by Casey Lane
He laughed and tapped his wheel while simultaneously turning up the music. Arrested Development came on, and I nodded my head to the beat. “Now see? This is excellent music.”
The cab driver smiled at me in the mirror, and I nodded to him. I waved a hand and snapped my fingers. “You got that right, my friend. Music can be a religious experience.”
Chapter Four
We pulled up to the building, and I leaned my forehead against the glass. Whiskey isn’t the greatest of friends unless you keep drinking it until you pass out. I should have remembered that when I ordered.
“If you’re going to be sick, then please do it outside the car, I just cleaned it.”
He spoke in an Indian accent, and I hiccupped then collected myself. I placed my hand to the side and held a finger up, then two. I waved my hand, then the nausea passed.
“Nope, all good,” I said with a confident nod.
I sat up straight and opened the door, stepping out and holding my hands at my sides until the boat, that is the earth, stopped rocking. Finally, I was coherent enough to make my way toward the store that held everything you could ever want, including guns and ammo. It was a one-stop shop of awesome owned by Mickey Mulroney. He was the son of a gangster, like old style Irish-Italian. Over the course of the last two years, we had seen many a mysterious injury come through the ER at the hands of his family, but no one ever talked, and I’m sure no one ever would, or they’d be sleepin’ with the fishes if you know what I mean.
Mickey had a son named Travis. Travis Mulroney.
He came in one night while I was working the front desk. He was cute, dangerous, hurt. The trifecta of attraction for me. Unfortunately, I fell for it, and him. I hadn’t been to Mickey’s since I threw his ass out of my apartment a year ago. Nor had I seen much of him. Probably best. David was a rebound after Travis, an odd one for me. He was the exact opposite of Travis in every way possible. Travis kept me on edge, David couldn’t find the edge if I led him to it and explained it in detail.
I shook my head and pressed my hand against my stomach. It churned. Thinking about David wasn’t helping. Oh my God, David. Sweet, sweet David. You’re dead now.
The door slid open, and I had to squint my eyes as the fluorescent lighting rained down on me like the desert sun. It replaced my sadness with wonder. Being drunk is a blessing…sometimes.
I rushed to the round stand and grabbed a pair of sunglasses and slid them on, letting out a long sigh of relief. The large pink shades probably looked ridiculous as they clung to my face at an angle, but I didn’t care. I’d buy them, along with a ton of other things that I don’t need. That’s what stores like this are for. Impulse buying.
I paused and took a look around. Mickey’s had been a necessary stop when I drank heavily. It had been a long time, but here it was, the same as it ever was. I tapped my arm down the side, giving Talking Heads a nod. I stopped and turned to face a boy with a broom, and he eyed me.
“Talking Heads, they rock,” I said with a wink and a stumble.
He said nothing, and I sighed. “Of course you don’t know who they are.” I waved a hand in disgust. “It’s a band…you know, they play music? Real music.”
A girl approached me and popped a bubble as she cocked her hip to the right and placed a hand on it. I could see her long nails all adorned with purple glitter. They matched the oversized purple hoop earring that tapped her round cheek.
“So watcha need, honey?”
I paused and then had to peer down at myself. I tilted my sunglasses and could see the blood all over the front of my scrubs. I looked like a serial killer. I pushed the sunglasses back on and took a slow breath.
“I need booze and peppermint tea. I guess the tea helps with hangovers or something.”
“I bet.” She said as she walked away from me only pausing for a moment to wave me on.
“Ovah here.” The accent was strong with her. I followed without question.
I wagged my finger at her back. “Wait, I know you, don’t I?”
Suddenly I felt a tug on my arm as I was jerked to the side and out of the aisle. A man towered over me and then he slowly let a grin part his lips.
“Travis, what the hell are ya doin’?” she said and he reached up and removed my sunglasses.
“Hey, baby.” He leaned in, and I turned my face, so he had to kiss my cheek. I stumbled back and glared at him, quickly placing my sunglasses back on to protect my eyes from the ungodly light above us.
