by Tiana Laveen
“So, you said you didn’t want to discuss it on the phone. I drove all the way down here so…” He shrugged, speaking in a low tone. “How did this happen to him? What’s going on?”
Kylie’s shoulders slumped as she sat on the edge of the hospital bed near her sleeping brother. “He’d been sick a long time, Hunter. He said he did tell the prison a couple times though that he wasn’t feeling right, but they thought he was making it up.” Hunter looked down at his feet then back into her eyes. “It was almost time for him to be released so I guess at that point, they didn’t care.” She shrugged. “Anyway, he has cirrhosis and liver cancer. It was the drinkin’.” She lowered her gaze and began to sob. “I still can hardly believe it. After all of these weeks, I can barely say that this is the diagnosis. It’s a—”
“Death sentence,” they said at the same time, eyeing one another.
They both went quiet for a spell. It was cold in that room, as though mortality had already spun an icy web and the snared design spelled out the name, ‘Noah.’ That itsy-bitsy spider was going to come crawling out and steal his friend away, dragging him into the night…
Suddenly, Noah began to cough. It started mild then turned violent as he twisted about in the bed, forehead wrinkled, bony arms flailing about in the oddest of ways. It was almost as if someone had him hanging from puppet strings, stretching him in all directions, every which way but loose. Kylie sprang into action. Reaching for a glass of water with a straw jammed in it, she moved about like some nurse for hire. Hunter watched as she put the white plastic straw to his dry, cracked lips. The man took the water in between deep breaths, with slow swallows. Noah’s light brown eyes blinked several times, then he scanned the room and their eyes locked. A silly smirk creased the bastard’s face, and they both smiled at one another.
“Fuckin’ Tyrant! You made it, man!” Noah showed his white teeth with plentiful spaces in between. Hunter used to tease him and say he had enough gaps to name his first-born twin sons, Jean and Denim. They’d go back and forth, making fun of one another, all for entertainment. Kylie sat back down beside her brother. Hunter got to his feet and stood closer to the bed to get a better look at the fallen soldier. He leaned forward and rested his hand along the man’s shoulder. It felt like broken glass dumped inside a thin balloon. Sharp, bony fragments wrapped with paper thin skin.
“I’ve been trying to call you for a long time, Noah. Now I know why you couldn’t call back.” They stared into each other’s eyes; no words were needed for a while.
“Get that chair over there and sit closer to me.” He pointed across the way. “Kylie, can you give us a minute?”
His sister’s eyes widened. She sat up in surprise.
“Oh, uh, yeah.” Rising off the bed, the woman grabbed her purse and headed towards the door. “Let me know if you need something, Hunter,” she said before disappearing. Noah sported a goofy grin on his face.
“All these years and my sister still has a crush on you, man. Jesus Christ. I told ’er you wasn’t ’bout shit, but she won’t listen.” Hunter scooted the chair close to the hospital bed and plopped down onto it, laughing. “So, what’s up, man? You been good?”
“Yeah, things are all right.” Hunter ran his hand up and down his leg. The denim warmed to his touch as his nerves got the best of him. He pushed back his hoodie, revealing a fresh haircut, the strands up top longer than the sides.
“You look good, but things aren’t all right, Tyrant… you’re lying.” Noah’s eyes hooded as he grinned and scratched his left cheek. “What’s going on, man?”
“It doesn’t matter. My life is what it is. My best friend is up in here dying so whatever the fuck I have on my plate doesn’t mean shit right now. It pales in comparison.”
“Dying, huh? You always told the truth. No beating around the bush.” He rolled his shoulders as he sat up a bit. “Kylie don’t wanna believe it. She still think I can pull outta this. She knows the probability is slim, but she’s still hoping.” He sucked his teeth. “Hunter, it’s a wrap, man. There’s no redo on this shit.” He tossed up his hands.
“If we had a redo button, a lot of shit wouldn’t have happened. But hey, what do we always say? No time for regrets.”
“Not even a second… you’re right. What’s done is done. Let me tell you though, you shoulda seen the scans, man.” He waved his finger about. “Hunter, my liver looks like a big ass fuckin’ moon rock. It’s pocked like a bad case of acne and looks hard as a brick.”
