by John Goode
Without ever looking away from Beefy, I asked Kyle, “You okay?”
He didn’t say anything for a second, which I assumed was him nodding because he said, “Oh, you can’t see me. Yeah, I’m fine.”
Seconds later security came rushing in, and by “security” I mean two middle-aged rent-a-cops who had never run so fast in their lives. They were huffing and puffing as they tried to take in the scene.
“Guys,” I said to them, still not blinking from Beefy, “my dad is about to come storming in here. Can one of you go downstairs and let him know what the situation is before he comes shooting up the place?”
I heard someone run off, and Beefy sighed and sat down on the floor. “Need a girl to do your fighting?”
“Fuck you, man, I—” Kyle began to protest.
A loud “Hey” from me froze them both. “I didn’t say it was talking time. We’re all going to wait here quietly for the police to arrive.”
“And I can tell them you attacked me out of nowhere,” Beefy half whined.
“Yeah, trust me, He-Man, I’m in more than enough trouble all by myself. Your little tattletale threat doesn’t even register right now.”
He seemed confused, but I wasn’t in the mood to turn any more letters around for him. Instead I glanced over at Kyle and asked again, “You okay?”
His mouth opened to answer when an old guy looked out from the ICU bay. At first I thought he was a homeless guy from the way he looked—hair long and unwashed, wrinkled T-shirt, that hungry look in his eyes that living on the street too long gives people. But he started to talk and I knew he wasn’t homeless.
He was a drug addict.
How did I know that from just him talking? Because he opened his mouth and I saw his teeth. Or what was left of them. There’s having bad dental hygiene, and there’s what was going on in his mouth. How had a crackhead gotten into that room?
“Dude, man, let’s all calm down,” he said, sounding like the world’s oldest hippie. “You guys shouldn’t fight; you’re brothers.”
I thought he meant “brothers” like we were all brothers of the earth or some shit. I tried to be as open-minded as the next person, but that granola-eating stuff really irritated me sometimes. But that illusion was shattered when Kyle shouted back at him.
“He’s not my brother. You’re not my father, and get out of that fucking room.”
He’s not what and what now?
Before anyone could react, the ICU doors burst open and my dad, his deputy, and one of the security guards came rushing in. I’m not sure who he thought he was going to see, but I would bet it wasn’t me holding a baton on someone.
“Jennifer Caroline Rogers,” he said in the exact tone of voice he’d used when he found Brad sneaking out of my room one night. “Put down that weapon right now.”
Sighing, I collapsed it and began to slide it back into my belt.
“No,” he said, holding out his hand.
“I’m going to need that back,” I said, slapping it into his palm.
“Then we’re going to have two talks. One, about carrying weapons and two, what the word ‘need’ means.”
I scowled at him but moved aside because I wasn’t the issue there.
He must have agreed because he stepped around me and looked down at Beefy and over at Crackhead. “You know, Billy, when I heard you were back in town, I imagined that it wouldn’t come to this.”
My dad knew this guy?
Billy was about to answer, but Beefy decided to squawk instead. “That asshole came in and tried to kick us out.” He was pointing at Kyle.
“Well, ‘that asshole’ happens to be the only one of you I’m sure should be in that room, so let’s not start pointing fingers, shall we?” He looked over at Billy. “If he wants you out of the room, Billy, you know you can’t stay.”
“I’m her husband, man.”
“You are not,” Kyle raged. “You’ve been gone my whole life! You can’t just come in here and fucking say that.”
The kid on the floor started screaming and Kyle screamed back and it got stupid for a few seconds, and then an older guy in a suit came in, flanked by two security guards.
“Sheriff, this is a hospital. I can hear these two three floors away. Do something.”
I had to give my dad credit. Instead of sighing or giving the guy a dirty look, he just turned to the three yelling idiots. “Okay, people. Mr. Childs wants quiet, so the next person who screams gets kicked out. The next person who raises his voice gets kicked out. The next person who speaks above a normal tone gets kicked out.” He glanced over at Billy. “So please, yell.”
Instead Billy looked down at Beefy and said, “Shut up, Troy. Now.”
Troy scowled but said nothing.
“He can’t be in there,” Kyle said, turning to Mr. Childs. “He shouldn’t be here.”
“I understand your concern, young man, and we can have a conversation about that in my office. Not in the middle of the ICU.” He looked over at the guards. “Show them the way,” he said, and then to my dad, “Can I have a word, Sheriff?”
The guards escorted Kyle, Billy, and Troy out while my dad talked to Childs. Nurse Redmon came over to me. “You looked very brave in there, Jennifer.”
I smiled. “Thanks, but I’m pretty sure he’s ready to shoot me.”
She chuckled. “That’s just called being a dad. You did good.”
The two of them finished and Childs walked out of the room. My dad said something to Deputy Kelly, who nodded and walked out too. “Here we go,” I muttered to the nurse as my dad walked up to me.
“You have any idea the kind of people you’re dealing with here?” he asked me.
“The dad is on crack,” I said, not blinking. “The son acts like he’s on steroids, but he might just be an asshole.”
