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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book... “the Breaking” Down in the Dirt (v134) (the January/February 2016 Issue) You can also order this 6"x9" issue as a paperback book:

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You Are Dad

Zane Schneider

    It’s around one in the morning when Lynne gets home. You scare the shit out of her.
    “Jesus, Dad. Who just sits in the kitchen?”
    “Tommy or Drake?” you say.
    “Goodnight, Dad.”
    “Drake.”
    She throws her head back and slams a sigh out of her throat.

    “Good morning.”
    She looks at her cereal like she wants to kill you. Her backpack is already sitting at her feet. The little keychain fish on the zipper has lost an eye.
     “When you gonna be home tonight?”
    “Late.”
    “How late.” It bounces right off her. You already know the answer.
    She takes your car to school, leaving you with the newspaper and some apples. Potato Farmer Robbed of Half the Year’s Earnings. Lucky bastard.

    You’re working on a crossword when she pulls up in the driveway. It’s about five. Her friend is in the passenger seat, the one who is always wearing someone else’s face. Lynne almost falls over laughing while she walks up the pavement. The front doorway rips the smile right out of her.
    “Pleasant surprise,” says your grin.
    “Just getting my camera.”
    “What are you up to?”
    “Later.”
    Back outside her smile returns.

    9 p.m. She doesn’t think you know where she goes. Their cars are lined up on the bridge. You park your bike on the other side. From your hill you can see them. There’s usually around ten, all under the bridge. Boys and girls. Lynne and Drake. None of them has a shirt on. Except for one kid. He looks like a Jimmy. He’s always your favorite.
    She’s in Drake’s lap. He snaps her bra strap on her shoulder. So funny. He pushes her head forward and lays a line of that shit on her back. He snorts it all in and howls like a feral jackass. Everyone laughs. Your fingers tighten on your pistol.

    Twelve when she gets home.
    “Drake?”
    She slams the door.

    Eight in the morning. She has pictures of Tommy all over her room. That’s why Drake doesn’t get to come to the house. From the end of the bed you’re sitting right in her mirror, across the room. There’s still a plastic pink flower taped to the glass. You put it there. She was little then but it’s still there.

    Tommy’s car stops in your drive way. He comes in before she does. The clock says it’s 5.
    “Hey, Mr. Peck.”
    “Call me Gregory, Tommy.”
    Lynne walks in wearing her phone on her face, “Your name is Carl, Dad.”
    “Sorry. Call me Carl Dad, Tommy.”
    “Hur hur.” She used to really laugh. She snatches Tommy by the hand and leads him upstairs. He closes the door to her room. Nice and gentle.

    Three and a half hours the door has been still. You put your ear to it but there are no voices.
    “Psst. Lynne.”
    No answer.
    “Hey. Lynne.”
    Nothing.
    “ Vio-Lynne. Porcel-Lynne. Penicil-Lynne. Hey Lynne.”
     Nope.
    “Tommy.”
    Silence.
    You slowly creak the door open and poke your head in. It’s just Tommy. He’s in her bed, covers up to his chest. His head is on her ladybug pillow. The window is open. Her camera is gone.
    You sit on the end of the bed and give his foot a soft squeeze. His eyes peel open.
    “Oh, hey Mr. – uh, Carl.”
    “Hi Tommy.”
    His eyes flick over to the window. “Lynne went, um –“
    “Yes, Lynne went.”
    “Sorry.”
    “See you in the morning, Tom.” You shut the door behind you. Nice and gentle.

    Tommy and Drake both in one night. It’s a first. You forgot your bike helmet.
    They’re all under the bridge. Jimmy has his shirt on. Drake has a new ear ring. Drake. You can tell by her laugh Lynne already has a few rocks up her nose. A boy with no mustache makes a joke about middle school girls. Drake says he should know.
    At least I can get some, says baby face. Drake points at your daughter in his lap and licks his lips. He throws up a jagged middle finger. You finger the trigger on your pistol.
    They get louder. You’ve never even banged her they say at Drake. He howls back at them. Lynne giggles. The whole time, she giggles. Drake scoops her up on his shoulder. You squeeze the pistol hard and your wrist hurts. He blasts another middle finger at the group as he carries her up the hill. She giggles.
    He thrusts her into his mustang and dives in after. You’re already halfway to the bridge. You haven’t walked this fast in a long while. Idiot didn’t even lock his door. You swing it open to find his bare behind bobbing up and down like a jack hammer on top of your Lynne. You give it a firm punch.
    “Hey, what the f –“ he snaps his head around and comes nose to barrel with your pistol.
    “Get out of the car, Drake.”
    “Who the fuck are you, man?”
    “I’m Carl Dad, asshole.” You have him lying on his back in front of you in seconds. Little Drake shrinks away. You keep the gun trained.
    “Daddy?” says your daughter’s lips.
    “Pull your pants up, darling.”
    She doesn’t listen.
    “What the fuck, man?” Drake spouts.
    “You want to know what the fuck, Drake? What the fuck is that I’m tired of you polluting my little girl. What the fuck is that it’s time for me to end this. What the fuck is that it’s time for you to be punished.” You twist the gun over to the car and yank the trigger. Lynne’s head snaps back and the window behind her shatters. “Look what you did you little shit.”
    
