COUNT, BLEED, BELIEVE
This is part of a new short story that I am writing. I hope you enjoy.
He backhanded me. I totally tripped over the leg of the coffee table and I hit the floor. I just laid there. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t moan or cry. I just laid there, blood coming from my nose. I took my arm dressed in a blue ratty Oxford and wiped my nose. I looked at the crimson on my cuff and then I sucked in what was left in my nostril. The forming blood clot hit my sinuses with a metallic liquid slap which caused me to smell the blood very vividly. Still lying on my back looking at the popcorn ceiling, I drew a cigarette from my shirt pocket. I drew a lighter flame to it and began to smoke. I began to count the puff marks on the ceiling. I could hear him let down the tailgate of my truck. I could see him in my minds eye. His ankles crossed, the toes of his boots dug into the dirt. I can see him sitting on his hands and then looking at them as if it were their fault that they hit me. I could imagine him apologizing to himself about hitting me. I could see him smoking a cigarette. I hear the tailgate slam shut and a shout from Ray, “GODDAMN IT!” I just laid there ashing on myself not really giving a fuck.
The blood started to congeal in my nose. It was good that I was lying down though. You know that’s the best thing for a nose bleed either caused by you or someone else’s fault or just a regular old childhood nose bleed. I took a drag off my cigarette… 50, 51, 52, 53, 54…
…Maybe I am a battered man and I need to get slapped around a little bit. But he has never hit me before. Maybe I am being mentally battered. I am not a battered man. Maybe I am and that’s what I am supposed to say. It was my fault but then again maybe it wasn’t. I don’t know. Maybe it was just the realization of something he wasn’t ready for, me neither now that I am in this spot. Actually, it is my fault. Why did she have to say such a fucked thing like that…75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80…
I had gone into town. I needed to get some groceries. I ran into Marcy Doolittle Thornton. If I remember correctly, they dated or something. When I told Ray this his face became red. “Did you talk to her?” he asked swiftly.
“Well, yeah, For some reason she said, ‘have you seen Ray?’ and I told her you were living here.” Ray just looked at me with a scowl on his face.
“What did she say?” he said his face growing redder and redder.
“She said, ‘oh really? That’s right, I heard from Justin, that heard it from his mama who heard it from God knows who that you guys were faggots together or something.’ Then she laughed that messed up laugh she got from that accident with that bull.” I said trying to defuse this situation.
“Goddamn it, you know she and I dated for a while before she married Doug Thornton.” You could feel the steam coming from him. “
Well, what else to you say?” he asks sternly like a preacher to a sinner.
I stood there just looking at him. I really didn’t know what to say to him so, I just barred down and tried to let him know everything that happened, “Well, I didn’t know what to say. She kept going on and on about how faggots were gross and that if we were we would be going to hell. I didn’t know why she was so compiled to tell me all this. She just did and I guess I let something…” I paused and cleared my throat, “I guess I let something slip.”
“Like what?” He said with his eyes about to come lose from his head and his hands started to become clinched, almost in a death grip on anger.
I bit the bullet, because I knew it was going to send him over the edge. “Like,” I took a step back and was caught by the coffee table.
“Like what?” he said stepping toward me.
I tried to take another step back from him but I just couldn’t go no where. And then I said it, “I looked at her with a smile and said, ‘He fucks like a champion.’”
“WHAT?” he screamed at me. He then turned around on his heal. I walked after him.
“Wait now, Ray, I didn’t mean for that to…” I said.
DON’T you KNOW what this MEANS?” he asked me.
“No.” I said looking at the floor.
“Don’t you know that she’s going tell everybody not just everybody but her mother and everybody will know?!” He said as if the apocolispe was coming down the chimney.
“I didn’t mean to say it,” I said, “I’m sorry, my mouth went faster than my thoughtlessness.”
He started walking toward me. I had never seen him so mad at me before. He walked me into the coffee table to the point I was sitting on it. The next thing I know the back of his hand was against my face and I was lying on the floor with a nose bleed.
307, 306, 307, 308,…
He comes back in from being out side and he sits on the floor and looks down at me. He took my hand and just sat there. He took his free hand and tried to wipe my face. I just laid there emotionless while he was feeling my face and feeling the heat still radiating from my face.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a slow country voice.
I didn’t say anything. I just continued to lay there and count. I took another cigarette from my pocket and lit it.
“I just didn’t want people to find out about us.” A pause, “And I lost it.” Another pause, “I’m sorry.”
He stood up and took off to the bedroom and shut the door gently behind him. I didn’t know if I should have had followed him. I didn’t I laid on the floor awhile to gather my thoughts. The shower came on. I had my thoughts together…
339, 340, 341, 342,..
…I still just laid there for awhile longer until I heard him go back into the bedroom…
…415, 416, 417, 418,…
…I opened the door while he was stepping in to his boxers. He looked up at me in mid pull and I said, “I’m the one who is sorry.” I paused, “and I forgive you.”
We just stared as each other as he dropped his boxers and his face went back to a natural color. He stepped out of them and came to me, hugged me and held me tight.
I wanted to lay on the floor still and stair at the ceiling. There are 12 million and one puff marks up there. I swear it, I just counted everyone of them. .
