Chapter Five
Gravel Burne walks down the narrow windowless hallway toward his mother’s kitchen. His feet are flat and heavy. He is a gristly fifty-year-old with wiry arms and legs, and a mess of cheap hair plugs that look like clumps of dead grass. Long on anger, short on thought, he is the authority around his two other brothers while Ben is in the pen.
Small table lamps, with yellowed onionskin shades, shed the only light in this dreary apartment. City buildings rise up tall on all four sides blocking out the sun’s natural light and turning the room a bitter color. The windows don’t open so the air instead is stale and smells of mold and Bengay. The paint peels on the door moldings. The furniture resembles its owners: dysfunctional and warped.
In the kitchen, Theo Burne empties the jar of Ragu into the pot on the stove. Theo is an overly muscular, mildly retarded, mute man who follows his brothers like a puppy and has been trained well by them. Kent Burne, who is a year younger than Gravel, sits at the small table complaining to his mother.
“Most the trouble with women is they got no sense of humor, except for you, Mother.” Sitting across from him, the wisp of an old lady grins exposing a gaping black toothless hole. Kent continues, “I was at the Lenny’s BBQ with a prime piece-a-ass I picked up at the Walmart, and I let out this earth rockin’ fart, and the bitch don’t even crack a grin. Instead, she looks at me like her shit don’t stink.”
Gravel enters, “You might have more luck if you stop dating girls with hair on their back.”
“Great. Advice from a guy who owes a fortune to 976-U-CUM.”
A muffled grunting noise comes from Theo over at the stove. From the look on his face, it must be amusement. With the addition of Gravel, three of the four Burne brothers are present for their mother’s special eightieth birthday party. They are only missing their oldest brother Ben.
Theo spoons out macaroni from the pot on the stove, pours some Ragu over it and plops it down on the table for the family. He takes a couple of used, dirty spoons from the sink and hands them out. The four of them sit around the beaten up plastic table and for a moment or two there is only the sound of the spoons hitting plates and sloppy chewing.
Then Gravel says, “Mother, in honor of your special birthday, Theo baked you a cake.”
“Theo,” she pets him like he’s a dog, “you were always my favorite - after Ben, of course.”
“Of course, after Ben.” Gravel’s lifelong envy comes alive in the room and it’s ugly.
Mother continues, “Yes, Theo, you were always a good quiet kid.”
“He’s mute,” Gravel says annoyed.
“He’s not mute. He just doesn’t have anything important to say. You could learn from him.”
“I learned everything I need to already.”
“You know, Mother,” Kent says, “all the shrinks on the inside told me you’re not supposed to have favorites ‘cause it sucks for our development.”
“Yeah, so, some people prefer other people. Get used to it.” The old woman looks around the kitchen and then says, “Let’s do this. I want my cake in the bedroom.” Mother gets up and heads for the bedroom. The three men each grab some cake for themselves.
“Fried that guy at the state pen last night,” Gravel says.
Kent answers, “Firing squad’s a much better way to go than the chair.”
“Nah, a good old-fashioned hanging - that’s the way.”
Theo cuts and puts a nice piece of cake on a plate for Mother Burne.
”I heard when you hang - your dick gets hard.”
“Damn right.” Gravel grins at him.
“Okay, so that’s one good thing.” They share a brotherly chuckle.
The bedroom has a twin mattress on top of the metal frame with no box spring. The sheets are grimy. Mother Burne is propped against the dingy pillow. Theo, Kent, and Gravel take seats on the sides of the mattress surrounding her. Gravel has brought in his cake and he licks some frosting from his fingers. It’s the closest he comes to washing his hands.
Mother Burne takes a bite of cake and confirms, “Now, boys, you know what you’re supposed to do, right? You’ve got no confusion?”
“First, we get Ben. Then we go across Superior to meet up with Uncle Rafe in Canada,” Kent replies.
“We’ve always been a close family. I’d like to think you boys will stay that way when I’m gone.”
“Yes, Mother,” Kent says. Theo nods. Gravel hovers like a predator.
“Listen to your brother Ben. He’s got more smarts than all you put together.”
Gravel rolls his eyes and swears under his breath.
She smacks his face. “Only idiots mumble.”
Kent asks, “So, Mother, sure you don’t want to hang around ‘til we get Ben?”
“Eighty’s enough.” She turns to Theo, “Son, I trust you.” Theo’s eyes take in her words. He nods. She continues, “So, don’t f*ck up.”
Theo takes one of the pillows and plunges it down over his mother’s face. He presses out the air. In mid-bite, Gravel looks up from his cake. Kent leans in closer with interest. They watch as their mother begins to flail. Theo presses down harder. She kicks. She slaps the mattress. She grabs out into the air. She lifts her body at the hips. They watch. A long, long, cold moment, and then the flailing stops. Wait. The old woman goes limp. Wait. Wait.
Kent says admiringly, “She was a wiry old thing.”
“Yeah, well, I never f*ckin’ liked her.” Gravel gets up. “Good job, Theo.” He’s happy for the compliment. The three of them get up and leave the room.
“Did you know that ‘f*ck’ is the only word we have that can go into any sentence?” Kent asks.
“Yeah?’
“Sure, it can be ‘get f*cked.’ It can be ‘cool f*ckin’ shoes.’ It can be ‘Hey, f*cker!’ Yup, really it goes easy into every f*ckin’ sentence.”
“Then that’s a useful f*ckin’ word.” Gravel grins, pleased with himself. All three of them are smiling as they grab a bag left by the door and exit.
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