Chapter 4: Barry and Corey

Barry and Corey

    Corey Leiderman wrenched the G.I. Joe action figure from his little brother's hand. Barry cried out in pain, rubbing the fingers that Corey had squeezed. Corey's eyes whipped toward the closed bedroom door, trying to listen past Barry's whimpers to see if their mother and father had heard the exchange. It was unlikely. Corey had just returned from going pee-pee, and he'd glanced at their nearly comatose forms sprawled on the couch. They were both sitting, on opposite ends of the couch, empty beer cans at the feet of his father, and a half-empty mixed drink on his mother's end. Neither of them had so much as blinked as he opened the door to his and his brother's bedroom. They were completely engrossed in whatever reality show they were watching this evening. This was the boys' quiet time. It was always the boys' quiet time.

    "I told you not to touch the G.I. Joe's. They're mine! You have the Rescue Heroes and Spiderman," Corey whispered.

    Barry regarded his brother, trying to force tears to come, but all he could manage were puppy-dog eyes, and a frown. "I was just looking at it. I wasn't playing with it."

    "Looking at it IS playing with it, dumb-ass," Corey reminded him. He gathered up the rest of his action figures and climbed onto the bottom bunk of their bed, sitting on Buzz Lightyear's face.

    "I'll tell mom you're calling me names," the five year old said.

    "Go ahead. Good luck getting her attention. And Dad's still out there. He's got his buzz on."

    Barry didn't need any further warning. When Daddy had his buzz on, that was the worst time to come tattling. Daddy usually didn't just punish the bad one. Tattling was just as much a punishable offense as any other. And the punishments were quite severe, when he was "in the zone" and you interrupted his after-work quality time. Sometimes one of them could sneak by and have a quiet word with their mother, but it seemed lately that Daddy had the ears of a bat, able to pick up sounds as soft and muffled as one of his lighter's being flicked under a blanket. He could hear pretty well when he wasn't coughing, which as of late become quite often. Not that that helped his mood if you were disturbing him.

    Barry looked around him for his most treasured toy, the Batman with the motorized grappling hook. The mechanism that retracted the hook had broken long ago, and in one of Daddy's gentler moments of play, Batman's left arm had gotten grotesquely twisted. Barry didn't care, it was HIS toy, one of the very few that weren't hand-me-downs from his brother or his aunt's boys. Batman could still kick the shit out of any other super-hero, especially the stupid G.I. Joes.

    Sometimes when he was nearly asleep, and his brother was soundly snoring away, Batman would appear to him in the haze of a half-dream. He wasn't dressed all in black like in the more recent movies. He would be wearing his grey and blue costume, and his eyes would glow yellow . He would stand next to Barry and tell him his latest stories of his crime-fighting life. He would tell Barry that he was hoping that the young boy could become his new Robin someday. Barry would tell him that he was ready now, he could fight at Batman's side and defeat the forces of evil that plagued Gotham City, and Tiyopah as well. Batman had always smiled at that. Soon, he would tell Barry, very soon.

    "What are you day-dreaming about now?" Corey asked, his eyes slitted and wary. "If you're thinking of paybacks, just remember, payback's a bitch, and what comes around goes around. And around and around. And I can take it a lot better than you.

    Barry looked solemnly at his nine-year old brother and his voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't have to give you paybacks. Batman will do it for me."

    Corey let out a high-pitched cackle, throwing his head back onto his pillow and kicking his feet up in the air. His grin filled his whole face, but his eyes didn't smile with the rest of it. "Batman? Don't be stupid, stupid! What's he going to do, come in here and sock my lights out?" he wailed.

    Barry was about to give a very detailed account of just what Batman had in store for Corey when a slurring voice boomed from the living room. "Keep it down in there, you little shit-heads. Don't make me have to come in there and fucking plug your mouths again!"