“How’s the rest of your family taking this news?”
“Mom doesn’t wanna believe it either, but I do. I don’t know what everyone else is saying because I didn’t ask, and they sure as shit didn’t bring their asses up here.” The guy’s complexion deepened. It was evident his friend was hurt by that. “It’s all right.” Noah threw on a big phony smile. “It’s gotta be because there’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t have much longer.” Hunter hung his head. He inhaled a raggedy breath, then exhaled as quietly as possible. “Here I am, thirty-four years old and dyin’, man…”
“They say the good die young. You’re proof that was a lie.” They both burst out laughing. Then the quiet came again, like small fingers running against a slick window pane. The tiny, ghost like hand was there, haunting, strange, noticeable yet easily ignored if one so wished.
“I didn’t even know I was sick. I mean, I knew, but I figured it was uh stomach virus, some shit like that. Liver all fucked up, man. I drink too fuckin’ much.” He laughed like it was funny.
“We all do something too fuckin’ much, right?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. So tell me what’s up, Hunter. I need to know. It’ll help me take my mind off my own shit for a change.”
Hunter looked into the man’s eyes and saw bits of himself. Perhaps that was what hurt the most.
“I been out for about a month,” He looked down at his hands covered in cuts and old bruises, the uneven nails with dirt caked up under his thumb nail from trying to fix his little niece’s bike that had been left out in the muddy yard. “Can’t find a job, but that’s not a surprise.”
“Are you doing any fighting gigs to make some fast cash?”
Hunter shook his head.
“I haven’t had a fight for pay in a long ass time. I’m just tryna get something a little more stable, ya know? That money is too inconsistent, but my brother has a boxing bag in his apartment. I use it from time to time to practice, get back in the swing of things.”
“Oh, you and Justin are talking? That’s good!”
“Yeah, been stayin’ with Justin and his girl and their kids… It’s tight in there. Too many people. I’ve been on the couch. Tryna help out like watch the kids sometimes, clean up, fix shit. They’ve got a lot of broken stuff; why Justin didn’t fix any of it I have no idea. He knows how.”
“What’s Justin been up to?”
Hunter shrugged. “Fuckin’ up per usual. Noah, he’s going to end up in jail again but I can’t tell him shit ’cause I wasn’t any kind of example. The one time I tried to bring it up, he reminded me of that.”
“Well hell, he’s wrong. I look at it like this: if someone has already been down that road, then they know what’s up. If a teacher can’t school you, then who can? We’re professors of this street shit. You and me both know how to make a quick buck in fifteen fucking minutes. We can steal a car faster than our first nut.” Hunter clasped his hands, didn’t respond… just listened. “We are the main motherfuckers that need to be talking at these schools ’nd shit. Overqualified for the job in fact. You and I are fuckin’ career criminals!” He smiled. “I’ve never worked a normal nine to five in my life and have made more money in one month than most squares make in a fuckin’ lifetime ’round here. If anyone can talk to someone about this shit, it’s us.” Hunter couldn’t argue with that. It was true. “Wait a minute, you got a cigarette?”
“Motherfucker, I’m not givin’ you no fuckin’ cigarette. You’re sick. We’re in a hos
pital.” His voice came out raspy, gravelly.
“I’m already dying. What does it matter?! Cool, fuck it. Turn on some music then. Some good shit. I don’t wanna hear none of that crazy new rap music you’re into now. You’ll listen to anything it seems. I want the old shit, like Rakim, Beastie Boys, or Nirvana. I’m tired of hearing these machines. It’s a death song… Drown ’em out.” Hunter pulled out his phone from his pocket and selected a playlist. Method Man and Redman’s ‘Da Rockwilder’ began to play. Noah started to bob his head to the beat and closed his eyes.
“That’s what I’m talking about. Good memories to this shit… all right, so uh, where were we?”
“You were talking about how you made money hand over fist and how you could have schooled some people in the life, because you’ve been there and done that. I was explaining to you how Justin is out here messin’ up and I don’t have shit. Then you had the fuckin’ audacity to ask me for a smoke. Caught up now?”
