After the Night Read Online Free PDF Page A

himself.
    "Where’s your ma?" he growled, in the ugly mean tone he always used when he was drinking, which was most of the time.
    "She went out a couple of hours ago."
    He lurched toward the table, the uneven floor making his steps that much more perilous. "Damn bitch," he muttered. "Ain’t never here. Always out shakin’ her ass at her fancy rich boyfriend. Ain’t never here to fix my supper. How’s a man supposed to eat?" he suddenly roared, hitting the table with his fist.
    "Supper’s ready, Pa," Faith said quietly, hoping the uproar didn’t wake Scottie. "I’ll fix you a plate."
    "Don’t want anything to eat," he said, as she had expected. When he was drinking, he never wanted food, just more booze.
    "Is there anythin’ in this damn house to drink?" He staggered to his feet and began opening cabinet doors, slamming them when they didn’t reveal what he wanted.
    Faith moved quickly. "There’s a bottle in the boys’ bedroom. I’ll get it." She didn’t want Amos stumbling around in there, cussing and probably puking, and waking Scottie. She darted into the dark little room and blindly searched under Nick’s cot until her hand brushed against cool glass. Dragging the bottle out, she carried it back into the kitchen. It was only about one quarter full, but anything would pacify Pa. She twisted the cap off and handed the bottle to Amos.
    "Here, Pa."
    "Good girl," he said, brightening as he tipped the bottle to his mouth. "You’re a good girl, Faith, not a whore like your ma and sister."
    "Don’t talk like that about them," she protested, unable to listen. Knowing it was one thing, but talking about it was another. It wasn’t as if Pa had any room to throw stones.
    "I’ll say what I damn well please!" Amos flared. "Don’t sass me, girl, or I’ll belt you one."
    "I wasn’t sassing you, Pa." She kept her voice calm, but prudently moved out of reach. If he couldn’t reach her, he couldn’t hit her. He was likely to throw something, but she was quick and his missiles seldom struck her.
    "Fine kids she gave me," he sneered. "Russ and Nick are the only two I can stomach. Jodie’s a whore like her ma, you’re a prissy smart-ass, and the last one’s a goddamn idiot."
    Keeping her head turned away so he couldn’t see the tears that burned her eyes, Faith sat down on the ragged, sagging couch and began folding the laundry she’d done that day. It would never do to let Amos see that he’d hurt her. If he ever scented blood, he moved in for the kill, and the drunker he was, the more vicious he became. The best thing to do was ignore him. Like all drunks, he was easily distracted, and she figured he’d soon be passed out anyway.
    She didn’t know why it hurt. She had long since ceased to have any feelings for Amos, not even fear. There was certainly nothing there to love, the man he had been long since destroyed in countless bottles of whiskey. If he had ever shown any promise, it had been gone by the time she’d been born, but somehow she thought he had always been pretty much as he was now. He was simply the type of person who always blamed others for his problems rather than doing something to correct them.
    Sometimes, when he was sober, Faith thought she could see why Renee had once been attracted to him. Amos was a little over average height, with a wiry body that had never gone to fat. His hair was still dark, if thinning on top, and he could even be called a good-looking man – when he was sober. Drunk, as he was now, unshaven and with his hair mussed and hanging in dirty strings, his eyes red and rheumy with alcohol, his face bloated, there was nothing the least attractive about him. His clothes were dirty and stained, and he stank to high heaven. Judging by the sourness of his smell, he had already puked at least once, and the stains on the front of his pants meant that he hadn’t been as careful as he should have been when he’d peed.
    He finished off the bottle in silence, then belched loudly.