Twenty-one years ago.
It was the seventh day of July and hot as hell. The beat-up black 1970 El Camino was packed, inside and out, every square inch conceivable. Everything we had, which wasn’t that much really. Not compared to the average American family with one steady income. Except for that wasn’t us by a long shot. It was me and my mother Rose, first of all. My father had died when I was two years and three months old. He was a good dad, so I had been told. I remember nothing about him. I barely remember what he looked like. When I was five my mother began dating and pictures of him were taken down and set someplace. Out of sight, out of mind. Rose didn’t talk about him, and I didn’t ask. I was never that curious. He wasn’t around, and that was all that mattered.
Second, we currently had no income. Or home for that matter. Two weeks ago the factory my mother had spent the past ten years working at closed. Trickledown effect from what I understood. Large vehicle manufacturing plants all around the city were closing down and those creating parts for them were now suffering. Thousands without jobs. All forced to find another way to make ends meet. A recession starting. It was all over the news.
“Want to take one last walk through?” Rose asked. Her voice was filled with disbelief. She had remained strong in front of me, but I knew at night she cried. Hard, last night. Her eyes were still bloodshot.
“Go ahead.”
I was busy digging a hole in the front seat for me to sit, moving the black garbage bags full of clothes over as much as I could, shuffling the large sandwich bags full of silverware under the seat and in the glove box, pushing and shoving and cramming myself in. We took everything we could fit into the car for one load. The house was empty. It hadn’t been that full to begin with. But in the last few days we sold the bigger items, ones that we wouldn’t be needing, like the microwave and refrigerator and the sofa and the dining table and the chairs and our beds. We needed the extra money, she said. But really, we had no way of moving them.
My last walk through the house felt good. The house seemed bigger empty. I had all the memories I cared to take with me now and I was ready to go. I didn’t care to look back. Nothing was going to change the fact that we were moving on. Best to rip the Band-Aid off quickly.
I slammed the door shut hard. Had to. I needed it to help wedge the bags at my feet in place. I was going to sit uncomfortably now for the next two hours. I had to set a bag of clothes on my lap and I could barely see out of any window. Anyone passing by might look in and see a ton of stuffed garbage bags and think my mother was a crazy hoarder, and then find my head and scream. They would want to take a picture to show their friends. I had planned on giving them my best terrified look.
As I took the set of steak knives off the dash I made eye contact with my mother. I knew then that she wanted to cry. It was hard leaving home, especially when she had no promise of having another one any time soon. Jobs were scarce, even in the city. She had worked hard to get what little we had. Now it must have felt like it was all time wasted. No one likes to work. They like to work towards something.
I knew starting over was killing her. It was in her eyes, her sagging shoulders, slightly stooped as if she didn’t have enough will to stand erect. I don’t think she had eaten anything all week. And that wasn’t her style.
She was hurting. There was no misunderstanding that.
“I’ll be just a minute. Okay?” she told me.
I nodded. I gave her the time to be alone and to let go. That much she deserved.
I continued to push things around to get more comfortable as she slowly made the trip down memory lane one last time. It was a small two bedroom, one story on a two acre lot in the middle of nowhere. Farm country. Woods and fields, steams and ponds. Quiet. I was going to miss that. It was everything I knew.
Moving in with Little B was going to flip everything I knew upside down in a hurry.
Sitting in the car I got real hot, real quick. I could feel the sweat racing down my back, soaking into my old white T-shirt. My light colored jeans probably didn’t help to cool me down, but it was all I had left after packing everything else. If I would have given it some thought at all I would have set aside a pair of shorts to wear. And sandals, not sneakers. I could have even rolled the window down before I got all settled in, unable to move. But I wasn’t known for making good decisions.
She came out ten minutes later, about the same time I found the seat belt. I tugged and tugged on it while she stood outside, staring at everything from the ground to the sky. When I finally got the belt to click, her door opened with a groan. She got in the car and took a deep breath. I didn’t want to look at her. I knew her blue eyes would be streaked red. She was quiet and calm, breathing slow and deep.
“We had some good times here, didn’t we?” she asked. “Well, we had some bad ones too, but I don’t remember any at the moment.”
“Me either.” I lied.
“Still want to stop at Wendy’s once we get off the expressway?”
“Sure, mom. Whatever you want.”
“It’s not whatever I want. We’re in this together.”
