Maypo let out a loud wail, followed by a whimper. The alarm on the monitor sounded. The green line on the screen ran straight and flat. His blood pressure flashed on the monitor—dropping, dropping—faster and faster.
“Call a code!” I said.
Mary simply stood there, frozen in place. “He’s already gone. He’s flat lining. Just look at that monitor. Let the man have his peace.”
“We can’t just let him die!”
“Yes, we can. Maypo wouldn’t want to live with a brain, all shot full of holes. If we save him now, he’ll hate us forever. Mays wouldn’t have no way to talk, or get around, and lemme tell you, for a man like him, that’s worser than dying. What’s the point of bringing him back to a life where he can’t have a few drinks or shoot a few rounds of pool or even drive Tyrell’s Caddy? I know Mays. I know what he wants me to do. If you love someone, you let ‘em go. That’s what I believe, and that’s what I think Mays would want. Now, I’m gonna turn this machine off.”
I watched the nurse work in silence. Until now, I had always believed that doing anything less than the most I could do was the wrong thing to do. Now, I just proved that I didn’t know myself as well as I thought. The fact was, I didn’t know what I would do until crunch time—until the rubber hit the road. So far, two men died tonight—one, because I decided to intercede, and another because I did not.
“This the first time you ever see anybody die?” Mary said.
I nodded and struggled to find the words to express what I didn’t understand.
“Mary, I just met Maypo a little while ago. Now, he’s gone. Just like that. I feel like I failed him.”
“You want to hear about failure?” Mary grinned and her gold tooth gleamed beneath the florescent lights. “Lemme tell you ‘bout what happened at D’Yan’s place today.”
The two women stood at either end of the cramped dinette, amidst boxes of Pampers and baby formula. Cans of stale beer, remnants of stained napkins, and an empty pizza box littered the kitchen table. Though few words had been said, much had already been heard.
“You got no right, Mama.” D’Yan glared at her mother. She’d been drinking, sure, but she wasn’t drunk—not yet. Like bullets from a machine gun, her words sprayed into the space between stone cold and dead mean. “He can’t live here with me. Not like this.” She shook her head. “Not like this.” Her fist pounded the table like a hammer on a nail. “I want a life, too!”
“You want a life? You?” Mary’s strong arms cradled the slumbering baby while she spoke. “What about your son? Even if you don’t want him, I do. He’s my blood too, girl, don’t forget. ‘An he belongs with his own people. Got no business with strangers.”
“He be fine. He was all set up to go home with those rich people. They told me…”
“Ha! Rich folks gonna raise your boy, are they? You didn’t hear what I heard, girl. You didn’t see what I saw with my own eyes. Those rich folks don’t want your baby.”
“You’re making all this up, to make me feel bad—but, it won’t work. I know better.”
“I know one thing. No family of mine gettin’ tossed from one foster house to the next, and the next, and the next, girl. You know’s well as I do what goes on in those places.”
“But, they told me—”
“Who told you what? That skinny white woman sitting out in front? You trust what she says? She lied to you, D’Yan. Those ‘doption people done took your baby and sold him to the first people wrote them a big fat check.”
“I don’t believe you.” D’Yan’s chin quivered.
“Five thousand dollars, God’s truth. Like your boy was a diamond ring or a car. Didn’t even do a credit check.”
“If they sold him, why’s he here? Here with you? How’d you get him, huh? You lyin’ to me Mama?”
“Those rich people didn’t want a black baby. The ‘doption folks lied to them too. An they done kept their money anyways. They thieves in there, I’m telling you. If it wasn’t for Maypo, I…”
“Maypo? Now, I know you lyin’. You lyin’ or this is all a big joke.”
“I’m not kidding. He works there. Or he did work there, anyway.”
“When did he get out?”
“Out? Outta what?”
“Outta jail, Mama. He was in for armed robbery.”
“Lots of folks in for that, sooner or later.”
“Bet the adoption folks don’t know about that or he wouldn’t a been working there. I thought they did background checks.”
“Well, like I said, they didn’t do any such thing for these white folks come to buy your baby. They ask you any questions?”
