Cream Puff Page 6

  A car door closed and Charlie’s head jerked around to see a middle-aged couple in the distance, walking over to a more recently-covered grave and lost in their own grief. The woman glanced in his direction and Charlie turned away. He gazed back down at the marble.

  “Tommy,” he said in a softer tone, “if you’re trying to tell me something, please, son, just tell me. I don’t think I can take much more of this.”

  Charlie wanted an answer…needed it. Something to hold onto, to say he wasn’t crazy. The night responded only with a sudden strong breeze that slapped leaves from the oaks guarding the road and swept them along the pavement with the clatter of dry, brittle bones.

  He heard the cry of an infant. The couple in the distance had a baby with them; parents—maybe even grandparents—no doubt grieving over the loss of another child. The woman comforted the child on her shoulder, and Charlie was suddenly returned to the days when a similar little bundle meant everything in the world to him.

  ****

  Unlike his sister, Tommy had been a late accident; an ‘oops’ resulting from the three bottles of wine he and Pearl had shared at his thirty-eighth birthday party. Despite the surprise, they had been happy at the news and were elated when they found out the baby was going to be a boy.

  From the very day Tommy arrived, however, things changed.

  Whether it was post-partum depression or just her typical selfishness Charlie never knew, but Pearl began to act as if Tommy was a mistake. She tried to distance herself from the baby by doting on their daughter instead. Wouldn’t even breastfeed him.

  Over time, Charlie’s bond to their son grew stronger while her relationship with the boy teetered between neglectful tolerance and outright hatred. Ruby learned how to relate to her new brother through her mother—a case of monkey see, monkey do. Tommy was more than a little slow mentally as a child, which only served to fuel their disdain for him.

  It never made sense to Charlie. To him, the boy was pure sunshine. He required extra help on some things, sure, but wasn’t that what you were supposed to do for family? For blood?

  Whatever the reasons were that the women in Tommy’s life resented him, there was no excuse for what they finally did. It was several months after the incident before Charlie discovered his wife and daughter were not anywhere close to the angels they pretended to be.

  Chapter Nine

  It had been a year ago; a hot August day just a week before Tommy’s thirtieth birthday.

  He had been talking about the possibility of maybe getting a place of his own. Everyone knew, however, (Charlie included) that he wasn’t ready for that kind of independence. High-functioning in some areas, the young man lacked woefully in others. Tommy could wash, dry, and fold a load of laundry—even separate the lights and colors right—but then walk outside moments later with his fly undone.

  In some ways, Charlie envied his son’s innocence. In Tommy’s world everything held wonder and possibilities, where the negativity and judgments of civilization didn’t exist and every day could be a new adventure. It was a way to be a child forever, and in such an angry world was that really such a bad thing?

  The only place where Tommy excelled was at the bakery. Charlie figured it was the positive energy they shared there, the happiness. It was their special bonding place. The time spent baking together had been so fulfilling that neither of them ever wanted to close-up and go home at the end of the day.

  For home was no refuge.

  The LaRues were hosting a barbecue for Charlie’s sister and her family. Ruby crashed the party with her boyfriend in tow as she often did when there was good food involved and lots of it. Charlie had to be at the bakery for a few hours that morning, but had planned to close early and get home.

  “I’ll bring home buns for the burgers and hotdogs,” he’d told Pearl over the phone.

  “Well, be quick about it,” she said. “I don’t want to be handling this by myself all day.”

  Handling it herself meant having Ruby entertain everyone while Ruby’s boyfriend (and soon-to-be husband) Randall ran the grill. Pearl had put on so much weight by then that she often stayed put while others orbited around her. Like the sun ruling over the planets of her own solar system, Pearl’s power was omnipotent.

  ****

  Charlie’s sister Joan had also been there that horrible day, and claimed to have overheard most of what transpired. Having arrived at the same time as Ruby, she’d seen the way Tommy was being treated by both mother and daughter.

  The night of Tommy’s death, Pearl and Ruby had given him a vague recounting of the sequence of events, but it was his sister who ended up filling in the blanks. A few weeks after Tommy’s funeral, Joan had called Charlie out of the blue. Heʼd met her at a little café downtown—where she’d told him all about it over coffee.