“I know. But whatever you want.”
“You’re too agreeable.” She was quiet for a moment.
So was I.
She sighed deeply, then spoke, “Alright. Did you get all buckled up? We have a long drive ahead of us, Buck-O. But we’ll make it. And things will be better.”
She said it more to convince herself, I think.
“Yes, they will.”
I turned to look at her. She was giving me her best fake smile. I went with it.
She turned the key, the engine came to life right away. With no further hesitation, she put it in drive and off we went. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. The garbage bags of clothes and the clutter up to my neck kept me from moving at all.
We were quiet for the first hour. The radio didn’t work, so each of us were left with our thoughts. Silence, save for the car itself, the steady hum of the wheels speeding over the pavement. Once we made it onto the expressway, the depths of those sounds multiplied by ten it seemed. And at seventy miles per hour, the car adopted a steady shake to it. My mother cursed under her breath, and then I felt the car back down a little. We were probably going five under the speed limit to keep it safe, and we weren’t making any friends by doing so.
I flirted with the notion of bringing up conversation, but each time it looked like she had too much going on upstairs, so I let it alone. In another thirty miles, according to the green sign we had passed, we would be at our exit and heading into someplace to eat. Conversations would begin then. I would wait.
I snuck glances at her every now and again. Her blond hair was tied in a low ponytail, and the sunlight reflecting on her face gave it a nice shine. Her lips were a light red and her smile was missing. Mascara was smeared slightly from her hand as she had wiped the tears before entering the car. I had pretended not to notice. She was tall, nearly six feet. Slender and fit. She wore her peach colored summer dress, knee length of course, she knew how her mother would feel about anything shorter. She had a great attitude and personality. She was a rainbow under a storm cloud.
“I have a good feeling about this, mom,” I said. It was a lie. I was more partial to a neutral side. We’ll either like it or we won’t.
The bag of clothes between us moved forward slightly and I turned to see her looking at me. She looked as if the weight of the world was lifted from her weary shoulders. She smiled truly. “Really?”
I nodded. I held her stare for a second, keeping my smile, reassuring her as best I could. “Yeah. Really.”
“I am happy to hear that.” She looked like her old self again. Within a few minutes she was humming and then singing.
Things were going to be okay, I kept telling myself. The air conditioner was working, and that wasn’t always the case. The sky was clear and the sun was bright. It was a positive vibe. It was something we needed to see. Rain would have probably killed us.
>
“You’ve grown so much since she saw you last,” she said a mile later.
I didn’t have a response. I simply nodded.
“Think you’re six feet now?”
“I don’t know, mom. Maybe.”
“Well, you have to be up there. Your dad was tall. Did you know that?”
I shook my head. I was suddenly interested. I don’t know why. “What was he like?”
“Well, he was a good man. A lot like you. Calm, aware, funny. He was very forgiving too. And generous. He would have been proud of you, ya know?”
“For what?”
“For being how you are. You’re a good kid, believe it or not. A lot of parents out there don’t have it as good as I do. You’ve made things easy for me, ya know?”
I shrugged. Compliments made me suspicious.
“I know he loved his best boy. You two were inseparable.” She had a twinkle in her eye and her smile was broad and wondrous. “He was so happy to be a father, to have a boy. Oh it was all he talked about once we found out. Everything we bought had to be blue. Blue this, and blue that. My boy is going to do this, and my boy is going to do that. You made him happy. When you were born we didn’t watch TV for a month. We just stared at you. I never saw him happier, and that’s no lie.”
“What did he look like?”
“Well, he was tall and strong… and funny.” She laughed then. “He had this monstrous mustache when we first met. My God it was huge. I didn’t know he even had lips! It was ridiculous. All my friends made fun of it. But I liked it. It was him.” She trailed off softly. She had a hand in her hair, fingers were curling a few strands.
I knew she was missing him.
“Why did you put all the pictures of him away?” I said it quickly, without thinking.
Her posture stiffened. Her smile shrank to nothing but thin lips. She was quiet for a moment. I wasn’t sure she was going to answer. I thought that maybe she hadn’t heard me. But then she took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and exhaled sharp with something in her voice that grabbed my attention and shook the boy out of my body.
“I loved your father from the first moment I saw him. I have loved no one since. But he’s gone and I’m here. And I couldn’t stand looking at him and not being able… I had to move on.”
