MELT

“Instantly the wicked woman gave a loud cry of fear, and then, as Dorothy looked at her in wonder, the Witch began to shrink and fall away.
‘See what you have done!’ she screamed. ‘In a minute I shall melt away.’
‘I’m very sorry, indeed,’ said Dorothy, who was truly frightened to see the Witch actually melting away like brown sugar before her eyes.
‘Didn’t you know water would be the end of me?’ asked the Witch, in a wailing, despairing voice.
‘Of course not,’ answered Dorothy. ‘How should I?’”
— From The Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum

No Place Like Home

“‘What shall we do?’ asked the Tin Woodman.
‘If we leave her here she will die,’ said the Lion.”
— From The Wizard of OZ by L. Frank Baum

Mom stopped crying a
long
time ago.
Now
she don’t even
whimper
when he does it. He comes
home
in his fucking blue uniform shiny black shoes shiny tie clip shining
badge
he blows in and the screen door
slams
behind him like it’s pissed off
he’s
back.
He comes in shuts the front door clicks the lock closed
he wipes his shoes on the mat
back and forth
back
and
forth he pads across the shit-brown carpet without a sound
his eyes are empty his eyes are
dark his eyes are
wrought
lead like his
Glock.

I catch a whiff of his favorite mouthwash
Jack
Daniels
he used to smell of Listerine and Jack but he don’t bother trying to
cover
up
these days.
Without a look he goes past me and Jimmy and Warren. Warren’s got his textbooks spread out across the couch but he ain’t studying
not
no more. Grim music drifts from our video game low
chilling
sounds like any second the reaper’s gonna
strike. Me and Jimmy we’re playing Halo on X-Box, least we were ‘til
he
came
back. It’s like we’re paused
we’re all on
pause whenever
Pop
comes
home.
We ain’t putting down the controls cause if we look at him if we act like we’re paying attention to what he’s doing then he
might
come
after
us
next.
The freakish Halo music plays on and
on and
on. He heads through the arch to the kitchen his shoes stamping on the green linoleum he goes right over to her at the stove cooking his goddamn mashed potatoes stirring
stirring
stirring she don’t move don’t run she just fucking stirs
stirs
stirs
he says
nothing
to her to the
girl he married to the
mother
of his kids he comes behind her at the stove his shoes squeak he
grabs
her
the spoon plops in the potatoes no not even a plop not a sound it
sinks soundless
like
her.
He holds her against him blue sleeve on white apron
squeezing
squeezing
squeezing into her ribs like he’s doing the Heimlich
his tie clip presses in her back
he sticks his semiautomatic piece of crap weapon in her mouth clanks
it against her teeth shoves
it
down
her
throat clicks
off the safety and she don’t
make a sound
she
just
stands there and takes it. Not a peep not a flinch not a blink of panic
nothing she just takes it she
melts
for him
melts like the butter she stirred in his mashed potatoes made from
scratch
peeled one by one
eyes carved out
she
melts she just disappears
she’s
gone.
Like every husband in the world kisses his wife like this.
Like she
deserves
it like she did something that’d
make
it
okay
for the man who
swore
to
love and cherish her
to do
this
in front of
me.

Hey, I saw the video. There wasn’t nothing in those vows ‘bout guns or fists neither for that matter. Do you Caitlyn Ruby Shields promise to take a pounding anytime Joseph Thomas Riley damn well feels like laying one on? No, I don’t think Father Gallagher mentioned that.
God I
hate
that name I
hate that I’m
named
after
him. My pop I mean. Not Father Gallagher.

Mom in her satin white dress with the lacy veil and the puffed
sleeves the long
train
dragging
behind her the big-ass bouquet of white roses she
cradled
in her arms
poor
Mom she looked so happy no one told her ‘bout the guns. And
him
he’s standing there by Father Gallagher in his black tux black bow-tie
that
prick
he’s always so fucking neat looking so smug hair slicked back I could’ve killed him even then if
only
I was born.

That’s a
lie
I can’t even
kill
him
now.
I just sit here
pretending
to
play
Halo while my mom gets a Glock rammed down her throat I can’t even save my mom from this piece of shit who goes out to serve
and
protect
all day
some
joke.

She stopped crying like five years ago.

She stopped crying when I was twelve.

Me I never cried much not in front of him he warned me not to.
He told us me and my brothers not to let one tear drop on the carpet or we’d get it too. He don’t hit us much he just
says
he might.
Me and Jimmy we’re pussys I guess Warren’s nine what could he do but me and Jimmy we sit there
day
after
day fingers touching stupid useless buttons day after
day night after
night he hits her hits
her hits
her and we watch.
Week after
week month
after month we
watch.
She gets slammed
into walls so hard pictures fall she gets shoved
so rough his finger marks are in her arm she gets thrown
to the floor and kicked
kicked
kicked
and we hold our controls and we hold our breaths and watch we
watch
we watch.

Warren cries in bed. I check on him before I go to sleep, stick my head in his door. The blankets are pulled up over him he’s just a
lump
underneath. There’s no noise but the covers shake he’s under there holding it
all
in
I know cause I did that too.
He’s only nine.
He’ll learn to cut that shit
soon
enough.

Me and Jimmy we don’t cry.

And she don’t cry neither.

So
what’s the
problem maybe this is
normal maybe this is
life maybe everybody on Long Island does this behind the doors they close and lock when they come
home.

This’s all I know and
maybe
this’s right but it
don’t feel right I wanna help her
but
I
don’t.

I watch Mom suck steel and then we all eat. We sit at the
table slide our chairs in
we pick up our forks
like
nothing.
Pass the potatoes.

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