“What kind of a crime?”
“Rape. Back then, the lieutenant was a Sex Crimes detective.”
“Someone try to rape you?”
She stopped. “I didn’t say anything about my being the victim.”
“I just assumed.”
Rina didn’t answer. But Donatti saw her jaw tighten. “I’ve upset you. I’ll shut up.”
“You didn’t upset me.” But she fell into silence, chewing on her swollen lip as she tried to keep her composure.
Donatti felt for her. He said, “My old man was an Irish two-fisted drunk. Used to pummel me all the time. Just beat the crap out of me. When I was seven, he got drunk and repeatedly kicked me between the legs. I lost a testicle.”
Rina froze. “That’s absolutely horrible!”
“It wasn’t pretty, especially because I didn’t get proper cosmetic surgery right away. I used to hide underneath a towel at gym.” His laugh was bitter. “Guys used to think it was because I was a big guy with a small you know what.”
“That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.” Rina bit hard on her lip. The scab opened up and bled into her mouth, but she continued dressing the shot wounds.
Donatti went on. “He beat my mother, too.” His face darkened. “Cops were called in at least a dozen times. Didn’t do shit… Bastards didn’t give a damn. They’d haul him in, put him in jail to sleep it off overnight, give him breakfast in the morning, and spring him. A couple days, maybe a week later, same thing, same routine. ‘Hey, Patty! Don’t we always tell you to hit her where we can’t see?’ Just one big sick joke. Worst feeling in the world… being helpless.”
“That’s terrible.”
Donatti grew black and silent.
“I can’t fathom how someone could repeatedly beat up on a child.” Rina’s voice broke. “You poor thing.”
“S’right.” Donatti was touched by her empathy. “I survived. And I obviously don’t have a hormone problem.”
“Obviously not.”
“Thank God for small favors.” Donatti wiped his perspiration-soaked face with a towel. “It’s not such a small favor. From two to one is livable. One to none is not. Eventually, I got cosmetic surgery. You couldn’t tell anything just by looking.” A grin. “Wanna see?”
“You must be feeling better,” Rina commented. “You’re making lewd remarks.”
“Just some harmless flirting.” His smile turned to a stony expression. “I don’t remember the last time I just flirted. I’m so used to using sex as a weapon. Comes from being molested, you know.”
She stopped cold. “Your father molested you?”
Donatti noticed that she had gone pale. This time, he had hit something potent. “No, my father used me for a punching bag. Joey Donatti-my adoptive father-he used me as his bitch.”
He looked away.
“My mother was Joey’s mistress. He was crazy about her. After she died, I was an orphan and Joey took me in. Probably a deathbed promise he made to her. I was almost fourteen… at that weird in-between stage… not yet in full-blown puberty. Full of pimples, gawky. I was tall but skinny. Lithe, actually. Waiting for the muscles to come. I had long blond hair at the time… down to my shoulders.” He brushed his deltoid with his fingertips. “The fashion of the day.”
He glanced down, into Rina’s eyes.
“I looked like my mother. Joey used to take me into a room, make me kneel in front of him.” A pause. “He had me perform oral sex on him while he ran his fingers through my hair.”
“Oh my God!”
“It went on for about a year, maybe a little longer. Then his wife finally caught on… gave him some choice words. Also, I became too much of a man for him to pretend. But even so, whenever he’d kiss me, he’d jam his tongue down my throat. I still kiss him that way. Only now, I jam my tongue down his throat. That’s not sex, Mrs. Decker; that’s a power position. He’s my bitch instead of the other way around.”
Rina’s eyes moistened. “The man who was responsible for the rape in my community… he molested my children… my younger son in particular. Ten years later and my son’s still suffering. I only found out about it a year ago. You can imagine my guilt.”
“Does your son hold it against you?”
“No, not at all. Do you hold it against your mother?”
“No.”
“My son tries to protect me. My poor baby.”
“How is he suffering?”
She stared into space. “Maybe suffering is too strong a word.”
But Donatti knew it wasn’t.
Rina said, “He’s better now. But he had some drug problems, probably acted out sexually, although he’d never tell me that.” She stopped, trying to rein in her feelings. “He’s so brilliant, Christopher. Brilliant and popular with boys as well as girls. He’s absolutely gorgeous. The girls just love him.” She studied Donatti’s face. “Maybe that’s not such a good thing.”
“It’s a double-edged sword.” Donatti paused. “Your son… does he look like you?”
Rina didn’t answer.
Donatti said, “Could be it was like Joey. That the bastard wanted you, but he took your son instead.” He laughed. “Bet you never thought we’d have anything in common, Mrs. Decker. What happened to him? The unnamed molester.”
“He spent time in prison. He’s been out on parole for three years.”
“Where is he now?”
“Somewhere in the Midwest.”
“Somewhere in the Midwest, huh?” Donatti laughed. “You’ve probably memorized his address, his phone number, and everything about him, including how many times a day he pees.”
“Two-one-five Kingsley Avenue, Medford, Indiana. And yes, I do know his phone number, as well as where he works, and what car he drives, and which church he attends. However, I don’t know how many times a day he goes to the bathroom.”
He smiled. “Okay. Now I know you’re for real. Has he bothered you?”
“No, he has not. But I don’t think it’s a coincidence that my son’s problems began around the same time he was released. Hold still, please.”
Rina continued on, grateful for his silence as she cleansed, swabbed, and dressed his sores. He managed to keep from squirming, even though she knew the procedures had to hurt. His eyes were wet with pain, but she wondered how much of it was physical discomfort, how much was emotional remnants of what he had just confessed. When she was done, she stood up. “You want me to put your shirt back on?”
“No thanks, Mrs. Decker, the thought of anything touching my skin raises my hackles.”
“I suppose this is the part where I thank you for saving my life.”
“Want to pay me back?”
“No sexual comments, please.”
“None. I’d like to draw you.”
“No.”
“I’ll behave both on the paper and off the paper. Nothing you wouldn’t like or approve of. Nothing you couldn’t show in public.”
“No.”
“You know, you’re in my place. I was gracious enough to talk to you. Not to mention the fact that I prevented your children from being motherless.”
She met his eyes with her own. “The last time you drew someone, you ended up in prison. Learn from experience, Christopher. Besides, I have to get back to Brooklyn to pick up my daughter. That’s your cue to let me out.”
“You mean, you don’t like the stench of rotten meat?” He unlocked the door and she walked into the open space. It felt as if she’d been released from jail. Suddenly, her head began to spin.
“You look pale,” Donatti said. “Maybe you should rest.”
Rina felt weak. “Maybe for just a few moments.” She fell into a chair, her head having exploded into a million pinpricks. She propped her feet on a box. “Gosh, I’m so dizzy!”
“It’s breathing in all that alcohol in confined quarters.”
“It didn’t bother you.”