He backhanded me. I totally tripped over the leg of the coffee table and I hit the floor. I just laid there. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t moan or cry. I just laid there, blood coming from my nose. I took my arm dressed in a blue ratty Oxford and wiped my nose. I looked at the crimson on my cuff and then I sucked in what was left in my nostril. The forming blood clot hit my sinuses with a metallic liquid slap which caused me to smell the blood very vividly. Still lying on my back looking at the popcorn ceiling, I drew a cigarette from my shirt pocket. I drew a lighter flame to it and began to smoke. I began to count the puff marks on the ceiling. I could hear him let down the tailgate of my truck. I could see him in my minds eye. His ankles crossed, the toes of his boots dug into the dirt. I can see him sitting on his hands and then looking at them as if it were their fault that they hit me. I could imagine him apologizing to himself about hitting me. I could see him smoking a cigarette. I hear the tailgate slam shut and a shout from Ray, “GODDAMN IT!” I just laid there ashing on myself not really giving a fuck.
The blood started to congeal in my nose. It was good that I was lying down though. You know that’s the best thing for a nose bleed either caused by you or someone else’s fault or just a regular old childhood nose bleed. I took a drag off my cigarette… 50, 51, 52, 53, 54…
…Maybe I am a battered man and I need to get slapped around a little bit. But he has never hit me before. Maybe I am being mentally battered. I am not a battered man. Maybe I am and that’s what I am supposed to say. It was my fault but then again maybe it wasn’t. I don’t know. Maybe it was just the realization of something he wasn’t ready for, me neither now that I am in this spot. Actually, it is my fault. Why did she have to say such a fucked thing like that…75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80…
I had gone into town. I needed to get some groceries. I ran into Marcy Doolittle Thornton. If I remember correctly, they dated or something. When I told Ray this his face became red. “Did you talk to her?” he asked swiftly.
“Well, yeah, For some reason she said, ‘have you seen Ray?’ and I told her you were living here.” Ray just looked at me with a scowl on his face.
“What did she say?” he said his face growing redder and redder.
“She said, ‘oh really? That’s right, I heard from Justin, that heard it from his mama who heard it from God knows who that you guys were faggots together or something.’ Then she laughed that messed up laugh she got from that accident with that bull.” I said trying to defuse this situation.
“Goddamn it, you know she and I dated for a while before she married Doug Thornton.” You could feel the steam coming from him. “
Well, what else to you say?” he asks sternly like a preacher to a sinner.
I stood there just looking at him. I really didn’t know what to say to him so, I just barred down and tried to let him know everything that happened, “Well, I didn’t know what to say. She kept going on and on about how faggots were gross and that if we were we would be going to hell. I didn’t know why she was so compiled to tell me all this. She just did and I guess I let something…” I paused and cleared my throat, “I guess I let something slip.”
“Like what?” He said with his eyes about to come lose from his head and his hands started to become clinched, almost in a death grip on anger.
I bit the bullet, because I knew it was going to send him over the edge. “Like,” I took a step back and was caught by the coffee table.
“Like what?” he said stepping toward me.
I tried to take another step back from him but I just couldn’t go no where. And then I said it, “I looked at her with a smile and said, ‘He fucks like a champion.’”
“WHAT?” he screamed at me. He then turned around on his heal. I walked after him.
“Wait now, Ray, I didn’t mean for that to…” I said.
DON’T you KNOW what this MEANS?” he asked me.
“No.” I said looking at the floor.
“Don’t you know that she’s going tell everybody not just everybody but her mother and everybody will know?!” He said as if the apocolispe was coming down the chimney.
“I didn’t mean to say it,” I said, “I’m sorry, my mouth went faster than my thoughtlessness.”
He started walking toward me. I had never seen him so mad at me before. He walked me into the coffee table to the point I was sitting on it. The next thing I know the back of his hand was against my face and I was lying on the floor with a nose bleed.
307, 306, 307, 308,…
He comes back in from being out side and he sits on the floor and looks down at me. He took my hand and just sat there. He took his free hand and tried to wipe my face. I just laid there emotionless while he was feeling my face and feeling the heat still radiating from my face.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a slow country voice.
I didn’t say anything. I just continued to lay there and count. I took another cigarette from my pocket and lit it.
“I just didn’t want people to find out about us.” A pause, “And I lost it.” Another pause, “I’m sorry.”
He stood up and took off to the bedroom and shut the door gently behind him. I didn’t know if I should have had followed him. I didn’t I laid on the floor awhile to gather my thoughts. The shower came on. I had my thoughts together…
339, 340, 341, 342,..
…I still just laid there for awhile longer until I heard him go back into the bedroom…
…415, 416, 417, 418,…
…I opened the door while he was stepping in to his boxers. He looked up at me in mid pull and I said, “I’m the one who is sorry.” I paused, “and I forgive you.”
We just stared as each other as he dropped his boxers and his face went back to a natural color. He stepped out of them and came to me, hugged me and held me tight.
I wanted to lay on the floor still and stair at the ceiling. There are 12 million and one puff marks up there. I swear it, I just counted everyone of them. .