  “Wasn’t pretty,” she said, taking a sip of her cup and then pausing to add more sugar.

  Charlie waited. With her flair for the dramatic, Joan could be irritating at times.

  “So what happened?”

  “Just can’t believe someone would treat their own child like that,” she finally said and clucked her tongue.

  “Joan…”

  “Okay. It’s just that…it hurts me to talk about it.”

  He tried very hard to force a smile. “Try.”

  “Well, all right. If you insist.”

  “Joan! Youʼre the one who called me, if you remember.”

  “All right!”

  She stirred her coffee and finally looked him in the eyes. Charlie’s own cup sat unnoticed as he placed his forearms on the table and leaned in close. “So spill.”

  “I was cutting onions at the kitchen counter and saw the whole thing. Tommy had every reason to be upset,” she said. “Although what led to him being burned, I can’t imagine.”

  Charlie agreed. He knew that with most LaRue family activities, Tommy’s contributions were limited to simple tasks. All he ever wanted to do was please people. Too often, however, the boy’s well-intentioned efforts backfired. By all accounts, that morning had already been quite trying for him.

  “ ‘Jesus, Tommy,ʼ I heard Ruby say when she and Randall arrived, “ ‘you’ve got it made still living here with Mom and Dad. At least you don’t have to be out there dealing with the real world like we do.ʼ ˮ

  Charlieʼs heart broke for the millionth time when he heard that. He hated it when Ruby got in one of her moods and started in on Tommy.

  “Tommy asked her what she meant and Randall said he had to go pee. She waited until he went down the hall to the bathroom before she said, “ ‘I mean like working, dufus. If you’re ever gonna grow up, you better get some kind of a job.ʼ ˮ

  “Tommy told her he did work a job. Told her you were teaching him to be a baker.ˮ

  “I was, too,” Charlie said, looking down at the table. He shoved away the hurtful memories. “What’d Ruby say to that?”

  “She told him no, she meant a real job.”

  As if Charlie’s job hadnʼt provided, and provided well, for his family.

  “I swear all the air went out of Tommy in that instant, Charlie.ˮ

  Charlie understood. Ruby had always known what buttons to push and never seemed to miss an opportunity.

  His head down, Joan told him, Tommy had just walked away.

  “Ruby called after him…said something like, ‘I just meant it’s good for you that you don’t have to really do anything around here.ʼ She didn’t follow him down the hall to his bedroom, though. Not that I saw, anyway.ˮ

  Charlie could just imagine his son in the cushy corner chair; a big, wicker papasan with well-worn cushions. It was the boy’s favorite place when he was hurting, and he’d found Tommy there many times before, curled up asleep with dried tears on his cheeks and one of his superhero comic books in his lap.

  He’d bought Tommy tons of comics over the years. Charlie knew the colorful stories were an escape, a way for his son to travel to different worlds and be a part of great
adventures where he could be anyone he wanted to be—even if just for a little while. Quite simply, they made Tommy happy.

  The one he’d been reading on the day he died was a new one. Something about a flamethrower. Since that day, Charlie had imagined his son’s excitement many times and even wondered if Tommy ever got the chance to finish the book before everything happened.

  “I was in the kitchen with a ringside seat when Pearl yelled for Tommy again…hollering for him to come out there and give her a hand. She was crocheting one of those thousands of damn scarves she made for everybody under the sun and mustʼve noticed her supplies were running low. I know her legs were giving her more trouble than usual that day and with everyone else out gabbing on the front porch, well…you know there was no way she was gonna ask me, Charlie.”

  From the day they’d met, his wife and sister got along like oil and water. It was pretty obvious Pearl couldn’t stand Joan and he was quite certain the feeling was mutual. In fact, he suspected they hated each other.

  “Yes,” he said. “I know.”

  “Anyway, she told him she wanted him to go out to the garage and bring in her tub of yarn. Said it was on the shelf above your workbench, Charlie. I saw Tommy nod, but then he looked at Pearl like he was waiting for more.”

