Short Story: When Elvis First Sang On…

Short Story: When Elvis First Sang On The Radio

It was the year that Eddie changed for the worst the year Fay first heard Elvis on the radio singing some song about his mama and Eddie switched it off saying he didn't want to hear no nigger music in his house and gave her a slap across the face with his hand and made her mouth bleed and she licked it with her tongue sensing the taste of blood recognized it from before and the lip seeming thicker like someone had blown it up like some balloon and he stood there with that dark glint in his eyes as if murder would be his next step but he sighed and went out the door slamming it behind him and she heard the car start up and off he went like some darn wild cat leaving her standing there with a swollen lip and a head spinning like a top and she went to the window and watched the car drive out of sight over the brow of the hill and wondered when he'd be back and what kind of mood he'd be in then whether he'd get himself soaked in booze and come back with that glazed glare watching her standing there unsure if to speak to him or not watching his every move looking at the hands the feet the way his head was posed wondering if he'd come kiss her or thump her or drag her off to the bedroom and rape her as he did before when he thought that Gene Adman had been there while he'd been away and wouldn't hear a word she said just roughing her up and having his way and she couldn't go out for weeks that time because of the bruises and the black eyes and he came home a day or so later with flowers and chocs and a mouthful of apologises that he'd got it wrong about Gene because the guy'd been in Chicago at that time which let her off the hook he said with that laugh he had occasionally when his mood was good but once she knew the car had gone and she had a few hours alone and free she went got herself a glass of gin and gulped it down and poured herself another and drank it slower all the time feeling the swollen lip on the rim of the glass sensing the taste of blood mingled with the gin like some odd cocktail and licking her lips she walked to the window and peered out at the street at the people passing at the cars and trucks and sipping her drink sensed anger rise in her breast and felt it boiling up inside deeper than before as if suddenly someone had turned a switch and lit a great light up in her head and all the things he'd done and said kind of swelled up in her head and she gripped the glass so tight that her hand shook and the gin spilt over the rim and all she could think of at that moment in time was pouring another gin and thinking of a way to end the torment to stop the pain to finish the hurt and holding her swollen lips to the glass's rim she mused on ways to murder him right down to how to dispose of his body how to cover her tracks what to say if the police called and enquired about him but it was all just part of the act she knew as she stood by the window watching him come up to the house with that steady walk that head to one side that slow opening of his lips to spread into a smile and in his arms a bouquet of many coloured flowers and a huge box of chocs and a mouthful of lies and apologises that buzzed around the room like a dead stinking corpse with flies.