Hell is yourself and the only redemption is when a person puts himself aside to feel deeply for another person. - Tennessee Williams
The punching back offers Tommy zero relief from the thoughts plaguing him. Something had never sat right with him about the conversation he'd had with Penny the night before he'd run with his Ma. What had she meant when she'd said no one knew what she was living with? At the time he'd chalked it up to her being a spoiled brat not knowing what real agony and trauma was. With the turn that her life had taken since there had to have been something more going on; you don't end up a junkie, dying in greasy spoon alone without something fucked up happening to you.
But shit, so much could have transpired with this girl after her left town. So much did according to Teddy. C'mon Tommy, you know what's really bothering you, he thinks to himself as his fists pummel the ProBrand. You failed this girl. All the times when she was the only one who was there for you and you left her in the dust. Just like Manny…
"Arrrrhhhhhhhhh! FUCK!" Tommy shouts as he rains down abuse on the bag with his fists. He can see people in his peripheral turn and stare. Suddenly he stops and turns placing his gloves in an attack position in front of him. He bends his knees and starts to weave slowly side to side. "WHAT THE FUCK YOU ALL LOOKING AT?" he bellows, his gloved fists ready to strike the first mother fucker to open their mouth. Everyone immediately turns away, going back to whatever activity they'd been involved in before his outburst.
"Tommy," barks a familiar voice from behind him. He turns to see Colt steadying the punching bag and motioning with his head towards the office. Tommy drops his hands and nods, following the smaller man to the front of the building.
Inside the office the air is much cooler and Tommy sets about freeing his hands from the leather confines of the gloves instead of looking Colt in the eyes.
"Tommy," Colt starts but doesn't get a chance to finish.
"So is this where ya tell me that I'm fired? That ya can't have shit like that on the gym floor?"
"Tommy, c'mon man. Let's get real. I'm about money and you bring more money in here than anyone. You're the best advertisement for this place. You could beat the shit out of ten of those MMA wannabe's a day out there and I wouldn't say fuck all about it. But this is real bro. I'm worried about you."
"Whatchu worried about me for Colt? I got a handle on this shit; today's just been a rough day. I found out that someone I used to know is fucked up on smack. It ain't anyone I would have thought would ever get involved with that shit. So I'm taking it out on the bag. I just let it get the better of me and it won't happen again." Tommy is surprised that he reveals as much as he does to Colt. Even though the man is the closest to what Tommy could call a friend he'd never been one to sit around and just share what he was feeling. But Colt had given him a job and helped him get back on his feet and he owed him enough to ease his worry.
"That's what I'm talking about Tommy. You NEED to get this shit out and not bottle it up, man. The first time I saw you put the beat down on Grimes it was pure rage. And I'm pretty sure that shit had been building up for a long time. You need a way to vent on a regular basis because if you don't you're gonna end up killing somebody, maybe even yourself."
"I'm good. I'll be fine. Listen," he says as he stands to head to the showers, still avoiding looking his boss in the eye, "I'm real sorry I flipped my lid like that out there."
"Hey, hold up. I got something to tell you. I hate to add to your already shit day but your Pops came by here this morning looking for you. He looks bad Tommy, real bad. I ain't trying to get in your business but you might wanna look him up… soon."
Tommy doesn't say anything but instead heads out the door to the locker room. He passes through the busy gym and people scramble to get out of his way. Stopping at his locker, he grabs his bag and makes his way to the showers. He cleans up and changes, deciding to leave by the back door instead of making another trip across the gym floor. Any other time the way that the people scurried out of his path might have made him laugh but now it just made him feel like an asshole. What the fuck was up with this public display of emotions?
He walks home instead of running. He's through with sweating today and he knows his body well enough to know it's been pushed to its limits for now. The air is brisk but not cold and the sun is low on the horizon. The tangle of concrete and buildings blocks his view but he can feel the impending nightfall like the hottest blood coursing through his veins. He's always been a night owl, always felt caged when the sun went down and he was indoors. As he rounds the corner of the his block he can see the familiar outline of Paddy's rust colored Chevy sitting in front of his building. For a split second he thinks about turning back and heading the other direction. Anytime but now Pops…
No more running away from shit, he thinks and quickens his pace towards the front entrance of his building. He hears the squeak of the driver's side door and Paddy struggling to exit in time to catch him.
