Gabriel: Only one gets out alive.

by mike Evans

  “Well, I’m glad Charles is so nice! I will have to talk to him after I check on Dominique!” I then walk past my daughter and Charles and go inside the house to check on Dominique. Something about Charles gives me pause as I open the door. I turn around and see him, a man in his mid-sixties, grey hair, and wrinkles that suggest a lifetime of stories. I notice him sizing me up as well. I don’t have grey hair or wrinkles, so I assume he thinks I’m a hippy or a liberal.

  “Your name is Charles, right?” I ask without trying to sound defensive.

  “’S’right. You the magical Daddy I keep hearin' ’bout?” Charles asks. His southern accent is somewhat disarming, which makes me nervous. But everything makes me nervous--that’s why I keep a bottle of Klonopin in my pocket. "Take one milligram four times daily as needed for panic," the bottle sums up my state of mind well.

  “I guess that’s me. What brings you here, Charles?”

  “Oh, I jes’ moved to tha area ‘n saw yer kids playin’ outside, figured I’d come ‘n keep ‘em some company!” Charles drawls in an enthusiastic way.

  “…Well, that’s cool, Charles. It’s nice to meet you. Thanks for keeping an eye on the kids! I think it’s time they come inside for a snack though! Brodie!! Nivek!! Snack time!!!” I yell. It isn’t that Charles says anything wrong. I just have a dirty feeling oozing around my skin as he talks. He seems pleasant; I know I am just being paranoid. I’ll take some time to talk to him later when I am in a healthier headspace.

  After setting the children down to a snack, I walk into the bedroom. The bed is covered in a plush comforter and the only sign of my Dominique is her purple hair sticking out the top.

  “Hey babe, how are you feeling?” I ask quietly trying not to startle her.

  “I’m fine, I think I just have a stomach bug” she responds with a sleepy voice.

  “That’s good,” I say half listening, “Hey, what’s going on with the new guy, Charles? He seems nice but he sort of freaks me out a bit…”

  “Aww, Charles is a sweet old man!” Dominique pulls herself up from her bed to give me a you’re being paranoid again look. “His daughter passed away a few years ago and he just moved here after having heart surgery. Apparently, his wife kicked him out and he’s just trying to get a fresh start. He even baked us cookies!"

  “Oh my god! Those aren’t the cookies I fed the children, are they?!” I get up to run out of the room.

  “Charles brought them to me himself, he was so sweet! I tried one and I’m fine.” Dominique half stated and half murmured as she laid back down to bed.

  Chapter 2

  So that’s my life: A new week, a new class. I’m starting to get used to the routine. I wake up, shower, freak out, take a pill, keep freaking out, take a consolation pill, freak out while I teach, and freak out all the way home. Each day is falling into a comforting routine, except Charles still bothers me. Every time I get home, he is playing a game with the kids. Nothing to justify my concern, just baseball or catch or badminton; I just can’t help the feeling that something is wrong. Dominique thinks he’s sweet enough. His past tragedy really tugged her heartstrings; who am I to argue with the love of my life? She even invited him over for dinner one night. His thick southern drawl almost had me face-plant into the mashed potatoes.

  --

  So it’s a new day, same routine. I get to my workplace and am startled to see my neighbor, Charles, waiting out front of the building.

  “Charles? What brings you here?” I ask with sincere confusion.

  “Oh wow! I had no idea you were workin’ here. This is mighty embarrassin’! See, uhhh…back when I was havin’ all them problems at my old place I started smokin’ the pot, calmed th’ nerves, y’know?” Charles drawls on for a bit and I fall asleep in my brain.

  “Anyway, here’s th’ Court Order, just says I gotta take this here class and then I’m a free man!”

  I review the Court order and it looks like Charles is telling the truth. Driving under the influence with a joint in his hand, a plea of no contest, and a kindly judge who is worried about jailing a man with a heart condition.

  “Well, I guess welcome to the class, Charles.” I reach out my hand to shake his and instantly regretted it. I’m sure his hand is clean but now mine feels like I dipped it in bacon grease. “I just have to warn you, while you are in my class you are not my neighbor, you are my student. For the next 12 weeks, we are really going to have to keep some boundaries. We can be friends again after that, alright?”

