"Nimrod's Son"

A short story from 2008. There are some things better left unsaid. There are some stones better left unturned. Some secrets better left unknown. Cute sayings and quotes for very horrible things. As I sit tied to this chair with blood running into my eye I can only wish I had left that stone unturned.  Ten minutes ago she was my mother. A woman I had loved my entire life. A woman I had defended in many fights on the schoolyard. Now I don't even know who the hell she is. Actually, that's not true. Trying to find out who she is got me into this situation. This morning I was awoken by the sound of pounding at my door. Having no peephole I had to depend on being able to recognize who was on the other side of the door by their voice. All I could hear was groaning. Curiosity outweighed my concern for bodily harm and I opened it. An old guy fell on the floor and gasped for air. I helped him to my couch and ran to grab a glass of water. When I returned he was gone. I went to the door to find him but he was already running down the stairs. I went back to my apartment and closed the door. I noticed a note on the couch and read it. Dear Sammy, I know I haven't been there for you your whole life. I know I missed so many ballgames, recitals, and PTA meetings. But just know that you were always in my thoughts. It's just that your mother would not allow me to come anywhere near you. A few times I watched from a distance as you played in the park with your brother Ronnie and wished I could toss a few with the two of you. But I was afraid. I am not afraid to admit that I was. Your mother is not who you think she is. Be careful. Love, Dad. I didn't know what to think. I hadn't seen my father since I was 4 yours old. My brother Ronnie had died when he was 8 from pneumonia. I read the letter over a few more times before calling my mother. She answered on the third ring like she always does. “How are you doing, Samuel?” she asked me. How can mom not be who I think she is? “I'm good, mom” I tell her. “I have a kinda strange question to ask you.” “Okay” she replied. “Spit it out.” “What happened between you and dad?” I ask her. I hear the phone drop then the line go dead. I hang up and call her back. The phone rings ten times before the connection is cut. I grab a jacket and throw it on before heading over to moms house. Why did she drop the phone? Could dad have been right about her? Mom is one of the sweetest, gentle people on Earth. Why would he be afraid of her? From the few pictures of dad that I found he seemed like a big guy. The man I saw collapse on my floor was a wreck. He looked like he had been running for years or something. Mom couldn't have done that to him. I arrive at moms place and her car is still parked in the driveway. At least she hadn't run away or something. I knock on the door even though I have a key. After a minute I open the door and call for her. No answer. The next thing I know I am tied to a chair and bleeding.  Mom is sitting across from me at the dinner table smoking a long, dark cigarette and drinking wine. I have never seen mom smoke before. “What did he tell you?” she asks me. “Mom, what's going on?” I ask her. “Why am I tied up?” “Just answer the question, Samuel” she says as she drops the cigarette into her half empty glass of wine and walks towards me. “He said he missed me and Ronnie” I tell her. She looks different. In her eyes, I mean.  Something is missing. “What else?” she asks me. I don't know what she wants to hear. “That's it!” I shout. None of this makes sense to me. Not dad showing up after thirty years. Not mom tying me up for sure. “Untie me!” “You're lying” mom said as she slapped me hard across the face. I think she loosened a tooth. “Your father can't talk.” “What are you talking about?” I ask her. “I cut his tongue out when you and Ronnie were kids” she said with no emotion. “He didn't tell you anything.” “A note” I spit at her. “He left a note. He didn't say anything to me.” “Glad to hear you tell the truth” she said while standing behind me. “Are you gonna untie me, mom?” I ask. “Why are you even doing this? Why did you cut out dads tongue?” “Because he talked too much” she says. “Guess I should've cut off his fingers while I was at it” she chuckles. “It doesn't matter now.” “Why? Why doesn't it matter?” I ask. “Because I can't let you leave here now” she says while lifting something heavy from the floor. I assume its what she knocked me out with. “We can pretend that this never happened, mom” I tell her. I can feel tears welling in my eyes stinging them. Every sense in my body is telling me to scream. To try and escape. But I cant. Guess this is what they call “emotionally paralyzed.” “We can't go back to our Sunday lunches and Friday brunches after this, Samuel” she says as she grunts while lifting whatever it is she has in her hands. And she's right. I can't even pretend to pretend that this never happened. No amount of therapy could erase this from my mind. She never tells me why she cut dads tongue out. I spend the last minute of my life doubting everything I thought I knew. I feel the first blow to my head. It doesn't knock me out. It dazes me. I see stars and my blood gather in my lap. I hear her grunt again and the world begins to fade to black. The last thing I see is my high school baseball trophy drop to the floor at my feet. Now I know what was missing when I looked my mother in the eyes.  It was love.