“I understand.” I shrank back into my seat.
She looked at me for a second. Something dark and painful stole the beauty in her eyes. “I hope that you never understand.”
“I’m sorry, mom.”
She gave me the nod, the half-smile that said everything was fine but obviously it wasn’t. We were quiet then.
Fifteen minutes later she said, “We’ll be there in less than an hour.”
I was seventeen. I had not seen my grandmother in years. She was old, small, thick, and crabby. She was tough too. No non-sense. But I guess she had to be. She lived in the city. Crimes. Cement. Smog. People. Trains. Traffic, both foot and automobile. I wasn’t sure how Little B managed any of it. It was no place for the elderly.
I moved the stuffed bag of clothes on my lap over towards my window enough that I could see clearly out of the windshield. We were in four lanes of traffic heading south. Four lanes were heading north, just beyond the wide grassy median to our left. The expressway had a lot of traffic. It was summer and everyone was going someplace. Mostly up north, by the looks of it. The dirt road we had lived on dead-ended at a farm and there were only a handful of houses so the traffic was nearly nonexistent. Nothing like what we were in now. I hated it.
I was so caught up in wondering where other people were going, that I didn’t really understand what was taking place at that moment. Everything was in slow motion.
A big red Dodge pick-up truck traveling northbound blew out a tire, lost control, and veered sharp across the grassy median. Grass and dirt sprayed into the air, rubber shot off like shrapnel as the truck slammed into traffic just ahead of us, then collided with two other cars. My mother hit the brakes hard, tires were screaming against the pavement. Everything in the car launched forward to the dash. She turned left to avoid the truck and we slid like it was icy.
Then she screamed, loud and terrible. I saw it then, out her window, coming too fast to stop. My mother turned to face me, our eyes meeting, locked with the same horror-filled expression.
Her mouth slowly began to open. She wanted to say something.
The semi barreled in to her door like a hammer against a nail. Glass exploded. Black marks were made against the pavement. We went tumbling. Everything spun wildly out of control.
My mother went silent.
Darkness.
I awoke in the hospital.
Bright lights in my eyes, long tubes down my throat. Everything was a blur at first. But I knew where I was. Doctors and nurses were around me performing checkups and other tasks. I heard them whisper once they realized I was awake. Maybe they didn’t think I would awaken. They came closer to me, talking softly, choosing their words carefully, and asking questions about how I felt. One of them rushed out. One of the doctors had a small flashlight and thought to shine the bright light into my eyes. I closed them right away. I couldn’t move much. And I couldn’t talk. I sure as hell wasn’t going to be made blind as well.
There was more talking, some of it was hushed. A decision was being made. I heard a woman tell me I was going to be alright. Someone was praying for me, she said. She was really close to my ear. Her breath was warm. Minty. She sounded attractive. I opened my eyes and turned as much as I could to see her. I was wrong. I shut my eyes again. I was told not to move. I was told not to talk. Maybe they didn’t see the giant tube contraption sticking out of my mouth. I felt it down my throat. I felt hot too. And tired.
I thought of my mother then. I opened my eyes, thinking I would find her in the room. I found only the minty nurse and a smug, male doctor who was smiling like he had just won a bet. My mother wasn’t there. The wonder I had was slipping away quickly. I was drifting back to sleep and I didn’t care to fight it. My eyelids felt like a ton a piece. The same nurse that had left came back. A priest was in tow. His face was stricken with worry. His lips were moving. Questions, I knew. Words he thought were important.
But I was too tired and I let myself drift away.
The last thing I remembered seeing was the priest’s hand reaching down to me, opening up and holding out a silver necklace with a small cross on it.
I was in another place right away.
I stood at the edge of a deep ravine, a gorge. It was deep and black. I somehow knew it was bottomless. A narrow wood-planked bridge connected to the other side. Behind me was the car accident. I didn’t look back, but I knew it was there. I knew a lot of people had been hurt. I knew something had changed forever.
I stepped onto the wood bridge, supported by worn, aged ropes, and began to walk. Slowly. I didn’t bother looking down. I sensed that if I did, the weight of the fear would pull me down into the abyss. I stared forward at the rocky cliff face ahead. One foot after the other. Carefully.
