Living in the House that Jack Built

Brian chewed his chicken wishing he could just escape, go to his room, go to Michael's, go to the fucking moon, anyplace but here. He glanced furtively around the dinner table. His father ate in silence, so they all did. Actually silence was good. If Jack was in a talkative mood, that was never a good thing. He would ask questions and then Brian or Claire or Joan would have to answer. And answering was always a minefield. The wrong word or the wrong inflection of the voice or too much hesitation could result in setting Jack off. And none of them wanted to do that.

"This chicken isn't half bad," Jack said suddenly.

There was a collective intake of breath from the other three at the table. When Jack spoke for whatever reason it often meant the beginning of something bad.

"Thank you," Joan replied holding her breath.

Jack glanced in her direction and then turned his attention to Claire.

"Claire," Jack said.

"Yes, daddy," Claire said. That was usually a safe response.

"Are you still seeing that Marconi fella?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Well, watch out for them I-talians. You can't trust them." He gave her a warning look.

"Yes, daddy."

"Don't let him go too fucking far."

"Yes, daddy," Claire said although she knew that she had already let Billy Marconi go way too far. At sixteen she was far from the sweet little virgin that her father thought she was.

"That's my girl," Jack said with a grin.

Claire winced inwardly. She wanted to be what her father thought she should be, but life didn't always work out the way you wanted. "May I be excused?" she asked finishing her chicken and standing up.

"There's dessert, isn't there, Joan?" Jack asked pointedly. Jack always expected there to be dessert.

"Yes," Joan replied dryly. "Chocolate cake."

"You'll have some cake first," Jack stated. Claire sat down abruptly and glanced at Brian. She knew that if Jack had granted her request then both of them could probably have escaped. Now they were both trapped until they had eaten the obligatory chocolate cake.

"Help me clear the table," Joan commanded her daughter.

The two women quickly cleared away the food and dishes from the first part of the meal. While they were in the kitchen, Brian and Jack sat in silence, neither knowing what to say. Brian prayed that his father wouldn't ask him anything. Jack, who was feeling rather mellow thanks to several beers with the boys before he came home from work, tried to think of something to talk to his son about. He often wondered how he could have produced someone so different from himself, so difficult. Brian was nothing if not difficult.

"You still hanging out with that Novotny kid?" he asked.

"Yes," Brian said quietly. It always turned bad when his father actually tried to talk to him.

Jack tried not to make too much of a face. That little sissy kid was no one for his son to be hanging around with. "Got a girl friend?" he asked hoping to steer Brian's attention away from Novotny and into the direction he wanted.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Haven't found anyone I want," Brian said trying to keep his voice even and emotionless.

"There's lots of fish in the sea, Sonny Boy. Don't be too picky," Jack said with a chuckle. He was passing on his best fatherly advice. Brian did not respond. Talking too much to his father always resulted in trouble. "Us men have to sow our wild oats. There's lots of girls who will be happy to help you with that."

Brian groaned inwardly. What could he say in response to that - that he had already sowed his wild oats in the shower with his coach, that he didn't want to fuck any girl, that he much preferred guys, that he wanted his fucking father to stay out of his fucking life? He said nothing.

"Cat got your tongue, boy?" Jack demanded. Brian could hear his father's voice rising in anger. He searched for something to say to diffuse the situation.

"Chocolate, chocolate chip," Joan said proudly as she brought in the huge cake.

"My favorite," Jack said with a big smile. He did love Joan's cake. He immediately forgot about Brian, much to Brian's relief.

Claire carried in the plates and Joan cut up her masterpiece giving each member of her family a large piece.

They ate mostly in silence. Joan's cakes were always good even though indigestion was always a result of family dinners together. Jack decided to have another piece, but the children were ready to leave the table.

"Go ahead," Jack said noting that they were through. "Take your dishes to the kitchen."

Brian and Claire got up, gathered their plates and forks and made their way to the kitchen. It was almost over. When they came back through, Jack was eating his second piece of cake.

"Sonny Boy," Jack said suddenly as Brian reached the bottom of the stairs.

Brian froze. This would be bad. He just knew it. "Yes?" he responded.

"I want you home right after school tomorrow. The yard's full of leaves that need to be raked."

"But … I have soccer practice tomorrow after school."

"Not tomorrow," his father said bluntly.

"Don't you have work until later? I could help you then," Brian said hopefully. He knew if he missed too many practices he would be thrown off the team, and he really loved soccer. He felt so free when he was running with the ball. And there was nothing like the glory of scoring.

"Don't you fucking tell me when I have to work, boy! You be here when I tell you."

Brian knew it was hopeless when he heard that tone of voice. "I'll be here," Brian said and ran up the stairs.

"I don't understand that fucking kid. You'd think he could pull some weight around here," Jack griped. "Bring me a beer," he ordered his wife. He suddenly needed a drink. He always seemed to need a drink when he had to deal with Brian.

