“Henry’s Weekend”
by Joseph Klare
I
“Did you forget anything?” his mother asked him.
“Nope.” Henry laid his head back against the seat and watched the houses pass by. It was Friday evening and Henry was on his way to his dad’s house.
“If you have any problems, call me,” his mother said.
“I will.”
“Don’t let Cynthia get to you.”
“I won’t.” They were almost there. “She doesn’t bother me.”
His father lived on the second floor of a three story, red brick apartment building with white trim. Henry’s mother pulled in front of it and stopped. “I’ll be here Sunday night,” she said.
“Okay.”
“Try and have fun.”
“I will.” Henry kissed his mother and got out of the car holding his backpack. He ran up the walkway and turned to wave to his mother. She was waving back.
Henry loved the weekends. He loved the freedom of not being in school and not being under his mother’s protective gaze. Sure, he didn’t get along with Cynthia most of the time, but he could always go next door. He could go and see Jessica. He couldn’t see her during the week; his mother lived to far away. That’s why he loved the weekends.
Henry bounded up the stairs and banged on his father’s door. After a few seconds the door opened and Cynthia glared at him. Then she turned and walked towards the back of the apartment silently.
Henry’s father Danny was sitting at the kitchen table and Cynthia sat down next to him. Gregg, a friend of Danny’s, sat on the kitchen counter next to the refrigerator. A stereo behind Danny played old 70’s music very loud and everyone was drinking beer.
“Hey, Henry,” Gregg said.
“Hey.”
“Henry!” his father yelled and raised his right hand, extending his index finger towards the ceiling. His eyes were bloodshot and looked half at Henry and half at the table. The kitchen smelled like marijuana.
“Hey, dad,” Henry said and got a Pepsi out of the fridge. “Hi, Cynthia.”
She looked at Henry. “Oh, hi.”
“Did you miss me?”
Her eyes narrowed and followed Henry across the kitchen. “Of course.”
Gregg leapt off the counter and threw his empty beer can in the garbage. He moved fluidly, like a tiger. Danny saw him out of the corner of his eye. “Whoa,” he said, “everybody calm down.”
“It’s cool, man,” Gregg said and got another beer. Danny was waving his arms over his head.
Cynthia gave Danny a disgusted look. “He’s gettin’ a goddamn beer.”
“So, Henry, what have you been up to?” Gregg asked.
“Same old.”
“Hey man, I wrote a poem.” Gregg headed for the living room in the front of the apartment and Cynthia cackled. Soon Gregg returned with a crumpled piece of paper.
“I think it’s good, man,” he said.
Danny began to clap in rhythm of an old 70’s song. Sometimes he would hum with the song, but usually would just clap.
“I’m pretty tired of that poem,” Cynthia said.
Gregg wasn’t fazed. “I think it’s good.”
“You would.”
“What are we gonna do?” Danny asked.
“Gregg’s going to read his poem,” Henry said to his father.
“A poem?”
“Yes, his stupid poem,” Cynthia said and stormed off to the bathroom. Gregg began to read:
“I wilt on the vine,
losing my sense of time,
I breathe from the can,
and forget who I am,
When will you see my pain?
Inside we are all the same.”
Gregg looked at Danny and then at Henry. “That was deep,” Henry said.
Gregg closed his eyes and nodded, his stringy black hair falling on his face. “Yeah, man. I could feel the words when I wrote ‘em.”
Henry turned to his father. “I’m going next door.”
He went out the back door of his father’s apartment and down the metal stairs that led to the back yard. It was dark now and there was a cool breeze. Henry ran diagonally across the adjoining side yards and into Jessica’s front door. Her mother was sitting in the living room.
“She’s in her room,” she said.
Henry stopped long enough to say, “Thanks Mrs. Stillwell,” and then continued up the steps.
Jessica had just turned eighteen and even though she was three years older than Henry, he knew they would be married someday. That, and that alone, was all that kept him going sometimes.
She was sitting in front of a small mirror and combing her long, dark hair. She wore a white robe and clothes were laid out on her bed. The walls of her room were covered with framed pictures of unicorns. Henry loved to buy her little unicorns because it always made her day.
“Where you going?” he said and sat on her bed behind her.
“Al’s picking me up later,” she said and looked back at Henry through the mirror. “How you been?”
“I’m cool.”
Jessica smiled and went back to combing her hair. “You sure?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I can read your mind.”
Henry shook his head and looked at his shoes. “Then why do you ask me questions?”
She turned around in her chair and faced him. “Al’s a nice guy.”