D’Yan hung her head. The greasy battery clock on the plaster wall measured their lives in ticks and tocks. “Naw.” Her face contorted into a mask of misery. “I’m sorry, Mama,” she said. Rivulets of tears spilled down her thin cheeks. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know. She kept telling me I was doing the right thing. That white lady, she kept saying it, just over an’ over.” Her slumped shoulders trembled with grief. “I didn’t mean to hurt nobody.”
“You can’t trust white folks, D’Yan. Ever. An’ something else, too. You got to show your boy how to deal with the world. It’s different for us, D’Yan. Always been that way. Always will be.”
“Whut you mean?”
“I mean they treat our people different, and you know it.”
“Who?”
“White folks. Police. Lies they done tell us. Even some black folks forget who they are and where they come from. If we don’t stick together, if we don’t raise our own and teach ‘em how to survive, then Lord help us, maybe we’re making our own sorry life. We’ll live the way other people think we deserve to live. God’s truth, girl.”
That’s when the beeper beeped; the new one that Mary bought that very day, so that D’Yan could always get her when she needed her. That would be all the time, Mary figured. “Yeah,” she said. “What?” Her face crinkled with pain. “Oh, Gawd! I’ll be right there.”
“What Mama? What happen?”
“Here, girl, take your baby. Somebody done shot Maypo, an’ he’s hurt bad. He called for me—I’m the only family he’s got.
A faint smile crossed D’Yan’s lips. The young woman reached for her son, and stared into his dark eyes. “Bye, Mama.” She hugged her baby tighter. “You be careful now.”
“I am, baby. Lock the door behind me.”
Mary shook her head.
“Can’t be too careful these days, Dr. Spezia. I waited out in the hall until I heard the double bolt lock, click and slide. Then, I came into the Emergency Room to help you with Maypo.”
Mary brushed a tear from her cheek. “D’Yan was so angry that I went and got her baby. I never thought she would say those things to me.”
“It sounds like you had quite an afternoon, Mary. But, I wouldn’t call it a failure. Sounds more like a breakthrough to me. I’d say you were a real heroine today.
“You probably saved my life, Dr. Spezia. Me and everyone in the room with Mays. That makes you a hero.”
Was I a murderer—or, as Mary suggested, was I a hero? Or did the truth depend on who I asked? I just didn’t know anymore. Of one thing I was certain: the Dean of Medicine would have some very definite thoughts on the subject. It was only a matter of time before I heard them. As if on cue, my beeper bleeped and blinked. I punched the numbers into the phone on the wall and waited.
“Dr. Spezia here,” I said. I inhaled a deep breath of air. “I’ll be right there.” The sky is falling, the sky is falling… I concluded that whoever said that must have worked at City Hospital. I glanced at the rickety elevator, and decided to take the familiar steps down to the Emergency Room. At least, steps always went up or down, no matter how one viewed them. If only life could behave in the same manner.
After this evening’s recent events, one thought dominated all others. I knew that my life would never feel predictable, ever again.
EIGHT
“Hey, Eddie
Bear!” Starr collapsed on a mound of pillows and sucked a drag from a fresh cigarette. What time is it?” She stared at the twirling blades of the ceiling fan and hummed.
Eddie jolted upright in bed. He glanced at the clock on the night-stand and sighed. “The blessed alarm didn’t go off again. It’s almost nine o’clock.” He rubbed the stubble on his face. “Better check on Lori.” He coughed and reached for his cigarettes. “Now she’ll be good and late getting a dose of her medicine.”
“Take a break, Eddie Bear. You got nowhere to be, except right here with me.” Starr patted the mattress with the palm of her hand. The cheap mix of rings on her fingers clicked and clacked. “What’s wrong?” She puffed a cloud of smoke into the stale air. “Something new bothering you?”
“Where’s Lori? You think she’s okay?”
“Can you tell me why you’re worrying so much about a half-dead woman, when you got a live one laying up next to you?” She flicked an ash into an empty beer can and tossed it on the tattered rug beside the bed.
“That woman you’re talking about is my wife, Starr.” He pulled on his pants and stared into the mirror over Lori’s dresser. “And I’m her husband, as long as it lasts. I owe Lori that much.”
“What did you just say?” Starr said. “What the hell are you talkin’ about? Life is short, baby. Watching Lori ought to tell you that much. Dr. Pizza been working on you again?”