  “Sure thing, boss!” Was Charles’ reply. With that, I open the door and start a new class. I expect it to go the same as normal, but Charles is quick to respond to questions and his southern charm appears to win over the class. At the end of the class, I am surprised to see more than a few smiles and head nods on the way out. Somehow, I’m suddenly a good teacher.

  Chapter 3

  Life continues as normal, a couple nerve-wracking classes a week and Charles stays away from my children and my home as discussed. He still creeps me out, every time I look out the window to check on my kids I can see him sitting on his porch, his liver-spotted face watching them play.

  “Oh leave it alone, Shaun! He’s a sweet old man. His daughter’s passing really took a toll on the old guy. Every time we’ve spoken, he tells me about it. He even said Brodie reminds him of her so much he’s almost moved to tears when he looks at her.” Dominique is getting used to my offhand comments about Charles, but she has a big heart and a love for everyone she meets. That's probably why she loves me so much.

  “I feel bad for him, and I think he’s harmless” was almost a mantra at this point. Hearing that perspective does help calm me from being over-vigilant and sitting in the front lawn with my children and the shotgun I don’t own. Maybe he is sincere. Maybe the kids’ jovial play helps him feel his daughter is still alive somehow. Who knows, but it isn't quite as easy for me to empathize at this point.

  On the evening of Charles’ twelfth and last class, I show up almost excited. Mostly I am glad I won't have to deal with Charles anymore, and am hopeful he will leave me and my family alone out of habit. I do have some reservation, however, as the class may return to its original state of apathy and ignoring everything I say.

  I sit at the front door and greet each of the convicted drug users, take their money. At 6:00 p.m. I check the roster and notice there is no Charles on my list.

  “Where the hell is Charles?” I ask rhetorically.

  “No clue, but this is gonna be a lame-ass class without him!” Someone responds, which elicits a large amount of giggles.

  I ignore the banter and start the class. The class is surprisingly pleasant without Charles to encourage them. Apparently, a rapport can be built over time. The class laughs at my jokes on occasion and even provide semi-insightful answers. I am so pleased with the result I completely forget Charles’ absence.

  Chapter 4

  After class, I drive home in a cheery mood, humming along to my favorite Rozz Williams song. When I pull into my driveway, I notice my son, Nivek, is playing basketball by himself.

  “Hey Nivek! Brodie inside?” I ask with a smile on my face.

  “No…Brodie went to Uncle Charles’ house. Hesaidhemadeheraspecialcake! He wouldn’t share with me though!” Nivek huffs a bit and asks if I will play basketball. I am not paying attention, however. The second I heard the words Uncle Charles my heart stops.

  A sudden ringing dominates every sound in the world as I turn toward Charles’ house. The lights in his house are dim. Every step I take toward Charles’ house amplifies the beat of my heart. The ringing in my ears wars with my heartbeat until my heartbeat is a deafening roar. I knock on the door until my knuckles are sore.

  Charles answers the door, looking every bit the kindly old man he portends to be. “Hey, Mr. Shaun! How’re ya doin? Sorry I missed class I was so busy a’bakin’ this cake for yer daughter! She only just got here, mind if I send her home in a bit?”

  “BRODIE! GET OUT HERE NO
W!” I yell past Charles’ onslaught of words. Brodie, for her part, appears rather calm and walks around Charles with an innocent look on her face.

  “But Daddy, I didn’t get any cake yet!” She quietly complains.

  I grab my daughter by her arm and give Charles a withering look. “Stay the hell away from my family, you hear me, Charles?”

  Charles raises his hands and backs away. “Didn’t mean no offense, Mr. Shaun, I was jus’ tryin’ ta be nice, she’s such a sweetheart!”

  “Stay the hell away.” I repeat as I turn my back and walk home with my daughter.

  The next fifteen to twenty minutes are consumed with lectures from Dominique and me toward my children. We had both explained our concerns about Charles and strangers in general. The children have their best we care about what you are saying faces on, but then I notice Brodie’s face starting to droop.

