The Last Stand of Haviland Dinwiddie

Chapter 16

By Dabeagle

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My eyes opened wide, and I looked at Rigby, who all of a sudden seemed to remember what he'd said. “Oh. Uh.”

“It's been obvious, but why didn't you tell me?” she demanded.

I moved my hands in front of me awkwardly. “It...well, we...we're taking things really slowly. It's...we're not....”

Rigby spoke up. “I'm sorry, Mrs. Diaz. I don't think we tried not to tell you. Like we never talked about not telling you. We just...I guess it's kind of awkward to ask your boyfriend's mom if it's okay to move in and share a room.”

She crossed her arms and mimicked him. “I'm sorry, Mrs. Diaz. What's so awkward?” She took a step closer to us, and I swear I felt something cold running from my stomach down through my intestines, looping back and forth. “Let me tell you two something. When you find something special, when you find love, you have to nurture it. You have to take care of it. Most of all you don't hide it from your mother!” She opened her arms and put one around each of us, and at that point I think I was literally ready for my heart to fall out through my asshole.

“You kind of scared me there, Mom,” I told her. I don't know if she could hear the tremor in my voice; maybe it was just in my head.

“Well. I had my suspicions, and I guess I can understand not wanting to tell your poor mother you were in love and sleeping with your boyfriend,” she said, teasing. “But I think calling you ‘Babe’ was a pretty big tip off.”

“He's never going to let me forget this, Mrs. Diaz.”

She patted his cheek. “Mom. You're mine now. Officially.”

“I need to put these shoes away,” he said quietly, his voice laced with emotion. I followed him into our room so we could grab our coats before going to get our shoes.

“Okay. Don't take too long, I need the car. Penelope and I are getting together; she wanted to learn how to make the semita alta, so we're going to bake.”

“We'll be back quick, Mom,” Rigby said.

She beamed at him and said, “I'm going to wear my fancy new sweater. Penelope will be so jealous.”

We slipped our shoes on – Rigby didn't want to wear the new ones to the falls, as it was messy – and we got in the car with our two remaining gifts. I drove through the chilly late morning through town, across the river and up the hill to the turnoff for the falls.

“So...that happened,” Rigby said.

“Yeah. Uh. Not going to lie, that was tense for a minute. My guts were kind of....”

“Ready to run out of your asshole? Yeah, mine too.” We shared a nervous laugh.

“You know, the falls is a traumatizing place for me,” I told him.

“Yeah, yeah. We walked out of it together, so I think you'll be okay,” he replied. To my surprise that wasn't all he had to say about it. “You know what, though? Okay, it was stressful, but what about the good parts? What about the 'I love yous' and true things we found out up there? It was honest and started us being where we are right now.”

“Yeah, I know. I was just...I thought I was being funny.”

“You don't do funny.”

I waited a beat. “Infected ballsack.”

“That wasn't funny – stop laughing.”

I couldn't help myself, snorting out a little laugh, and he protested but laughed as well. I parked in the lot, and we crossed the small, empty space and past the signs for the falls. The trees, so full the last time, were largely bare, excepting the few evergreens. The sound of the water was easier to hear, less muted with the lack of foliage. We stepped out onto the bridge, and I followed Rigby to the side where the water could easily be seen to plunge from the top, splashing down on two shelves of rock, white spray floating up from the base of the falls.

“This place.” Rigby looked around before turning his gaze to me. “This is always going to be our place. The first time someone said they loved me and I knew it was true. The first time I said it and really knew what it meant.” He sniffed, wrinkling his nose and glanced at the water flowing past in its constant descent. “It's not that different, you know.”

“What's that?”

He turned back to me again. “Loving a guy. I mean sure, there are things we haven't done, but...this isn't difficult. I look at you, and I feel better than I did when I crushed on a girl. I want to see your face every day. I feel like holding you is...it's just the best.” He took out his present. “I just wanted to get you something that would remind you of that every time you looked at it. I hope this works.”

I shivered both from the cold and the emotion of the situation. I accepted the box and took my present from inside my coat.

“Open mine first,” he said.

“Okay.” I put my present for him in my pocket and opened the package. Inside was a thin bracelet of clear stones. “Oh wow,” I said softly. “This is so fire, Rig.”

“Let me put it on you,” he said, sounding really pleased. He lifted it from the box and unlatched it, and I held my hand out so he could wrap it around my wrist. Once fastened, I held it up and admired the way the stones caught the light, sparkling like ice in the cold day. I looked at his face, so pleased with my reaction, and I felt...full. Like I could float. I could feel the individual beats of my heart, even though it was beating too fast to count.

