Enough is Enough
When the door shut behind Todd, Tucker bellowed his frustration into a pillow. He hadn’t been planning a confrontation with Todd, but after the way he’d walked out without any explanation, Tuck realized enough was enough. He loved Todd, but he couldn’t keep going on with him like this. It hurt too much, too deeply. On some level, he’d expected things might eventually go bad between them, but he’d never thought it would happen this soon. He also thought it would be because Todd threw him over for some other man, someone less boring. He never imagined it would be because of a woman. Todd’s mother had his head completely messed up.
Anger and denial surged, competing for emotional dominance. The anger turned to rage and took over completely. Tuck started in the living room and made his way like a hurricane through the house. He knocked over the shoe carousel and threw the coats off the hooks near the door on to the floor. He pulled the cushions off the couch. He shook out the trash can in the kitchen—wet coffee grounds littering the linoleum. He scattered the mugs and rearranged the dry and canned goods. He drank from the milk and left it on the counter with the cap off. He hit the bathroom next, before moving into his final betrayal.
Todd’s bedroom.
He flipped the mattress and box spring, yelling as the large rectangles slid off the frame. He pulled every neatly folded article of clothing out of the drawers and sent them sailing across the room. After he massacred the closet, his task was done. He’d completely demolished everything Todd held sacred. Well, good. Todd had done the same to him. On that note, Tucker grabbed his gym clothes and headed out.
After two hours of cardio and intense weight training, Tucker felt better. More centered. Which, of course, made him feel awful about his outburst. He’d been out of control in his rage. It scared him too. He’d always had a deep fear that somewhere inside him his mother’s propensity for violence was lurking, biding time until it could be let out. Is that what had happened? Could he be dangerous like she was? Deep down, he knew it might be true. He’d had it in him, just like she had.
Tucker squashed down the memories. If he dwelled for too long, the horrifying truth would eat him alive.
Tucker had slept behind a piece of plywood in the alley. His arm and the side of his head were purpled with bruises, still fresh from the day before. He hoped his mom had calmed down—that she would, as she sometimes did after hurting him, take him back inside their apartment and put cold compresses against the swelling pain. It was the closest he ever felt to being loved. He knocked first. Her reaction would tell him if he needed to run. She didn’t respond.
He knocked again. Maybe she’d gone out looking for him. The thought made his panic rise. She wouldn’t look for him unless she was mad. He jiggled the door handle, lifting at the bottom with his toes. It was the trick to getting in without a key. When the door gave easily, he made a small noise of surprise. She hadn’t locked the door.
“Mom,” he’d said quietly. “Are you home?” He waited for her to come around the corner of the kitchen, yelling as she told him what an idiot he was for asking such a stupid question. The absence of a reply made him braver.
He walked from the living room to the kitchen and nearly slipped on the slick linoleum. When he looked down, he found himself staring at a dark puddle only a few feet away from a crumpled figure. His mother. He’d dropped to his knees, not caring that his jeans were getting soaked.
“Mom!” he’d cried. “What do I do? What do I do?” He’d pressed against the knife wound in her stomach with his small hands, not big enough to stop the flow.
She’d opened her eyes to a half-slit, her mouth moving as if she wanted to speak, and then finally, she stopped moving all together.
What had she wanted to say? Would she have apologized? Would she have told Tucker she loved him? Or would she have used her last breath to curse him as she had so many times before? He’d spent several years seeing a child psychologist, who helped Tucker come to terms with his mother’s death.
He needed to get home and clean up the mess he’d left. He’d acted like a monstrous child when he’d destroyed their apartment. He needed to be a man. A good man. A grown-up. He would go home, clean up before Todd got back, and then they would talk and fix things. They had to. Tucker couldn’t live with any other outcome. Couldn’t live without Todd.