"Tommy!" Paddy calls out, his voice shaky, sounding out of breath. Could it be that this mother fucker is drunk again? Probably drunk and feeling sorry for himself, looking for forgiveness just like a beggar with his cup out. Turns out Tommy doesn't like Drunk Paddy any more than he likes Self-righteous Sober Paddy.
Tommy races up to the top of the steps past his father and unlocks the entry door. He turns and faces the monster from his childhood, motioning impatiently for the old man to get his ass up the steps and into the foyer. Paddy struggles with each stair, wheezing and holding onto the railing as he ascends, never taking his eyes off of his son. Some monster he is now.
Inside the lighted apartment Tommy gets a better look at him and he looks every bit as bad as Colt had implied. His cheeks are sunken; he's lost quite a bit of weight since Tommy last saw him in Atlantic City; his clothes hang on him like they might a scarecrow in a cornfield.
"What you want? Tommy cuts to the chase, no sympathy or compassion in his voice.
"How you been son?" Paddy asks as he takes his hat off and sits it in his lap.
"I been. Again, what do you want?"
"Well it's been close to a year since I spoke to you last. I was hoping after Sparta that things might have gotten better between you and me, Tommy. I gave you space and hoped that eventually we might be able to start talking again. So uh, you wanna go and grab a bite to eat or something?"
Paddy doesn't seem comfortable on Tommy's threadbare couch. He looks around the sparsely furnished room, his eyes darting here and there nervously. His bony fingers wrench his hat and he licks his dry lips repeatedly. The sight of him irritates Tommy to no end.
"No, I don't wanna go nowhere to get a bite to eat, I ain't got time Pops. I want you to spit out whatchu got to say to me and be on your merry fuckin' way," Tommy spits at him, his irritation obvious. The sarcastic way he mocks Paddy's words make him feel spitefully good. It's the same way Paddy had always mocked him as a boy when he'd asked to stop training and get something to eat.
We ain't got time to get something to eat asshole, his father had sneered. It hadn't been a matter of not having time. It had been a matter of Paddy Conlon had already had his dinner from a whiskey bottle and he was getting meaner by the second.
"It's not that simple or easy Tommy." Paddy's voice seems weaker than it had outside and Tommy notices that his hands shake constantly when he's not gripping his hat.
"Well make it that simple cause I really ain't in the mood for your shit."
"I just thought that after what happened that day in the hotel that..."
"That what? That because I held you and comforted you it was all better? That because Brendan popped my shoulder out of place like YOU used to and told me he loved me that it fixed everything between me him? The stones on you two mother fuckers for real. Brendan ain't got no reason not to love me, it wasn't me who shit on him and abandoned him! And as far as you, let's call it a moment of weakness. I felt bad for you cause you're old and you were drunk." Tommy paces the room like a caged animal trying to keep his temper in check. He has a boiling point and he knows he's close.
"You wanna know why I chose you train me, Pop? It wasn't just because you were the Devil I knew, it's because deep down inside I wanted you to try some of that old shit with me, you know, the shit you used to inflict on me when I was just a kid and too scared to fight back. I wanted you to raise your fuckin' hand to me, try to bloody my nose or pop my arm out of the socket. I wanted you to even raise your voice with me, just fuckin' once. Because when you did I was going to show you who the weak one was, I was gonna send YOU to the fucking ER with a laundry list of lies to tell the good doctors."
"Would it make you feel better to do it now Tommy? I'll take it, I deserve it, god knows I do. I'm ready to do whatever it takes to make things better between us."
"Don't be simple, Pops. I'd fuckin' kill you and you know it. Maybe there just ain't a way to make things right, maybe there ain't no magic words to say, no special hand wave that's gonna undo all the damage you did."
Paddy opens his mouth several times and closes it. He looks like a fuckin' guppy to Tommy, the sight of him bringing out more rage and ire in his son. Tommy sneers and goes in for the kill.
"When I woke up and found you raging around with that bottle in ya hand, all I felt for you was pity because you're just a pathetic old man raging at the hell of your own making. You don't deserve forgiveness just because you're too old to throw a punch anymore or because you found Jesus. You weren't there for me when I needed you, when it mattered. I don't fuckin' need you now."
