Page 121 of Under Your Scars

CHAPTER 34

THE SILENCER

Wednesday,September 6,1989

“Please,” I beg, clasping my hands together, pouting my lip, and giving mommy the biggest puppy dog eyes I can manage. “Please, mommy. I’ll die without it.”

Mommy gives me an amused smirk. “You’ll die?” she asks, bending down and zipping up my jacket for me. “Well, my sweet boy, I can’t allow that, can I?”

“Elizabeth, don’t encourage him. He’s already spoiled rotten.”

The diamond on mommy’s finger sparkles under the harsh fluorescent lights of the diner. Her wedding ring and pearls stick out like a sore thumb against the chipping paint and the worn-off vinyl of the bright blue booths surrounding us.

Daddy has always been the authority of the family. Which is why when he says no, I give mommy the puppy dog eyes until she says yes.

Only this time, she doesn’t say yes. She listens to daddy. She’s been doing that a lot lately.

They’ve been fighting when they think I can’t hear them. But I’m an only child in a giant mansion with nothing better to do than get into trouble. I know all the best hiding places in the house. That means I hear things I shouldn’t. Like how Edwinlike like’sJudith, my governess, but Judith says Edwin kisses like a chicken.

That made me laugh so hard that chocolate milk came out of my nose, and almost gave away my hiding spot inside the cabinets where daddy keeps the cigarettes he hides from mommy.

Mommy stands up, and I pout to her back. After daddy pays and we turn to find a table that isn’t unnervingly sticky, I give my puppy dog eyes to Fat Lou, the owner, in a last-ditch effort to achieve my goal.

Mommy says that’s a rude name, but that’s the name of his restaurant! Everyone calls him that. How can it be rude?

Fat Lou smiles warmly behind the counter at me. He winks, tosses something high in the air which I catch with ease, and then he turns away to make our order. I open my tightly clasped hands to reveal an orange lollipop. My mouth waters. My parents don’t keep candy in the house. I’m only allowed to have it on Halloween, my birthday, and sometimes when we’re out in the city and a business has a bowl of it, mommy allows me a single piece.

Sometimes Edwin sneaks me one of those weird strawberry candies that only old people have.

I squeal with glee and shove the candy in my jacket pocket for later, trailing behind my parents into the booth.

What feels like an eternity later, Fat Lou brings us our food. Mommy of course, always prim and proper, has a salad with no cheese, no croutons, no anything other than lettuce, tomatoes, and stinky dressing. I ordered a burger just like daddy, because burgers are man food, and I am nothing if not a big strong man like him.

I smile wide-eyed at my burger and eat it as messily as expected of a feral kid with no social manners. Cheese sauce is smeared all over my face when I’m done, and mommy wipes me clean with a wet wipe she pulls out of her purse. After I’m deemed spotless again, I crawl under the table to sit next to daddy. I wrap my arms around him tight and squeeze as hard as my six-year-old body can manage.

“Thank you, daddy. You’re the best.”

He wraps an arm around me and pats me like fathers do their sons. “Why don’t we get you a cheeseburger to-go? That way you can eat it tomorrow.”

“But daddy!” I whine. “It will be soggy and yucky from the veggies.”

He shrugs. “We’ll get it plain and then the chef at home can give you fresh veggies tomorrow. How about that?”

I nod enthusiastically. He stands to go place the to-go order, and a small orange light outside the window catches my eye. I press my face against the greasy windowpane. There’s a man outside with a red bandana slack around his neck, smoking a cigarette, staring at me with the same intensity as I am him.

Mommy makes a noise of disgust. “Bleh. Smokers. Promise me, Christian, you won’t smoke when you’re older.”

“I promise, mommy,” I say absently, not even really comprehending what she said.

Once daddy has my to-go order, he gives me the box to hold, and mommy leans over to kiss my forehead before I slide out of the booth. We step outside onto the dark street, lit by only a few dim streetlamps. Mommy grumbles as we begin to walk, complaining that her feet hurt in her heels. I hold her hand, not paying much attention to anything when we abruptly stop. I look up to see the same man that was smoking outside the restaurant standing across from us.

He's got his red bandana over his face now, covering his nose and mouth. A black jacket with the collar popped sits heavy on his frame.

“Get lost,” daddy warns. “I don’t have any cash.”

The masked man laughs and then pulls a gun from his jacket pocket. Mommy shields me behind her, and then daddy shields us both with his body.

Though I’m confused and scared, I peek around daddy’s legs to watch the man across from us.