“I know Al,” Henry said. “I heard he’s got VD.”
Jessica laughed and started working on her makeup.
“You got a joint?” Henry asked.
“Sure. Top drawer.”
Henry went to her nightstand and opened the top drawer. Jessica sat down next to him on her bed and they shard the joint in silence until she said, “Feel better now?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for Albert?”
“I’ll be back in a few hours, if you want to come over.” Jessica stood and went back to the mirror.
“I’ll be here,” Henry said and walked up behind her. She was picking out lipstick.
“Do you think I’m beautiful?” she asked.
“Is that a trick question?”
Jessica smiled. “Like a model?”
“Yeah.”
“You know, if you were a little older--,” she began.
“I know all about it.”
She was still smiling. “So, you’ll be over later?”
“Yep,” he said and started for the door. Then he turned and chuckled. “If Albert gives you any trouble, I could break his kneecaps or somethin’.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Sure,” Henry said. “Or I could send, like, twenty pizzas to his house at three in the morning.” Jessica laughed. She was happy. So, Henry was also.
Danny, Cynthia, and Gregg were sitting around the kitchen table playing cards when Henry came in the back door.
“Henry!” his father yelled and Cynthia jumped. She had been nodding off. The garbage can was stacked high with beer cans.
Gregg was rolling a joint. “How’s Jessica?” he asked.
“She’s going on a date tonight,” Henry said.
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, well..." Henry didn’t feel like having this conversation.
“That girl is always going on dates,” Cynthia said. “New guy every night.”
“You would know about new guys every night,” Henry said.
“What?” Her eyes stared daggers at Henry.
He raised his voice a little. “I said you’re a slut, and I guess you’re deaf too.”
Cynthia glanced at Danny, who was oblivious to what was happening, then back at Henry. “You can’t talk to me like that.”
Henry placed his palms on the table and leaned towards Cynthia. He spoke slowly and deliberately. “Get off my back you silly bitch.”
Her bloodshot eyes grew large and round and her mouth curled into a scowl. She was not an attractive woman to begin with and was even less so now. Before she could say a word, Henry turned and walked into the living room. He could hear her whining to his father. Something about respect and blah, blah, blah. Henry didn’t care. He sat on the couch and watched T.V. and thought about Jessica.
Henry had friends at school, but Jessica was his best friend. She knew things about him that no one else did. Being near her made all the crap he put up with on the weekends tolerable. Cynthia was a bitch and his dad was annoying when he was drunk and their weird friends were hanging around all the time, but Jessica lived next door. She was on a date, but she’d be back. Right next door.
Henry watched T.V. and there was a knock on the door. He opened it and three of his dad’s weird friends were standing there.
Jason was a large black man who wore a Yankees baseball cap and had a booming voice. Aaron was as thin as Jason was big and carried his ever-present brown paper bag. The bag contained a bottle of whiskey; Kentucky Tavern. Henry had tried it once and threw up for three hours afterward. Behind Aaron stood his girlfriend, Emily. Emily was a waste, pure and simple. Small and blonde and as ugly as Aaron was thin as Jason was big.
“Hey there, Henry,” Jason said and Henry could feel his skull vibrate with every syllable.
“Party’s in the kitchen,” Henry said and went back to the couch.
“Danny!” Jason boomed.
Henry’s dad called from the kitchen, loudly, but without the bass Jason’s voice had. “Jason!”
The visitors filed past Henry and into the kitchen. He could hear them greeting each other: Jason booming, Danny trying to boom, Gregg telling Aaron about his poem, and Cynthia telling Gregg to shut the fuck up about the poem. Emily didn’t say much. When she did say something it was usually stupid and then Aaron would tell her how stupid she was and make her sit in the closet. Henry rubbed his eyes and waited for Jessica to get back.
It was after midnight now and Henry sat outside on the front steps. The wind was chilly, but he didn’t want to go back inside. Cynthia was on the warpath and his dad was incoherent. Gregg was passed out on the kitchen floor. Jason and Aaron were arguing about racism and Emily was in the closet. It was like a movie Henry had seen a thousand times, but only the first few times had been entertaining.
Soon a green car pulled in front of Jessica’s house and she got out and slammed the door.
Al was hanging out of the driver’s window. “What’s your problem?”
Jessica stopped on the sidewalk and turned towards the car. She couldn’t see Henry because he was shaded from the streetlight by the large tree in his dad’s front yard. “You’re an asshole,” she said.
“It was just gonna be for a few hours.”