Eddie stood in the shadows and fought the urge to stay right where he was—again. He really needed to check on Lori. “Spezia. It’s Dr. Spezia. He’s right about my obligations.”
Starr patted the mattress. “Just a few more minutes with me, baby. You know you want to.”
“Eddie!”
Eddie heard Lori’s voice loud and clear, calling out to him. How could he just stand there?
“Go on, baby,” Starr said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Starr laughed, a deep belly laugh that lasted several moments. “Fine. Just fine. I’ll wait it out. You want to pretend to be Saint Eddie, I guess I can understand that. Just don’t kid yourself. You know, about being a real saint.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and dropped the sheet. “’Cause we both know better. Don’t we?”
There in the morning sunlight, Eddie’s fingers caressed her lush curves.
“Go on, baby,” Starr said. She pulled away from his touch. “Do what you gotta do.”
For a moment, Eddie felt paralyzed by the tempting allure of Starr’s body. A few minutes later, he finally spoke.
“You won’t be mad at me?”
“Why should I be? I got all the time in the world.” She perched her toned body on the edge of the sagging bed, and reached for the latest issue of the National Enquirer. “Go on, take care of Lori. I’ll catch up on the news.”
“I love you, Starr. I’m so lucky to have you.”
Starr lit the end of a fresh cigarette. “Yeah, Eddie.” She blew a puff of smoke into the still air. “Me too. Listen, baby, I’m going out for some cigarettes and beer. I’ll be back in a little while.”
“Eddie! Would you get that? It’s the phone!” Lori slumped in the worn living room recliner, and nibbled on a piece of melba toast. Scuffed slippers covered her gnarled feet. Dazed, she stared at the television screen, and wondered how she arrived at this desperate crossroad. Before the cancer diagnosis, she never watched television. Now, it was her best friend. “Eddie! Willya get that, Eddie?”
Lori flung her toast at the screen. It hit the corner of the television and landed in the pile of wrinkled newspapers. Why, she wondered, doesn’t that talk show guy just shut up? He doesn’t need to talk all the blooming time. She felt so crummy today, and this stupid television guy talked way too much—not at all like Dr. Spezia. Dr. Spezia listened when she talked. Did Eddie just say something about bacon?
“What did you just say, Eddie?”
“I said, I’m cooking bacon now, Princess.”
Bacon? She hated bacon, Eddie knew that. Just the thought of it turned her stomach. Why was Eddie cooking bacon? There was that blooming phone again, ring-a-ling-linging, beside all those amber-orange prescription bottles. She grabbed the receiver and rested it on her shoulder.
“Hey,” Lori said.
No one replied. She shrugged and began to replace the receiver. That’s when she heard the familiar raspy voice, the voice of a sultry smoker.
“Lori?” Starr said. “That you?”
“Yeah, Starr,” Lori sighed. “It’s me.”
The sound of Starr’s voice stung like a hornet. The receiver tumbled onto the worn carpet. Lori began to heave. Dry at first, followed by a bitter bile that coated her mouth and spilled down the front of her thin nightgown.
“Don’t sound like yourself, Lori. Don’t mind me saying. Guess you’re feeling pretty bad, huh?”
“Yeah,” Lori said, “I’m feeling pretty awful.”
Greasy air filled Lori’s lungs. She gulped and gasped. If only she could take just one deep breath! From somewhere in the kitchen, she heard Eddie calling for her.
“Princess? We’re having a little company, didn’t I tell you? Who’s that on the phone?”
The sleepless nights overwhelmed her spirit. Lori collapsed with her face burrowed in the stained carpet. She never heard the frenetic game show tunes blaring from the television. For that matter, she never heard anything.
Eddie thought he heard a loud noise in the house somewhere, like maybe the sound of some books falling from a shelf. He decided it was just the wind. For just a moment, Eddie hesitated before he shuffled into the narrow hall. To him, it seemed as if an invisible hand propelled him to the living room to his wife—his duty, his obligation. He smoothed his tousled hair and hustled to the front of the bungalow. The theme song to a sitcom blared from the television.
“Coming, Princess,” he said.
Eddie tiptoed closer and closer, until he saw Lori’s body splayed on the carpet. He grabbed her wrist and it dropped, like it belonged to a rag doll. Wide awake, he was living his worst nightmare.
Lori wasn’t breathing.
