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Yet were those really my eyes? Did I really stare at the world with such contempt, as if it were a piece of shit at a child's tea party? And as I realized whose eyes I was staring at, the blows came crashing in. Two dog eyes were watching back, two dog eyes sitting in front of a dog mind in my human body. A jealous dog body that didn't want to see me enjoying what was his. The first punch detonated in my rib cage like a torpedo, bruising and breaking and sinking me. A flurry of fists came quickly, those furled fingers crashing in until I slipped off Emily's back. "No. No daddy, I'm sorry daddy, no!" Emily cried in despair. But I, he, didn't say a word, and My diminishing rod was wrenched out of her, watery liquid of life still pumping like a pregnant fountain. Collapsing on the floor, I advanced and began to kick myself, beating myself into a scarred, scared lump that bled temperamentally on the carpet. Emily made to get up but I, he, pushed her hard back onto the sofa. She fell and. ’ He headed back toward the piano, and I joined him. In a low voice, I said, ‘Greg, do you need a place to stay tonight?’ He didn’t look at me. ‘I couldn’t ask …’ Taking a cue from my mother, I interrupted him. ‘You didn’t ask. I did. Do you need a place to sleep?’ He stopped, looked at his shoes, and spoke in a voice so quiet I could barely hear. ‘Well, yeah. I kind of got thrown out.’ ‘Oh, Greg.’ I almost started crying right there. ‘Let me check with my mother.’ I knew darn well what her answer was going to be. I found her in the kitchen and whispered, ‘He said yes. He said he got thrown out.’ ‘Oh, Rachel.’ Her voice was gentle, even though her knuckles turned white around the pan she was holding. ‘Put him in Randy’s room.’ ‘I’ll go change the sheets.’ ‘I already did.’ I half expected that answer. ‘Thanks, Mom. I … just thanks.’ She turned back to the sink without answering. Greg was playing again when I got back to the living room. My father sat quietly, gazing at nothing. I sat.
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