“That looks good. Not going to lie; it's giving some main character energy,” he said with a big, happy smile.

I grinned back at him. “I love it. Thank you.” I pulled his gift from my pocket and held it up in the air. “I hope this isn't too flashy.”

He opened the box with curiosity and then stared at me. “E. What the fuck, bruh? Did you empty your bank account on me?”

“Do you like it? Is it too flashy?”

He picked up the necklace and the tiny diamond chips flashed in gold, green and brown.

“Can I put it on you?”

He looked at me with big eyes. “I should be telling you to send it back, that it's too expensive.” He shook his head, his eyes wide. “But I love this. Yeah, help me put it on?”

I was so excited my hands were shaking a little as I draped the necklace around him and fastened it. He took out his phone and used the camera to see how it looked.

“Babe,” he said, his words only carried by an exhale.

“They're all the colors in your eyes,” I told him.

“C'mere,” he said, pulling me to his side. “Lift your hand up here and put your fingers flat.” I did as he said, laying my hand on his chest, the bracelet in view and his necklace glittering above. “Closer. I need your face in this.” He took our picture, happier than I'd ever been, showing off our gifts to each other.

He put his phone away and looked at me. “Thank you. For the gift, for being you. I have one more thing for you.”

“What else could I want?” I said with a little laugh.

“Well...look around. Pretty romantic spot for our first kiss, don't you think?”

My emotions were running so strongly I didn't have room to feel nervous or surprised. He kept smiling as he got closer, pulling me in by my neck, and I copied him. The world stopped spinning. Life stopped. For all I knew the water in the falls stopped falling. He kissed me softly at first, then turned his head a bit, and all I wanted in life was to keep going, to kiss him again. So instead of one, sweet, perfect kiss it became a series of beautiful, sweet and sexy kisses that were more than my mind had ever been able to dream of.

Sure, I had never kissed anyone and had no idea if this was objectively good or bad – but now any other kiss would always be measured by this one. This hundred. I knew that this feeling would never be matched, that no kiss would ever be able to do all that this was.

He started to pull back, and I desperately whispered, “Don't stop.”

His eyes crinkled, and his lips, wet with our efforts, curled up. “I think my boyfriend likes kissing me.”

“I'm shaking,” I said, feeling it in my vocal cords. “Rigby. I want to kiss you more.”

“As my boyfriend, you're allowed to kiss me when you want to, E.” His tongue darted out to touch the middle of his upper lip and was gone. “I'd like if you kissed me some more, too. If that matters.”

It was all I needed. If the water had stopped, I heard it now, rushing past us as my entire being soared with the feel of him in my arms, and our kissing brought me to a place I didn't know existed, an otherworldly mix of the physical and the emotional. I wasn't sure where my feeling ended and the feel of his lips began. Then that changed as his tongue pushed into my mouth, and an entire new mix of the emotional and the physical crashed, broke apart like water on a rock, and reformed like the falls beside us.

Over and over I went over the edge, falling, breaking, crashing and reforming myself, only to do it all again. I was so short of breath I finally broke the kiss and pressed my forehead to his, wanting to resume kissing as soon as I was sure I wouldn't pass out.

“Damn, E,” he said, panting heavily. “You been holding that in?”

I tried to look into his eyes, but we were too close. “I guess. Holding it in seventeen years for you.”

“Well. Can't let you build up that long again,” he said with a grin.

“Rigby,” I said, my voice still sounding out of breath. “I've never felt this good in my life. All I want to do is kiss you again.”

“Do it, E. Fucking kiss me like you mean it.”

For the next little while I did just that, and the feeling consumed me.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

The ride back to the apartment was quiet, just us holding hands and feeling like the world had just opened up to nothing but possibilities. The feeling of optimism was too big for me; all I could do was float in it and be content. When we got home, my mom complimented our gifts to each other. Fortunately she didn't ask about our trip to the falls, because I probably would have embarrassed myself. My mother pulled on her coat and went into the kitchen to grab a bag of things to take with her.

“Oh shit!” my mother said.

“What?”

“Look. There's a leak under the sink.”

I walked over and noticed what she was talking about, a small pool of water that seemed to be coming from the cabinet under the sink. I opened the cupboard, but there was no valve to shut the water off. “I think Hav is downstairs. They're closing early today, but he said something about paperwork and bourbon or something.”

“I'll go down,” Rigby said. “He'll know what to do.”

“Harvey, get some towels to soak some of that while Rigby gets Hav,” My mom said. “Call me if you need me – I'm late!”

