The Misbegotten
Killing the Mood - Summer 2018

I sat next to my step-father later on that night,during dinner. He sat at the end of thetable, which placed me to his immediate right. Ramona sat next to me. Beyondher, Leda was sitting, then Sandy and finally little Martín. Across from me sat Katie, then Jolene andJohan, followed by Flavia and Tirza. Mymother was at the other end of the table opposite my Dad. Little Lucia was clapping, perched atop herhighchair at the corner of the table, between Tirza and my mom.

It was spaghetti night, which in my family was a treat.Though my mother wasn’t Italian, she made the best spaghetti sauce I have evertasted. And, I’ve tasted it on eleven ofthe sixteen worlds over the course of three and a half centuries. Not a one could hold a candle to the shiningstar that was mama’s sauce.

When my mom and the others had returned from themarket, the house had been a flurry of activity. We planned the rest of the day, doled outchores and got to it.

Because she would be making twice the amount of foodshe prepared for dinner, my mom had started early. But with so many female helpers, there weremore than enough hands to meet the task. The picking and chopping, the tearing and separating, the simmering andsprinkling were all done to perfection. The girls were like a symphony orchestra – all movement, talking and laughter.

It was then the smells began to waft about thehouse. They were nothing other thanmiraculous.

When my step-father walked through the door, thefatigue of working on cars all day seemed to vanish. His bearing straightened, his body seemed tofill. He breathed in deep and let out anexplosive exhalation.

“Aaaaah, Spaghetti Night! Alriiiiight!” he exclaimed, peering aboutwith a huge grin on his face.

He stopped then, noticing all the young women workingin the kitchen. He stood there gapinglike a buffoon at all the tight flesh traipsing about.

My mom had come up to him with a cold beer and a kiss,and led him off to the TV room. He hadturned back around a few times as she led him away. He kept mumbling something about the MissAmerica Pageant¹ cooking dinner for him.

I had laughed.

My step-dad had always been a sucker for a smooth legsand firm breasts. Maybe that’s why wegot along so well.

Even down to the first day my mother had introducedhim to me. I had liked him. Yousee, us perverts, gotta stick together!

When my mom had finished talking with him, he had comeback into the kitchen. He introducedhimself to the girls he didn’t know. Hegave both Tirza and Ramona big hugs. Forsome reason, it was natural to him that two of the girls present, I had dated. The fact they were in the same house, in thesame room, was completely sane. Sure, ithappened all the time.

Being truthful, it’s my way of saying, he didn’tnotice. It was the tits and asses hepaid attention to. He was gentlemanlyabout it, though. He gave me his “raisedeyebrow” thingy once when no one was looking.

I chuckled into my hand.

He tasted the sauce and was about to get some bread tosop up even more when my mom saw. Quick,but firm, she bustled him from the kitchen, telling him to shower andchange. He left with an innocent look onhis face, which made the girls giggle and then he was gone.

Now, we sat around the table, lengthened in the middleby two wooden extensions, so we could all fit. We had to grab four more chairs from around the house, so we’d all havesomething to sit on. We made it work thoughand were enjoying each other’s time.

Everyone was talking.

I found myself swallowing a massive forkful ofnoodles, ground beef and sauce when my step-dad leaned over toward me. He talked behind his hand. “Effy, how is it you know so many beautiful,young girls?”

I smiled, dabbed at the corners of my mouth and dranksome cherry soda. “I don’t know, Pop, Iguess I just got lucky.”

“Luck has nothing to do with, my boy, not when you’resurrounded by… by…” He was freakin'counting! “…five pretty girls. And the number is actually higher when youcount your cousin, Flavia and that dark-haired doll next to Johan.”

“Jolene, Pop. Hername is Jolene,” I supplied.

He waved me off. “I have never seen such a collection of dazzling young girls. They are all different, yes, but by God,beautiful in their own way.”

I had to ask myself if I saw his eyes mistingover. I frowned at him, because clearlyall the feminine flesh had loosened a few screws in his head. “I guess, I’m like you then. I like pretty females just like you.” I pointed my chin down at my mother.

“Oh my god, that makes nine!” he bellowed, pounding afist upon the table. The dishes rattled,causing the noise level of conversation to dip.

“What makes nine, Enrique?” asked my mom.

I came close to spitting in my food, able to contain amonstrous guffaw.

My step-father scratched his head withindecision. “Ah, well… Estefan and Iwere talking and…”

“You better come clean,” I counseled.

“Traitor,” he accused.

I chuffed with glee.

My mom was giving him the Stink Eye.

My Dad spread his hands wide, palms facingoutward. “I was just counting how manybeautiful women are about this table. Iwas admiring you girls!” he trumpeted like a herald in a grand hall.

The girls ducked their heads in unison, embarrassed, exceptKatie.

“You old lecher,” labeled my mother, pointing at himacross the ten feet of table between them.

“What? Now, Ican’t compliment a pretty lady when I see one?” he asked, clarifying, though itwas an act.

“You can complement me any time, Uncle,” said Katie. She patted him on the arm when he loweredthem back to the table.

“You see, why can’t you be more like Katie here, just acknowledgeyour beauty. Be glad someone noticed,”he intoned with a mock scowl.