“Don’t touch me, Travis.”
“Yeah, hands off, douche.” She said with the pop of her pink gum.
Finally, he looked at the girl and scowled. “Shut up, Carla.”
“You shut up.” She retorted.
She took one step toward him, and a bellowing voice froze them in place.
“What the hell am I gonna do with the two of you’s?”
A large man stepped up to Travis and whacked him on the back of the head with an open hand. He immediately rubbed it while glaring at me. The man lifted his hand, and the girl cowered.
“Damn you two, always causing shit in my store. This is why the business is down! You.” he pointed at the girl. “Settle your tits.” His eyes locked onto Travis. “And you, keep your damn hands off the women who come in here!”
“Dad…this is Halo,” Travis said with a huff. “You know Halo Bay. The girl I told ya about.”
The man paused and turned to face me. He gave me a once over and then smiled.
“So this is the girl who’s got chu all whack in da head?”
I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Yeah…she’s, well, she’s my girl,” Travis straightened his shoulders with pride.
I shook my head and swayed a little. “No, no, I’m not. I’m not his girl.” My hand swung out in front of me.
The man chuckled and eyed Travis. He raised his hands. “She’s a feisty one, but gorgeous just the same.” He turned back to face me. “You got lady balls; I like that. Travis needs some, balls that is. Maybe you can teach him how to be less like his sista here and more like me.” He grabbed his crotch and gave it a firm tug. Then he winked at me. I grimaced.
“Dad.” Travis groaned as he rubbed the side of his neck.
I shifted my stance, and the room started to tilt. “I’m not going to teach him a damn thing. I came here for liquor and…and…”
The girl chimed in with a snap of her fingers. “Peppermint tea.”
“Yes, that.” I glared at Travis, who had been the most aggressively obsessive boyfriend I had ever had the displeasure of kicking out of my life. Unfortunately, he wasn’t used to being told no, so he still lingered. He left messages, flowers, candy, and cards with illiterate poems written inside of them.
“Let me help you,” Travis said in desperation.
Mickey nodded. “Sure, you kids go get what she wants.” He turned back to face me. “I value your business, even though you look like you just gave someone the chop shop.” He chuckled, I didn’t. I wasn’t about to explain why I was covered in blood. The scrubs should be a dead giveaway, but I guess with this guy it could be anything.
I looked down at myself and sighed. “Sure yeah, I was chop shoppin’ the crap out of this town.”
He laughed and gave me an unnerving wink. “Well, if ya evah want a job, just come see me, understood?” he thumbed at his chest and gave me a nod.
I narrowed my eyes. I couldn’t believe that he was offering me a position to hurt people.
“I’m a nurse,” I said.
“Even bettah! We sometimes have situations that would benefit from your field of expertise, if ya know what I mean.”
I shook my head as Travis seemed to light up with excitement. I’m sure he’d love for me to ditch my nursing job and come hang out with his psychotic family.
Like it would matter, I’m dying. Dumbass.
“Sure, I’ll keep that in mind. Hey, how’s the 401k?” I asked with a grin.
“The what?” he asked
in confusion.
Travis waved a hand. “Retirement pops. 401k.”
Mickey laughed and rubbed the side of his neck. I could see his large spider tattoo that rested in the webbing of his thumb. “Ya work till ya don’t wanna work no more.”
“Or die,” I muttered.
“Come on; I’ll show you where the tea’s at,” Travis said as he reached out to take my arm and I flinched. He paused and ran his hand through his hair. He hadn’t bothered to use restraint with me on a few occasions, leaving behind bruises, not unlike the one on my wrist that he had inflicted just a couple of weeks prior when he tried to force his way into the apartment. Funny how he acts like I just don’t remember anything he does or had done in the past. He’s a maniac.
I know that I said I enjoyed danger but Travis was more than that, he was terrifying.
“I got it.” I backed away from him and finally turned, breaking into a power walk that ended in a full out jog.