Paddy stands and puts his hat back on, he moves to leave but Tommy speaks again.
"Wait, I got some things to ask you. It ain't about you and me and you don't have to answer but I'd appreciate it if you would."
Paddy sits again and looks at Tommy, his eyes unreadable, and simply nods.
"You remember the Denton's that lived next door to us?" Paddy nods again. "What happened to the girl, Penny?"
"Oh Tommy, why do ya wanna dredge this shit up? It's ancient history…"
Tommy bolts in front of his father and leans in so close that they're nose to nose, his voice is full of rage and his tone is so venomous that spit flies out of his mouth with each word.
"You got two choices, you can answer my questions or you can get the fuck outta my place. The way I see it you owe me, and if you can't answer some questions then why the fuck would I ever feel the need to forgive you?"
Paddy sighs and leans back into the worn couch cushions. He suddenly looks even older than he had moments before, his blue eyes watery and narrowed.
"Penny came out about six months after you left with your ma and told the principal at school that her mom's brother had been raping her since she was ten."
"Jeff Clarke?" Tommy asks, absolutely stunned. Jeff had only been five years older than him and Penny, he'd been someone who was around them both a lot as kids; he'd always been the kid that everyone looked up to, wanted to be like. Disbelief colors Tommy's mind and he hates that he immediately doubts Penny's story.
"Yeah. At first no one wanted to believe her, he always seemed like he was such a good kid. Even her own mother refused to believe it and they sent Penny away for a while. When she came home after about a year she seemed to be better and things went back to normal. Then…" Paddy stops and shakes his head and rubs his eyes.
"Then what?" Tommy prods.
"One night her parents came home from the movies and caught Jeff there, in the house. He'd brought some of his friends along and they'd all taken turns raping Penny for the better part of two hours. Eventually he broke down and admitted that he'd been doing it to her since she turned ten."
"Fuck," is all Tommy can think to say. His head is swimming with too many thoughts, too much emotion.
"Even worse, her parent's didn't file charges. Didn't want the scandal that would come along with it. The only reason I know all this is because Stan confided in me one night over a bottle of Jameson. He'd really thought that they were protecting her by keeping it in the family. S'far as I know, Jeff was sent out of state and I never saw hide nor hair of him again."
"You oughtta leave now."
Paddy doesn't argue, simply stands and walks to the door. "I'm sorry Tommy," he says in almost a whisper, "but I can see now that I'll never be sorry enough. I love you…"
The door closes softly and Tommy is left alone with his thoughts. The place is too silent; the solitude is only broken by the occasional police or ambulance siren. He cranks the AC up to the maximum and strips down to his boxer briefs. Lying down on the couch he does his best to think back to the months before he'd left with his mom, to try and see any signs of what Paddy had told him about Jeff and Penny. Try as he might he can't. He can only see things now as they are colored by this new, fucked up knowledge. But what she had said to him during her goodbye makes a lot more sense now.
Penny back then compared to Penny now is a night and day kind of comparison. Back then she was a little pudgy, baby fat he'd called it as he teased her. Her honey blonde hair had been down to her waist and slightly curly. She'd always worn it loose; he couldn't recall a single time he'd ever seen it in braids or a ponytail. She'd had a hell of a beautiful smile, one that she didn't grace many people with and a laugh that was contagious. Many times that laugh had been a balm to his soul. It was the kind of noise that started at her toes and rumbled its way up to her mouth. He could be raging his hardest, railing against his father from the safety of Collazo Park, eventually he'd say something dumb and that laugh would come bubbling out of her like a fountain. It hadn't mattered how pissed he was, that sound calmed him.
Tommy puts his fists hard into his eyes, guilt washing over him in a wave. How could he have been so blind to what she'd been going through all those years? Why hadn't she told him?
You know why she didn't tell you, asshole, she was always too busy taking care of YOU, listening to YOU piss and moan about getting slapped around.
Tommy Conlon had no worse enemy than himself, especially at times like this. He sits up on the couch and waits for his eyesight to return to normal. Picking up the phone and digging through his gym bag at the same time he ends up dialing Teddy to see if he's still at the hospital.
"Yeah Teddy, it's Tommy. What time you getting off work?"