“I’ve heard it before.” She continued to walk up the path to her house and then up the porch steps and inside. Al shook his head and drove away.
Henry waited a few minutes then went to the back of Jessica’s house. He grabbed the ladder and set it up under her bedroom window. She was lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling when Henry climbed in her window.
“I have a door, you know,” she said.
“Your mom doesn’t want me over this late,” Henry said and sat down on the bed “She thinks you’ll take advantage of me.”
Jessica smiled and closed her eyes.
“So, what’s up?”
“Al wanted to go to some party and I wanted to go home.”
“What kind of party?”
She sat up on her bed. “The kind of party where you’re supposed to get drunk and screw.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, so I came home.”
“Yep,” Henry said and got a joint out of her nightstand. “No screwin’ goin’ on here.”
Jessica elbowed him lightly in the ribs and they began to smoke. Henry liked to smoke with Jessica. It made him feel like they were sharing something important.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked him.
“Whatever you’re doing.”
“Cool, we’ll go shopping.”
Henry’s head was cloudy now and he laid back on her bed, his feet still touching the floor. “Jessica?”
“Yeah.”
“What do guys like Al have that I don’t?”
She stopped smoking and looked over at him. “What do you mean?”
Henry sighed. He had thought of this conversation many times before he would go to sleep at night; he didn’t know what possessed him to bring it up now.
“Why do you go out with them?” he said.
“I don’t know. How else is a girl supposed to find her soul mate?”
Henry wanted to scream. Soul mate? Al Haywood? Go to a party and screw? “Oh, Jesus,” he said aloud.
“What?”
“What about me?”
“You’re my best friend.”
Henry sat up. “That’s it?”
“You’re fifteen.”
“So?”
“I’m eighteen.”
“I love you.” The words were out now and he was glad they were.
“I know.”
Henry stared at her blankly. “What do you mean?”
“I know that you love me.”
“No, I’m--.”
“You’re in love with me,” she said. “I know.”
He was totally speechless. She knew. Now what? Should he propose? Propose what? She didn’t say the feeling was mutual. She almost went to a party with Al to screw. But she didn’t. She was here.
“How do you feel?” he asked, barely audible.
“You’re my best friend and I love you,” she said. “I’m not in love with you; not yet.”
“Not yet?”
“Right.”
Right. There you go. Ask and ye shall receive.
They finished the joint and talked about things other than love. They spoke of shopping and Henry’s dad and Jessica’s mom. They smoked another joint and were stoned together. Before Henry left Jessica kissed him on the cheek and said she’d see him tomorrow.
When Henry got back to his dad’s the party was winding down. Everyone was gone and it was just Danny and Cynthia sitting at the kitchen table seeing who could keep their eyes open the longest. Henry made his bed on the couch and went to sleep as fast as he could so tomorrow would come quickly.
II
In the morning Henry ate breakfast with his dad and Cynthia. Cynthia had already started drinking for the day, but she was a pleasant person before she got drunk and she and Henry got along as if the night before hadn’t happened. Henry was used to the routine: drunk bad, before drunk good. Things that went on while people were drinking didn’t really happen. Henry had never been drunk, but he imagined it was like a dream. The real world is what you woke up to.
After breakfast Henry went next door to Jessica’s. He said hello to her mother and went upstairs. Jessica was getting dressed, but her door was open. She was standing by her bed in a pair of shorts and a bra. Henry stood in the doorway and gaped at her while she tried to decide what shirt to wear. He had seen her in a bra a few times before and had even seen her breasts once, but he still stared at her like she was the second coming of Jesus or something.
She looked up at him and said, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
“Can I?”
“No,” she said and pulled a pink cotton shirt over her head. “They’ll end up on the internet.”
Jessica and Henry got in her mother’s car and headed for the mall. “I talked to Al this morning,” Jessica said as they drove down the highway.
“Yeah?”
“He apologized for last night.”
Henry watched the guardrail of the highway fly past and took a deep breath. “Yeah?”
“We’re going back out tonight.”
Henry focused on the blur of the guardrail. They didn’t speak to each other until Jessica parked the car.
“Why do you go out with Al?” Henry asked her.
She shrugged. “He’s fun, I guess.”
“Al is fun?” A hint of anger was starting to creep into his voice. “Fun for what?”
“Are you okay?”
“No, no I’m not okay,” he said. “What is so fun about Al Haywood?”
Jessica shook her head. “I don’t think we should talk about this.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re upset.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Well. I don’t want you to be. So, shut up about it.” She got out of the car and started to walk towards the mall entrance. Henry got out and caught up with her.
