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He turns and sneers. He’s wearing a leather jacket that looks a little too small. Or maybe it’s supposed to highlight his arms. His hair is a wild, wet-looking black-gray mop. “Go back inside, please, miss,” he says with forced and pointless civility. I know that’s probably the smart thing to do, but Eli looks so dignified, civilized, and harmless as the man pushes him against the wall.
The lust is still burning around my body, and then I take in the hallway, the grime, the graffiti, the flickering light coming from the stairwell, and I know how crazy it is. Suddenly, it hits me—how unlikely that he could want me.
Then I’m marching forward, waving my hand. “Get the fuck away from him!”
The man chuckles, letting Eli go. The old man stumbles against the wall and reaches out for his cane. When he doesn’t find it, he almost falls. I rush forward and take his arm, bringing me far closer to leather-jacket man than I’d ideally want to be. He steps back with another mocking laugh as I hold Eli up.
“Oh, dearie, you’ve blessed me with your presence,” Eli says.
“Cut the act, Dad.”
“You’re his son?” I gasp.
The man’s mop of greasy hair bobs up and down as he nods. “If you can call him a father, I guess you can technically call me his son, yeah. But he was never much of a father.”
“Riddled with madness, son,” Eli says, and it’s like the fight never happened, the way he’s shaking his head and leaning against the wall. I cautiously let him go. “I was always cold, but practically, you never wanted. Call the lie in that.”
“Why do you have to talk like that?” the man snaps. “All the damn time. That riddle shit. You sound like an ass.”
I’m about to cut in, but Eli raises his hand and glances at me sharply. It’s like he’d be offended if I got involved. I feel out of place now, but I’m still worried about leaving them alone. What if he tries to hurt him again?
“A donkey carried Joseph. So please accept all the magnanimousness in this humble soul’s soul.”
“It’s all a joke,” the man says, glaring at me. “This stuff. All this weird crap. None of it’s real.”
“I’ve spent a lot of time with him,” I say carefully. “He’s always sounded like this.”
“If you live a lie long enough, maybe it becomes the truth, but no, darling. This man pretended to be insane because it was easier than dealing with the life he came home to: kids and a family.”
“Stand there, Paul, and tell my fair maiden I struck you or your mother. Tell her I was a bottle of boozed-up on booze. Tell her I didn’t provide for you.”
“Dad, you went to work, came home, sat in your study, and read books. It didn’t matter what was happening. Birthdays, holidays, it didn’t matter. You were a statue.”
A note of emotion enters Paul’s voice. I feel an answering twinge in my chest. I think about Mom and all the stuff she missed—the school dramas she never knew about because she was too busy disappearing into nothingness.
“None of that is a reason to hit him,” I say.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s stolen from me.”
“S-stolen?” Eli says, looking more lucid than usual. “I’ve never stolen a thing in my life. My hands belong to an honorable man. Maybe I read too many books. Maybe the war fuddled me up a little. But stolen? You’re an idiot.”
“Then where the fuck is Mom’s jewelry?”
“Hey, hey,” I say, raising my voice, stepping into his path when he raises his fist, only realizing the blunt reality of this when I see this giant man getting ready to hit me.
If I duck, he’ll hit his father. Slowly, Paul lowers his hand, shaking his head bitterly. “He’s not a good person. Somebody who does that to their children, making it seem like they’re not even there, can’t be a good person.”
“And hitting an old man makes you a good person, does it?” I snap, my whole body beating in time with my heart, but I can’t back down.
He turns away and lowers his head. “I’ll be back for the jewelry.”
“You’re searching for shadows.”
“Shut up!” Paul roars, then marches down the stairs.
Eli turns to me and smiles softly. “Ah, Katy, what a dreadful sight for you to see.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “More importantly, are you okay?”
“It’s a sad thing. Those books indeed sheltered me from the shrapnel, but he would’ve turned out worse without them. I would’ve been the demon he so clearly believes me to be. I couldn’t think, and back then… Ah, anyway, good night, good morrow. Goodbye.”
“Eli…”
He limps into his apartment and closes the door without looking at me.
I turn, expecting to find somebody curious enough to peer out of their apartment, but not in this building. People keep to themselves, even when bad things happen, especially then.
