I walk to him and get close.
“Look smartass, you’re gonna get a pass this time but don’t get all pissy with me again. Now get the hell out, faggot. Pull the fuckin’ curtain shut after you too.”
I glare at him until he looks away and then I grab a plastic chair and carry it over to the side of the bed. The male nurse just stands there, though.
“Did I stutter or what? Get out, Nancy.”
He gives me a pained look. “I didn’t mean anything bad. I’ll be around if you need something.”
“That’s super. Out, now.”
Someone a couple beds down yells for his momma. The voice sounds delirious, batshit crazy. There is a loud moan that lasts way too long.
“I’m surrounded by assholes, Jerz.”
I look down at him and his blank sunken eyes are staring at me. A small grin, about all you ever got out of him even in the best of times, curls at the corners of his mouth.
“Dad.”
“Hey, boy.”
“Jesus, Dad. I, uh, I came as soon as I heard.”
“Wha…whatcha got cookin’ since you got out? Got anything good in the pipeline?”
He seizes up a little right after he says it, gritting his teeth so bad I can hear them grind. His facial skin is tight and thin. I can almost see his jaw muscles.
“Don’t talk too much, ‘kay, Dad?”
The loud moaning keeps up. Somebody else joins the chorus, jabbering away down on the other end of the big open room.
“I’m gonna get you in a room. This is bullshit.”
“Ain’t worth it, boy.” His eyes are still squeezed shut but his face relaxes a little. “No time for that.”
He opens his eyes and takes my forearm. His grip is feeble, like an old woman’s. He’s staring at me hard and opens his mouth to speak but can’t get it out. He tries to squeeze my arm harder.
“Dad, look. Just rest. I’m here and I’ll stay as long as you want me.”
“You were always my boy, my best blood, my best hope,” he rasps. “At least you tried, huh? Don’t take no shit, Jerz. Don’t be so shittin’ soft.” He tries to swallow but can’t seem to do it. “Fuck’em. Fuck’em all. It’s you against everybody. Don’t trust nobody.” The last only comes out as a whisper and he points at the cup of water on the bed table.
I hold it to his lips and half of it dribbles down his chin as he tries to sip some.
“Dad, listen, I got a lot of things going on right now. Got some money already and more coming in. Nobody fucks with me, Dad. Believe that.”
“Pussy….,” he whispers. “Sometimes you’re just a little pussy. Be hard all the time.” He tries squeezing my arm again and I barely feel it. I look at him and understand. I remember all the times he’s told me that. Over and over again. For years. Tryin’ to make me tough. Get me ready for the world he knew — and the one I would know.
Out of nowhere, twenty or so years ago comes flashing back into my head. I’m watching the whole thing like it’s a video or something. It’s hotter than hell and he’s sweatin’ like a prizefighter. His wife beater tee shirt is stuck to him and he slams his beer can down on the counter. He was always a big guy and back then he was built too. Lean, hard and ready to rock and roll. Then you add meaner than a fuckin’ rattlesnake on top of all that and you got something to worry about.
We’re at the old house and he’s pushing me all over the kitchen. It’s late and he’s all drunked up. Shoving and bouncing me around the room. Jabbing me in the chest and cuffing me like a grizzly bear who doesn’t want to kill right away. I’m twelve, maybe. He grabs a heavy metal ladle out of the sink and smacks me a good one with it.
“Hit me, you little fuckin’ girl. You pussy. Gonna toughen your candy ass up a little. I’ll show you how to be a man, you little bastard.” He corners me and I get whapped again, right on the ear. “Don’t let me fuck with you like that. Aw, you gonna cry on me now? I said HIT ME!”
His long ago yell echoes in my head and I blink. Blink again and then I’m back in this pale green dying room. It smells like death in here no matter how much they spray. Like cheap perfume on a slut.
He whispers something I don’t understand.
I lean in closer and he’s got a tear coming down his bony cheek. He smacks his lips twice and tries again.
I look at the tile floor quickly and push everything down, down and away.
“I tried with you.” His voice is wavering.
“Dad you did fine, what are you talking ‘bout?”
“Not your fault, you just don’t have it in you.”
“Dad, you’re wrong about that.”
“You’re still my boy, though.”
“Yeah, well okay, I know, I know. You’re always my dad and there ain’t nothing changin’ that, either.”
“Mick.” He says and frowns, or tries to.
“No, Dad, it’s me. It’s Jerz and I’m here for you.”
His head goes sideways on me, but his eyes are still open.
“Your mother.” He’s barely getting the words out.
“You mean…is she here?” I’m thinking this could be it for him.
“I need to tell him something.”
I don’t know where the fuck Mick is, if he’ll get here in time or even end up coming at all. Mom will come, though. I’m sure of that. Aunt Alina would bring her.
He turns his head back to me.
“Mom’s here. I’ll get her, okay?”
He just looks at me but then his eyes seem to open up a little better.
“Mick. Here.”
“Yeah, yeah, I think I saw him, too,” I lie. “I’ll find them both and be right back, okay?” I get up and lean over. “Okay, Dad? Be back.”
He nods at me and his eyes still look okay for now.
I part the curtains and slide out. The twink nurse is at a desk in the corner and I walk straight to him.
“Is there a waiting room? Coffee shop or an area where visitors go to just sit it out for someone terminal?”
“A coffee shop?” The fucker sighs and smiles at me all sarcastic-like.
“You don’t learn quick, do you?” I snarl at him. “I swear to God, when this over, I’ll be back for you. Now just point me — don’t say another word or I’ll put that ball point pen in your ear.”
His eyes got big on that and he points me down a short, bright hallway. I can see just the corner of a small sitting area. I don’t waste any more time with this shithead because I don’t know how much longer I have here.
When I come around the corner there are three people sitting there, two of them women but none of them Mom. There is another guy leaning on the wall over by the corner window. His back is to me but it isn’t Mick. Wrong build. I take a few more steps in and I’m sure of it. Nope, not him. I glance quickly around the room again but then something makes me come back to the guy at the window.
I get closer still.
“Hey, Hero.”
“Hey, Punk.”
Two nicknames from another lifetime.
The guy who used to be my brother didn’t turn around but he was looking at me in the reflection of the window. Probably been watching me the whole time, like the cop he was.
I meet his eyes but there are no smiles.
TEN
Mick
He hadn’t changed much. Still big. More cut than last time I saw him, but prison will do that. Still had that same expression in his eyes as when we were kids. A combination of smart ass and hard ass. It used to hide a boy who was just as scared as the rest of us at what the world held. Now it looked like there was nothing left to hide in those eyes but how much he really hated everything the world held.
Like I should talk, though.
“Surprised you came,” he grunted at my reflection in the window.
“He’s my old man, too.”
“Hard to say,” Jerzy said.
I thought for a second he was going to say more, something derogatory about my mother or something, but he didn’t. He just stared at my reflection.
“Almost didn’t recognize your skinny ass. You used to be more muscled up.”