“You can complement me too,” echoed Ramona with thewicked gleam she liked to use on my step-dad.

It melted him every time.

“Oh, you girls are incorrigible! It’ll only encourage him, you know,” warnedmy mom, wagging a finger at both of them.

Katie and Ramona were both smiling from ear to ear.

The other girls watched the by-play with nervoussmiles, not sure what to make of it.

The phone rang, loud and harsh.

Me and the girls I’d spent the early afternoon with,froze in place.

Jacob’swarning!

I stood as my step-dad made his way to the phone wehad in the foyer. It was the closesthandset. I followed him.

The table behind me had gone silent. The tension bleeding from me and three girlswas palatable enough. The restinadvertently reacted to it – wordless communication via body language.

From the foyer I could hear: “Hello, the Ernandoresidence?”

A pause…

“Oh hi, Augustina, how are you?”

It was my grandmother on my mom’s side of the family.

“We were just having dinner.”

A pause…

“That’s okay, we’ll always make time for you.”

A pause… was stretching longer than those comingbefore it.

“Christ Almighty, are you serious? Ah-ha, but that’s horrible. When did this happen?”

A pause…

I could hear chairs moving behind me as I began towalk to the foyer.

Everyone else was following.

“But why, it doesn’t make any sense?”

I was racing toward the phone now.

“Every one of them, but -,” my step-father was saying.

I pulled the phone line from the wall as if it were amortal enemy.

Pop stared at me like I’d pulled out my cock and waswaving it back and forth at him. “Estefan, what the hell is wrong with you?!?” he demanded.

“You can’t use the phone, Pop,” I replied in eventones.

“Why, son, why would you do that?” he asked as he putthe useless receiver back in its cradle.

I pointed to the girls behind me. “You see them?”

He nodded, though his brow stormed with incredulity.

“Why do you think they are here?” I queried.

“Estefan, you don’t take that tone with your step -.”

“Stay out of this, mom!” I said much too loud. It sounded bad, even in my ears.

“What’s this about, son?” wondered my step-dad. He might have been many things, but one thingI remember most about him was he was the smartest man I’ve ever met. He could make huge deductive leaps with onlythe slightest of clues. He should’vebeen a Detective.

“Why do you think they are here?” I repeated thequestion.

“I don’t know. You’re mom said something about kids moving from place to place. I guess tonight was our turn,” he answeredwith a nonchalant shrug.

“What did Grandma ‘Gusta say?”

His brow furled, trying to replace the connection. “She said…” He gazed back to my mother. “Shesaid Trina had called her frantic, saying they arrested Renee and her kids andtook them away.”

I felt my jaw hit the floor.

My mom, my older siblings, Tirza and Ramona gaspedwith horrified shock. They knew of whomhe was talking about.

Trina was my grandmother on my biological father’sside of the family. Well, to put afeather on it, she was his step-mother. Renee was her daughter, my aunt. Her children were my cousins, and each of them was Jacob’ssiblings. Jacob’s family was gone, takenby the NIA!

I knew they were dead. And there wasn’t a damned thing I, or anyone else, could do aboutit. My cousins Eric and Valerie were dead. My aunt Renee was dead.

Poor Jacob, like Tirza and Jolene, he too had lost hiswhole family.

I was weeping before I knew what I was doing. When Katie and Ramona came to hug me, Ididn’t know I was crying so loud. Howlong we stayed as such, I cannot tell you. All I recall is being thoroughly exhausted when I finally stopped. I’d somehow made it to the TV Room. We all had, in fact. Flavia was still crying as were the littleones. They were so frightened by ouremotional outburst, they didn’t know better than to weep right along with us.

“Effy?”

“Yes, Pop.” Myvoice was raw and my throat burned like hell.

“Why are your friends with us tonight?” He was reclining in his chair, his fingerspinching the bridge of his nose. Hewasn’t looking at me, but his powerful mind never stopped and was workingovertime now.

“They’re in hiding, Dad.”

“I figured.”

It was a long, horrendous night. I was so grateful for my girls. Each of them took turns holding me while Islept. Even Tirza came onto my bed andcradled my head in her lap, humming hymns she’d learned in church.

For the first time, those hokie tunes comfortedme. I turned on my side, nestling mynose into her belly, smelling her sweet scent. I hugged her around the lower part of her waist, where her buttocksbegan to flare.

She didn’t move or squirm. She stroked my head, ran her nails behind my ears,humming, never stopping.

I slept.

In my dreams, I kept seeing the slaughtering Jacob’sfamily – my auntie, my cousins. Formless, faceless figures kept throwing them into a mulching machineagain and again, and again.

{ ¹Miss America Pageant: a one-time, long-standingcompetition which awards scholarships to young women from the 50 states plus Washington,D.C., Puerto Rico and the US VirginIslands. The winner of thenational pageant is awarded the title of "Miss America" for one year.}

Tip: You can use left, right keyboard keys to browse between chapters.Tap the middle of the screen to reveal Reading Options.

If you replace any errors (non-standard content, ads redirect, broken links, etc..), Please let us know so we can fix it as soon as possible.

Report