Thorn in My Side Read Free

his hand to shut me up.
    “Admit it!” he screamed at the woman. “You were thinking about him while you were screwing me.”
    Her only answer was a confused stare.
    “Admit it!” he repeated. I felt a tug as we got down on our knees. His fury burned like a flame next to me. Before I could stop him, he wrapped his hand around the woman’s face and shoved her back against the door. “I knew you were a whore when I saw you.”
    “Of course I’m a whore.” She touched her fingers to her face. I could see a bruise coming up. She rubbed it like she could make it go away. “Why else would I be out here in your stupid van if it wasn’t for money?”
    “Get out of here.” Kirk dug into his pocket for the key fob. It dropped onto the floor. The keys made a soft jangling sound as they hit the carpet. “Just get the hell out.”
    “You’re an asshole!”
    Kirk was never good at repartee. “You’re what comes out of one.”
    Her lips snarled in disgust. “If my brother wasn’t in prison, he’d kick your ass all over this parking lot.”
    “Tell me where he is and I’ll go kick it for him!”
    She rolled her eyes, then for some reason looked at me. “Sorry.”
    “Don’t you apologize to him!” Kirk screamed. “Just get out of here, you filthy whore!”
    She told me, “You seem like a nice guy.”
    “Thank you,” I managed, but no good deed goes unpunished. Kirk jerked his shoulder in one of his whiplash shrugs that sent my head careening into the back of the front seat.
    “God, you’re an asshole.” She grabbed the door handle, but nothing happened. “Unlock the door, you freak.”
    “Just get the hell out of my van!”
    “I’m trying to, you freak.”
    “Stop calling me a freak!” Kirk screamed. I felt a trill run through our body that brought a cold sweat onto my neck and shoulders. Our heart shook as if electrified. I’d seen anger before. I’d seen fury. But this was different.
    “Kirk,” I begged, my throat tightening around the word. It was too late. His fisted hand went up into an arc over his head, and then—carnage.

CHAPTER TWO
     
    I looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It was 5:58 in the morning. Kirk’s CPAP machine made a noise like a ventilator as he slept soundly beside me. I had my Bible open by my head, but the words kept blurring.
    A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is no friend who sticks closer than a brother.
    I looked at my brother. Kirk snored softly. The breathing hose wrapped around his face resembled a plastic octopus. Whoever said that bad deeds keep you up at night had never met Kirk. He was sleeping like a baby. The sleep of the guiltless. The sleep of the content.
    Mindy Connor. That was her name. We found her license in her wallet, which was inside her purse, which we only noticed when we were taking out the seats of the Town and Country so we could peel back the carpet and hose everything down.
    The alarm clock changed to 5:59, then 6:00, which sent it into a shrill beeping. Kirk reached over me and groped for the snooze button, but I pushed away his hand.
    “Wha—?” His voice was muffled by the breathing mask. My expression was enough to cut off any comment. He took off the mask, and together, we sat up.
    I followed him into the bathroom, where he emptied our bladder. Silently, we brushed our teeth. He didn’t complain when I flossed, even did his own teeth for a change. I felt like I was in a daze as we went through our usual morning routine: breakfast, coffee, shower, shave. Kirk took longer on his hair than usual, but I didn’t care. I suppose he thought he was being generous when he gave me extra time to empty our bowels. Instead of tapping his foot and repeatedly clearing his throat, he sat silently, waiting. I turned my head away, staring out the bathroom window at the dogwood trees in the yard. Kirk hated gardening. The pansies and gardenias were all done on my days. The rose bushes. The peach tree. All me. All lost