Outcast

by Lewis Ericson

  “Yeah, but right now I just wanna enjoy this, a’ight?”

  Mr. Preston shrugged. “So, how does it feel to be a hero?”

  “Hero?”

  “It was all over the news there for a while, you takin’ a bullet for your brother.”

  “Yeah, that was pretty stupid, huh? It was more than he would have done for me.”

  “It wasn’t stupid at all,” Mr. Preston countered. “You showed how much of a man you really are, deep down—where it counts.”

  “Yeah, and look where it got me. I’m so fuckin’ ecstatic I could dance. Oh wait, I forgot, my legs don’t work no more.”

  “Man, you don’t know how lucky you are. That bullet could’ve taken you outta here. I hear you could be walkin’ again as soon as the swellin’ goes down around your spine, you just have to be patient.”

  “I’ll just be happy to pee standing up.”

  “I don’t think you need to be feelin’ sorry for yourself. I’m tell’ya now, things could be worse.”

  “It don’t matter no way. It ain’t like Kevin gives a damn. It’s been like six weeks and he hasn’t been to see me one time. I mean he could have at least sent a damn thank-you card or somethin’.”

  “Doesn’t change the fact that you did a courageous thing.”

  “Doesn’t make it any easier either,” Tirrell shot back. “Nothin’ I do will ever be good enough for any of ’em.”

  “You know if I want to hear a baby cry I could go down to the maternity ward.”

  Tirrell shook his head and turned away.

  “I know it’s hard, but you got a lot more fight left in you, otherwise, you would have checked out already. You gon’ be all right. Here, I got somethin’ for you.” Mr. Preston pulled a plastic bag from the inside of his jacket and handed it to him.

  Tirrell’s eyes lit up. “It’s an iPod.”

  “I didn’t know if you had one already. I figured if you didn’t it would help you pass the time.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “Well, look here. I’m gon’ head out and let you get some rest.”

  “I appreciate you, Mr. P. Thanks for comin’.”

  They bumped fists.

  “I’m proud of you, son. I’m gon’ be right here to help you if you want it. ”

  Tirrell’s eyes misted as he watched his mentor leave. He sniffled, wiped his hand over his nose and mouth, and cleared his throat, resisting the urge to cry. He lay back on his pillow and closed his eyes. As he drifted off to sleep he whispered, “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.”

  When he woke up Betty was sitting by his side.

  “Hi, baby. How’re you feelin’?”

  He yawned. “Noonie, what are you doin’ here again?”

  “What are you talkin’ about? Where else would I be?”

  “You didn’t drive, did you? You’re barely out of the hospital yourself. You know you shouldn’t be drivin’.”

  “Boy, I was takin’ care of myself long before you were born. I suspect I can continue doin’ just that.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know.”

  “You were just here yesterday.”

  “And I’m gonna be here tomorrow and the next day, until you come home. I got the place all ready for you. Marquis even built a wheelchair ramp up to the porch.”

  “That should come in handy. I ain’t got no insurance. They’ll be kickin’ me out of here soon.”

  “You don’t have to worry about payin’ no hospital bill. Your brother is takin’ care of all of that.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Betty nodded.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Tirrell responded. He glanced at his grandmother, realizing what he’d said. “Sorry.”

  Betty continued as if his comment didn’t register. “I still can’t believe all this happened because of that— that woman. I could have lost both you and Kevin. I knew she was no good when I first set eyes on her.”

  “It’s not all on her, Noonie. I made some bad choices and got myself into a lot of this shi . . . I mean stuff on my own.”

  “She still caused you a lot of pain, and if there’s any justice at all one of these days she’s gonna get exactly what she deserves.”

  “So, where is my generous big brother?”

  “I’m right here.” Kevin pushed open the door, carrying a box of food that Betty had prepared. “I had trouble finding a place to park.”

  “What’s all this?”

  Betty stood and started pulling covered bowls from the box and setting them on the adjustable rolling table in front of Tirrell.