“Yeah, that’s right…” Noah coughed, taking a moment before speaking again. “So you better tell your brother to watch his back, Hunter, before it’s too late. I got right out and started my shit up again. Business as usual. That was a mistake, but I was only thinking about stacking my cheese up again after that prison term. I stacked it up alright, but I can’t take it with me to the grave. You tell your brother that. He’s got kids ’nd shit… he won’t be the only one affected by these bad choices.” The man’s voice cracked. Noah also had a child, a daughter, but he had never spoken of her much. Hunter knew it wasn’t because he didn’t want to. It was simply too painful. “Thanks for driving down here.”
“You don’t have to thank me.” Silence stretched out between them with each beat of the music playing, dancing on syllables that only formed in their minds.
“We need to talk, man. I didn’t… I didn’t have my sister call you in order for you to come here and watch me die. I had her do it because I was too chicken shit at the time to tell you over the phone that I was in the shape I’m in. I had her call ya, Hunter, because I don’t trust too many people, but I trust your ass almost as much as my own damn self. Let’s have a meeting… discuss some business.”
“You trust me? That’s rich. I don’t even trust myself.”
The man tried to laugh at his words, but then broke into a coughing fit.
Before Hunter could give him something to drink, he calmed and waved him off, then grinned. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers,” he teased. “Look…” Noah ran his hand over his face. “I’m on like three different painkillers right now, and they’re strong enough to knock a horse to its knees. I don’t have more than a month or two left, and my life has flashed before my fucking eyes. I’ve fucked up big time, Hunter. All the fun I had has come to an end. Messed up part is that you and I both know I’d still be in those streets if this hadn’t happened, and that would’ve landed me back in prison eventually. I don’t know any other way to live. Nobody stopped me before this shit became a habit.
“I was a shitty person sometimes, especially when I was younger, to anyone who gave a shit about me. I was… I was selfish, too. Selling drugs, stacking money, drinking morning, noon, and night. I’ve been a screwup for most of my life, but I did one thing right.” He raised a finger in the air. “I thought I had made a mistake seventeen years ago, but I know now that she wasn’t a mistake at all. I told you that, uh, I got a little girl… well…” He shrugged. “She’s not so little anymore. Practically grown.” The man paused then swallowed, as if needing a moment. “I just found out that her mother has been MIA.”
“What do you mean? She’s in jail?”
“No. Like for real missing. Like back of a milk carton type shit. Nobody has any damn idea where she is.”
“So where is your daughter then? I’m assuming the woman you had her with had custody.”
“Yeah, she did. I’ll get to that. So Olive, that’s my kid, has been shuffled around like cards and is now staying with a friend of hers, at the girl’s mom’s crib. I found out through another friend after Kylie made a few calls for me. Holly had some problems, too. That’s Olive’s mother.
“She was one of the few girls I was ever with that I actually loved, but that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, she and I met like in the eighth grade. We became friends, got together in high school, started fuckin’ and boom! I ended up gettin’ her pregnant pretty soon thereafter. I never took it seriously though, you know, the whole fatherhood thing. I didn’t have no dad. I don’t even know who the hell he is.” He chuckled dismally. “So I didn’t know how to be a dad. Not a clue. Holly and I eventually broke up. I figured if I was sending money for my kid, which I did without the courts havin’ to get involved, then that was good enough. That’s how my mentality was back then. I was in and out of Olive’s life because I kept getting locked up, but,” Noah lowered his head in shame, “another reason was I didn’t want ’er to know what a fuckin’ loser her dad is.”
“You’re not a loser.”
Noah looked back up, his eyes glossed over. He blinked away the tears and sniffed. “Nah man, I am. I figured that if I spent too much time around her, she’d realize I wasn’t shit, too. There’d be no doubt in her mind. This way, it would still be a mystery. I could lean on the excuse of being incarcerated. I would call her a couple times a month though, keep in touch. Olive is important to me, man.” Noah snatched a tissue off the little table beside him and dabbed at his eyes. “She’s a really sweet, smart girl. Nothin’ like me… I mean, she looks like me a little, same lips, same shape of eyes, even has my pointy ears. Anyway, that’s why I didn’t come around her much… didn’t want to make her life harder. I’d send her gifts, never missed a birthday as long as I wasn’t in the clinker when it came around and even then I’d send her a card. I miss ’er, man. That’s my baby…”
“Call her and tell her to come here to the hospital, Noah. That’s all you have to do.”
