BOMAW 7-9

by Mercedes Keyes

  "My dad leave?" She asked again.

  "Yeah... he's upset. He left on his motorcycle - we're just a bit worried because it's so late."

  "What is he upset about?" Angela asked.

  Mundo had his foot propped up on a higher step and crossed his hands on his knee and leaned forehand, chin on his hands. "I upset him, Angie. I told him I was sorry, but - something else upset him, too, and he - took off."

  "I bet he was thinking about his friend Jesse again. My dad thinks about him, he starts crying."

  Mundo and Sylvia looked at her. Mundo knew about his friend Jesse from stories Shawn had told him, and that he'd died years ago, but never said how he'd died. Only that they used to party together all the time. Were like brothers, and how funny Jesse was.

  Mundo looked at his mother, who was staring off down the road.

  "Angela, how much do you know about your dad's friend... Jesse." Sylvia asked, off hand, just curious.

  "I know they used to live together before, when my dad first came to California. My dad said Jesse took care of him, protected him, looked out for him. One time, my dad got really, really drunk - and he was crying a lot. My mom was trying to calm him down, but she couldn't. He kept saying, that he'd killed him. That he'd killed Jesse and - that - he'd killed a little girl."

  Sylvia knew the other details. After all, he'd told her. However, she hadn't a clue of how disturbed her husband was over it.

  Mundo looked from Angela, shocked, up at his mother.

  "Is it true? You know about that, mama?" Mundo asked.

  Sylvia nodded, and said nothing more.

  "Did he, Sylvia? Did he really kill his friend Jesse, and a little girl?" Angela asked. Her dad had been drunk and mumbling in broken sentences, so it had always been in broken bits and pieces.

  "No... he didn't. He blames himself, because something he did, made things happen. Someone else killed Jesse, and the little girl, but your dad blames himself."

  Mundo sat thinking over what Shawn said in the basement.

  They sat with her holding them both for almost a half an hour, their voices murmuring softly in the growing twilight. Waiting for the phone to ring, or him to come rumbling back home. Sylvia working to keep her imagination from going berserk with horrific images of "what if". Angela was talking the most, telling them about things they used to do in California. Another lull surrounded them when Sylvia asked Mundo, "What time is it?"

  "It's ten thirty."

  "You guys should hit the sack." She suggested.

  "No... I wanna wait for my dad to get home." Angela spoke up urgently.

  "Me too, I can't go to bed!"

  "Let's go in the house, then. We'll watch a movie together, 'till he comes home."

  They quietly endured watching Spiderman on DVD - each one waiting. Sylvia was up and down, walking the house, wondering should she call someone. Her guts were tied into a knot, worried about him. She left their children watching TV and went into the basement, into his study and looked around the room, on his desk and drafting table. What she was searching for, she couldn't say. "All right, Shawn... come on home now. Enough of this, pull up - park the bike, and come on in... please." She muttered softly, her hand on her stomach, the butterflies were fluttering like mad. It was 12:40am... "Lord up above, I don't know where he is... I'm begging you, bring my husband home - please - just - bring him home." She prayed, standing in his office. She had been standing there for ten minutes, when the phone rang, scaring the life out of her, she jumped. Swallowing, she ran to the phone.

  "Hello?"

  "Hey... it's me - Jake. I got your husband, I'm on my way now."

  "Thank you! Where is he? Is he alright?"

  "Yeah... he's okay. I had some help putting his bike in the back of my truck, just wanted you to know - he was okay, drunk as hell - but in one piece, just in case you were worried."

  "Thank you, so much! Okay, you bringing him now?"

  "Yep... on my way."

  "Okay, see you when you get here."

  When they got there, Mundo helped Jake take Shawn's bike off the back of his truck. Shawn, on the verge of total unconsciousness, turned, after throwing the door open, his objective, to step out of the truck, "Shawn! Wait man, I don't feel like picking you up off the ground!" Jake yelled at him, just as he and Mundo sat the bike with the kickstand. Not listening, Shawn stepped out of the truck.

  "Shawn!" Sylvia screamed, sure enough, he pitched forward right into the lawn and rolled to his back. She ran to him.

