All the Ugly and Wonderful Things

3

AMY

Kellen’s garage was the same as any other run-down mechanic shop you see in little towns. Two garage bays, both doors standing open. Lawnmowers and motorcycles in various states of disassembly. On the back wall were a window and a door. Parked there was what I knew had to be Kellen’s motorcycle. The fenders were chromed and all of it was covered in stars.

“I bet he’s in the office,” Butch said, but when he pushed the door open, he said, “What the fuck?”

Through the open door I saw what everyone else saw, I suppose. Wavy on the desk, leaning back on her hands, completely naked, resting her bare feet on Kellen’s legs. He was in the desk chair, his shirt off, his pants open. I didn’t notice any blood, although later that was all anyone talked about—the blood on his desk blotter. Small amounts of blood are almost invisible when you have a puddle of blood burned on your retinas like a sunspot.

I saw what everyone else saw, except that at the moment the door swung open, I saw Wavy smiling before her eyes went wide.

Kellen stood up, and as he fastened his fly, Butch lunged at him and swung. Butch punched him in the face and all Kellen did was say, “Goddamn, Butch, let her get dressed before you come in here and try to kick my ass.”

He didn’t look like he’d been punched until he saw Mom, Leslie, and me.

“You son of a bitch,” Mom said. “How long have you been doing this? How long?”

“Okay, ma’am, I know—I know how it looks.” Kellen put his hands up, like he was surrendering, or preparing for Mom to fall on him like a hungry lioness. “But I love her. We’re gonna get married.”

Kellen picked up a piece of paper from his desk and held it out to her. She took it and glared down at it, her face getting redder.

“Val and Liam know, okay? I bought her a ring and Liam signed the paperwork. He signed it today and the judge says—”

“Liam can’t give you permission to marry her anymore!” Mom twisted and tore at the paper until it was just a pile of scraps at her feet.

Then I understood the dead man in the hallway of the farmhouse was Uncle Liam.

While all this was going on, Wavy got dressed, pulling up her panties and tugging on her T-shirt and skirt. As she stomped into her boots, Mom stepped around Butch and reached for the phone that was lying off the hook on the filing cabinet. As she did, she looked down at the desk blotter and said, “You’re going to burn for this, you fucking bastard.” I’d never heard her use the F-word before.

Mom put the receiver to her ear and, for the second time that day, dialed 911. When the operator answered, she said, “I want to report a rape.”

“Wait, Mrs. Newling. Just wait.” Butch, not Kellen, said that.

“What’s the address here?” Mom said.

Sitting back in the desk chair, with a hand to his head, Kellen gave my mother the address and she repeated it to the operator.

“My name is Brenda Newling. It’s my niece. Yes, yes, I did make that earlier call. I had to leave there. I—no, this is not a prank. I was there and they were—” Mom’s voice got louder and louder until she was silent for a moment. “They’re there? You have someone at the house?”

Until then, Butch had been shaking his head, but he came around the desk and jerked the phone away.

“You dumb cunt. You called the cops out to the house? You called the cops?” he said.

“Valerie and Liam are dead! Somebody shot them! Yes, I called the police!”

“Fuck! Fuck!” Butch tossed the phone on the desk and ran out through the garage. A moment later we heard the car start and drive away. He’d left us there.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” Kellen said.

Mom looked at Wavy and realized what she’d done: blurted it out with no warning. I’m calling the cops on your fiancé, and by the way, your parents are dead. Wavy started trembling. Kellen put his hands on her hips and walked her back until she was sitting on his lap. Wrapping one arm around her shoulders, he tucked her head under his chin. He kissed her hair and said, “I’m here, Wavy. I’m here.”

It seemed like that would be the end of it. Mom would stop yelling and saying awful things, and Kellen would take care of Wavy. He obviously knew how.

They were still sitting like that five minutes later when a police car pulled up. Mom went outside and, when she came back, two sheriff’s deputies were with her.

“Why don’t you girls step outside?” the younger deputy said, while the older one went into the office.

“Come on, Junior,” he said. “You’re gonna have to come with us.”

“Give us a couple minutes, okay?” Kellen said.

“No, you need to let go of her and stand up.”

“Jesus, Delbert, she just found out her mother’s dead. Give us two goddamn minutes.”

The deputy stepped back and we waited. Kellen set Wavy up on the edge of the desk and for a while they hugged each other. She whispered in his ear, and then she kissed him. That didn’t help the situation with the deputies, because it was a movie kiss, like when the hero and heroine are saying good-bye, and maybe they’re never going to see each other again.

The older deputy said, “That’s enough of that. You need to step back and put your hands on your head, Junior.”

Before he did it, Kellen reached into his pockets and tossed a handful of things on the desk: keys, bolts, a pocket knife, and loose coins that rattled across the desk and tumbled to the floor. He unhooked his wallet and tossed it on the desk, too. I could tell he’d done it before, from the way he turned around and laced his hands on the back of his head. The deputy cuffed him, while Wavy sat on the desk, watching.