Chapter 23 Crap-accio
CRAP-ACCIO
We pulled up outside the faded cream townhouse, and I looked outside, just in time for a football to thump against the window, making me screech in surprised terror. As I opened my eyes and looked again, a heavy-set man with an exhilarated look was coming along the lawn toward us.
“Goddamnit!” Randy hissed. “Sorry. That’s Bobby, my step-brother. And he’s the smart one.”
“Rrrrrrandy!” Bobby hollered at us, like a boisterous child, spoiling for a fight.
Randy climbed out of the driver’s side and walked around to my side. Before he could open the door for me, Bobby had him in a headlock and was wrestling him to the ground. I watched the two of them thrash around before an older man emerged from the front door and started barking at them.
“You bums get out of my flowerbed or I’ll beat the both of you!”
They stopped at the sound of the voice and dusted themselves off, standing embarrassed in front of him. Tired of waiting, I pushed open the car door myself, and their attention turned to me.
“Well, who’s this?” The older man said, a small twinkle in his eye that I tried to ignore.
“Pa, this is Lucy.”
“Sure is.” He said, his gaze still fixed on me. “Well, c’mon in.”
I joined Randy’s side, his once pressed shirt now untucked and grubby from rolling around in the dirt.
“I’m so sorry about that,” Randy whispered to me. Then he took a firm jab on the arm from Bobby when his father wasn’t looking.
As we stepped across the weather-worn porch and into the living room, the first thing I noticed was a musty smell that seemed to be in everything, as if the dust and age and lack of care had formed its own aroma.
The second thing I noticed was that there were no photos of Randy in the house.
I mean, there were pictures everywhere, filling the walls and covering the cabinets.
The oafish step-brothers holding up impossibly-sized fish, some old black and white pictures from a different generation, even the dog that was now sniffing around my feet featured on those walls.
A woman who featured prominently in many of the pictures suddenly stepped out in front of me, loud and cheerful, but at the same time looking tired and wrung out. On top of her head, her frizzy blonde hair was wild and spiralling out of control, her hands constantly trying to push it back down.
“Oh, hello!” She said cheerfully, the smell of boiled sweets coming with her words.
“Hi!” I said, trying to sound as delighted as I could. “I’m Lucy.”
“Carol.” She said in return, and then seemed to be thinking of what to say next. In the end, she yelled “JAKE!” over her shoulder and then returned to smiling at me.
“WHAT!” A voice hollered back from the other room.
“WE’VE GOT GUESTS!”
“IT’S JUST RANDY!” Jake screamed back.
Was this how they communicated in this house? Yelling at each other through the walls.
“NO! SUZY IS HERE TOO.”
“Lucy,” I said as she faced me again.
“What’s that, dear?”
“My name is Lucy.”
“WHO’S SUZY!” Jake called back.
“RANDALL’S… I DON’T KNOW! COME SAY HELLO!”
An irritated sigh came from the other room, then heavy plodding footsteps foreshadowed the large frame of Jake, the second brother, practically filling the entire doorway.
He took a look at me, then turned his attention to Carol.
“When we eating?”
“Now, Jake. Go change your shirt.”
Jake looked down at his grey t-shirt with fresh orange stains on his chest and sighed, while Carol glared at him. Then her cheerful expression returned as she turned back to us.
“C’mon through,” she waved. “Randall, you hungry?”
“Sure,” Randall murmured back, reluctantly.
If the introduction to Randy’s adopted family was slightly uncomfortable, dinner was a whole other level. As soon as Carol dropped a bowl on the table, it was pounced on, everyone scrambling to get their piece of the meal. Then, what followed was a seemingly endless mockery of Randy.
“Randy! A chef!”
Food flew out of Jackson Senior’s mouth with the awful, mocking sound of laughter.
“What’s he going to serve? Raw egg and old mince on burnt toast?”
Randy’s face reddened. “I was ten when that happened, Dad. And it was carpaccio.”
“It was crap-accio!”
The anger was rising in me with every dig they took at Randy. I couldn’t just sit there as they laughed at Randy’s dreams.
“You know, Randy is actually an amazing cook,” I chimed in.
“Oh, is he now?” Jackson Senior wiped a tear of laughter from his eye. “I think ‘cook’ is one letter away from the word you were looking for there.”
He turned his eye to Randy with a wink, and I could sense blood. But Randy didn’t rise to it. He just sat quietly, looking sheepishly down at his plate.
“Hey Randy. Why don’t you start with the washing up,” Jackson Snr continued, “And get me a cup of coffee while you’re at it. Just try not to burn the beans.”
