"We'll never get this out." Tommy stood near Stony.

Stony looked up at him. "Turn off the TV," he mumbled. As Tommy moved to the set, Stony stretched out like a cat on all fours, arched his belly downward, heaved a few times and finally vomited, the vicious contractions of his stomach making him cry in pain.

***

Stony sat powwow style in the kitchen, a sponge pungent with Comet in his lap. Tommy was rigorously scrubbing the rug with something foamy laying like sediment on top of the stains. "It's a good thing Phyllis uses them plastic slipcovers," he yelled into the kitchen. "Saved the fuckin' couch. She shoulda had one on the damn rug," he grunted as he scrubbed.

Stony stared at a small bloodstain in front of his face on the cabinet door below the sink. It looked like the profile of a witch on a broomstick. She was flying into a strong wind that swept back her hair and her long brown skirt. Her nose was hooked like a claw. She was old.

"What the fuck you doin' in here?" Tommy fumed. Stony didn't move. Tommy knelt down, grabbed the sponge from Stony's lap, curled Stony's fingers around it and moved his son's hand up and down the side of the washing machine.

"Snap out of it, Stones." He moved Stony's limp arm up and down like a puppeteer. "Act like a man."

Stony continued to stare straight ahead, oblivious to the movement of his arm. He screamed. The witch had moved.

***

Stony lay in bed, the covers up to his chin. The room was pitch black. Tommy opened the door, a slice of light like a deep cut in the darkness. Television noise trickled into the room. Tommy sat on the bed. Stony stared over his shoulder.

"You cold?" Stony didn't answer. Tommy lit a cigarette, the small explosion of light illuminating his face like a Halloween pumpkin. He exhaled into the darkness. "Stony, there are some things a man has to do." He ran his thumb down his mustache. "Ah, fuck it. Look, it's over. Tomorrow you go back to the hospital. I ain't gonna hassle you no more." He smoked in silence for a long moment. "When I was a kid I useta belong to this gang, The Fox Street Gougers, tough kids. The initiation was you had to jump on the back of a subway train, you know, hang on to the rail on the last car and ride it three stops. Me an' this kid Pete Maddarasso was doin' a double initiation. We jumped on the train at a Hundred and Forty-ninth Street and the Concourse. The whole gang was on the platform watchin'. I was scared shit but I wanted to be in that gang so bad. Anyways, we both jump on, ride down to a Hundred and Thirty-eighth Street. Everything's cool. All of a sudden the subway makes this sharp turn 'n' Pete loses his grip. I tried to catch him, but it happened too fast. The poor fuckin' kid fell on the third rail—burned to death. You know what I did? I stayed on the back of the train for the next two stops so I could pass the initiation." Tommy took another drag. "There's a fuckin' initiation for everybody." He stood up, sighing. "Baby, tonight was yours." He leaned down and kissed Stony on the lips.