Eddie snatched the “Welcome Home” brochure that Dr. Spezia gave him and flipped through the pages. Nothing on “breathing” in there. Nope. Now, he’d have to call Spezia. A familiar rage surged in his heart. Doc Skelton sure made a bad decision there, putting such a young guy in charge of Lori’s case. Dr. Spezia. The thought of a kid like him, standing there, judging him… Okay, he probably deserved his scorn. But dammit, let Spezia live his life—just for a day, man—one short, long day. He’d see what his life was like. Maybe then, he’d need an afternoon with Starr.
He decided that’s exactly what he was going to tell him, face to face. Right after they rushed Lori back to the hospital, and she up and started breathing again—
“Starr!” Eddie said. “Get the Pontiac!”
NINE
“Hold on there, Lori.”
I heard the panic in Eddie’s voice, before I entered the room. His face lookes as rumpled and wary as his clothes. For a brief moment, I felt sorry for him, until Starr rounded the corner.
“Well, if it isn’t Dr. Pizza!” Her voice grated like a rusty knife. “Don’t you ever go home?” She blew a pink bubble from the wad of gum in her wide mouth and popped it with the tip of her tongue. “Oh, I get it. No wife waiting up for you, huh?”
“Starr!” Eddie said. “Please. No jokes now.”
It was all I could do to control my temper, “Mr. Raines, how long has your wife been like this?”
“Like what?”
“She’s barely conscious! From the looks of her chart, her vitals are all out of whack. What happened?”
Lori sighed and began to snore.
“Well, Lori sleeps most of the time,” Eddie said. “Just like she’s doing now.”
“What has she been eating?”
“Well, Lori’s never been a big eater. Last night, we sent out for some pizza around five or so, but she said she didn’t feel like eating none of it
. And Lori loves pizza, so you know she’s feeling bad when she says that. I made bacon this morning, but she didn’t want none of that neither. Next time we checked on her, she was barely breathing.”
“What do you mean, we? Who’s we?”
Starr folded her arms over her chest and started humming “Three Blind Mice.”
“Well, me and Starr, you know.”
“I would like to speak to you, Mr. Raines. Alone.”
“We are alone.”
I nodded at Starr. “Miss, would you mind stepping into the hall for a moment, please?”
“Who’s out there?” Starr said.
“Babe,” Eddie said, “just wait for me outside, okay?”
“Sure.” Starr winked at Eddie. “See you later, Eddie Bear.”
I waited until the clack of Starr’s high heels on the terrazzo faded. I wish I could say the same for my anger.
“Mr. Raines, I do not want to see you accompanied by Miss Hixson at this hospital. It is completely inappropriate.”
“Right now, Doc, I can’t worry about the rights and wrongs of this and that. Lori needs me to be strong. Starr gives me strength so I can cope, and cope is what I need to do. So yeah, she helps me.”
“I’m sure she does. But it is not about what helps you at this point, Mr. Raines. Your wife is seriously, terminally ill. She needs you. One hundred percent of you. Do you understand me?”
“Yeah, Doc. I hear you loud and clear. The thing is, you’re not hearing me. My wife takes one hundred percent of me, plus some. I’m done wore out. Starr’s the only thing that keeps me going.”
“What does she do for you, Mr. Raines?”
“She takes care of me,” Eddie said.
I could tell the times with Starr refreshed him in a way he believed should shame him. Yet, they enabled him to meet his obligations to his wife. At least, that is what he told himself. Most days, he insisted, he needed to tell himself something. His eyes burned with a feverish tension.
“Is that so bad, huh? I guess a guy like you would think so. But, here’s the thing, Doc. I’m the kind of man that’s used to having a woman around. A sexy one like Lori. Lori used to be so, so—” His chapped hands covered his face, and I noticed his ragged fingernails, bitten down to the quick. Tears spilled onto his cheeks and down his neck. He wiped at them with his shirtsleeve. “Oh, what the hell! No use explaining anything to the likes of you. What about tonight? You gonna keep Lori here, or should I take her back home with me?” The pop of a can, followed by a slurping sound, resounded from the cavernous hall. “Sounds like someone got thirsty out there, don’t it, Doc? It’s probably about time I grabbed Lori’s stuff and started for home.” Eddie stared at me with the eyes of a desperate, determined fool.
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