You can write the author at: brownluver@yahoo.com or
Chris Carr at: andy_dick35@hotmail.com
Thanks!
Getting To The Good
By "J"
October, 2000 ©
Chapter XXXVIII
Cyrus tried to convince me that what happened wasn't my fault--that nothing I DID could cause Dad's heart attack--but I had already convinced myself otherwise. If I hadn't let my little head control my big head the other night with Akil, Dad's blood pressure would still be normal and he wouldn't be lying in some hospital bed recuperating from an attack.
Omar was stunned by the news. Marv said nothing, which wasn't surprising given that he believed in the adage "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." I moped around, cursing myself, cursing my irresponsibility, cursing my feelings.
Then, I decided I had to do something.
"Take me to the hospital," I said.
Marv, Cyrus and Omar looked at me like I had just asked them to castrate me.
"No way!" Marv said.
Hey, why don't you call Akil? Maybe we can swing by his house--"
"Fuck that!" I jumped off the couch, shaking. "I want to see Dad and I want to see him now. If nobody here will take me, then fine. I'll find my own way there."
"OK, OK. Calm down, Tracy," Cyrus said. "If you need to go that bad, I'll take you."
"Cyrus, this is not--" Marv began.
"It's cool, Marv. He has every right to see his own father."
The ride to the hospital was a silent one, except for the radio. All four of us ended up going, but Marv was not too pleased to be part of the trip. When we arrived, we asked at the front desk for Dad's room number and were told that he'd been admitted to the intensive care unit earlier this afternoon.
Evidently, his pressure was staying so consistently high, they feared he'd
have another attack. The prognosis was
sounding worse; hearing this made me weak. I
realized suddenly that my Dad could DIE.
Only Omar and I were allowed into ICU. Dad's room was off the nurse's station. To my surprise, Duane was in the room along with Mom. The look Duane gave us could have melted steel. He stood up, chin held forward at a menacing angle. He looked like a pit bull guarding Dad's bed.
"Duane, please," Mom whispered. "We've suffered enough already without you starting more mess."
Omar remained in the doorway, but I walked into the room, beyond Duane and Mom, stopping at Dad's bedside.
His dusky skin was ashen and it seemed that tubes were running from every orifice of his body to a machine. I didn't realize I was crying until I felt Mom's hands on my shoulders.
She pulled me into her arms and I cried fat, wet tears all over her shoulder. I felt like I was 5 years old again. By the time I was all cried out, Omar and Duane were wiping away their own tears. We were all a mess, so Mom suggested we go down to the cafeteria and grab a bite to eat.
When Mom saw Cyrus and Marv in the waiting area outside ICU, the mood changed. The familial unit was broken again. She decided against going to the cafeteria and was cold and clinical with Marv, her own nephew, as he gave her a hug and kiss. She went back to Dad's room while the five of us went downstairs to the cafeteria.
We were all quiet as we ate. I
didn't know what to say, and evidently, neither did anyone else. Before we all finished, Duane asked if he could
have some time alone with Omar and I. Cyrus
and Marv obliged.
"I know that whatever's got Dad's pressure up has got something to do with you two. And," Duane said, looking squarely at me, "I'm sure I know what it is."
Omar shook his head. "You don't know shit, boy. Never have, never will."
"Oh, he knows," I said.
Omar gave me a look begging for an explanation.
"We're all in the same boat," I said.
Omar turned, almost in slow-motion, to look at Duane. I could tell that this news was hard for him to grasp.
"Don't even," Duane said. "I am not on that gay shit like y'all are."
"Craig McLemore could say differently," I said.
"Craig?" Omar asked.
"Don't you tell him shit!" Duane threatened. "I know how to keep my shit on the DL. If y'all would've done the same thing, our Daddy wouldn't be laying up there hooked up to all those fucking machines."
Duane slammed his chair into the table and stalked out of the cafeteria, making as much noise as possible.
Chapter XXXIX
Within days, everyone in my immediate family was crowding into the ICU to be near Dad. My oldest brother, RJ, his wife Cynda, and my niece and nephews Rick III, Ricardo and Chelsea came from D.C., and my older brother Eric came from Atlanta. It didn't even occur to me that it was only days until Thanksgiving, that their presence their was not accidental. So much had happened in such a short time, it was hard to consider anything except what was happening day to day.
Dad's condition was improving, but at a snail's pace. After his pressure stabilized, he was moved back to a regular room. He was able to speak now, but the only thing that came out his mouth were cries of pain.
Unexpected visitors began to drop by the hospital. As I was standing outside the room one day, Akil came ambling down the hall. I went to him and we hugged briefly, very aware of where we were. Of course, I wanted to embrace and touch and do all the things that love made a brother want to do to another, but we had to be cool.
"I didn't know," he said. "I just found out what's been going on."
"It's cool," I said.
"Let's go down to the cafeteria."
I was cautious about anyone seeing him--especially Mom. Emotions were running high. My brothers were shooting Omar and I the evil eye every chance they got, and the situation was made more tense by the fact that neither Mom, Omar, nor I were saying anything about what happened that fateful night.
I did tell Akil what happened, if only because he was involved in the situation. He apologized, but I assured him that it wasn't his fault. I told him I was staying with Cyrus for the time being. He offered to stop by later if I needed him, and I told him that would be great.
We held each other and Akil gave me the sweetest, gentlest kiss on the elevator. I hated that it was only there, inside that tiny cubicle of space in the elevator, that we could express our feelings for each other. I did take comfort in the fact that I would see him later and we could be real with each other then.