  “I know firsthand that the food in here don’t taste like much, and I wanted to make sure you got some good home cookin’. I checked and they told me it would be okay for you to have.”

  “Thanks, Noonie.” Tirrell rubbed his hands together with anticipation, pulled a plastic lid from one of the bowls, and inhaled the mouthwatering aroma of baked macaroni and cheese.

  “Micah threw a fit,” Kevin injected. “He really wanted to come see you. We told him he should probably wait a couple more days.”

  “That boy really loves his uncle,” Betty affirmed.

  “Unlike his father,” Tirrell sniped.

  Kevin massaged his left shoulder where he’d been shot. “I uh . . . I know I should’ve come before now. I was just having a harder time than I thought.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, bruh. I’m still here.”

  “Tirrell, don’t talk like that,” Betty chided.

  A respiratory therapist pushed into the room and dispelled the tension. “Well, Mr. Ellis, I was going to ask if you already had lunch, but I can see that you got that covered. Is that macaroni and cheese I smell?”

  “It sure is,” Betty responded, easing back into her chair. “Would you like some? There’s plenty.”

  “No, thank you. I just wanted to see to it that Mr. Ellis was using his spirometer. You don’t want pneumonia setting into those lungs, do you?”

  Tirrell held up the device and waved it in the air. “I got it right here.”

  The woman nodded and excused herself from the room.

  Tirrell absently checked the other containers in the box. “So, Kev, Noonie said you were takin’ care of all the hospital stuff.”

  “It’s the least I could do. I figured I owed you.”

  Betty patted Tirrell’s hand and nodded. “Baby, you better eat up before the food gets cold,” Betty injected. She pulled a napkin and plastic utensils from the box and handed them to Tirrell. Without hesitation he started in on the macaroni.

  “Noonie, I need to head back to the office,” Kevin injected.

  “So soon? We just got here,” Betty responded.

  “Sorry. I’ve got some paperwork I need to finish.”

  “Any word on Alex?” Tirrell asked.

  Kevin shook his head. “As far as the world is concerned Alexandra Solomon no longer exists.”

  “That bitch,” Tirrell whispered under his breath.

  Kevin cleared his throat.

  “Okay, baby. We need to go now. But I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Noonie, you don’t have to do that.”

  “What did I say?”

  Tirrell smiled.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t be driving. I’ll see if Anne Crawl or Marquis can bring me.”

  Noonie stood, leaned in, and kissed Tirrell’s forehead. “I just thank God that both my boys are all right.” She gathered her purse and turned to leave. “I love you, baby.”

  “I love you too, Noonie. Oh and uh, Kev . . . thanks.”

  Kevin nodded and exited behind Betty.

  A week later Tirrell was released from the hospital. He barely had time to settle in before he was saddled with an aggressive rehabilitation regimen, and a physical therapist who quite often pushed him beyond the limits of where he thought he could go.

 
“Man, I can’t do it!”

  “Yes, you can. You’ve come this far. Now, give me two more.”

  “I can’t, you asshole.”

  “Do you want to walk again, or do you want to spend the rest of your life on wheels?”

  Tirrell clenched his teeth and held his breath. Perspiration trickled down his forehead and pooled in his ears as his therapist assisted him in pulling his leg up and bending it at the knee toward his chest.

  “Fourteen. C’mon . . . c’mon. You got this. One more.”

  By the end of a grueling set of leg lifts and knee bends Tirrell felt as if he’d run a marathon, and cursed his therapist for making him work so hard.

  “You’ll thank me later.” The man chuckled as he lifted Tirrell back into bed.

  “I uh . . . I could really use somethin’ a little stronger than they gave me for this pain,” Tirrell groaned.

  “How bad is it?”

  “It’s bad. Real bad.”

  “I’ll call your doctor and let him know.”

  “C’mon, don’t you have somethin’ you can give me?”