“Halo! Where ya goin’?! The tea is ovah here.” He yelled out behind me.
I hit the door and slid across the parking lot as the rain started to come down. The cab driver stepped out as I fell to the ground. He rushed over to me and helped me to my feet as I nursed a skinned elbow. Travis came rushing out and screamed at me.
“Halo! Halo! Come back here!”
“Help me,” I whispered to the driver. He eyed Travis and gave me a quick nod.
The cabby helped me into the backseat and slammed the door shut as Travis approached him. I could see their shadows moving through streaks of rain then I witnessed a blow to the jaw, and one of the blurry figures fell to the ground. I moved away from the window as a shadow approached it and jerked the door open. I was so relieved to see the driver. He wasn’t that large, so I guess I didn’t expect him to be able to handle Travis like he did.
“Are you okay?” His eyes rushed over me. I nodded to him. He closed the door and hurried to his side of the car, jerking his door open and jumping inside. He sped off, as the back of the cab swung out and hit something. I covered my mouth, and he kept going. I peered out the back window as Mickey rushed out and leaned down to the body lying on the ground. He lifted his fist and shook it in the air.
“Did we hit him?” I asked, and the cab driver wiped his lip and stared at the blood on his fingertips. “My sister, she has a man like that one. He does not respect her and leaves marks on her body. Beating her senseless for nothing.” His eyes darted to the rearview mirror. He looked shaken, and his hands gripped the wheel, wringing it like an old dishcloth.
We hit a pothole, and I swear I heard something groan behind me. I turned and could hear someone yelling from behind the seat. It sounded muffled. I turned back around, and the cab driver was pulling over and under a bridge. We stopped, and I could hear the muffled screams coming from the trunk.
“Please stay here.”
I nodded to him, and he got out. I watched him walk by the door, and I heard the trunk open. He spoke calmly and then in between each sentence he would hit something as hard as he could, making me jump. Finally, he closed the trunk and returned to the car. He sat there gripping the wheel, and I swallowed hard.
“Like I said, he has no respect for her.”
I held my hands up, and he turned to face me. I know that my expression was one of fear, so he immediately tried to put me at ease.
“I can get out here,” I said calmly, pointing a finger to the right while keeping my other hand in view.
He shook his head. “No, not here. This is a terrible neighborhood and that man back there is abusive to you is he not? I saw how he grabbed you in the store. I watched through the window. He reached for you, and you flinched, this is how my sister reacts to that piece of garbage in my trunk.
“I really don’t want to know,” I said, and he gave me a nod.
“Are you sure? You can kick him; it may make you feel better.”
I gave him a thumbs up. “Nope, I’m good.”
He turned and stared out the window, calmly reaching down and turning the key in the ignition.
“There is a breaking point for all things.”
I nodded as I stared down at my hands. “I totally agree.”
“I told her to leave, but no, she stayed and now…now she’s…”
I didn’t want to know any more about this girl or the man in the trunk. I already had enough on my plate to last a lifetime.
“Listen, I need to get home. Can I please go home?”
He took a slow breath and gave a quick nod. “Yes, let’s get you home.”
We pulled away, and before I knew it, we were sitting in front of my building. I found it humorous that this cab driver was worried about me walking in that neighborhood when this one was no better. I opened the door, and he spoke to me without looking back.
“I won’t kill him; I won’t do that.” He said solemnly.
I should have offered him help. I should have stayed and told him that the man in his trunk only represented the worst that this life had to offer, but instead, I surrendered. I forfeited my oath to help those in need.
“You do whatever you need to do.”
He turned and gripped the seat. I watched his knuckles turn white.
“I want to enter paradise.”
I nodded to him. “You will.” I knew it was a lie. I felt it bubble up like bile, but I said it just the same.