  "Dammit, Shawn! Heavy son-of-a-bitch! FUCK! I should leave your ass down there!" Jake fussed. He had been on the front porch with Vivian, when his cell phone rang. Shawn had called him from a bar, "Come get me," he slurred, telling him where the bar was. Unable to imagine what would have Shawn out at night, instead of at home with his wife, sent Jake right to him, after kissing Vivian goodnight.

  Sylvia looked up at him, "No, Jake, don't." She pleaded.

  "You don't know how heavy he is! I had to haul him up into that truck. He'll be all right, just bring him a pillow and a blanket."

  "Come on, Jake, man, I'll help you." Mundo pleaded.

  "Mundo - Sylvia - we're talking deadweight. Shawn weighs a goddamn ton, shit!"

  "Here, I'll get his feet, if you two get his upper body." Sylvia went to do it as she instructed.

  "You aren't grabbing shit, you're pregnant - so back up!" Jake ordered. Angela was standing there, "Can I grab his feet?" She asked.

  "No - he's too heavy for you, too." Jake stood shaking his head, looking down at him, "Jesus Christ! Mundo, let's sit him up, and then I'll get behind him, wrap my arms around underneath his arms, and you help me lift him; once we get him up, you have to hold him long enough for me to get into place in front, then I can take it from there. Whatever you do, do not let him go back down - if he goes down again, he's sleeping out here."

  "No, Jake!" Sylvia cried out.

  "Sylvia, nothing out here is gonna hurt him!"

  "Jake! I am not having my husband sleepin' outside!"

  "Jesus Christ! JESUS CHRIST!!! At least I brought him home!" Jake tried to reason with her.

  Sylvia's look was pugnacious and insistent, "Fine I'll do it, I'll get him in."

  "Lady, sorry, there is no way in hell you can get him inside out cold as he is, move aside - I'm doing it. All right? Happy?"

  Sylvia smiled and nodded, her arms around Angela.

  "Mundo, do not let him go when we get him up!"

  "I got 'em!" They both moved into place, Jake crouched down behind him, wrapped his arms around under his arms and gripped his hands firmly to get ready to lift him, as Mundo did the same up front. "NOW!"

  "Oooh, shit!" Mundo blew, feeling as if he eyes were going to pop from his head, as he worked with Jake to pull Shawn up. Both of them struggled because of the awkward positions. Mundo was struggling, he couldn't believe how heavy he was. "Mama, what the heck - you - feedin' him?!" He grunted.

  "Mundo, hold onto him!" Sylvia cried out, not far from tears, seeing her husband so out of it.

  It took some doing, but they finally got him up, with Mundo straining to hold him up. Wasting no time, Jake moved before him, bent over, so Mundo could ease him over his shoulder. Breathing deep, Jake hefted him up. "FUCK! Open the door!" He strained to order, heading for the front door. Sylvia ran to make sure it was clear, as Jake staggered under his weight, realizing he had to go up four steps with him. Mundo was right there, in case he dropped him. "This bastard's - gonna - put - my fuckin' - back out!" Jake grunted. Taking the steps, and blowing, moving up each one, his body shaking, his thighs and legs straining with his burden. As soon as he got into the front door, he made a beeline for their bedroom, afraid he would drop him. Red, sweating and grunting, Jake made it to the bed and rolled him down on it.

  Straightening, he put his hand to his back, stretching backward, raising his arms to take the ache from his back.

  "Thank you, Jake - for bringing him home."

  "You
two been fighting?" He asked, taking a deep breath.

  "No... he was upset about something from his past, and took off."

  "Well, at least he's home. I'm hittin' the sack!" Jake turned from their room and went to his. Angela kissed Sylvia goodnight and then her father, who was in the land of oblivion. Mundo followed suit. Sylvia took her husband's shoes and socks off; his shirt, and unfastened his pants working them off of him, which took some doing. She struggled to roll him to her side of the bed, pulled down the covers to the end of the bed and rolled him back, pulling the sheet up over his waist. He was out cold.

  "Thank you, Lord... thank you. Baby, you gone have some kind of hangover in the morning." Sylvia leaned over, kissed his brow, and sighed in relief.