A tall, lean figure appeared at the end of the bridge. He stood waiting for me. My eyes locked onto his and I kept walking. I felt anxious as if I was expecting to fall off and become lost down below. It would be so easy. But something in the figure’s eyes calmed me. I knew who he was then. I had seen him before. I wasn’t scared anymore. I was nearly there. I wasn’t going to fall.
I stepped off the bridge into a lush green pasture, a wondrous field filled with colorful flowers. I never looked back. I was filled with relief. The figure opened his arms and I embraced him. I wept uncontrollably.
It was Jesus.
I awoke in the hospital again.
The lights were dim. The room was empty. The tube was missing from my throat. I knew it was sometime in the middle of the night. The air was quiet with a slight chill. After a few minutes of doing nothing but breathing and staring straight ahead, I began to test my limbs, to make sure I had them still. My fingers were first, t
hen my toes. They were there. Everything in between as well. I was all intact. I took a long deep breath of relief.
I turned to the right and saw a jacket slung over a chair. I didn’t recognize it. But the room was empty and I was suddenly wide awake. I found myself thinking back to the dream I had. I wondered what it had meant, and how real it was. Had I died?
Then the door opened and a nurse entered, wearing the usual hospital garb: blue pants with matching shirt and white sneakers. She held a clipboard. She looked surprised to see me. She was tall and lean, with red hair cut short and cute. She was far better looking than the last. She smiled and walked over close.
“Awake finally. How are you feeling?” she said.
I nodded. I don’t know why I didn’t speak.
“My name is Amber. I’ll be taking care of you during the nights. Are you thirsty?”
I nodded. My mouth felt like old paste. I was suddenly very self-conscious of my appearance.
Amber smiled again. She poured me a cup of water from the pitcher on the stand, raised my bed so I was in a sitting position, and handed me a small cup. It was white with a fancy floral pattern and made out of paper. I took it and slowly began to drink. The water was cold and refreshing. It hit the spot.
“Would you like a Jell-O cup? Or a popsicle?”
“No, thanks.” I lied.
Amber messed with my pillow, I didn’t mind. She fluffed it up and centered my head ever-so gently. She had a soft and delicate look to her. I guessed that she was in her early twenties. Her hands were small and clean. Nails were polished with a light pink shade. And she smelled nice. It was easy to get used to. I knew then that I would spend my days sleeping, so I could be awake during the nights.
“Well then, do you feel like having company? There’s someone waiting to see you. She’s been through an awful lot in the past two days and I promised her that as soon as you woke I would let her know.”
My mother, I thought. I nodded. “Sure.”
Amber smiled approvingly. “I will go get her. Here.” She handed me a small remote with one button. “If anything happens, just press that button and I’ll be here in a flash. Okay?”
I nodded again.
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”
Another smile, then she walked away. I could still smell her perfume wafting in the air. I set the remote on my chest. I had a feeling I didn’t need it. I kept still, waiting. I thought to myself that I had been lying there for two days and my mother must be a worried mess. I planned on asking Amber if she could get a popsicle for my mother. She liked the orange ones.
It was only a few minutes later when Amber returned. She stepped in and held the door open. I waited for my mother to walk in, but it wasn’t her that followed. It was Little B. She had been sleeping. Pain filled her red-streaked eyes, and the lids were puffy from crying. Her short grey hair was a mess. Her face was streaked with tears. Her lips were moving quickly. I could hear her whispering repeatedly, “Thank you, Jesus.”
“Grandma?” I was beside myself. She looked so in anguish.
Where was my mom? Sleeping? Shouldn’t they wake her?
Little B’s thick arms were wrapping around me. I wasn’t sure what she said, she just grabbed a hold of me tight and kissed my forehead. She was trembling. Her false teeth were chattering together. She smelled like mothballs.
“I’m fine, grandma. It’s okay. Really.” I tried to calm her. I failed. “Where’s mom?”
Little B pulled herself off of me and stared over to Amber. The looks that passed between them made me feel worried.
Amber spoke in a slow and clear manner. “I can, if you want me to.”
Little B began to nod desperately. “I can’t…” she trailed off in a blend of sobs and slurred words. Her stout little body was shaking. Her hands were trembling, taking mine into them.
Amber moved in close to me. Her blue eyes were captivating. But the look she gave me let me see that she was all business now. Her lips separated slowly as she began to tell me that my mother was dead.
Little B’s voice cried loud, drowning everything else.
Chapter 3
The Hitman: Dirty Rotters Page 2
