Fall With Me

teeth.
    I went on a fox hunt, once, when we vacationed in Devon, England. I don’t remember much about that vacation, except the way the hounds ripped apart that little red fox once they had it cornered in front of a crumbling brick wall. They couldn’t have been called off; they’d tasted blood, they were in a frenzy, they didn’t stop until there was nothing left. I think of this, suddenly, of those dogs, and I think I could be just like them and go on pummeling my father’s face until there’s nothing left.
    But I stop.
    I stand up, slowly, as he spits up more blood and rolls to his side, groaning. Jill is sitting up, leaning against the wall, rubbing the side of her neck. Her eyes widen as I approach and I realize it’s because I’m covered in blood.
    “It’s not mine,” I say, kneeling down in front of her. “Come on, we have to get you out of here.” I pull one of her arms over my shoulders and gently help her stand. I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial 911.
    “I need a police officer over here,” I say, giving the dispatcher the address.
    “Come again?” she says.
    “This is not a prank,” I say and repeat the address. I look at my father, who is rolling onto his hands and knees. “I need an ambulance, as well. Send an officer now. Send a few. Do whatever you have to do and get someone down here.”
    “What do you think you’re doing.” His voice is muffled because he’s talking into the Persian rug, leaving great big blood smears all over the wool.
    “I think I’m doing what someone should’ve done a long time ago.”
    He raises his head, which is almost unrecognizable. It’s a good look for you, Dad, I think. “You think I’ll end up going to prison?” One of his front teeth has been knocked out. “You think they put people like me in prison?”
    “I think they love putting people like you in prison.”
    “And on what charges?”
    “Oh, I don’t know Dad, I didn’t go to law school, remember? But let’s see . . . attempted murder, maybe? Or if that doesn’t suit you, I’m sure they could look into some of your offshore accounts. Or they could—”
    “You had my father killed.”
    Jill has stepped back into the room. The marks on her neck are already turning hideous shades of violet and midnight blue; I can see the impressions his thumbs made. Her voice is raspy, like she’s got a severe case of bronchitis. She coughs and winces, but looks right at him.
    My father stares at her for a minute and then looks at me. “Is this worth it?” he says. “Is some stupid whore worth it to you? You’ll lose your inheritance. You’ll get nothing. We will cast you out from this family, you can count on that.”
    “Doesn’t matter,” I say. “I don’t actually want to be a part of this family. This family kind of sucks.”
    “You’re an ungrateful piece of shit.”
    “No, Dad, you’re wrong. I used to be. I’m not anymore.”
    I can hear the approach of sirens.
    “You destroyed my family,” Jill says, taking another step toward him. I put my hand on her shoulder and she stops but doesn’t move back. “All for what? For money? Is that all that matters to you?”
    My father looks down for a moment, as though he’s actually considering this.
    “Yes,” he says. “When it comes down to it, that’s all that really matters to anyone.”
    The blare of the sirens sounds like it’s right outside the window. “Not to me,” I say. I hear footsteps on the stairs. “Goodbye, Dad.”
     
    *
     
    We spend the day at the hospital. I sit in the corner on a hard plastic chair while Jill gets evaluated. They take photos of her neck, and two detectives come in and take her statement.
    At one point, I get up and go out to get a soda. One of the detectives, a middle-aged guy who actually has a rather spectacular handlebar moustache, follows me.
    “So this was your father?” he asks. “Your father did this?”
    I slide quarters into the slot and look at my choices. When being interrogated by the law, nothing beats a Coke. I make my selection.
    “That is correct,” I say. “Like we already told you.”
    “Why do you think your father would do something like this?”
    “For all the reasons Jill told you.”
    “So in your mind, it’s within the realm of possibility that your father would have another man murdered.”
    I retrieve the cold can and pop the tab. “Well, sure,” I say. “I mean, he just tried to kill my girlfriend, with his bare hands. I’d say