  Charlie tensed at that. It was those moments of confusion that Pearl often used to beat the boy down extra hard. He dreaded hearing the rest, but said it anyway. “And?”

  Joan told him. As she gave him the whole picture of the back-and-forth, he could see it so clearly. He’d seen it a thousand times before.

  “Tommy, do you understand?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Still standing there.

  “What do you need to get, Tommy?”

  “Uh…yarn!”

  Tommy, smiling wide, rubbing his hands together as he did when he felt he finally understood something.

  “Right,” his mother said.

  Pearl…rolling her eyes and shifting forward on the couch, folding her big arms across her chest. “Well? What the hell are you waiting for?”

  The smile fading on Tommy’s face…

  “Then, and this is the part that just breaks my heart, Charlie,ˮ Joan was saying, “Pearl said, ‘Oh, just get away from me. I swear to God, boy, sometimes you can be absolutely useless. And here you are—turning thirty years old and you can’t do something so simple for your own mama.ʼ ˮ

  “Tommy started crying, but Pearl couldʼve cared less. Instead, she went on and on about herself. She said, ‘You know I’m not in good health, Tommy. I ain’t capable of caring for a small child now—much less a grown man. Me and your father are gonna have to have a talk about what to do with you if you can’t do more around here to help out.ʼ ˮ

  In that moment—looking at his sister, but seeing instead the smug visage of his wife—Charlie had wanted to wring Pearlʼs neck with his bare hands. He knew Joan saw it in his face, and knew it encouraged her to keep going. She was on a roll now, enjoying the opportunity to stick it to her sister-in-law.

  “I swear, Charlie, a light bulb must have gone off over that boyʼs head. His smile returned. I thought he must’ve figured out what his mama wanted. He started for the garage but then Pearl flailed her flabby old arms again.ˮ

  As a waiter bussed dirty dishes from a table behind Joan, all Charlie saw was his living room and what would amount to the final conversation between mother and son.

  “No, goddammit!” Pearl yelled. “Just go! Get out of here. And stay out of the way. I’ll get somebody else to help me. Somebody with some sense.”

  “Then she turned away and hollered for Ruby,” Joan said. “Tommy headed for the garage anyway, but his smile was gone. He passed me by in the kitchen and didnʼt even see me. He disappeared into the garage and went down the steps. He left the door open behind him and I saw him walk right past your workbench to the little wooden stool sitting in the far corner—you know which one—that one he sits on—used to sit on. Why, Iʼll never know.ˮ

  Charlie knew the stool. He also knew Tommy went there when he felt he needed to be out of sight and out of everyone’s way. Whenever he thought he was being stupid.

  “A minute later, Ruby sailed through the kitchen and went down the steps. She just ignored Tommy and went straight for the tub of yarn on the shelf. But then she shot him a look fit to melt ice as she wrestled the yarn bin through the doorway.ˮ

  “ ‘You’re a helluva lotta help,ʼ ˮ she said, yanking that tub into the kitchen. “ ‘But then why should today be any different?ʼ ”

  “Tommy didnʼt answer, and Ruby slammed the door behind her, leaving that poor boy in the garage all by himself.ˮ

  It hadn’t taken a detective for Charlie to figure out what happened from there.

  Randall (by Ruby’s insistence, of course) had always been the one to run the grill for any outdoor barbecues when Charlie couldn’t be there. From Tommy’s vantage point on the stool in the corner of the garage, Charlie knew Tommy could see through the back door window that looked out onto the patio and the back yard beyond. He would have seen the gas grill.

  I bet I could do that, Charlie could hear Tommy thinking. He knew the way his son’s mind worked. After all, hadn’t he let Tommy operate the big ovens down at the bakery? I could light the grill all by myself…get it ready for Randall.

  Charlie knew his boy. He’d show them he was more than just mild-mannered Thomas LaRue. He’d show them all. If plain olʼ Tommy messed it up, well, there was always his alter ego, SuperTom.