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The next afternoon Brian told the coach that he could not stay for soccer practice. The coach was annoyed with him, but said he expected him to be at the next practice without fail. Brian promised he would be there and felt that he had got off lucky. He started walking home when Michael caught up with him.

"I thought you had practice?" Michael said.

"I have to go home and rake leaves," Brian said flatly.

"Couldn't that wait until after practice?"

"Not when my old man says come home right after school."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh!"

"Is he going to be there?"

"Of course."

"That's too bad," Michael said knowing how Brian felt about being around his father.

"Tell me about it."

"I … don't get why your father is…" Michael hesitated not knowing how to finish the sentence.

"…such a fucking asshole!" Brian finished it for him.

"Yeah," Michael said. "I always wanted a father. I don't know how yours can be so … cruel."

"It's a Kinney talent," Brian said with a grimace. "And, Mikey, be careful what you wish for."

Michael shook his head. He didn't understand the dynamics of the Kinney household at all. He knew his own home was loving and accepting and he thought that everybody else's should be too. His mother drove him crazy with all her interference in his life, but he knew she did it to protect him and because she loved him. Brian's family was another story. He never heard or saw any affection between any of them. He was afraid of Jack Kinney, especially if Jack had had too much to drink, and he was pretty sure Brian was afraid of him all the time. Joan Kinney always made him nervous. It was like she was wound too tight and might violently unravel at any moment. Michael knew she drank too, but not openly like Jack. Claire was a complete mystery to Michael, like most girls were.

"You better head on home, Mikey," Brian said as they neared the corner leading to Brian's house.

"I could help you rake leaves," Michael suggested. He liked being with Brian no matter what the circumstances were.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Brian cautioned knowing how his father felt about Michael.

"But if I help, we'll be done that much sooner, and then maybe we could hang out at my place."

"I don't know," Brian said shaking his head.

"Come on, Brian. It's worth a try," Michael persisted.

They had arrived at the front of the Kinney house. Brian wanted to tell Michael to run, get away, before he got sucked into the bottomless vortex that was the Kinney family. While Brian waffled trying to figure out how to send Michael away without revealing too much, Michael had already started around the back and Brian heard his father speaking.

"Too late," Brian said with a sigh. He followed Michael around to the back dreading what was to come. He saw his father staring at Michael. He didn't like that look. "Michael said he would help with the leaves if that's all right," Brian said to his father.

Jack hesitated for a split second and then a smile crossed his face. "Fine, fine," he said. "We can always use an extra pair of hands. Here, Michael, take my rake. The other one's over there, Brian. I'm going to get a beer."

Jack disappeared into the house with a backward look at Brian. Brian wasn't sure what to make of that look or the reception that Michael had received, but so far, so good.

"Let's get started," Brian said and began raking. He hoped they could work fast enough to finish before Jack got too drunk. With any luck at all Jack might stay inside the house and leave Brian and Michael to their own devices. Brian began to rake in earnest. Soon they had a huge pile of leaves in one corner of the yard. Brian moved over to another area and Michael followed.

"See, this isn't so bad," Michael said. "We'll be done in no time."

"Yeah," Brian agreed but he cast a furtive glance at the back door praying not to see his father there. So far so good.

"Hey, Brian," Michael called.

Brian turned to see what Michael wanted and was hit with a faceful of leaves. Michael giggled while Brian tried to brush the leaves Michael had pelted him with off his shirt, his face, his hair. "You little asshole," Brian grinned evilly. He took a run at Michael and tackled him into the large pile of leaves that Michael had just assembled. The two boys wrestled around in the leaves laughing and tossing fistfuls of leaves at each other. Just as Brian got Michael pinned beneath him, they heard the voice.

"What the fuck are you two doing?" Jack demanded from the doorway. "You're supposed to be raking the leaves up not spreading them around."

Brian quickly got up. Michael was slower to rise trying to cover up his obvious hard-on. Brian had distinctly felt it when he had Michael pinned down. His own cock had started to respond too.

"We were just goofing around, Mr. Kinney," Michael said quickly. He held his hands in front of his crotch.

"Well, get back to work. I want this yard cleaned up by dinner time."

"Yes, sir," Michael said contritely. Brian stared at the ground not saying anything.

Jack turned away and went back into the house. Brian knew he would be having another beer, or maybe he would already be started on the hard stuff.

"Come on," Michael said. "Let's get the leaves in the containers and then we'll be done. Can you come to my house for dinner?"

"I … I don't know. I'll have to ask," Brian said risking a glance at the back door. He dreaded that his father might be standing there.

They made quick work of the leaves. When they were finished Brian agreed to ask if he could accompany Michael home for dinner. Before he could get to the door it opened and his father stepped out.

"You boys did a good job," he said. Brian breathed a sigh of relief. His father wasn't too drunk … yet.

"Can I go to Michael's for dinner?" Brian asked.

