“Okay, okay. I’ll back off,” he said, laughing. “Let’s see now. You’ve still got that curious look in your eye, even though I’ve made you mad. Now, what does Irene want to know? Let me guess.” He rinsed a stack of dishes and handed them to me. “She wants to know, ‘How could this ratty-assed biker be my friend Mrs. Fremont’s son?’ Am I right?”
I blushed. He laughed again.
“I am right! Okay, here goes. Life story of Jack Fremont, prodigal son of Althea and John Fremont, Senior. I barely remember John Senior — died when I was five. Left us well off, though. So I became a much doted upon, rich spoiled brat — the apple of my mother’s eye. And totally uncontrollable.
“You might say I had been something of a surprise. She was told she couldn’t have children, and at forty, found herself pregnant with yours truly. Dad was fifty, so I’m sure he felt like quite the old rooster. But as I said, he died not long after. Heart attack. Have this impression of a big guy holding me on his knee while he smoked a cigarette and drank a gin martini. But I couldn’t have known what a gin martini was when I was five, so who knows where that comes from.”
He looked over at me, as if to see if I was still interested, and went on.
“So much for the early years. As I got older, I got wilder. Got mixed up with what every parent in Las Piernas knew was the wrong crowd. Hell, I was one of the ones that made it the wrong crowd. And at fifteen, I got a girl pregnant. Cindy Larabee. Seeing a chance to have her marry into money, her daddy all but pulled out a shotgun. My mother made sure I did the honorable thing.”
“You were married at fifteen?”
“Yep. My mother supported us, of course. Old Cindy had me by the balls then, and she knew it. She knew that all she had to do was have that grandchild and Althea Fremont would take care of her for the rest of her days. I mean, the minute I said, ‘I do,’ the woman was transformed into the meanest thing on two feet. Cindy was a bitch. No other word for it.”
He paused while he rinsed off a plate and then reloaded the sink with dirty dishes.
“Well, all this marriage and pregnancy stuff scared the hell out of me. Nothing like feeling your life has come to an end when you’re fifteen. So I ran off; baby wasn’t even born yet. Mom found me and hauled me back. She did it again and again.
“When Paul was born, I stuck around for awhile. It was really exciting to me at first, but I couldn’t stand playing house with Cindy for long. She made my life miserable. So when I turned eighteen, I took off again, and this time I was too old to haul back home.
“I wandered around for about twelve years, dropping by every now and again. Caught glimpses of my boy growing up. Mom hated me then.
“I even tried to get back together with Cindy when Paul was in high school, mainly because I’d started thinking that I was his age back when he was born. I wanted to know my son.”
He stopped washing, but didn’t look up at me. He seemed to tense up for a minute. Just when I was about to ask him what was wrong, he started washing again and went on with his story. But his sarcastic tone was gone now.
“It was a big mistake. I didn’t have anything to offer either one of them. Cindy was still a nasty-tempered little shrew, and a drunk to boot. The night I left, she went on a bender. Died in a car accident — only good part of it was she took out another drunk.
“Anyway, if Paul didn’t hate me before, he surely did then. He was really messed up by the whole deal.”
He stopped washing again, staring off into space. His voice, when he continued, was much quieter.
“Kid even tried to kill himself.” He shook his head. “When my mom told me about that, I really felt like a piece of shit. I thought to myself, ‘Jack, you should be the one to kill himself. The world would be a better place. You’ve given your mother and that poor boy nothing but grief.’ But I don’t know, self-destructive as I’ve been — and believe me, I’ve pulled some dumb stunts — that just isn’t the way for me.”
He drew the back of his hand across his forehead, then looked over at me, trying to read something in my face. I suspected he wondered if I had passed judgment on him in some way. I’ve never been qualified to cast the first stone, so I was merely waiting for him to go on.
“Paul decided he wanted to live with his cousins, and did for almost a year. Boy, is that bunch something. Cindy’s sister can’t keep her pants on long enough to button her fly. She had five boys, all by different fathers. Married and divorced a couple of them. I think she figured that my mom would give her money for looking after Paul, and when that didn’t happen, out he went. My mother took him in again.
“So anyway, here I am, six years later. Been back in Las Piernas four months. I’ve learned that my son has grown into a fine young man, much better than his dad.” His voice grew quiet. “And I made peace with my mother before she died. I guess that should be enough for anyone who’s been as irresponsible as I have.”
He didn’t look as though it was enough. He seemed tired.
“What brought you back?”
He looked at me and grinned. “Well, well. So you are a little curious about me, even after I’ve told you my life’s story. Good sign.
“Let me see. What brought me back to Las Piernas? I suppose if I tell you it’s the only place I
He dried his hands on a towel.
“Well, in a roundabout way, a knife fight brought me back. I don’t kid myself that you haven’t noticed the scar. But like they say, you should see the other guy. Only he’s dead. Mom’s lawyers got me off and Mom’s doctors patched me up. And without boring you with a lot of details, I’ll just say I realized then that I wasn’t going to live forever. Ironic, isn’t it? Her doctors said she’d live to be a hundred, and they didn’t give me a snowflake’s chance in hell. But here I am, and she’s gone.”
We had finished the dishes. He looked completely worn down, and his weariness changed him in some way I couldn’t quite name. There was something charming about this maverick. I was thinking that just as the guy with the corner on the market came walking into the kitchen.