  Chapter 166

  A loud enough thump made Shawn wince. His senses were slow, taking their time to engage, when they all finally - slowly came to life, it tasted like someone made him sleep with a mouth full of cotton. He was so dry, to swallow, almost made his throat stick. Slowly he lifted a hand, at the end of a very heavy arm and placed it over his eyes, and then carefully up to his forehead. He needed to hold it still, needed to apply pressure, maybe by doing so, he could risk it, turning his head to see what time it was. The gesture did little good, the pounding going on in his head was merciless. With one eye closed and the other eye cracked open to a thin slit, he struggled to get the barely exposed pupil to focus on the digital clock beside the bed, trying to see the red digits that were for the moment, a hazy blur. He groaned again, and then heard Sylvia.

  "Be careful, you guys - I don't want you waking Shawn." By the sounds of things, there was a lot of moving around taking place.

  He closed the squinted eye, then cracked it again, doing so after the fourth time, the electronic digits cleared enough for him to see that it was 12:30pm. "I gotta get up." He mumbled to himself. Question was, would his head let him? It was such a long way to the bathroom, such a long way to water. He felt as if he were trapped in the middle of a desert, no water in sight.

  As that thought registered, he heard the door slowly creak open. A second later, "Aaah, honey... you thirsty?" The voice was the one he recognised as his wife's. His wonderful wife. Sylvia knew he would be waking up around now. After Mundo dropped that box, she had a feeling it might have startled Shawn awake. "I bet you're in some kinda pain, Mr. McPherson." She murmured low, she left and came back a moment later with a tall plastic tumbler full of cold water from the tap; closed the door gently behind her and went into their bathroom, there she opened the aspirins and took out two. Back around the bed, she sat carefully at her husband's side. He hadn't moved, his hand was still covering his forehead. "You're gonna have to sit up." She informed him softly.

  He could only groan.

  "Got a tumbler full of water for you."

  "Emmm, wait - Jesus -..." He moaned. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to push back against the headboard, with his head wedged up, not yet sitting. "Ohhh, shit... what the hell did I drink?"

  Sylvia could only smile and wait beside him, sympathetic but helpless to do anything more for him than have the water and aspirin ready. "Once you get this water down you, take these aspirins, it will help."

  He lay there for a moment more, unable to move himself. Patiently, she waited beside him. "Baby, you're gonna have to sit up."

  "Get that fuckin' gun down and shoot my ass." He ordered, his voice low and raspy. "Please... right in the head."

  "Sorry... no can do - I happen to like that head... love it, in fact. Water and aspirin will have to do. Come on, you can do it. Sit up."

  Digging his heels into the mattress, Shawn suffered the agony of elevating his body, and his head, up into a sitting position. It pounded good and strong to punish him for it. With his eyes closed, he couldn't imagine how anyone could become an alcoholic.

  "Open your mouth." His wife instructed.

  He followed her instructions, she put the aspirins on his tongue.

  "Here, your water." She picked up his hand, and guided it to the tumbler. Shawn closed his hand around it and brought it to his mouth and drank all 16ozs of the water within, gasping from the relief, out of breath, he pleaded, "One more, please." Sylvia stood, took it into the bathroom and filled it again, walking back she passed it to him. He downed it as well, upon completion, he let out a long, deep belch.

  "Pig." She laughed.

  He groaned. "Can I lay back down just a little longer?"

  "You, my husband, may do anything you like."

  "Will you lay with me?"

  "Baby, I can't... there's a lot to get done, and Sheila and Dennis will be here soon. Plus, my mom and dad called a minute ago to say they'll be leaving, getting on the road. We're also clearing out the other house. Your mom and Vivian will be here in a few minutes, as well. Kathy Ann called, saying she would be coming for the furniture you gave her. But you can stay in bed, you don't have to get up."

  "No..." He groaned, "I better get up." He leaned his head back, his eyes were still closed. His hand crawled blindly to her lap, feeling for her hand; he found her arm and then squeezed it and moved further down along her thin wrist, to her hand, which he grabbed, gripped and held. Sylvia squeezed back.

  "Sorry 'bout last night." He muttered low.

  "It's okay."

  "Not mad at me?"

  "Of course not. I just wish - you wouldn't take off like that - on the bike, at night. So dangerous."

  He squeezed her hand some more, feeling all of her skinny long fingers, the nails at the end of them. "That was stupid of me, I know." He swallowed. "Stay with me, Sylvia, forever and ever, and ever... don't ever leave me. Please... don't ever leave me."

