Wrapped in Rain(85)

"I had held the demons at bay since Miss Ella died, but right then and there I let them out of my closet. I guess that's when I started hearing Miss Ella's voice over my shoulder. I made my connection to London, e-mailed the photos to Doc, told him I was taking an extended vacation, and started riding the rail around England. No destination other than the next pub. When I found myself in Scotland, the rains started, soaked me in a downpour, and left me cold. Like most everything else. Wet and looking into the froth of a warm Guinness draught, I woke up somewhere in Ireland. I held up the glass, caught my reflection, and in the sideways illusion of the glass, saw an expression I had not seen since the last time I saw Rex. The vomit rose up and exited my mouth, spewing across the bar and clearing the five seats on either side of me. My stomach empty, I ran into the street and stood dry heaving for all the world to see on top of a rusty manhole cover. I gasped, tears flooded my eyes, and I heaved again. No matter how many times I tried, I could not purge myself of that picture. Only one thing remained.



"Two days later, I landed in Atlanta and drove to the nearest sporting goods store. I bought a thirty-four-inch Louisville Slugger en route to Rex's apartment. When I locked the rental car in the parking garage, the camera stayed in it.

"The dance club had just opened for lunch, but Rex was nowhere to be found. Neither was Mary Victoria. I rode the elevator to the top floor and directly into Rex's apartment, carrying my bat. I walked to the window and studied the landscape-Atlanta as far as the eye could see. I shouldered the bat, found the nearest crystal lamp, made up my mind, and swung, sending a million splinters of crystal glistening across the room. It looked like an exploding ice sculpture. Then I attacked the bar. Crystal, booze, wine, silver beer steins from Germany, all shattered, bent, and sailing across the five-thousand-squarefoot apartment.

"When Rex didn't show, spewing vulgarities, I took to the artwork. Then the TVs. The vases. The knight in shining armor Rex had sent back from a castle in England. I met and greeted anything that hung, sat, or decorated the apartment. Fifteen minutes later, with nothing left to break, I stood winded, my back in spasms, my knuckles bloody, and the bat cut and splintery with glass. I shouldered the bat and turned to walk out, but the smell from the bedroom drafted through and curled my nose. It was the smell of death, and I liked it. I flipped on Rex's light and scanned the room. Rex sat in the corner, leaning against the window that overlooked Peachtree Street. Ghostly white, shaking involuntarily, his bottom lip quivering, nothing but a shadow of his former self. I almost didn't recognize him. The effects of a lifetime of alcoholism mixed with the advanced stages of Parkinson's and Alzheimer's disease. The potbelly was gone, he had lost fifty pounds, his face was gaunt, drawn, and his eyes sunk and focused on nothing. He wore nothing but some soiled boxer shorts. As best I can piece together, he came home one afternoon and found that Mary Victoria had left him and taken all her jewelry and skinny little underwear with her. With no friends, no family he would call, and no alternative, he hit the bottle and the clot hit his brain. When I found him, most of the permanent damage had been done.



"I walked up to Rex as if I were stepping into the batter's box. I touched the back of his head with the bat, but he didn't respond. I tapped harder-still no response. Finally, I tapped him a third time and his head flopped sideways. He never looked at me. He simply stared out the window while his head bobbed back and forth. I didn't care what state he was in or how bad off he was. I extended the bat, closed my eyes, and felt the wood press against the soft, bald, and wrinkly skin at the base of Rex's neck. `One swing,' I said. `That's all it'd take.' Rex made no response. `One swing and you'll wake up where you belong.'

"That's when I heard Miss Ella. She said, `Tucker?'

"`Go away. This is between him and me.'

"`You know better than that,' she said.



"`Do I?' His empty flask sat on the windowsill, so I swung. It ricocheted into the marble bathroom and exploded into ten thousand slivers of glass.

"`Love keeps no record of wrongs.'

"`Well, I did.'

"`It bears, believes, hopes, and endures-all things.'

"I looked down and felt no pity.

Rex is his own worst punishment now. You can't do anything worse to him than he's already done to himself. He's traveling down the long and slow road of rotting from the inside out. And either fortunately or unfortunately, his genes are strong, so this will take a while.'

"I sidestepped Rex and walked to the window. `Don't tell me you never thought about it,' I said.

"`Child, my sins are as scarlet now, so Lord knows I thought about it. Most every waking minute. I even picked out my own shotgun. But thinking and doing are two different things.'

"`But, Miss Ella, what about me?' There was silence for almost a minute before she spoke again.

"`You be light, child. You be light.'

"Several hours later, the paramedics loaded Rex onto a stretcher and wheeled him into the elevator. After a week, I packed him in my truck and drove him to Clopton, a long and quiet ride. It was more time at one stretch and in one place than I had ever spent with my father. Every telephone pole we passed was one more missed opportunity. I could've sideswiped him into a pole and no one would have ever known. We rode the last half of the trip with Rex's window down. Due to the stroke, he had lost all bowel control and it now flowed as fluidly as his liquor once did.