“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked.
“What?”
“Telling me about Al and your personal life.”
“I need someone to talk to about stuff.”
“What about your mom?” he asked as they walked.
“She’s a drug addict.”
“Yeah, well, so am I.”
“Bullshit,” she said. “You’re a pot-head like me.” They went through two sets of glass doors and were inside the mall. “You’re my best friend,” she continued, “and I trust you, so I tell you stuff.”
Henry was satisfied with that. He had to be. Jessica wanted a man for certain things and Henry was a boy. He still got some things. He was like her girlfriend. They talked about chick stuff and went to the mall together. And he was extremely attracted to her. It kept him awake some nights. He was practically a lesbian.
The mall was packed as it usually was on a Saturday afternoon. Henry and Jessica went to shoe stores, music stores, jewelry stores, and the food court. At a toy store Henry bought Jessica a blue stuffed unicorn and she loved it. Things were okay between them again. He didn’t want her going out with Al, but what could he do? So they didn’t talk about it and shopped and had fun.
Every moment with Jessica made a separate and distinct imprint on Henry’s mind. He could remember every minute of time they had spent together in the last two years. Ever since his dad moved into his current apartment and that first weekend Henry had seen Jessica sitting on the steps in front of her house, wearing a black sweater and blue jeans and had her hair pulled back into a pony tail. She was much more mature and developed now, but the feeling she gave Henry never changed. His senses were heightened when he was near her so he could absorb every action, every word, every smell.
Henry had that feeling on the way home from the mall Saturday evening. He had it as he walked to his dad’s apartment and she walked to her house and she smiled and waved and went inside clutching a few bags and her stuffed unicorn. Then the feeling was gone. The world was dull and hostile again. Henry went inside.
“Where have you been?” His father’s eyes were beginning to get that bloodshot look and his slurs of speech were becoming more frequent.
“The mall,” Henry said. He was standing by the kitchen door that led to the hallway and the living room.
“Where?”
“The mall.”
Danny looked at Cynthia. She was staring at the table. “How did you get there?” he said and looked back at Henry.
“Jessica’s mom’s car.”
“Huh?”
“I told you all of this before I left.”
Cynthia suddenly became more animated. “I don’t remember that.”
“You can’t remember what happened five minutes ago,” Henry said.
“You little bastard.”
Gregg came out of the bathroom. “Who’s a little bastard?”
“I am,” Henry said.
“Bull-fuck,” Danny said.
“Bull-fuck,” Gregg said and laughed. “Yeah.”
Cynthia looked at Gregg. “Will you shut up?”
“Okay.” Gregg slid up onto the kitchen counter.
“What’s wrong with you?” Danny asked Cynthia.
“What the fuck do you care?”
This was getting loud and Henry was getting that queasy feeling in his stomach. He wheeled around and went through the living room, out the front door, down the steps and outside. It was getting cold and Henry sat on the concrete steps and watched the cars go by.
Then he saw Jason coming up the street. He then came up the walkway and stopped in front of Henry.
“How’s it goin’, Henry?” Jason asked. God, he was loud.
“Pretty good, man.” Henry looked behind Jason and saw a green car go by slowly and stop in front of Jessica’s house. She came out and waved at Henry and he waved back. Then she was in Al’s car and they were gone.
“That’s some piece of ass,” Jason said.
Henry didn’t say anything.
Jason continued. “Man o man. You hit that yet, Henry?”
“Nope.”
“Aw, that’s a shame.”
“Yep.” Henry was still gazing down the street where the green car had drove out of sight.
“Your dad home?”
“Yep.”
“All right, keep hangin’.” Jason went up the steps past Henry.
“Yeah.”
Henry sat on the steps until the sun was down and the streetlights came on.
Later that night Henry sat on the couch staring at the T.V. He could hear the party going strong in the kitchen. When he had come back inside the apartment the brewing argument between his dad and Cynthia had cooled off. Apparently Jason had brought a lot of weed and they were too stoned to fight. Henry wished he was stoned. He felt hollow and tired. All his energy seemed to go to his feelings for Jessica and there was nothing left for routine things.
Fearing he would fall asleep if he didn’t do something, Henry got off the couch and looked out the front window. Directly in front of Jessica’s house sat a green car. No one was in it.
Soon Henry was running across the side yards in the glow of the streetlight. He pulled the ladder up even with her window as quietly as he could. About halfway up he could hear noise coming from Jessica’s room. As he got closer he realized it was moaning. Jessica was moaning.