    Barry's eyes darted from the doorway to Corey and back again. He held his breath, and looked back over to Corey, whose grin was slowly melting down. Corey's eyes got cold as they settled on the doorway, and his lips tightened as if they were trying to seal themselves shut. He reached up and held his hand over his mouth, trying to keep his breath quiet as well. He clutched his Snake-eyes action figure in his other hand, gripping it tightly enough to feel its hard plastic body dig into the flesh. He held it there, working it deeper and deeper. Barry's eyes fell to the floor, and seeing Batman peeking out from underneath a large firetruck, quickly snatched him up and held him tight to his chest. The seconds ticked away. There were no approaching heavy footfalls . This time.

    Through the door, the boys could hear their father's somewhat more subdued, but still slurring, voice, apparently addressing their mother now. "This is the last can. You're gonna go get some more, right? You know I don't like to fucking go dry. Especially when I got such a good buzz on. Ain't you been fucking counting? You usually are. Hey! Fucking look at me. You can't put that fucking phone down for one fucking second while I talk to you?"

    Amber, the boys' mother, did not respond immediately. She usually didn't when she was texting her friends. Her phone seemed to be more a part of her body than her own hands and feet. "Just a sec," she answered.

    It was more than just a second, and Darryl wasn't in the mood to wait. "What the fuck, Amber? I work all day just so you can sit there and fucking ignore me, ignore my needs? That shit's gonna change, I'm telling you. I'm getting fucking sick of it."

    "Would you relax? I just wanted to wait to see who gets kicked off. Cheryl thinks it's going to that asshole fag-boy, Brice, but I think it's going to be Lisa. I'll go after that, promise. Just drink that last one a little slow is all, k?" Amber's husky voice wasn't nearly as slurry as Darryl's, but she didn't normally get her drink on until well after Darryl went through his normal routine of drinking, watching tv, and stumbling to bed still dressed in his t-shirt and jeans.

    The boys couldn't tell for sure, but the silence that ensued usually meant that Darryl was staring at Amber in a stupor, a mixture of disbelief and anger battling across his face.

    Finally he spoke. "Do you think I fucking give a shit what Cheryl thinks? She's a fucking airhead cunt. You two make a good fucking pair. Whatever. Just hurry up when you go. And don't go driving all the way out to the Save-More just cause they got cases for a dollar cheaper either. You usually run into somebody and have one of your little gab-fests. I ain't waiting around for you either. If you don't get your ass back here quick, I'll give Sissy a call. You know how quick she'll be over here. And she'll bring beer."

    The boys had heard that threat before. Sissy was what their father liked to call a "friend with benefits" from way back in their high school glory days. She'd come around to the apartment a few times, when Mommy was at her doctor's appointments. The boys quickly learned not to disturb her and Daddy when he took her into his bedroom to "show her something." Whatever it was that he showed her, it must've been something pretty funny, as Sissy always ended up giggling from behind the closed door. Barry thought that they probably went in there to jump on the bed, he couldn't imagine anything else that would involve making the bed squeak so much and sound so fun. Corey would call Barry stupid, as usual, and tell him that Daddy and Sissy were "fooling around". Barry didn't know what the difference was, when he and Corey got loud in their bedroom, Daddy would always tell them "quit fooling around in there!" Whatever they were doing, Daddy had made it perfectly clear that if the boys so much as uttered a word to their mother about he and Sissy being in the bedroom together, there would be hell to pay.

    Barry looked down at Batman, and tried to smooth out what remained of his tattered cape. He wished Batman could make Sissy go away. Mommy didn't like her at all, and it made Mommy sad whenever Daddy talked about her. Maybe if he asked Batman nicely, he would do something. Maybe he would sock Sissy's lights out, and send her off to Gotham Asylum, and she could spend her days with the rest of the bad people, behind bars, where she belonged. She made Mommy sad, and that was what bad people did. Bad people deserved justice, the kind that Batman was all about.

    Barry looked over at Corey, and it seemed that he was having the same sort of thoughts.

    Through the damaged door, they heard their mother let out a whooping shriek and laugh. "Ha! I was right! Cheryl can suck it!"