Randy seemed to have shrunk in his chair. His body pulled in tightly around himself, all his magnificence gone. Then, one of the oafs saw the fun to be had and decided to join in.
“Hey, Randy! Remember when we told you to touch the electric fence at Godderick’s farm and you pissed yourself!?”
It made no sense to the narrative. It was just humiliation. I watched Randy nervously as they all bellowed with wicked laughter, wishing I could just take him out of that place and wrap my arms around him. The second oaf didn’t need a second invitation.
“Hey, let’s watch the Love Villa highlights after this, what do you say, Randy?”
“Stop it, Jake,” Randy said, quietly and unconvincingly. More pleading with him than being commanding.
“Haha, Randy Jackass, what a loser!”
Now my blood really began to boil over, and I couldn’t help myself as the words rose up and came out.
“What the actual FUCK!?”
The laughter around the table abruptly stopped. Like those scenes in the movies where the stranger walks into a local bar and everyone stops and stares at them. Except I was the stranger, and they were all staring at me.
“Well, I can see Randy’s picked another winner,” Carol said witheringly, sighing and standing up from the table, collecting the plates to take away, even though no one had finished eating.
The oaf brothers gave each other a wicked look of amusement, while Frank Jackson had turned an odd beetroot color and was looking at me in deep contempt.
I looked over to Randy, hoping he would catch on and join my anger and stand up to them.
“Sorry, Pa,” he almost squeaked. Then he stood from the table, “We should get going, Lucy.”
Frank didn’t reply. He just looked at us both with malice. What could I do other than follow Randy from the table and out of the house?
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said when we got outside.
“Randy! They were acting like monsters. How can you just take that?”
“Been dealing with it my whole life, Lucy. I told you they were difficult.”
“Don’t you want to say anything to them?”
“I tried, once or twice. All it got me was a thrashing. Then, when I thought I was too big for that, I got a tongue-lashing instead. And that’s why, Lucy. That’s why I can’t let anyone in.”
“Look. Randy. I know bullies. They’re weak and sad, and the only thing that makes them feel powerful is to try and bring down people who remind them how lame they are.”
Randy’s head slumped, unable to meet my eye. “I’m sorry, Lucy.”
“What for?”
“For bringing you here.”
I watched him for a moment, disappointed.
“You don’t have to be,” I said.
He raised his head and frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You said you never backed down. If it’s true, then this doesn’t have to end like this.”
He looked pained, like it was the last thing he wanted. But I knew, right then, it was what he needed.
“It’s time to go and take control of the game, King.”
Hearing me call him that name brought on a spark of recognition. Of something inside, flickering into life. Then a look of steel and determination took the place of the scared little boy in front of me.
“You’re fucking right.”
Frank Jackson was now standing in the doorway, his arms crossed defiantly as he leaned on the doorframe and looked over at us. Randy turned and started toward him.
“Don’t think you’re welcome back in here, you or your girlfriend with the potty mouth.”
“Pa. You be quiet now.”
Randy was suddenly larger than he’d been since we arrived, towering over Frank, who seemed to shrink a little in his shadow and under his glowering expression.
“I can’t call you dad anymore, Frank. You’re not fit. Everything I’ve done, you’ve undermined and put me down. And for what? Those two thugs that aren’t even yours?”
“You don’t know what I’ve done, Randall,” Frank sneered back.
“Oh, I do. I was there, Frank. I watched a small, bitter man ruin his family. No one called you out. No one told you. Now, I am.”
Frank stared back, wordlessly.
“I was terrified of you. But not anymore. All I see now is a frightened old man. If I have any weakness, it’s you. It’s all tied up in you.”
“Don’t try and be a big boy in front of your girlfriend. I don’t think she’s very impressed. I could still thrash you, boy.”
“I’m not a boy anymore, Frank. And that girl? She’s more than you could ever be. You! You have no honor, no loyalty, no kindness. Just a sad old man.”
“Oh, and what now? You’re going to hit a sad old man, are you tough guy?”
They stood, locked in a stare of contempt for each other.
Behind Frank, the two brothers appeared, and Randy laughed.
“You pushed me away for them, and Frank, I gotta tell you, they don’t even respect or like you.”
“Maybe you should ease up there, Randy,” Bobby said.
Randall fixed his stern eyes on Bobby and Jake.
“You two made my life absolutely miserable! And for what?”
“We were just playing around, Randy, c’mon,” Jake said.
“Don’t you realize what that was like? I’d just lost my mum, and you made me suffer even more.”
Jake rolled his eyes, “Don’t be such a baby, you…”
“No.” Bobby interrupted. “He’s right.”
Frank and Jake both turned in surprise to Bobby.