  “Brodie? What’s wrong, baby?” I ask, suddenly concerned at the lack of expression of her face.

  Brodie doesn’t respond; she just slumps back into the couch and the drool I hadn’t noticed before drips off her cheek.

  “Oh my god!” Dominique exclaims.

  I immediately move toward my daughter and try everything from pleading, loud words, and even a slap to the face. Brodie is completely unresponsive. I feel for a heartbeat and it’s there but it seems too slow. I immediately call 911 to let them know we are driving to the hospital, then I grab my beautiful daughter and run.

  Chapter 5

  The workers at the Emergency room are able to stabilize Brodie. The doctor on staff enters and opens his clipboard casually.

  “So her bloodwork shows she may have ingested too much cough medicine. We see this sometimes, children drinking it by mistake or parents overmedicating. Did she have a cold?” The Doctor asks, looking inquisitively over his clipboard.

  “No, she…” Dominique starts to shakily respond.

  “Leave it,” I whisper in her ear. “Yes, sir. She has had a cold. She must have found the chewable tablets on the table or maybe Dominique and I double dosed her by mistake.”

  Dominique gives me a concerned look, but apparently trusts my judgment. The doctor continues to talk, but I can’t hear anything. All I can hear is the swirling rage in my head. Charles did this. Over and over again. I stand up abruptly and stalk out of the room while the Doctor is still talking. I can hear people calling for me but I don’t take notice. My mind is no longer able to rationalize outside voices.

  Charles did this.

  I numbly get into my car and drive to my work. I unlock the door with shaking hands, not from fear, but from anger-inspired adrenalin. Charles did this. I open the drawer to my desk, pull out the three-month-old Molly, and crush it into a powder. Charles did this. I drive numbly back to my house, park, and enter my home.

  Dominique has a stash of marijuana from before we dated, I found it while I was cleaning one day and I pretended not to notice. Now I’m glad I found it. I open the bag and cover the acrid green substance with the crushed Molly.

  I don’t remember walking to Charles’ house but now I am knocking on his door. Charles answers and looks surprised. “Shaun? What’s wrong?” He asks, a little too casually.

  “Nothing, Charles, nothing at all. I just wanted to apologize for how I acted earlier. You would not believe how excited Brodie was, and how easily she went down tonight! She is usually up for hours. I have been giving it some thought and realize you’ve just been a huge help to me and the family, so I wanted to congratulate you on passing the class! I already sent the certificate of completion to your probation officer!” I say, feeling every ounce of enthusiasm but for all the wrong reasons.

  Charles initially looks confused, but then looks excited. He invites me in and I enter his house. I say generous things, praising his décor and his help with my class. When I pull out the marijuana, Charles looks startled and defensive.

  “Sorry, I looked through the house, I don’t drink beer, and this was all we had! A counselor can’t have a little fun sometimes?” I ask.

  Charles appears pleased by my statement and pulls out a pipe from his side table. He packs his bowl and takes a few hits, coughs, compliments my offering, and passes the bowl. I reciprocate by taking as small a hit as possible. I cough until I feel like my soul will fall out of my face. Charles laughs appreciatively and gladly takes back the bowl. I can already feel my heart rate speeding up from the Molly.

  Charles takes another few hits. When he hands back the bowl I can tell he is shaking.

  “Some mighty strong stuff you…you…got here…Not sure I been this high in…” Charles compliments as he grabs his chest and looks confused.

  I am ready for this. I wait for him to fall to the ground and then I pull out my CPR kit. I put the mouth protector (so you don’t have to touch mouths when resuscitating someone) and make sure to take a puff off the bowl before I provide Charles with each breath of life--or in this case, death.

  With each Molly-tainted breath of life, I sit back up to watch Charles' liver-spotted face. He is in a panic and trying to move. But I am sitting on him, holding his arms. Every time he gasps for air, I give him another mouthful of the laced marijuana. I am thankful for the CPR training I received prior to my internship as I watch his eyes transition from fear, panic, and then utter lifelessness.

  “Don’t ever touch my fucking daughter again,” I say, as I walk out of the dead man’s house.

  The End

  By Shaun Phelps

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