  "What brought that on, Shawn? I'm not going anywhere."

  He didn't answer, just slid down in the bed, hooked his arm around her and without warning, turned, pulling her carefully over him to land in the bed beside him. "SHA-A-AWN!" Sylvia cried out. He wrapped his leg over and around hers, his arm around her waist and pulled her against him and held onto her. "Sha-a-awn." She whined softly. "I have to get up."

  "No...just lay here with me, just a minute... just a while."

  "Sha-a-awn." Sylvia whimpered, unable to get him off of her, or his leg and arms from holding her to him. He shifted to his side and turned her to spoon with him, locking her in so she couldn't get free. Sylvia whimpered some more. "Shawn, we've got company coming."

  "Kids'll let 'em in. Jake can talk to 'em."

  "Baby, just lay here and rest a while longer. I'll let them know you have a bad headache, and they'll-..." She stopped, because her husband's face was at the back of her neck, shaking, suddenly she realized, he was sobbing. "Oh, my god! Shawn! Let me turn around." He only shook his head, holding her there. Breathing deep, he was trying to bring himself under control, wasn't working. "Please, Shawn, let me turn... I just wanna hold you, baby... don't you want me to?"

  He shook his head, "I wanna - ho - hold you." He swallowed, and kept her there.

  Laying her arm on his, Sylvia burrowed deeper against him, rubbing his arm, and stayed put. She had so much to do, everyone was in and out of the house, and she prayed they stayed busy enough to leave them alone, for just a while. She needn't have worried. Sensing they needed to be left alone, they were. Mundo had told Crystal a bit about what happened, which she punched him in the arm for. Jake knew that if Shawn got that ripped, something heavy was going on, so he did what had to be done, telling Shanna a bit. Everyone carried on around them, staying away from their door.

  Forty minutes after going in, Sylvia finally came out. He'd fallen back to sleep. She went into the other bathroom and washed her face, and fought back tears, worried about her husband's sanity. His soul was tortured, how much so she hadn't realized until last night, until that moment, at her back where he cried. Standing there, she wondered how was it possible to love a man, the way she was steadily growing to love him? Once you recognized that you loved someone, wasn't that it? Obviously not. How could it be possible
to love a man more than she already did? Last week, she knew she didn't love him as deeply as she did this week. How could something you couldn't see, touch or hold, possibly grow? Yet, she knew - this thing called love, was truly and indeed miraculous. Because that, in her, for Shawn, was doing just that, growing like mad - like a weed in the back garden taking over everything carefully planted there - dandelion weed, taking root on her perfectly green turf, now, in the blink of an eye, it was out of control. The more imperfect, vulnerable and flawed he became through time and knowledge of him, caused what she felt to deepen and burrow, like something living that wound tighter and tighter within. All the things that were starting to surface, good and bad, made her see him more clearly. It gripped her and held, squeezing so that it brought tears to her eyes just dwelling on it. She couldn't think about it, Sheila and Dennis showed up with their sons. She told them right away, they had to stay outside, no running in and out; Shawn was sleeping, suffering with a bad headache. Jake and Dennis hooked up, and spent a great deal of time at the other house, taking things from it to Shanna's. Getting stuff ready for Kathy Ann to take when she arrived, because soon, that house, would be torn to the ground.

  Sheila, Crystal, and Sylvia prepped for the barbecue. Peeling potatoes, shredding cabbage and carrots for coleslaw they'd be adding pineapples to. Cleaning greens and chitterlings. Making up kabobs, burger patties, crab dip, spinach dip, guacamole and many other sides. Because they were in the basement, they talked low and busied themselves at that; soon Gert and Vivian showed up. Vivian had baked a pineapple upside-down cake and brought it over. Gert contributed her famous spaghetti casserole and bean salad. It wasn't long before Sylvia was worried about refrigerator storage space. With four refrigerators at her disposal, there was still room for concern. She had the one from her upstairs kitchen, and the one that had been in her basement. The one across the road, and Shanna's. Food was soon distributed out to be stored in each one, as one filled up, Angela volunteered to take whatever to the next, at the house across the road, and eventually in Shanna's refrigerator. Shanna showed up with bushel after bushel of sweet corn on the cob, they had to be shucked.