Way Down I'll Go

For Love and Money

Jo loved Saturday.

Since he didn't work Friday nights at the factory, he could sleep almost 7 hours, a luxury reserved only for the weekends. And though he still worked, washing dishes at an upscale downtown restaurant, it wasn't until the evening, and it was a job he enjoyed.

Sapore had been Jo's first job. He was 12, hungry, and looking for food because the fridge had been empty for several days, apart from a case of beer and a bottle of Svedka. At home, he had a two-year-old Drew and a two-week-old Sam. Both were hungry. Both had been crying all day. Both had driven his dad's nonexistent patience into the ground.

"If you don't get them to shut the fuck up, I'm gonna bash their fucking heads against the wall," his dad slurred.

It had been exactly 2 weeks since the deal. 

For the better part of ten years, Jo's dad had only Jo to hurt. When Drew was left on their doorstep, his father's stress-relief options had doubled. For two years, Jo fought (literally) to protect the tiny boy from his dad. But when Sam came to them, he realized he couldn't protect them both as he had been. 

So the deal was struck. 

His dad had been surprised at first, then laughed it off. But Jo had persisted, and for once, his dad became quiet and solemnly agreed to the terms of their bargain.

The terms were simple:

1. Jo's dad could do whatever he wanted to Jo.
2. Jo wouldn't fight back.
3. Jo's dad wouldn't lay a finger on the other boys.
4. If Jo's dad so much as laid a finger on the other boys, Jo would fight him.

It had been a desperate attempt on Jo's part at protecting his brothers, but it had worked. Though his threats of fighting back against a grown man may not have seemed like much at the time, his dad couldn't resist the idea of a willing victim to torture. He knew as Jo grew older, he would grow stronger and could do more damage when he fought. So he accepted the terms of the deal, and as a test of Jo's submission, promptly beat the 12-year-old to unconsciousness.

Jo made no attempts to stop him.

But his dad made no attempts to hurt his brothers. And that, in Jo's eyes, made the deal a colossal success. When Jaime, Mikey, and Adam came, each two years after the other, the deal had been extended to include them. And it had worked like a charm. But even then, there was a limit to his dad's forbearance. 

The limit seemed to depend heavily on his blood alcohol level and the decibel of crying babies.

"Didn't you hear what I said, boy?? I told you to shut them up! Or I'll do it for you..."

His dad advanced on the crying toddler, whose shrieks had increased with the yelling. Jo carefully set down the baby and moved between his dad and the boys, pushing him back.

"You promised."

The back of his dad's hand came so hard against his already-bruised cheek that it spun him around and knocked him to the floor. Dazed, he scrambled up again, pushing his dad back a second time.

"You promised!"

His dad stopped then and stared at him with glazed eyes. Slowly he advanced on Jo, grabbed a handful of his hair, and shoved him against a wall. His face was so close that the alcohol on his breath made Jo woozy.

"Don't raise your voice to me, you piece of shit."

He slammed Jo's head into the wall again and Jo saw stars. 

"When I come back tomorrow, it had better be quiet, or the deal's off."

Crashing a fist into Jo's ribs, he dropped him and left the house without another word.