    You are reading the newspaper. It’s about eleven when you hear knocking. There is a police officer on the other side of the door.
    “Are you Mr. Peck?” His eyes are red.
    “Yes sir, call me Gregory. Is something the matter?”
    “I’m afraid so. Um,” he makes a choking noise but forces his eyes to stay on yours, “about two hours ago, your daughter was killed by an unknown gunman. I’m sorry.”
    “What? Damn.” Your knee itches so you gave it a scratch.
    He turns his head down and takes a deep breath. “We recovered these.” He hands you Lynne’s phone and camera. “Would you like to see – “
    “Thank you.” You close the door. You set her things down on her bed and the door knocks again. It’s the officer. His face is different.
    “Mr. Peck, is that your firearm?” He points to your bike lying in your front lawn. Evidently you had left the pistol in the grass next to it.
    “Why yes it is. I’ll get it.”
    “I’m gonna need you to come with me.”
    “Well alright.”
     Twenty minutes and you’re sitting in a cell next to another man. He is scruffy.
    “What’re ya in for?” You say in your best cowboy voice.
    “They say I killed my sister.”
    “Did you?”
    “Probably.”
    “Why?”
    “She was always the favorite kid. Pissed me off.”
    “Oh. I was the favorite kid.”
    “Did it piss the other kids off?”
    “No, not really.”
    “Oh. Lucky you.”
    “Yeah. I’m an only child.”
    His reply is only hot breath. You hear one of his fingers pop.
    Then, “I’m glad I killed her.”
    “Oh?”
    “My sister. I’m glad I did it.”
    “If you did it.”
    “I’m pretty sure I did it.”
    “Well, good for you then.”
    “Thanks. So what you here for?”
    “Meeting new people.”
    The door screeches open and a lady with a nose like a beak says “Come with me, Mr. Peck.”
    “Say please,” You say, and she leads you to a room and sits you down across from a little red man at one of those big black good-cop-bad-cop tables.
    “Do you know why you’re here Mr. Peck?”
    “Bird face brought me here. I followed bird face.” His brows wrinkle up. There’s a brown stain on his shirt. “There’s a brown stain on your shirt.”
    “Mr. Peck, I’m sorry for your loss, but we need a little cooperation.”
    “Got it. Cooperation. Throw me a ball. I’ll catch the ball. I’ll even throw the ball back.”
    “Mr. Peck –“
    “Get a ball.”
    “We need y-“
    “Get a ball.”
    “Please just -”
    “Fine. No ball.”
    He huffs and pinches his nose. “We need –“
    “Maybe a rock?”
    His red face reddens. “Are you kidding me?”
    “I could throw a rock.”
    His voice takes a step up. “Focus, Mr. Peck!”
    “Gregory”
    “The only witnesses to your daughter’s murder were a group of kids. They say your daughter was alone with her boyfriend when they heard the gunfire, and by the time they found her body he was speeding away in his car. They say they didn’t see anyone else. ”
    “Drake is not her boyfriend.”
    “You know who they were referring to?”
    “Oh yes.”
    “Could you help us locate him?”
    “Oh yes.”
    “Was that so hard?”
    “Oh yes.”
    He huffs again. “Now, about the matter of your pistol.”
    You are silent.
    “You understand that it is suspicious that your bicycle was lying in your yard, next to a loaded pistol, within biking distance of the site of the murder.”
    You observe the little man. He looks like he would hate to be tickled.
    “Care to explain, Mr. Peck?”
    “Get a rock.”
    “Jesus Christ.” He pushes up from his chair with a final huff. “How about you go have some more alone time in your cell until you’re ready to be helpful.”
    The scruffy man is asleep in the cell. You have some time to think. You make a crossword in your head to solve but it’s too easy and you’re done in seconds. Your mind begins to wander. Did you remember to unplug the toaster? Wash Lynne’s pillowcases? Close the windows?
    Then it hits you, stabs you in the chest. You fly to the door and break a knuckle with a fierce strike. “I’m ready to cooperate, please!” You bang and bang and bang. You turn to see if you have woken the scruffy man but he has left. An officer opens the door and you turn back. “Please take me to the man I spoke to before.”
    In a moment you’re back across the table from the little red man. “Is there something you want to tell me, Mr. Peck?”
    “Yes, I apologize for my behavior. This is all very overwhelming and I am not equipped to handle it. Please forget our talk earlier.” You are rubbing your fingers together. A sweat is breaking on your forehead.
    His face is unmoving, until he nods. You continue.
    “I think I have a way to help us, but we need to be quick.”
    “Go on.”
    “I need to call my daughter’s boyfriend. He is at my house, in my daughter’s room. I need him to bring something that will clear this all up.”
    “Drake is at your house now?”
    “Tommy is at my house now.”
    “Mr. Peck.”
    “Please, I promise it will help. I will even explain my gun and my bike but we need to do this now.”
    You expect him to huff, but instead he says, “Alright, we will call him.”
    “No, I need to call him.”
     Now he huffs.

    In a moment you’re listening to a little ring attempt to reach Tommy on speaker phone. You are surrounded by stern faces. It takes a couple tries but he picks up. You lick your salty lip.
    “H-Hello?” Tommy’s voice.
    “Hi Tommy. It’s Mr. Peck”
    “Oh. Um –“
    “Listen Tommy, I’m at the police department right now and I need your help. Are you still in Lynne’s room?”
    “Yeah. Sorry.”
    “It’s okay. I need you to hurry Tommy. I need you to get up and look at Lynne’s mirror.”
    “Did something happen?”
    “Look at the mirror Tommy. Is there a pink flower on it?” You hear a huff behind you but you flap a hand back to stunt a protest.
    “Um, yeah there is.” Tommy’s voice is wobbly.
    You close your eyes. “Oh thank God, Tommy. That’s great. Now, the important part. I need you to go outside. Can you do that?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Okay, go to the edge of the grass on the right side of my yard.”
    Footsteps. “Mr. Peck this is scaring me.”
    “It’s alright Tommy. It’s okay. I just need you to bring me something and then it will all be fine. Are you at the edge of the grass?”
    “Yeah”
    “Look down. What do you see?”
    “Just rocks.”
    “Excellent. Pick one up and bring it here. They want me to cooperate.”

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