen them more lovey-dovey. Every time I call to tell them I'm here for the night, my mom's tone is like 'ok, don't let the door hit you on the way out.'"
Luca smirked. "Well good to know everyone else is getting some action around this town."
"Hey, it's not my fault you and Zee haven't done the nasty yet," Beccah said defensively, picking up a rather large and sinister-looking shard of glass from the chandelier that had been shattered.
Luca gave a little sigh. "I know, it just seems so awkward. I mean he doesn't have the equipment, I don't have the equipment... I don't know, we had toyed with the idea of going the other way around just for the sake of lovemaking, but I just don't know for sure yet."
"Nothing to be ashamed of with that," Beccah said, pulling up a trash bin to get the rest of the chandelier into it. "If it's not comfortable, it's not comfortable. Forcing it is just going to make it worse."
"I guess you're right. I just wish I could do something about it."
The conversation dropped off after that, resolution seeming out of reach. After a half hour or so, Luca righted the sound system and, by some miracle, it still worked. She ran upstairs and grabbed a flash drive. Once she had it plugged into the system, Taylor Swift accompanied the two girls as they cleaned up. They sang along as "Teardrops on my Guitar" began playing, going from quietly whispering the words together to belting it out like two teenage girls are prone to do at times.
Much of the rest of the album went in the same way, even as they moved their efforts through the dining room, kitchen, and hallway. It was just hitting midnight when they finished, and Luca flopped onto the couch, amazed. She believed it would have taken until dawn to clean everything up. The only thing that remained to clean was the office, but she wasn't about to deal with that mess. That was all her father's department.
After a moment, Beccah joined her on the couch, and they stared at the wall where the television used to be. "Well, looked in on your dad. He won't be wearing those clothes ever again."
"What do you mean," Luca said, turning to Beccah.
"He lost his lunch all over himself. Glad we left him sitting up. He's going to feel this one in the morning."
Twenty minutes later, the girls had managed to haul the television that was in the entertainment lounge in the back of the house to the living room. The entertainment lounge had a pool table and bar, but no good sofa or easy chairs. The pair set up in the living room, and curled up next to each other as they watched "Angels with Dirty Faces." He may have been a feline, but he was the embodiment of classical sexiness for the pair of girls.
Before the movie was over, Luca and Beccah had long passed out on the couch, curled up next to each other, Beccah spooned up in front of Luca, who had her arms wrapped around Beccah's midsection. That was how Randal found them late in the morning, his head screaming on all alarms, his belly feeling about as steady as Jell-O in the microwave.
He flopped down into his easy chair, staring at the television that was supposed to be in the entertainment room. Looking to the side, he saw the other one, the screen broken in.
Slowly, Beccah and Luca stirred and sat up, bleary eyed and yawning wide.
"Morning, girls," Randal said. The sound of his own voice made his head explode in pain, but ever so slowly the pain relievers were having their effect. Luca snapped her attention to him, surprised to hear his voice.
"Oh, hey dad. Didn't think you'd be up this early."
"It's eleven in the morning, Luca."
"I know."
Randal sighed, putting his hand to his forehead and massaging his temples, brushing the hair from his eyes. "I guess I was pretty wasted, wasn't I?"
"You pulled a gun on me. I would say you were."
"I what?! Jeez, I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"No, daddy, otherwise I wouldn't have been laying here on the couch. All your ammo is destroyed, by the way. I threw it all into a sink-full of water."
"Why would you do that?"
"You ever been in a house with a drunken, armed lapine paranoid about his former accounting firm partner coming to his home to kill him? You would have done the same in my shoes."
"Norm was on his way here?"
"That's what you said last night, so I called for a patrol to keep watch on the house until you're back to normal."
"And you... You're the one who cleaned everything up."
"Well, Beccah helped, but yeah."
Randal sighed, leaning forward, putting his face into his hands, trying to keep himself steady. His stomach kept threatening violent protest. "I don't even deserve your help, Luca. You must be so ashamed of me."
"Ashamed is one way to put it. Angry, hurt, spiteful all work too."
"Then why are you still here and not with your mother?"
Luca thought about it, realizing she would be if she knew where her mother went. Though she had a very good guess she was in Hartford with her mother at this point. She didn't say any of this, though. "Because this is still my home, and as much of a prick as you've been, you're still my dad."
"What did you call me?"
"Hey, it's no worse than what you've done to me. At least I haven't disowned you."
That one hurt, and Luca could see it in his eyes, but she didn't retract. "I deserve that one," he said, sighing. "And thank you, Luca, for helping to clean up. This house has some work to be done until I can get rid of it."
"Get rid of it?"
"Well your mother doesn't want it, she made that abundantly clear. And judging by what happened and what she's said, we're pretty much done for. I don't need a big place like this. It'd be much easier to have an apartment down in Manhattan near the firm."
Luca stood, strode over to her father, and lifted his head up by the chin. For the first time in his life, Randal was looking at one of his own children and fearing for his life. The look on her face was fearsome in a way that made him want to cry in a corner.
"Now you listen to me, dad. I'm not going anywhere. You have fucked up royally in all this. You've driven mom away, split up our family, and nearly made me lose Ronnie for the second time." Luca's voice was low, her eyes were fierce, and she kept a hard grip on his chin that Randal was powerless to pull away from. She leaned in even closer, morning breath splashing over his face as she spoke. "I have gone through quite enough in the past few miserable goddamn months of my life, and fuck if I am going to tolerate any more of this crap from you. You are my father, and I still love you as your daughter, but there is NO way in hell I am going to let go of the few things in life that make me feel normal. This city means the world to me, and you're not taking that away from me, understand?"
Randal could only nod slowly in reply. He wasn't about to protest against this raging ball of fury that had only moments ago been his daughter. "I understand."
Just then, Luca's phone rang. She looked at the ID. It was her mother. Cringing, Luca hit the send button on her phone.