Henry stopped before looking in the window. Even if he had looked, it was too dark in her room to see anything. But, he heard the moaning. Loud and frequent. Jesus H. Christ, Jessica was having sex, he thought as he climbed back down the ladder. With Al. Hell, Henry didn’t really care who it was; it wasn’t him. It was somebody who was not him having sex with Jessica.
Henry sat on the cold concrete steps in front of his dad’s apartment building in the shadow of the big tree and cried silently.
He could hear sirens from far away, and they were getting closer. Henry wiped his eyes. He was too tired for this. He hoped the cops weren’t coming to his dad’s apartment, but they came just about every weekend.
Two cruisers stopped in the street in front of Henry and the officers came up the walkway. These particular officers had been here before and they recognized Henry
“What’s the trouble tonight?” the first officer asked.
“Don’t know,” Henry said. “I’ve been out here.” The cops went inside and Henry followed.
Danny met them at the door. “The fuckin’ bitch is crazy,” he said and pointed to the kitchen. “She stabbed herself.” They all went into the kitchen, Henry’s dad staggering and brining up the rear.
A pool of dark red blood had formed on the floor around the chair Cynthia was sitting in. She was resting her left arm on the table, palm up. A large, black-handle steak knife was protruding from her forearm and she was staring blankly at the first officer. The officer used the radio attached to his right shoulder to call the paramedics.
“How did this happen?” the second officer, a woman, asked.
Jason was sitting next to Cynthia and Gregg was sitting on the kitchen counter behind her. “She kinda freaked out,” Gregg said.
“She’s fucking crazy,” Danny said and the woman officer asked him to sit down and be quiet.
Henry went back to the living room and watched T.V. as the others in the kitchen waited for the paramedics.
He was sick and tired of a lot of things, especially crazy drunks. He had never been so tired in his life.
When the paramedics informed Cynthia that she would have to go to the hospital, she wasn’t very cooperative. The police had to practically drag her to the ambulance; as much as you have to drag someone that has consumed over a case of beer. They considered her a danger to herself and others.
The party broke up after the stabbing incident. Jason and Gregg left and Danny passed out soon after. With the house finally quiet, Henry laid down on the couch without putting down any bedding. He went to sleep thinking about the best way to kill himself.
III
Danny was still asleep when Henry woke up. Henry felt a little better after a decent nights' sleep. Yesterday was a rough day, but they were all rough days. Some were just rougher than others.
Danny woke up and Henry didn’t think about suicide as they ate breakfast. Danny called the hospital and found out Cynthia was being put in detox. She had torn through most of the muscles in her forearm with the knife and it would be a long time before she had full use of her left arm. Henry didn’t feel sorry for her. His dad was right about one thing: she was a crazy bitch.
Henry and his father watched football that afternoon and his father didn’t drink. Maybe he was beginning to learn something, Henry thought. They watched football and didn’t say much and Henry didn’t think about suicide or Jessica.
“Hey,” Jessica said. Henry was sitting on the metal steps that led to his father’s back door gazing at the late evening sky. He hadn’t even noticed her walk up beside him.
“Hey,” he said, not looking at her.
There wasn’t enough room on the stairs to sit two people on the same step, but Jessica squeezed down next to him nonetheless. “I heard things got crazy over here last night,” she said.
“Yep.” Henry could smell her perfume and wanted to cry. But he wouldn’t; not in front of her. “I heard the same thing about your house.”
“Yeah, I noticed the ladder under my window this morning.” They didn’t speak for quite a while and gazed at the sky together.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Nope.”
Jessica shook her head. “You know, I don’t do things to hurt you.”
“Yeah, no one ever does.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing.” Henry couldn’t decide whether to get up from the steps or wedge closer to her. His throat felt like it was closing up and he was on the verge of balling like a baby right here next to her. He hoped he could control himself.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?” Yes, the tears were near.
“For hurting you.”
“I’ll be fine.” He looked away as the first tear rolled down his cheek.
Jessica put her arm around him and he laid his head on her shoulder. He was weeping uncontrollably now and it didn’t matter. He wasn’t embarrassed; just sad and afraid his life was spinning out of his control. He was afraid she didn’t realize how much power she had over him, but at least at this moment she was using her power for good.
She squeezed him tighter as he wept and waited for his mother to come and pick him up. Tomorrow was Monday and he would do the whole week over again. The boredom, the fear, the sadness, the pain, and the helplessness would all come and go and it would be the weekend. Henry loved the weekend. It was all that kept him going sometimes.
The End