I went to get some towels and Rigby headed down to the store. We didn't have that many towels, but then the leak wasn't gushing, so I hoped it would work out. I folded a towel and put it on the floor, then opened the cabinet and started taking out the few things we had in there – dish soap, spare sponges and such.

I turned as I heard steps on the floor. “Hav, I can't shut this off.”

“Here, let me have a quick look,” he said. He set down a small tool box, opened the top and withdrew a mini flashlight. He shone the light under the sink, moving it a little one way and another. “Yeah, okay. Flex hose looks bad. The shut off is in the next apartment over. I never finished it; this is one dumb thing I've never fixed.”

Rigby was standing behind us, watching.

“You! Scalawag!” Hav said, standing up. “I need some plumbers tape and a new flex line. Run downstairs and grab them, please.”

“Okay.” Rigby turned and left.

“I'm just going to get my keys to get into the next apartment and shut that off. Maybe take a minute to look at the door to the street while I'm here; it's sticking a bit.”

“Is this the only one that's done? I saw three doors in the hallway.”

“No. First one is done, too. But maybe you remember the meth lab?”

I stared at him.

“Oh, right, told you it was a joke. Have to learn to keep better track of my stories. Okay, let me go turn that off.” He went out the door, and I wrung out the towel on the floor and swapped it for the one under the sink, then wrung that out, too. I grabbed an extra towel from the bathroom and heard Hav walking in the hallway.

“I grabbed an extra towel, hopefully nothing-” I froze as I took in the man standing in our living room. He looked around slowly, as if he owned all he saw. Shaking his head, he sucked at his teeth, making a sound of disappointment. In that tiny breadth of time, anxiety flushed through me like a liquid, coating my insides in a cold, acidic bath. My lower back spasmed in a stress reaction, and I dropped the towel.

“Well. I don't know that I could expect much better from your mother.” He lifted his chin. “Where is she?”

Anxiety had been a companion of mine for a long, long time. It was a bit like wearing a suit of bugs; ever present, but sometimes you can ignore it when it stands still. But sometimes the bugs crawl all over your skin, and that's how I felt now. Cold acid inside, bugs on my skin on the outside.

“Harvey Emerson, I asked you a question.”

Muscles fired randomly, and I felt my head twitch on a neck that was suddenly unstable. “She's not here.”

He nodded slowly. “That's not what I asked you.” He walked slowly toward me and I looked around, desperate for a way out to materialize. I moved a bit away from the bathroom door, but it was a matter of a single step for him to block me. He stood about a foot away, lower jaw moving like he was rolling something around in his mouth.

“I already know I'm going to have to make a point,” he said and an involuntary shudder ran through my body. He adopted a reasonable tone, one that I knew from long experience was the carrot before the stick. “I can understand you obeying your mother. It's what a son does. But now I'm here, and I know you know how this works.”

The muscles on the side of my jaw trembled as I opened my mouth. My mind yammered in gibbering fear; I don't think I can ever adequately explain how fucking scared I was in that moment. “H-how did you find us?”

He smiled, something cold. “Oh, I got your message.”

My eyes went wide. “M-message?”

He nodded, looking almost proud. “Sure. Little traffic stop. Got your license scanned, didn't you?”

My mind fired off randomly, one incomplete thought after another. It took me a moment, but then I remembered the night I'd stopped to help Rigby and the cop pulling me over.

“That was months ago. I didn't think you'd come,” I said, already shifting my language to try and appease him and hating myself for it.

He started to walk slowly in the small space, looking around as if taking in the sights. “Well, those things your mother said to the judge caused me some delay. But good lawyers and wearing a badge help; when you have people that see things the way you do, well.” He spread his hands wide and then pulled his sleeve up to expose one of the tattoos I knew he had – twin lighting bolts. “Once I get you both home and your mother does the right thing and recants her statement, the charges will be dropped, and I'll get the both of you back on track.” He turned in the middle of the room, enjoying the fear he was creating. “Won't that be nice, Harvey? Back to routine?”

“It's not...I kind of like it here.” I shifted on my feet, my anxiety pulling at my insides like hot gum on a sidewalk that gets stuck to your shoe. “Maybe Mom and I can stay.”

“Oh, that won't do,” he said, quickly turning to face me. “I knew it was a bad idea to let you go to school. Don't you worry though, Harvey. Your father's on the case. Now.” His gaze hardened. “Where's your mother?”

I broke for the door, and he anticipated my move, grabbing my arm and twisting it behind me as he drove me into the wall.

“Get off!” I screamed, pushing off the wall and forcing him back a step.