There was a surprise entering the hospital just as Akil was leaving: Craig McLemore and his mother. I froze. Couldn't move. Akil saw what had happened and asked me if I was OK. I nodded, taking a few moment to regain myself. Mrs. McLemore came to me, wrapped me in her arms and placed a wet kiss upon my cheek. "Oh, Tracy, baby. How are you?" she asked.
I managed a weak, fake smile. "I'm holding up," I said.
"That's good. Where have they got him?" she asked.
"They just moved him from ICU last night. He's onthe fifth floor--512. Take the elevator and it'll take you near there."
Craig stepped forward and to my horror, gave me a hug also. I was stiff as a board in his arms. I instantly noticed his slight hardness pressing against my thigh.
"Hey, kid. Sorry to hear about your pops."
I stepped away from without a word.
Mrs. McLemore excused herself to get on the elevator. Craig told her he'd catch up later.
Uncomfortable. That's how I felt standing between Craig, my first, and Akil, my best. I knew I'd have to introduce them, knew they were waiting for me to introduce them. Still, I did not.
Craig cleared his throat, stuck out his hand and said, "Yo, how you doing? I'm Craig."
They shook hands. Akil introduced himself as my "friend." Craig smirked at me. "Tracy's been making lots of new friends lately."
I could sense suspicion rising in Akil. "Really?" he asked.
"Yeah. I was his 'friend' for a while during the summer," Craig had the nerve to say. "We were the best of friends, weren't we, kid?"
"Actually, you and my brother Duane are much better friends," I replied.
Craig's smile pulled back. Akil was looking at me like a lost and confused puppy. I ushered him out of the hospital, promising to explain everything later. Right now, Craig needed to be dealt with, and I couldn't have Akil around while I did that.
Chapter 40
"You're a hot little bitch, ain't you? First Maya, then this nigga. What? You trying to be a playa?" Craig didn't even have the tact to say this in private. No, he had to show his ghetto-tude right there in the lobby of Barnes Hospital, where everybody could hear.
I chose not to respond to him. Instead, I walked down the left wing off the lobby and headed toward the snack room. Of course, he followed, muttering how I wasn't no playa, he was the original, I'm still his bitch, he can still control me, etc. My patience with Craig had been non-existent for months, and the fact that my dad was lying upstairs due to my own stupidity made me very edgy. The sight of Craig's green-gray eyes only made me that much more upset.
Once inside the snack room, I closed the door behind us and faced off with him. "Craig." Just saying his name, I found myself overcome by hatred so pure, I could taste it on my tongue. I had to collect myself before I continued. "This shit is tired. You and your silly ass threats, they're tired, OK? You don't control me, and whatever it is you think you have on me, I guarantee you, you don't have it anymore."
Craig smirked. "I thought we settled this awhile back," he said. "You remember. That day I beat your ass down on your front steps and showed you who was in control."
Oh, I remembered the day all right. But what I remembered most was that I'd come thisclose to strangling the life right out of him. I could feel adrenalin surging through my veins, the same as it did that day when my fingers were wrapped around his neck. He was pushing me again, pushing me to that thin line between sanity and that other world. I chose not to let him get to me, not now.
"I want you to leave the hospital, Craig. I'm not asking. I'm telling you."
He laughed. "You're TELLING me what to do now?" "Well, you've got a choice. You can leave and keep the peace, or if you stay, I guarantee you, I will cause hell up in this hospital."
Craig pursed his lips. "Oooooooh. I'm shaking like a little bitch," he said.
I walked closer to him, a smile inching across my own face. "What would your mother say, Craig? What would she say if she knew about us? About you and Duane?"
Craig's nostrils flared. "Shut the fuck up," he muttered.
"She wouldn't be too happy if she knew, and we both know that's the truth, Craig. Mrs. McLemore is a God-fearing woman. She knows her Bible, but she don't know her own son."
Craig shoved me then. "I said shut the fuck up," he said.
The adrenalin was really kicking now. I loved to see the tables turn on Craig's smug ass. He was losing control, and I was taking it.
"See, I'm not the one who has to worry anymore, Craig. Your mom is the only one who doesn't know."
Craig's eyes turned a hard gray. "You didn't tell your pops; you ain't crazy," Craig said.
"No, I didn't tell him, but he found out anyway. Why do you think my dad is lying in a bed upstairs? Indigestion? He had a heart attack when he found out, Craig. A heart attack," I said. "He knows. He KNOWS."
Craig's eyes fell to the floor.
"It's not good when parents learn the T, Craig. Bad things happen, trust me."
I opened the snack room door. "I would hate to go to your mom, Craig, but if you come anywhere near my Dad's room, I will tell her everything. And if you don't think she'll believe me, Duane is up there. I guarantee you he will have my back," I said. "Your days of being in control are over."
With that, I turned and left, feeling free, unburdened by the secret I'd been carrying for the past few months.
Mrs. McLemore didn't visit long, and when Craig didn't show up, she left to look for him. I pretended as though I didn't know what happened to him. I was glad to be free of Craig and his threats. Finally. I didn't expect to deal with anymore surprises that day, but then, you never know what the next hour holds. A few hours after the McLemores left, I looked up and there she was, standing in the doorway, hair pulled back in a wild ponytail, face free of makeup, and sandwiched between her parents.
Maya Martinez.
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