    Barry had no idea what Cheryl should be sucking, but he could tell that his father was not impressed.

    "Hey keep it down, alright? Big fucking deal, you got fucking lucky. You know fag-boy should've been the one to go. He'll be next week, I bet. Now get your ass up and get to the store. Take the boys with you too. They always get up to shit whenever you're gone and I'm in no mood to have to whoop their asses tonight."

    "It's getting near their bedtime. And the snow's starting to come down pretty hard," the boys heard their mother respond.

    "So put their fucking coats on!"

    "You don't have to yell about everything." The boys heard footsteps outside their door, and as expected, it swung open. Their mother wore a forced smile they were all too familiar with.

    "C'mon boys, I need to run to the store for a few things. Get your coats and shoes on."

    Corey and Barry gave each other a quick glance and then slowly stood up together, each of them still clutching their actions figures in their hands. Corey went first, passing the door that had been damaged when his father had slammed him up against it, cracking the thin wood veneer. Barry followed quickly after, holding Batman out so that he could fly high above the city, searching for criminals that needed to be brought to justice. Barry rounded the corner just as Corey finished sorting through the jumble of shoes that filled the floor of the front hallway closet, and his brother kicked his Spiderman ones toward him.

    "I wanted Batman!" he said, inching forward to have a peek into the closet.

    "Shut up," Corey whispered. "Dad'll hear you."

    Barry quickly zipped his lips, snatching a quick glance at the pile of different shoes. Corey was right, there wasn't time to look. He bent down and started shoving his feet into his still tied shoes, and Corey did the same. Corey had an easier time with it, he had new ones that fit him. He finished quickly and reached into the closet to grab their coats.

    "Where's yours?" Corey asked, looking over the assortment of coats and jackets.

    Barry had forgotten his on the school bus. No one had noticed until now.

    Amber came around the corner to find the boys huddled together, both intently staring into the closet. She had thrown on a Minnesota Gophers hoodie, and her big purse hung over her shoulder.

    "I don't see Barry's coat, Mom, " Corey said.

    Amber looked down at her youngest son, and he returned her gaze, his mouth dropping open as he thought furiously to come up with an explanation.

    "Amber smiled wrily. "Left it on the bus again, squirt?"

    Barry managed to let a small smile escape between his shortened breaths, and nodded. Amber reached out and swung the closet door closed. "You and your brother will just have to cuddle together to keep warm. I know how much you like that."

    "What's taking so fucking long?" their father's voice came reverberating through the apartment.

    Amber ushered the boys toward the door. "We're leaving now. Be back in a few."

    Barry glanced over into the dining room as he felt his mother's gentle hand guide him towards the doorway. He froze for a moment, his mouth gaping, and his eyes popped wide. A hazy, dark cloaked figure crouched upon their worn out formica kitchen table. Batman! He had his cape drawn down over his shoulders, a huge muscular mound of crime-fighting menace. His eyes glowed with that dim yellow light that seemed to Barry to be both threatening and comforting at the same time. He knew the bad guys would be terrified by it. They should be, Batman was formididull.

    "C'mon sweetie, got no time for day-dreaming," his mother said, applying more pressure on Barry's back.

    Corey opened the door and proceeded through it, and Barry followed slowly, his mind still whirling with visions of fighting alongside the caped crusader. He hardly noticed the two men, one tall and thin, but heavily dressed, and the other shorter and squatter, coming up the stairs to the third floor landing. His mother shut the door behind them and led them toward the flight of stairs on the other side, barely stopping to issue a quick "Hi, George" to one of the men. Barry gave them a quick glance and then scooted after his mother and brother down the stairs, holding his Batman figure high in front of him, and making the whooshing sounds that he knew without a doubt would be how Batman would sound, soaring high above the city.

    Inside apartment 11, 238 Whitman Lane, Batman slithered off of his perch on top of the table, and creeped silently towards the living room, a half smirk, half sneer creasing his lips. Justice was about to be served.