I saw the corners of his mouth flicker like he wanted to smile but stopped himself. “So you know Billy does drugs and still decided to pull a weapon on them. What if he had a gun?”
I didn’t even pause to think about it. “Then he’d be pointing it at me instead of Kyle.”
We locked eyes for a moment, and after a few seconds he sighed and shook his head. “You’re either going to be a great cop or get shot the first week because you think you’re Wonder Woman.”
I began to argue with him and then looked down and saw he was handing me my baton back.
“Do not ever be in a room alone with Billy or his son. Got it?”
I nodded and slipped the baton back into my belt.
“Call me again if anything comes up. And it will.”
I nodded again, and he reached over and gave me a hug. “And try not to beat anyone up while I’m gone.”
I hugged him back. “I can’t promise anything.”
Finally he laughed and walked out of the ICU.
A couple of seconds later, Sebastian’s head poked in. “Anyone dead?”
“You can’t be in here,” Nurse Redmon declared, walking over toward him.
I heard a startled “eep” and the door closed.
I walked out, knowing Robbie was going to want to know everything in detail.
Kyle
NO ONE spoke as we followed the guard upstairs.
Troy was seething as a Muzak version of “Gloria” played softly in the background. No matter how menacing he got, there was no way I was going to feel intimidated while Laura Branigan told me all about her flaky friend. I almost smiled, but of course Billy ruined it.
“I remember this song,” he said like we were all good friends. “Your mom used to love it.”
“She used to love a lot of lame things,” I said, my bad mood returning. “Doesn’t mean they warrant mentioning.”
That shut him up pretty well.
We were shown into a nice office on the top floor. From there we could look out over Foster and realize how tiny and insignificant it really was in the world.
“Stay here and don’t do anything,” the guard warned us.
&nb
sp; “Anything?” Troy asked. “Like, no breathing? No blinking? Can we sit? Is there sitting or are we just standing the whole time?”
I smiled despite myself because it was the same thing that came to my mind.
“You know what I mean,” the guard fired back and slammed the door behind him.
We sat down, and I stared out the window, trying not to think of my mother downstairs.
“So we going to get to this or what?” Billy asked me.
I ignored him and kept staring.
“Okay, little man, we can do it that way too.”
It took every ounce of will not to scream. “Don’t call me ‘little man’!”
Mr. Childs walked in and sat down behind his desk. “Okay, I want to get this settled so what happened downstairs doesn’t happen again.” He looked at all of us. “Who wants to start?”
I didn’t even wait to see if Billy was going to talk. “He has nothing to do with our family, and I want him out of my mother’s hospital room.”
Childs looked at Billy.
“She’s my wife, and I have the marriage license to prove it.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded-up piece of paper that looked, well, older than me, to be honest. Childs read it over and then glanced at me. “You’re claiming this isn’t real?”
“I’m claiming it doesn’t matter because this guy has never been in our lives. Not once. I’m nineteen years old and this is the first time I’ve laid eyes on the man, so he has no right to be in her room. Period.”
“That’s not what the law says, little man.”
I was really close to slugging him.
“Do you have proof they ever got divorced, Kyle?” Mr. Childs asked me.
“What proof? You want nineteen years of no birthday cards as proof? You want nineteen years of no Christmas as proof? He doesn’t exist in our life.”
“That may be, but this is a legal marriage license, which puts me in a bind.”
Was this for real?
“A bind? What kind of bind? Hobo the Homeless Guy comes bouncing into town and says he’s married to my mom and that means something?”
“This piece of paper means something,” Childs said, showing me the license.
“So I have no rights here?” I asked, as the feeling of falling down a rather large rabbit hole began to engulf me.
“You have rights, and you can even contest him being here, but it has to be in front of a judge, and that can’t happen until Monday. So for right now, I can’t tell him to leave.”
“You could,” I countered.
“He could, but I would sue him for denying me access to my wife,” Billy said, the “hey little dude” tone of voice completely gone now.
“She’s not your wife!” I screamed at him, completely losing it.
Both security guards came rushing in from the other side of the door, but Childs waved them off. “Mr. Stilleno, if you keep having outbursts like that, I’m going to ask you to leave.”
“Why are you doing this?” I asked Billy, panting. “What possible motive can you have for being here?”
Billy glanced over at Childs. “Can I talk to my son alone for a few minutes?”
“I’m not your son,” I growled.
“If I can have your word no fighting,” the older man asked us.
“It won’t take long,” Billy assured him.
Childs got up and, when Troy didn’t, Billy said, “You too, boy. Go wait outside.”
“Dad!” he whined.
“Go. Now,” he snapped back.
Troy sighed and stomped out with everyone else, leaving me and Billy far above Foster.
“So what is this about? Some lame attempt for you to reconnect with me or some crap? Because I have no interest in….”
“How much did you get?” Billy asked, ignoring my words completely.
“What?”
“How much money did that queer give you?” His voice was like steel now.
“What are you talking about?”