  “You took your allotment of Tramadol already.”

  Tirrell picked up a bedpan at his side and threw it at the man. “You can’t expect me to get through this shit if I’m in this much pain!”

  “And you can’t expect me to be your dope dealer either. You may as well man up, take what the doctor prescribed you, and deal with it. Do you want pain relief or you wanna get high?”

  Tirrell turned away in disgust.

  Betty knocked at the bedroom door as the therapist collected his gear and prepared to leave. “How’s everything goin’ in here?”

  “We’re all done for the day,” the man said as he headed out. “The poor baby can’t take any more.”

  “To hell with you, Alan,” Tirrell spat, flinging his towel at the man.

  Betty’s brow furrowed. “Tirrell.”

  “It’s all right, Ms. Ellis,” the man assured her. “I’m used to it. I’ll show myself out.”

  Betty handed Tirrell a bottle of water. “Are you up for some company?”

  Before he could answer Micah jetted past his great grandmother and bolted into the room. “Uncle Tirrell!”

  “Hey, li’l man.”

  Micah stopped just shy of jumping onto the bed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Daddy said I should be careful because you can’t walk.”

  “It’s just temporary. See?” Tirrell strained to lift his leg—it barely moved. “I’ll be back to normal in no time. Now c’mere and give me a hug.”

  Micah reticently embraced him. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too.”

  Kevin entered the room with Pat in tow.

  “Micah, get down.”

  “It’s okay, Kev. He’s fine.”

  “You look good, Tirrell,” Pat said.

  “I’m gettin’ better.”

  Betty smiled. “It’s so good to have my family all safe under one roof.”

  “Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to make an announcement.” Kevin beamed. “The family might be getting bigger real soon.”

  “What do you mean?” Betty asked.

  Pat smiled. “We’re having a baby.”

  Betty was moved to tears. She clasped her hands to both sides of her daughter-in-law’s face. “I am so happy for the both of you.”

  As the attention shifted to Pat and Kevin’s good news Tirrell grunted, attempting to raise his leg again.

  Betty turned to him. “Tirrell, are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

  “We should clear out of here and let you rest,” Kevin suggested.

  “Kevin, isn’t there something you needed to say to Tirrell?”

  Kevin cleared his throat and stepped over to the side of the bed. He teared up as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a medal his grandfather had been awarded, and pinned it to Tirrell’s T-shirt.

  “What’s this?” Tirrell asked.

  “It’s the medal Granddaddy was given for bravery when he was in Vietnam,” Kevin responded. “I meant to bring this to you sooner, but I had a hard time finding it. You saved my life and I couldn’t think of a better way to let you know how grateful I am, except to give you this. You earned it. You earned my respect, too, man.”

  Tears streamed down Betty’s face watching the two. Kevin reached out and shook Tirrell’s hand.

  “What? No hug? No kiss?” Tirrell smirked.

  “I’m never gonna forget what you did for me,” Kevin continued.

  “Don’t worry,” Tirrell said soberly. “I’m not ever gonna let you.”

  “We’re family, right?” Kevin allowed. “Brothers.”

  “Brothers,” Tirrell repeated.

  Kevin’s acknowledgement was bittersweet and more rewarding than anything Tirrell could have ever asked for. In that moment he didn’t feel like an outsider looking in. For the first time in his life he had the family he’d always wanted. The family he’d almost given his life to deserve.

  Epilogue

  It had been some months since Alexandra Solomon had completed the evaluations and counseling sessions mandated by the witness protection program, and another spring had settled in. Her new identity notwithstanding, she longed for the life she’d abandoned: her important clients, the expensive clothes, the extravagant parties. Try as she might she couldn’t reconcile the fact that it was a life she could never go back to. She turned and studied her reflection in the mirror mounted on the bedroom wall. Her appearance was much changed. Her hair had grown out and was no longer the pixie coif she’d been identified with. The figure that commanded the attention of men whenever she entered a room had been stretched beyond the point of recognition. She thought about Tirrell. Sitting down on the side of the bed she picked up the phone for what seemed the hundredth time in as many days and dialed his number. She hung up before completing the call. “What the hell am I doing?” She knew the rules and yet felt compelled to reach out to him. She held her breath, picked up the phone, and dialed again.

