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Hobo stalks back to me. His gaze hardens when he sees I’m bleeding. I feel him ready to turn back and unleash on Velma what he was willing to do to those wackos from his parents’ cult.
“I’ll leave,” I tell him rather than her. “I don’t want to be around that crazy woman anyway.”
Velma gets to her feet and squawks, “You’re a whore!”
“You’re senile!” I scream back, losing control as my eye throbs. “No wonder no sane woman would ever date Francis! They’d need to deal with you!”
Unsure what to do, an enraged Hobo stands between Velma and me. She doesn’t dare move. I think she’s suddenly realized how she drew the attention of a man willing to punish her.
Hobo glances back at Velma. I feel him ready to lose control. My sudden sobs startle him from his rage.
“She hit me with a fucking broom,” I mumble between tears. “Who does that?”
Hobo turns to snarl at Velma who takes that moment to bolt inside the house and lock her doors. He turns back to me and sighs.
“Lean your head back,” he says in a soft voice.
His touch has gone tender, too. Hobo’s no longer considering whether to tear that old lady apart. Now, he just wants me to stop crying.
“I’m so embarrassed,” I tell him as we return to the house where he grabs a wet cloth for my nose.
“It’s not your fault that bitch hit you.”
“I’m sorry,” I say and rest my hand on his holding the cloth against my nose. “Here I am crying over one slap from a broom. You must think I’m weak.”
Hobo blinks like I make no sense. I reach under his shirt and run my fingers over a scar he said was from a bullet. He’d mentioned nearly dying as if it was no big deal. That’s how he views his pain.
“You get to be weak,” Hobo says as he washes out the cloth and reapplies it. “I would be weak if it was safe. Weak means you get to assume the best about stuff. No reason you shouldn’t have that.”
I wash my face after the bleeding stops. My eye still throbs where the hard narrow side of the broom struck me. Otherwise, I’ll be fine.
We stand in the kitchen, just watching each other. Finally, I say the words.
“I don’t know where to go.”
“I can make her let you stay here.”
“What if she’s really crazy? She might forget to be scared and hit me again.”
Hobo nods. “We can find another rental.”
“Can I go to the Pigsty? Irina lived there, even after her baby was born. Would they mind if I stayed until we figured things out?”
Hobo’s relaxed face twists into a nasty snarl. “Walla Walla won’t keep his pants on.”
“Hobo, I don’t care about your motorcycle club brother’s dick.”
My dismissive tone makes Hobo chuckle. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.”
“Are you embarrassed of them? Or me? Or do you think I’ll never leave the Pigsty and you’ll be trapped in this thing forever?”
“I don’t like any of those options. Pick something else.”
“You tell me what’s wrong.”
Hobo exhales hard as he runs his hands angrily through his thick hair. “I worry something will happen there that I can’t control. You’ll get hurt or offended. Then, I’ll lose you. The Pigsty isn’t like my tent. Or your house. There are people always around. Something could happen.”
“Something violent or like Walla Walla running around naked? I don’t care about that second one.”