Jack's eyebrows shot up. Brian wondered if he thought that Brian was expecting Jack to ask Michael to stay for dinner with them since he had helped with the leaves. Brian knew the last thing he would ever do was make someone, anyone, endure dinner at the Kinney's. Apparently Jack didn't know that, however.

"I think your mother has dinner ready here," Jack said. Brian held his breath and prayed.

"My mom would love to have Brian," Michael said with what he thought was his most winning smile.

"I guess that would be all right," Jack said slowly. A dinner without Brian might be pleasant. "How would you two like to come bowling with me on Friday night?" Jack asked suddenly.

"I … I don't know how to bowl," Michael sputtered. This was the last thing he had expected.

"I'll show you some moves and teach you how," Jack bragged. "Brian's pretty good at bowling."

Michael glanced over at Brian who had a little smirk on his face, but his eyes were glued to the ground. Jack had given Brian a compliment … sort of.

"I guess I could go," Michael said looking at Brian for support. He hoped he was doing the right thing, but Brian refused to look at him.

"Good, then that's what we'll do," Jack said as he turned back to the house. "Be home by nine," he said to Brian as he went in the door.

Brian let out a breath. "Why the fuck did you say you'd go bowling?" he asked as they started walking towards Michael's house.

"I've never been bowling," Michael said. "It might be fun."

"With my fucking father? Are you nuts?"

"But we'll be together. You can teach me."

"Yeah, sure," Brian said, the feeling of dread overcoming him once again.

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Precisely at nine o'clock Brian entered the house that Jack built. He came in the back door and quickly made his way to the stairs. He thought he was going to get safely to his room when a voice stopped him on the second step.

"Cutting it a little fine, aren't you, boy?" Jack demanded from his chair in the corner. His words were slurred and Brian guessed that he had not stopped drinking since dinner. It took a lot for Jack to get drunk, but he was always up to the task.

"You said nine," Brian retorted and immediately regretted his tone of voice. It sounded too confrontational.

"Get over here," Jack commanded.

Reluctantly Brian turned and walked towards Jack.

"Don't you sass me, boy," Jack stated.

"I wasn't."

Brian meant that to sound like an apology, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew how his father would interpret them.

"Don't you back talk me!" Jack said rising with surprising speed in spite of his semi-drunken state, and backhanding Brian hard across the face. Brian turned away grabbing his jaw. He could taste blood in his mouth. His teeth had been driven into the flesh of his cheek by the force of the slap.

Brian waited. He knew better than to say anything else. He just wanted to get away, but he wasn't sure if his father was done with him yet.

"Get up to your room," Jack said apparently not prepared to go any farther. Brian turned and made for the stairs. "Oh, and make sure you and that Novotny kid are ready at seven on Friday. We'll have to show the little sissy how to bowl. I liked the way you wrestled him into the ground today. We'll make a man out of him too."

Brian ran up the stairs and quickly closed his bedroom door behind him. He wished there was a lock on it. He sat on the edge of the bed rubbing his face. He could feel it swelling already. Furtively he opened the door and made his way to the bathroom. He ran the water till it was very cold and put a facecloth under it. He held it to his cheek. He didn't want to have to explain at school tomorrow how he had fallen against a tree while he was raking leaves. He wet the cloth again and took it back to his room with him. He sat on his bed and held it against his face until it started to feel warm again. He used the warm cloth to wipe away the silent tears that had crept down his face.

With a sigh he picked up his school bag and took out his homework. He didn't have much but he needed to get it finished. He knew if he could get a scholarship somewhere when he finished high school, he could get out of this hell hole once and for all.

An hour later Brian went back into the bathroom and brushed his teeth. He replenished the cold of the facecloth and carried it back to his room. There was no sound from below. His father was probably still drinking.

Brian shucked off his clothes and climbed into bed. He lay on his back staring at the ceiling and holding the cold cloth against his cheek.

All things considered he had gotten off lightly today. He had no huge bruises or broken bones. His father had actually sounded slightly proud of him. At least Jack hadn't told him how fucking stupid he was. He had been allowed to go to Michael's for dinner. One less meal with the Kinney's was always a bonus.

Brian heard the stairs creak and knew his father was coming up. He held his breath as the man staggered down the hall bumping against the walls a couple of times. He let out his breath when he was sure his father had gone past his door. He heard his father go into the bathroom and soon the toilet flushed. Brian listened as Jack made his way into his bedroom where Joan would already be asleep. He sighed as he heard the bedroom door close behind Jack. Safe for another night!

Brian closed his eyes. Now he could sleep. He dropped the facecloth, warm once again, onto the floor and closed his eyes. Now all he had to do was get through this bowling match with his father and Michael on Friday. He could feel his stomach start to knot up at the very thought.

Just another charming day in the house that Jack built, Brian thought to himself. He would survive it. He always seemed to survive.

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