Rosie and Jack went with Sal and Carl back to their house. They had much to discuss. There was the matter of Louise and how to proceed. There was also the story of Sal, and how something was off about him. It was a matter of unspoken truth and the elephant in the room that was now necessary to confront.
When they arrived at their Swiss Avenue home, the foursome greeted Sal and Carl’s mother in the kitchen and cuddled with Angel before heading straight into the basement. Sal’s mother yelled something about their not mentioning having gone to The Diner after school, but she faded out, sounding like someone had reduced the volume on a radio.
They gathered around the small coffee table and looked at each other like they were bank robbers planning their next move. “Okay—Louise,” Carl said firmly. “How the hell do we approach Louise without making her run away screaming?”
“Send Sal in and let him perform his voodoo on her,” Jack answered.
“What is it that you do, Sal?” Jack asked.
Rosie spoke before he could answer. “What you lack in intelligence, you make up for in stupidity, Jack!”
“Are you hitting on me, girl? You know you catch more flies with honey," Jack pointed a finger at Rosie and winked.
“Guys: stop it! We need to—” Carl cut himself short and went back to Sal. “What is it that you do, Sal?” The rest of the party turned to Sal. A sweat broke out on his forehead.
“I’m not really sure. Information just kind of…floats to me. I just know what people need and want. It's weird, right?” Sal looked at the others in a desperate plea for them to tell them he wasn’t crazy.
“Wow! It’s like that movie with Mel Gibson, the one where he gains the ability to hear what women are really thinking after an accident,” Jack blurted. “Have you guys seen it?”
“I think you’re right, Jack,” Carl said.
“About what?”
Rosie rolled her eyes.
Carl chuckled and spoke softly. “Sal has the same abilities as Mel only Sal isn’t restricted to only women.”
All of their eyes were locked on Sal.
“Sal—" Carl said, not sure how to continue.
“You want to know about Aunt Vickie,” Sal asked calmly. “It’s like I said: information just floats to me. I don’t know how I do it, and I don’t know how to turn it on or off. I just know what people want to hear, so I say it. I don’t mean to read people, it just happens.
“When Aunt Vickie visited us during Christmas, I could feel her pain. I could feel the chaos inside her head. Our parents have asked her to lie for some reason, and she doesn’t like it. And….” Sal paused for a minute. "He beats her, Carl. The son of a bitch has been using her as a punching bag ever since they were married.”
The party sat spellbound as Sal spoke. They weren’t skeptical, nor did they doubt his words; they all knew better. It was only at that moment the truth finally made its way out.
“Who beats her?” Rosie asked in a quiet voice.
“Ted, her husband. He’s a sick son of a bitch.”
“Why don’t your parents do something?” Jack asked.
“I think my dad gave up on Vickie years ago. They aren’t really close. I think they just don’t know how to go about the issue,” Sal answered.
“I think they had a fucked-up childhood or something.”
“That’s pretty fucked-up right there,” Jack said, slamming his hand down on the coffee table.
“We have to go see her!” Carl said. “Mom and Dad sure as hell aren’t going to spill the beans, but there's a chance she might. You said it yourself, Sal: she's tired of lying.”
“She doesn’t like me, Carl,” Sal said with deference.
“I agree with Carl," Rosie said. “She's your father’s sister. Your parents claim you get your looks from your dad and Vickie’s father—she’s got to know something.”
“You have to admit that weird shit's started to happen around you, Sal,” Jack said worryingly. “We have to do something.”
“Besides, our parents haven’t told the truth so far, why would they begin now?” Carl said bitterly.
Sal sat quietly for a while, completely absorbed in deep thought. He could feel his mother’s anxiety in the back of his mind. There was a deep sea of secrets she wasn’t yet ready to reveal. Again, with the lies. She probably had reasons, but there was just too much shit unaccounted for.
“Let’s do it!” Sal said eagerly.
Carl and Jack bumped their fists together.
“When are we going?” Rosie asked.
“How about this weekend?” Carl replied.
None of them had any objections.
“That settles it,” Carl said. “We’ll fire up Sal’s minibus. It'll take a couple of hours to drive up there.”
“Yeah, it'll be like a road trip, man," Jack said.
Rosie sighed. “Oh, God—a couple of hours in the bus with Jack will be like sitting in a locked cage with a drunken buffoon.”
“Don’t judge me," Jack retorted. "I was born to be awesome, not perfect."
“But first," Carl said, looking uneasy, “Rosie and Sal will go talk to Louise."
Rosie and Sal nodded.
“Whatever we can do to help,” Rosie said, looking at Carl.
Sal, too, had an uneasy feeling about Louise. He'd felt it in glimpses before, but he'd always pushed it aside. It wasn’t her fault—it was something around her, like a dark shadow.
Rosie rose from the table and got a deck of cards from one of the many cardboard boxes on the basement floor. She picked a card and approached Sal. “What card am I holding up?”
“Queen of spades,” Sal said, tired but without hesitation.
“Shut up!” Rosie put the card down on the table, face-up, revealing the queen of spades.
Jack snatched the deck of cards from Rosie, shuffled them, carefully picked a card, and looked firmly at Sal.
Sal sighed. “Two of hearts.”
Jack sent the card sliding across the table; it was the two of hearts. “I got nothing!” Jack said, amazed.
Carl picked a card, gazed at it, and turned to Sal. “Do it again!”
“Jack of hearts,” Sal said without excitement.
“Jack of fucking hearts, Sal.” Carl took his brother’s hand. “You can read minds!” he said in a softer tone. “That’s unbelievable! I should have known. It's like that time we played Guess A Number.”
“I don’t want you to think that I go about reading you all the time," Sal said, trying to defend himself. “Remember how frightened you got when I got all of the numbers right?”
“We don’t think any less of you, Sal. We think you're amazing. Look at what you can do," Rosie said, putting her hand on top of his.
“Wow Sal, you’re a psychic," Jack said fascinated. "We should put up a hotline and have you answer people’s questions. We’d make a fortune."
“Did your mother drop you on your head when you were a baby?” Rosie said, irritated.
“No, I think it was my father," Jack replied.
“No matter what, we need to find out how you’ve obtained your skills, Sal. Was it really grandpa, or was it something else?” Carl closed his hand around Sal’s shoulder.
Sal could see the goodwill in his brother’s face and the compassion beaming from it. The unspoken had become the spoken, but he was still worried, mostly about what his parents might be running from.