  “Hello.”

  Hearing his voice caused her heart to skip. She swallowed back the dryness of her tongue and exhaled slowly through her nose.

  “Hello.”

  Her mouth opened to form the words and she slammed down the receiver. She stood, moved to the window, and stared out over the quiet California community where she and her mother had been stashed. Rubbing her hands over her protruding baby bump she resolved that he would never know. She was prepared to take that secret to her grave.

  The End

  Sneak Peek . . .

  Avenging Alex

  At the sound of a crackling rumble of thunder, Alex threw back the comforter and sprang out of bed. She cautiously pulled the curtain back to see that the wind was blowing a tree branch against the house. A streak of lightening flashed across the sky and illuminated what she thought to be a man watching her from the other side of the street. Was it the same man she’d seen the day before?

  A muffled scream clung to the back of her throat as she jerked away from the window and darted to the nightstand next to her bed to retrieve her .380 semiautomatic. It was against the program’s policy for her to have a gun in her possession, but she was not about to leave her life completely to chance or in anyone’s hands but her own. Whatever she’d seen was gone when she moved back to the window to get another look. The telephone rang and startled her. She hesitated to answer, but decided she was being silly and needed to before the noise woke her mother.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, it’s me. I just got your message. Is everything all right?”

  Alex peered back toward the window. “Yes . . . uh . . . I mean, no. I think I just saw someone outside.”

  “You think?”

  “I can’t be sure, but it looked like someone was watching the house.”

  “The same man you told me about?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”r />
  “Are all the doors and windows locked?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is the alarm set?”

  “Yes, it’s armed.”

  “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t open the door to anyone but me. Understand?”

  “John, you don’t have to—”

  “Yes, I do. I’m on my way.”

  Alex hung up the telephone and held the gun close to her breast. Damsel in distress was not a role she fit comfortably into, but she had to admit she was glad to have a man like John Chase to watch out for her.

  Without turning on the light she picked up her terrycloth bathrobe from the foot of the bed, slid into it, and crept slowly across the carpeted floor. She opened the bedroom door and looked up the dark hallway, first one way and then the other, just to satisfy herself that no danger was lurking. She tiptoed from her room to a room directly across the hall. The glow of the nightlight illuminated the pastel clouds and chubby-cheeked angels plastered on the walls surrounding her baby’s crib, as if somehow the notion of the inanimate wallpaper was protection enough.

  Alex inched closer. She breathed a sigh of relief as she watched her baby sleeping. She leaned in and readjusted the soft white blanket covering her and caressed the girl’s face.

  “Alexandra.”

  Alex jumped nervously and spun around, aiming the gun in her hand at her mother, Jamilah.

  The woman shrieked. “Oh, for the love of God.”

  “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  The woman caught her breath. “You know I can’t stand those things. Please, put it away.”

  Alex relaxed and lowered the gun. “I’m sorry. It was raining so hard. I thought I heard something. I just wanted to check on the baby.”

  “With a gun?”

  “I needed to be sure.”

  “Did you call John?”

  “He called me. He’s on his way over.”

  Jamilah sidled up beside the crib and peered inside. “This precious angel can sleep through just about anything. She reminds me so much of you when you were a baby.”

  “I’m not a baby anymore, and I’m definitely not sleeping so well at all these days.”

  Alex kissed her daughter’s forehead and turned to leave the room—her mother followed. The girl made a cooing noise and wriggled a bit but didn’t wake. Alex put the gun back in its hiding place and proceeded into the kitchen. She pulled a bottle of Grey Goose vodka from the freezer, and filled a glass with ice.