24
backyard. The backyard fence of the Conlin house was made of alternating vertical boards held together by two horizontal boards, one near the top and one near the bottom. If you got close to it and looked at just the right angle you could see through a narrow slit. Tommy could see Mr. Conlin slapping Gregory in the face over and over and screaming that he was stupid and worthless. He never said what Gregory had done, but it must have been something awful. Tommy had never seen anything like it. After he had landed a few good blows, Mr. Conlin left Gregory standing there sobbing while he went inside and brought out a plastic bucket and a shovel, and told him to go to the back of the yard and pick up the dog crap, only he didn’t use that word.
Tommy was frozen. Gregory shuffled slowly to the back fence with his head hung low, sniffling quietly, tears streaming down his puffy, red cheeks. Tommy couldn’t believe what he was seeing, Gregory Conlin was crying. Tommy couldn’t recall a single reason why he had wanted to hurt him, not even that he had once made Anne cry. When Gregory finished his job and started walking back to the house, Tommy quietly started back to his grandparents’ condo. He couldn’t get what he had seen out of his head. He had heard about such things, but they always seemed far away, never in his world. He wondered if Gregory’s henchmen were all treated the same way, and if that’s what had brought them together. Anne was right about Gregory living a sad life. Of course she was right.
Tommy put the knife back on the shelf, and picked up the pool cue. As he was lining up a shot, his mother called down that it was time to go. Maybe he wasn’t the unluckiest kid in the world after all.
The ride home was quiet. Politics seemed to have tired the old folks out. After they parked in the garage, Amy and Julie were the first out of the car and into the house. As they headed for the kitchen door, Tommy Sr. put his arm around his son and asked, “How’s life treatin’ ya, Bud?”
“Pretty good, actually. Dad can I tell you something?”
“Always.”
“You’re a pretty good Dad.”