“Someone's forgot his lessons,” he snarled, yanking up on my arm. I cried out again and tried to twist my body, but he yanked my arm higher and palmed the back of my head. Grabbing a handful of hair he pounded my head into the wall three, four, five times. I felt disoriented, and then I was being shoved. I stumbled, my toe hitting something hollow and metal, and I crashed to the floor. The corner of something banged painfully off my shin, but it was distant compared to my nose and the blood I could taste.

“The fuck is that?” he demanded, and my wrist stung for a moment. My eyes went wide as I realized he'd destroyed the bracelet from Rigby.

“Mine,” I gasped, reaching for the pieces.

“Get up,” he snarled and stomped his foot down on my ribs. I bleated out a pained noise, coughed out some of the blood and tried to shift my weight to stand. His head whipped around, and he walked quickly to the door, pushing it closed. As I made another attempt to stand I dimly noted I'd tripped over Hav's tool box. Outside I could hear footsteps coming up the stairs and the bickering Hav and Rigby engaged in. My father was against the door, and he reached behind his coat, putting his hand on a gun hidden in a holster.

“I'll be along, Scalawag,” I heard Hav say, and keys tinkled against one another. That meant Rigby was coming for the door.

No.

Not Rigby.

I pushed off from the floor and ran at my father. He turned in surprise as I rushed into him. He fell back against the door, but didn't fall. I swung wildly, striking him, but ineffectually. He shoved me backward, and I pulled my arms in close from habit, protecting myself as he hit me in the stomach twice, then shoved me back. I fell hard, sprawled out on the kitchen floor.

“E! Harvey!” The door burst open, and Rigby was there. My father was already in motion, cuffing him on the side of the head and attacking. I fumbled around me as I struggled to stand, and my hand landed painfully on the edge of the toolbox. I stood unsteadily and turned, terrified that he was going to hurt Rigby.

He had Rigby pinned to the floor, one hand on his neck. Rigby was desperately pulling at his fingers while my father pulled Rigby's hands away with his free hand. His hand was big enough – he was going to strangle him.

“God damn it!” Hav roared from down the hallway. The scene became an uncontrolled melee. Rigby was shoved away, Hav slammed into my father like an old bear defending a cub. The thing was, my father was younger and had training on his side. He got a bit of separation and knocked Hav in the gut, then the side of the head, sending the old man down hard. Rigby attacked from behind, and I limped forward to help. My father kicked Hav viciously, then howled as Rigby threw rabbit punches into his kidneys.

My father turned, and Rigby was too close. Throwing him to the ground, my father was on him, scrabbling for his neck. Rigby kicked and shifted, trying to avoid his grip.

With a thought I looked down into the box and grabbed an old claw hammer, its handle stained with age and use. I took three large steps, and as I swung the hammer, my father turned his face toward the door, maybe from Hav yelling or because he sensed my approach. I brought the hammer down.

The claw dug into his head near the temple. He jerked, and I lost my grip as he reached for the hammer lodged in his skull, but his arms only went up a little bit. Somewhere in his body there was a short, and his arms just couldn't complete their instructions. Rigby scrambled up from the floor, coughing and touching his neck. Blood flowed in spurts, puddling on the floor.

“Leave him be,” Hav said to no one. He walked over to me and knelt down; it wasn't until then I realized I'd fallen back onto my butt. “Hold still, now,” he said, his gruff voice sounding gentle. He touched the bridge of my nose, which was sore, but not too bad. “Not broken. Where else'd he hit you?”

I inhaled slowly. “Ribs. Bruised for sure,” I said, my voice wheezy in my ears.

“E,” Rigby dropped to his knees, his voice sounding ragged and a red mark on his throat. “Are you – damn, you're bleeding.” Across the room my father's heels drummed on the floor, a tune with no rhythm for the living. Rigby looked over his shoulder and then to Hav. “Shouldn't we call an ambulance?”

Hav shook his head slowly. “He don't know he's dead yet.” He pursed his lips for a moment. “Harvey. Do we need to call the police?”

The idea sent a shudder up my spine.

“Who else would we call?” Rigby asked, his voice quiet and raspy.

Hav didn't answer him, but maintained eye contact with me. I thought it over as best I could. I thought about all those things that could go wrong, how all this could be twisted to fit someone else's narrative. “Can we leave them out of it?”

After a moment, Hav nodded. “We can. It's my belief we should. But this one wasn't my father.”

My father gurgled, his hand slapped the floor once and then fell still.

“I am too old for this shit,” Hav said.

I looked at Rigby and reached for him. He grabbed my hand, and I used my other hand to touch his neck. “He could have killed you.” My voice sounded awful.

