Page 9 of Kingpin
An image flashes in my memory . . .
“Clean this off and put it in the glove compartment,” he says as he looks out the window at the guy who’s still on the ground.
I use the towel to wipe the blood off the gun.
“It was good. Fun,” I reply, smiling as I chew. I make sure to keep my eyes on my plate.
“Yeah? He take you anywhere?” she asks, suddenly serious.
The smile melts off my face, but I keep looking down. I know she’s staring at me.
“Umm, nowhere special. We just hung out,” I reply.
I’m not stupid. I know why my parents aren’t together, and my father has told me plenty of times that there’s things I can’t say in front of my mother. My father hasn’t changed at all. The things he does when we’re together are the exact things my mother hates about him. It’s weird, because I know she still loves him, there’s just certain things she hates about him. Grownups are strange.
“Don’t lie to me, Dominic Giovanni Collazo,” she snips. Ugh, my full name. Now I have to look up at her, and she’s glaring at me with an expressionless face.
“I’m not, Ma,” I lie.
I look back down at my plate even though my lasagna is almost gone. I hear her take a deep breath, which is the signal that she’s about to give a speech.
“Listen to me, Dom,” she begins. I know how this goes, so I put my fork down and prepare to listen for a while. “I love your father, I really do, but I also know the truth about him. And I know you’re getting to that age now that you’re learning the truth about him, too. I know what your father does, and who he hangs out with, and I know it’s dangerous. He loves you, though, and I’m not gonna try to deny him his right to being your father. I’d never even think of doing that, but I need you to know something. Your father’s life might seem glamorous. He’s got a lot of money, and he knows a lot of people who fear and respect him. But what your father does isn’t glamorous, Dominic, it’s dangerous. Maybe you haven’t seen that much of it yet, but I know Donnie, so I’m sure you will. You have to be smarter than that. Make some friends the right way, and do something good with your life. I don’t want you to be like your father.”
“Why would you say that?” I snap. “My father is respected by everyone in St. Louis. They all know his name. Me? People treat me like crap at school, and I just let them get away with it. They laugh at me, they call me Ugly Dominic. Nobody likes me, Ma, and you want me tonotbe like Dad. I wish I was like him. He gets respect, but not me. I’d rather be like him than be like me.”
“Don’t say that, Dominic,” Mom answers, softening her tone now. “I know how rough school can be, and I know some kids are little shits, but you have to be above them, just like you have been. You’re better than those kids who are calling you names. Don’t bring yourself down to their level. Don’t let them bother you with their words.”
“Their words hurt, Ma!” I yell. I didn’t mean to, it just came out that way.
Both of us are silent for a moment, my words hanging in the air like a cloud above our heads. The tension in my mother’s face eases as she gets up from her seat and kneels in front of me. She takes my hand and looks me right in the eye, and I can see she has tears in hers.
“I’m sorry you have to go through that. Kids are brats, and their parents should teach them better. I can’t control that, but I can teach you better. Don’t let the hatred of others bring you down. You’re above all those kids who are mean to you. You don’t have to fight all the time. You win by being smarter than all of them. You’re gonna be the one, out of all those little A-holes in that school, to be somebody big. They might not respect you now, but I guarantee they’re gonna respect you later. You’ll see, Dom. I just want what’s best for you, that’s all. I want you to have a better, safer life than what your father has. Do you understand?”
A better life than my father has? A better life than the nice cars, and the money, and the women, and the respect of every man in the city? How does it get better than that?
I hear her words, but it does nothing for me. It’d be impossible to convince me that my father’s life is somehow bad. He has everything. I want everything he has, and I’m so tired of trying to be the nice kid my mom wishes I was. The things that I think aren’t nice. The things I want to do to those kids who call me Ugly Dominic aren’t nice. I’m not who my mother thinks I am, but I don’t want to break her heart by telling her that I’m more like my father than she knows. So, I hear her words, but I let them go in one ear and out the other. Just like my father would do.
“Yeah, Ma. I understand.”