“I don’t want her to see me like this, man. I don’t want this to be her last impression of me.”
“Noah, what about her, though, man? She’d probably want to spend time with you. Her last time with you.”
“I can’t do it!” He waved his arm about and looked away in frustration. “I want her to remember me healthy. Strong. She used to think I was funny.” He smiled sadly. “So, I want her to think of me like that… not all weak, ’nd sick and shit. So, look, I need you to take care of something for me, all right?”
“Like what?” Noah threw a brief glance at the closed hospital door then shifted his gaze back to Hunter.
“I told you that I trust you. I trust you so much, I’m going to give you some money that I need for you to give to my kid. I know you’re one of the few bastards that won’t take it for themselves and run off.”
“That might look strange comin’ from me instead of a family member. Your kid doesn’t know me.”
“She doesn’t know me either, not the real me, so what’s your point? Anyway, I put it aside in a P.O. Box. I’ve placed it aside for her, kept adding to it since she was like six. I had to make sure it didn’t get seized, so I didn’t put it in a bank. I don’t want her to be broke, struggling, having to resort to sellin’ ’er ass or something like that to make it!”
Anger swelled from the man’s throat as he shook his bony fist. He fell into another coughing spell. Hunter got to his feet and placed the straw to the man’s lips, just like Kylie had done. After Noah had gotten his fill, Hunter placed the cup back down and returned to his seat. Perhaps Holly had resorted to such, doing things she shouldn’t have to make ends meet.
Noah laid back against the pillow, his eyes closed, mouth open. Looking completely exhausted. Hunter stared at the man, trying to picture him dead. He envisioned the funeral, the strange organ music that would be playing, and the stuffy odor in the funeral home – sweet death. There’d be lots of flowers, a bunch of fake ass people boo-hooing then fighting over what he’d left behind. Hunter had been to too many burials to coun
t. Memories of them started to blur in his mind, run together. He’d even thought about his own funeral a time or two. He wasn’t moved by the notion. It didn’t scare him or cause nightmares. To him, thinking about his own death was like watching an old, mediocre sitcom rerun. You may have chuckled a couple of times at the different scenes, but would forget about it all in the morning.
“I’ll give you some paperwork, a letter, the address of the post office the money is at, the key, and the details of the lady she’s staying with. They’re here in Detroit.” Hunter nodded. “Second thing I want you to do… I want you to kill Drew Dowery.”
Hunter worked a kink out of his neck as he deliberated Noah’s words. Drew was a soft ass, punk pussy son of a bitch that had been in prison with them, doing a bid on a burglary gone wrong. At one point, he’d been Noah’s cellmate. He was originally from Nashville, but had migrated up north to continue his life of crime, which had landed him in their prison system.
Drew had stolen some money from Noah’s cell and snitched on him, too. This had caused Noah’s sentence to be extended due to the new charges when he ratted him out on a case the cops had no clue he’d even committed. Noah had also attacked him after discovering his cash was gone; he’d tried to beat the shit out of that man but it got broken up before it went too far. Thanks to Drew, the authorities had found out about Noah’s involvement in other unsolved cases. That within itself had been enough to knock the fucker off, but Drew had been hellbent on causing havoc in the prison. So much so, the bastard had also tried to get Hunter and several others involved in a bunch of bullshit by lying, telling other inmates both of them were sitting on piles of money, plotting to attack certain factions, and other shit like that.
“So, you gonna handle that?” Noah’s eyes grew dark and cold.
“Drew is still in prison.”
“Like that means shit.”
Noah chortled, his complexion appearing more ashen by the minute. Hunter shrugged and yawned.
“I guess you have a point there. All right, I’ll make sure your daughter gets the money. As far as Drew, I can’t promise that.”