I stepped out, and he drove away. My buzz was wearing off, and I almost wished that I had more to keep the emotions in check. I turned and made my way to the door. I fumbled with my keys and dropped them just as a gunshot rang out. I kept close to the ground and then finally stood back up, sliding my key into the lock and stepping inside. I had to reach out and brace myself against the long line of mailboxes.
The dizzy spell passed, and I walked to the elevator, only to find an out of order sign strung across the front of it. I hate this place, but I can’t seem to leave. I’ve found myself in this situation more than I liked to admit. It’s a horribly self-destructive cycle. The only time I felt like I may be able to break it was with David. He hated this neighborhood and often asked me why I didn’t find something closer to the hospital and a bit less shady, but the truth was I wanted to be close to the church even though I refused to step foot in it.
It was where we celebrated the last bits of Fin’s life. It was my family’s church. In fact, our old house was only fifteen minutes away. Some of my best memories were of riding in the backseat of my dad’s old Chevy, with my brother. Slick seats, robin egg blue with a white roof and a white wheel.
Memories flickered in my mind, and I could see Griffin clear as day sitting next to me in the back of the car. He was smiling, holding my hand. I could feel his hand tighten in mine, making me feel safe…guarded. He told me he loved me every day and I felt loved by him.
I miss him so much it’s hard to breathe.
I made my way over to the staircase, and suddenly the emotions overwhelmed me. I had to sit down and rest my face in my hands, letting out a much-needed cry. I reached up and gripped the railing.
“No…no, no,” I said as I gritted my teeth and started to climb. I felt the strain in my legs and the ache in my chest. It had nothing to do with the tumor in my brain; it was grief. A profound and foreboding sadness that had been rekindled with the loss of David.
Four floors later and I had to stop and catch my breath. I felt sick to my stomach, and I pressed my hand against it, giving it some much-needed attention.
I leaned against the railing and let my head hang. I flexed my fingers and took slow breaths. I hate throwing up, probably just as much as everyone else does. I guess the act isn’t nearly as crappy as the feeling leading up to it. That’s the kicker.
I placed my hand over my mouth until the feeling passed once again. I took one step, and the door opened to my right. A petite woman, no taller than five foot, stepped out from the shadows of her dimly lit apartment.
“Hey, Mrs. Thorn.” I tried to sound reasonable; I
doubt that I did.
“Halo, is that you?” she asked as she fumbled with her reading glasses. The beaded chains swayed on either side of her red frames. She squinted and gave me a quick once-over.
“Oh dear, what a night you’ve had.” She added.
I nodded to her, unable to hide any longer.
I like to think of myself as a strong woman…a survivor, but this day had beaten me down and back into submission. I felt five years old again, terrified in my room as my parents yelled and screamed just outside the door. I still remember the sound of my father’s fist hitting my mother’s jaw for the first time. The crack of bone on bone sticks with you forever. One hit and I could see her shadow slump to the floor with a hard thud. The sobbing afterward haunted me.
But mostly, it was the weakness. I was too small and weak to help her, and even as I grew, it seems that the fear wouldn’t allow me to fight for her, or for myself. I remember the empty promises that I whispered in the dark that one day I would save her. One day I would save myself. One day.
That day never came.
I blinked, and the horrible memory faded when her hand found its way to my side, and she stared up at me with such heartfelt compassion.
“You need a hot bath and some strong coffee, and by strong, I mean with caffeine and nothing more.” She added a wink, and I nodded to her.
She led me back to her apartment and soon I found myself sinking into a large white porcelain tub as the steam rose off the surface and raced toward the cathedral ceiling. A knock came to the door, and Mrs. Thorn walked in and set a large cup with red roses all over it on the tray that sat next to the tub. I adjusted in the water, and it sloshed up the sides. She turned, and I glanced over at her.
“I want to thank you for always being so kind to me.”
She paused but didn’t turn to look at me. “Kindness is free, and it takes very little effort. It’s hate and destruction that is exhausting and will cost you everything.”
“True but I wanted to make sure that I said it.”
She paused and cocked her head. “You talk as if you’re going away, are you moving?”