“Would have, seems,” Hav replied.

“I have to clean this up,” I said to Rigby.

“We.”

I held his gaze a moment then nodded and looked to Hav. “What should we do?”

Hav looked at Rigby. “I need you to go down to the store. Get me a box of the thick lawn and leaf bags – not the cheapies, mind. I need duct tape, a couple big metal scrapers with beveled edges. You know the ones I mean?”

“Yeah. Anything else?”

“Tell Sandy God failed. She'll know what to do.”

Rigby glanced at me, back to Hav and then back to me again. “You going to be okay?”

“He'll be better if you hurry up, Scalawag,” Hav said, making a shooing motion. Rigby didn't move until I nodded, and then he ran.

“Should we...make sure he's dead?”

Hav wiped the side of his nose, coming away with a little blood. “Nah. Won't matter much soon anyway. We're going to have some work to do.”

I got to my feet unsteadily and avoided looking at my father. “It...seems like you know what you're doing.”

He scrubbed his chin with the butt of his hand. “You know, Harvey, there are always the weak and the strong. Lot of times the strong takes advantage of the weak, unless a bunch of weak ones get together and beat him back, or another strong one comes along to defend the weaker.”

I tried to smile. “Looks like this was the weak ones fighting back.”

“Yeah, something like that.” He paused. “Thing is, there are people out there that get drunk on the power. It's not that they enjoy the beating itself, it's the rush of control. For some people it's like an adrenaline rush, and they just keep chasing it. It don't make it right, of course, but what it does mean is sometimes they show up here with the full on intent of dragging a wife, a child home, or to kill them if they can't keep getting their fix.”

“That's....”

“I know. What you have to understand is, if they show up here, they aren't just your normal run of the mill asshole. They're one dedicated sum'bitch, and there's only one good use for them.”

I studied his face. He looked defiant, and yet old. Tired.

“Fertilizer,” he said. “So sure. There's a plan.” His nose twitched. “Where's your mom?”

It sounded odd to hear him ask, since my father had been doing the same. “She's with Daphne's mom. They're making semita alta for the holiday.”

He nodded slowly. Feet could be heard on the stairs, and Rigby appeared a moment later with a bag in hand. “I got the stuff. I told Sandy.”

Hav straightened up and pulled the things from the bag. “Good. Glad you didn't fall asleep down there.”

Rigby looked at me with an amazed expression. “Can you fire me later?”

“We need your help now, wouldn't be very smart to fire you before that, would it?” Hav said and tried to grin. His lip was swollen, and he still had some bruising on his face, so it wasn't exactly heartwarming. Honestly, it was kind of bizarre with a dead body in the room.

“Okay,” Hav said, pulling a bag from the roll. “Go take your clothes off, Harvey, and put them in here. They have to go.”

Rigby took the bag and stepped to my side.

“I can do it,” I said.

“You're barely able to stand up,” he countered.

I decided now wasn't the time, and I started across the room. My father was on his back, one hand curled like he wanted to scratch his neck; the other was flat on the floor, as if readying to push off to stand. A pool of blood was spreading on the floor tiles. I stumbled as my swirling anxiety coupled with fear came pouring out of me, emptying my stomach on the floor.

“Whoa. Whoa. Okay, E. Come on. Let's get you cleaned up,” Rigby said. He led me to the bathroom rather than our room, and I rinsed my mouth out. I stood over the sink for a minute, breathing in and out. Rigby rested his head against my shoulder, just a reminder that he was there. We got into our room, and Rigby pulled out clothes for me. I stood still for a moment, watching him, and then tried to pull my hoodie up over my head, but couldn't lift my arm high enough.

“Jesus,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Here, just bend your elbow, I'll pull it over your arm,” he said. I bent my arm at the elbow, kind of like getting ready to punch, I guess. He worked the sleeve up and over my hand, then lifted to pull it over my head and down my other arm to remove it. “Tee shirt, too.”

I tried to look down. “How'd I get blood on it?”

“Not sure. You're just messy when you fight, I guess. Fold your arm.”

I hesitated. It was so stupid, and the absolute last thing I should be thinking of with my recently murdered father on the other side of the door, but my lifelong habit of covering myself kicked in, and taking off my shirt was the last thing I wanted to do.

“Erm. Maybe...it's not noticeable?”

He blinked at me. “It's a white tee shirt, E.”

I let out a sharp breath and pressed my lips together. Rigby shuffled his feet a little and acted suspicious. “Hey, E. There's something I want to get off your chest.”

I stared at him for a minute. “Don't say-”

“It's your shirt. Come on.”

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