  Charlie had heard his son say on more than one occasion that SuperTom could do anything he put his mind to. In fact, he may have even encouraged his sonʼs superhero fantasies at times. But, he’d often thought, where was the harm?

  Now he knew.

  He had no doubt that SuperTom had planned to surprise them all.

  Chapter Ten

  Joan finished with a quiet, “Just thought you should know.”

  Joan’s version of events came with a lot of bias, of course—given her history with Pearl—but it was probably much closer to the truth than the whoppers he’d been hearing at home. For the first time in their not-so-close life together as siblings, sheʼd dropped her sense of melodrama.

  But it wasn’t for him. It was more like self-preservation.

  Like Pearl and Ruby, Joan counted on him for the extras in life. He thanked her, but could tell she’d been expecting a more rewarding response. This time Charlie refused to play along.

  His sister wound up leaving the café unsatisfied. He could tell she’d wanted to press him, but clearly something in his expression had warned her against it. What had she seen? Whatever it was, sheʼd abruptly stood, given him a half-hearted hug, then wasted no time making a beeline for the door.

  He hadn’t spoken to Joan since, nor had he confronted Pearl or Ruby about the matter. For one, he just wasn’t ready to hear the whole thing recounted again. It hurt too much. For the longest time he never let on that he thought Tommy’s death was anything other than a tragic accident, but he had to admit he’d seen something different on his wife and daughterʼs faces following the funeral. Incredulous as he was, he was sure of it, and eventually heʼd recognized it for what it was: Relaxation. No, he thought, that wasn’t quite it. It was more like a release.

  Relief.

  That was when Charlie LaRue truly learned to hate.

  ****

  He looked over the engraving he’d studied many times. The raised letters stood out in dramatic relief like a marble accusation:

  Thomas Wayne LaRue

  1984—2014

  Not one prone to violence, Charlie was mad. He felt responsible; angry with God and himself for allowing it to happen, and had thought many times that he should have been stronger—shown some guts. Throughout Tommy’s life, his father had been the only one willing to spend time with him, treat him as more than just a nuisance. During the last tortuous and pain-filled hours of his son’s life in the Burn Unit of Ransom General, Charlie
had been the only member of the family present.

  “You know I can’t come up there,” Pearl had said, excusing herself. “I’m not well. Haven’t been well for a long time.”

  “I’m taking depositions for a big case, Daddy,” had been Ruby’s justification.

  Even then, he had wanted to tell them both how heartless they were, but was too grief-stricken to even try. What would have been the point anyway?

  Now here he was; still stressing over a damn gift for Pearl, a wedding cake for Ruby, and standing in a cemetery in the middle of the night—at the grave of the only one who had ever appreciated him. Tommy; the greatest creation Charlie’d ever been a part of and now he was gone. Just gone.

  He missed his boy so much and ached just to hold him again, but instead held a crumpled paper bag containing a stupid piece of jewelry wire.

  Fury gripped Charlie then. He crushed the bag in his hand, reared back, and threw it. The lightweight bag sailed into a thatch of evergreens several yards away. While impressive, the throw took a lot out of him and he had to take a few deep breaths as the rage subsided. The last thing I need to do is give myself a heart attack.

  He regained control and reminded himself that he still had to get something for Pearl as soon as he finished Ruby’s cake—and all that after sunup in the morning.

  This morning, he corrected himself. He needed to get moving if he was going to get home and get a little sleep. There was still so much yet to do.

  “Big day coming, buddy,” he said to Tommy’s stone. “I’d better get going.”

  Bad knees or not, Charlie kissed his fingertips and kneeled down to touch the cool stone. It was never easy to leave. He finished his goodbye the way he always did; like a prayer more than a farewell.

  “I love you, son. See you soon.”

  With effort, he stood again and headed for the car.

  The drive out of the cemetery was a blur. He half-expected to see the cat appear again from the shadows and dart in front of the car as he headed for the entrance. When nothing emerged, he concentrated on keeping the Chrysler to the winding path. Only the moon and his headlights offered help against a gathering fog as the cemetery’s lamps fell behind and he drove beneath the iron arch. He turned north and headed home.