Spare Change (Wyattsville #1)(19)

Susanna knew such a thing was true for Benjamin always claimed the dog was a reminder of her whoring night. “Okay,” she relented, “you can bring Dog, but not another thing—not a toothbrush or even a stick of gum.”

“I swear,” Ethan Allen promised, making the sign of the cross over his heart. He breezed through the kitchen, latched onto a wrapper of bologna and a half loaf of bread, then disappeared out the back door.



Throughout the afternoon, as the sound of dishes breaking and pots clattering against the wall echoed through the trees, Ethan hunkered down in the fort; the fielder’s mitt in his lap and Dog by his side. He listened to a barrage of angry words fly back and forth; it was the same as always, he’d heard it a thousand times before. After a while, they’d tire of the name calling and go off to the bedroom together; then it would quiet down. On this day however, such a thing never happened. The voices continued to grow louder and angrier; which is why Ethan Allen took to keeping his eye on the house. After a particularly violent exchange of words, Susanna ran from the house with a valise tucked under her arm—her audition dresses were the only thing she couldn’t stand to leave behind.

Benjamin followed her out shouting, “Get your ass back in this house!”

“Like hell I will!” she answered. “I had enough of you and your bullshit! I’m going to New York and nothing on earth can stop me!” She tossed the valise into the back of the car but before she could slide behind the wheel, Benjamin’s fist came up beneath her chin with such force that it lifted her from her feet. When Susanna dropped to the ground, there was a loud cracking of bone and she made no effort to move.

Benjamin stood looking down at her for what seemed to be the longest time; then he said, “Okay, enough pretending, now get up!” He nudged her with the toe of his shoe, but still she did not move.

Peering through the lower limb of a Douglas fir, Ethan Allen whispered, “Come on, Mama, please get up.”

Twice more Benjamin poked her with his foot; then he shouted, “Okay, bitch, stay there, see if I care!” and stomped back into the house. Moments later he came back with a folded towel, and tucked it beneath her head. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled tearfully, “I didn’t mean to do this.” He lifted Susanna into his arms, and carried her inside, promising over and over again that such a thing would never happen again.

Afterwards, there was no more arguing to be heard. Ethan Allen, figuring Susanna would be awhile smoothing things over with Benjamin, went back to the fort to wait. Dog, having eaten most of the bologna, rolled over onto his side. Ethan Allen, caught up in his thoughts of going to New York, didn’t feel much like sleeping so he turned on the radio and listened as the Orioles battled the Boston Red Sox. When Brooks Robinson drove home two runs with a double in the top of the ninth, the Orioles got hold of the lead. ‘Looks like our birds are just three outs from getting a big win here at Fenway,’ Chuck Thompson said, but Ethan paid little attention.

Ordinarily, in such a situation the boy’s ear would have been pinned to the radio, but on this particular day he was listening for something else. He was waiting to hear the sound of his mama slamming out the door and tearing off down the drive, but so far there hadn’t been anything other than a deep-throated sobbing that every so often stopped and started.

In the bottom of the ninth Zuverink struck out Jensen, then Klaus, and the win seemed a sure thing; so Ethan Allen left the game and slipped out of the fort. He crept through the stand of trees and inched closer to the house, wondering if maybe he’d missed the sound of Susanna leaving. But no, her car was still parked in the driveway with the front door hanging open. “Shit fire, Mama,” he mumbled, “get a move on.” It was one thing to be late for work on any other night, but not this night! If Benjamin had stomped off to the barn as he usually did, Ethan could have gone inside and told Susanna, who at times was damned irresponsible, to get hurrying—but, Benjamin was still inside the house.

Ethan moved closer and crouched behind the stump of an oak tree; he tilted his ear every which way, but still could not catch wind of what was happening. Susanna had told him to stay clear of Benjamin, but it was late in the afternoon, a time when she ought to be playing the radio and snapping on some lamps and the house was still dark with no sign of anyone moving about. He circled around the far end of the barn and came up on the side of the house where he’d be able to see into her bedroom. Stretching his neck, Ethan saw his mama lying on the bed, still wearing the same shorts and halter she had on earlier, not even starting to ready herself for work. “Shit fire!” he grumbled, figuring this to be another of those situations when she’d promise to do something and then forget about it. He stood and turned to walk away; then he spotted Benjamin sitting at the foot of the bed, hunched over and slobbering a string of words about how he was sorrier than he’d ever been in his whole entire life.

For as long as he could remember Ethan Allan had known his parents to do battle—scream and yell till a person in the next county could hear them; cuss each other up one side and down the other; hurl heavy pots the full length of the room—but never in all that time, had he seen a situation such as this. Something was terribly wrong. He crept closer and closer to the house, until finally his nose was pressed up against the bedroom window. He saw Susanna’s head lolled off to the side like a broken arm. “Mama,” he cried and went running into the house.