He got up, and he didn’t look lanky and homeless anymore. He looked tall and menacing. “That queer downstairs gave you some money before you went off to college. How much did he give you?”
“I’m not telling you that,” I said, confused and offended at the same time.
“You will,” he said, giving me a half-toothless smile. “Your mom has something in the back of her head swelling up. They asked me if I would consent to allow surgery, but I said no. They said by the time it became life-threatening, that she would have suffered brain damage. So you will tell me how much it was, or we can wait and watch your mom turn into a vegetable.” He shrugged. “All the same to me.”
I’ve never imagined that simple words could hurt so badly, but they did. It felt like I’d been slugged in the stomach and was gasping for air as I stared at him. I’d only read about people like this in comic books. Lex Luthor and Joker crap that seemed so evil normal people could never do it. Who risks people’s lives just for money? Who could do that and sleep at night?
Billy apparently could.
“So wanna try again, little man? How much did he give you?”
“Why?” was the only word I was able to squeeze out.
“Because there are some guys who I owe money to, and they aren’t particular on how they get paid back. So I need to know how much money you got to help dear old dad out.”
“You’re crazy,” I said, taking a step back from him.
“And your mom is dying. Want to say anything else irrelevant?”
I stood there, not even sure how to answer that. You’d see about shit like this on Facebook, a story so fucking horrible that you thought someone made it up just to get you to click it. But this… thing was in front of me, smiling with his yellow-stained teeth, waiting for an answer.
“Nothing?” he said, shrugging. “I got time. Your mom, not so much. You’ll come around.” He walked over to the door and opened it, and instantly stoner Billy was back. “Thanks, man, I just needed some mano a mano time with my son.”
I saw Troy bristle at that, but he didn’t say anything—instead he just glared at me.
“So did you two come to an agreement?” Mr. Childs asked.
Billy answered before I could. “I think we’re going to stay with the course we have been. Let’s wait and see.”
“Give her the operation,” I blurted out.
“Oh my,” Mr. Childs said. “As I said, if you want to dispute this it’s going to take a judge, and since it’s Saturday, that means at least until Monday.”
“She needs it now.” I was almost crying.
Childs refused to look me in the eye. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stilleno, but there are rules.”
I was going to scream at the top of my lungs and the problem was, if I started I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to stop. So instead I just brushed past Billy and Troy, unsure where I was going but knowing I couldn’t stay there.
Pretty much the story of my life.
Robbie
JENNIFER EXPLAINED all the fuss to us. Sebastian practically spat as he said, “That fucking bastard.”
“So Tyler was right. That crackhead is holding her hostage,” I said, trying to work it out in my mind by talking out loud. “And he might just pull it off since we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere.”
No one said anything for a long while. Finally Jennifer said, “What I want to know is, where’s Brad?”
“What does that matter?” Sebastian asked her.
I answered instead. “Because if Brad isn’t here, it means he’s dead or they broke up, which means Kyle isn’t at his best, and right now Kyle needs to be at his perfect.”
“I’ll call Brad,” Jennifer said, walking out of the waiting room.
Once she was gone, Sebastian asked me, “We’re really going to waste time trying to figure out if two guys are broken up or not? Shouldn’t we be doing something to help whatever her name is?”
I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voi
ce as I explained. “Her name is Linda, and trust me, this isn’t wasting time.”
Sebastian opened his mouth to argue and then closed it. He took a deep breath and sat down on one of the chairs. Looking up at me, he asked, “Okay, explain it to me.”
I sat down next to him and tried to compose my thoughts. “Kyle is amazing, but at the end of the day, he’s a nineteen-year-old kid and prone to nineteen-year-old drama. Brad on the surface looks like nothing special, but his devotion to Kyle is something out of a fairy tale. He keeps Kyle centered, and Kyle keeps Brad motivated. I’m convinced that together they could do anything; apart, they’re just two teenagers with their heads up their asses.”
He didn’t say anything for almost a minute, which was killing me, because I had the feeling we were nearing a fight but I wasn’t sure why.
“So what do you think Brad here will do?” he finally asked.
“He’ll put Kyle’s head in the game, and trust me, once that kid is pointed in a direction, everyone else needs to get out of the way.”
He opened his mouth to say something but Jennifer walked back in. “Goddammit. Yeah, they broke up, and Brad is moving out.”
“To where?” I asked, shocked.
“He said a friend’s house, so if you were thinking he was coming back here, you’d be wrong.” She sounded all kinds of pissed off.
“Did he say what happened?”
She sat down. “Yeah, but it didn’t make much sense. Something about Kyle getting distant and him going out for a night and then Kyle telling him he had to leave.” She shook her head. “Something happened, because Brad sounds like he just gave up, and you know Brad never gives up on Kyle.”
I nodded, my mind spinning as I tried to figure out what to do next.
The waiting room door burst open and Kyle came in, looking like he was going to scream or cry. “I hate that fucking man.”
I got up and moved him to my chair. “Stop yelling. Tyler got kicked out of here last night for that shit. You wanna be next?”
