Memoirs Of An Antihero

by Drew Blank

  “And of the truck raping,” Twisty added.

  “Well, I’m a big fan of that stuff, I’ll tell you,” I

  wiped sleep from my eyes as I helped myself to more lemonade. “The arm looks pretty good too, Tom. Thanks man.” He had used four splints to keep my arm protected and wrapped in heavy gauze.

  “I have no way of telling if it is broken or not. Even if it is, there ain’t shit you can do about it anyway. Just don’t use it too much. Let it heal on its own.”

  “Well, it feels much better. Headache’s gone too. Thanks,” I said while pulling up a chair. “What have you guys been doing while I was out?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Tom flashed me an evil grin, as if I had proprietary rights over Twisty.

  “No, not really,” I said, disgusted.

  “We’ve been up here the whole time checking out the view.” Twisty quickly broke in to save her good name, picking up the gun again. “It’s amazing that from up here, Cross doesn’t look so bad.” She reflected peacefully while glancing through the scope.

  “Just wait till one morning you look down and there’s a gang fight going on in the street or some punk-ass wanna-be hero comes to your door crippled and bleeding.” Tom tipped his glass to me, letting out a guttural chuckle.

  “I really do appreciate everything you’ve done, man. You are truly a life saver,” I earnestly thanked Tom again.

  “Just leave your co-pay with the receptionist, Orphan.”

  “I’ll get you some more cash for this one,” I offered.

  “Fuck all that, man. Just keep doin’ what yer doin’. But try and be a little safer, all right?” Tom’s concern always seemed sarcastic but genuine. Weird combo.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  “Trick or Treat,” I whispered as I poked my head into Reggie’s place Halloween morning. Moxie was not waiting for me in the window as she normally would for my before school visits. This had become a normal occurrence in the previous two weeks. After her first chemo treatment, the smiley, hyper ball of energy I was used to had taken a harsh turn. She missed six out of the ten days of school since her first session. The doctor had warned us she would be sick and lethargic, but there was no way to prepare ourselves for what was to come.

  Reggie was surprisingly involved in Moxie’s home care. She had quit smoking in the house and tried to keep the place clean, almost to the point of being sterile. We moved the majority of Moxie’s room out to the main living area, with her base of operations being the couch. Most of her days were spent sleeping, watching TV and when she had enough energy she would color. She complained that reading made her dizzy, so her list of activities was limited. We knew it was inevitable that Moxie would be going through the first grade again, but her teacher and principal were very supportive of her situation, making it clear she was welcome to come to class anytime she felt up to it.

  “Hi Daddy.” Regardless of how tired she was, she always had a smile for me.

  “Hey,” Reggie cordially greeted me from the kitchen while washing dishes. I politely nodded back with a grin.

  “Hey baby! How’s my doll?” I knelt down next to her on the couch and pulled her in for a hug.

  “I don’t feel very good, Daddy.” She used the same pouty tune she used to use when she had a simple cold. Back then I would joke with her and make her forget her stuffy head. This wasn’t going to be forgotten with a joke.

  “I know, pumpkin.” I held her tight as I buried my face into her hair. Her hair had begun coming out more and more. Reggie and I tried keeping this fact from Moxie as long as we could. Cleaning up the drain in the bathtub or sweeping her pillow as she slept kept it at bay for a few days. But when you are trapped on a couch with very little to do, it becomes obvious that something is wrong when every time you twirl your hair, it comes out. I reluctantly admitted to her that hair loss is a common symptom of her treatment. She cried that whole day. It seemed she had accepted the fact, but I knew she wasn’t happy.

  “It hurts when I throw up, Daddy.” Her eyes welled up with tears, mirroring my own. A day hadn’t passed where I did not break down. “I don’t have anything in my tummy, Mommy says. But I throw up anyway.” She hadn’t been able to keep food down for over a week. The dry heaving was tearing up her throat.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so, so sorry.” Clutching her, I felt tears soak through the shoulder of my shirt, as my own poured down my face. Reggie had scolded me earlier for getting emotional in front of Moxie. I knew I should try to keep my composure. I needed to be strong for Moxie, but sometimes I just couldn’t.

  “I’m not gonna be able to Trick ‘r Treat, am I Daddy?” I was amazed at children’s priorities. Here this child had the weight of the world affixed to her tiny shoulders and she was concerned about dressing up and going door to door begging for candy.

  She wanted to be a ballerina princess that year. Although I had no idea what a ballerina princess was, I used some of my newly acquired wealth and got her the most elegant, fluffy, pink dress the costume shop had. Lined with lace and sequins, it was what I imagined little girls dreamed of. It wasn’t a cheap Halloween costume you would buy hanging in a bag on the racks of a grocery store’s seasonal aisles. Someone had spent time crafting this piece. Even the intricately designed metal crown was an impressive, glittering accessory. Afraid she may not have the energy to go out Halloween night, I had offered to let Moxie at least try it on when I first bought it. She refused. Halloween is when you wear your costume, is what she told me. Well, on Halloween her beautiful ballerina princess dress was hanging in the front hall closet, with very little chance of being worn.

  “We’ll see, baby. We’ll see,” was all I could say as we broke our hug and I wiped away my tears.

  The weeks between the Mr. Chin incident and Halloween were relatively uneventful. Tom had made it abundantly clear my body needed time to heal, along with a threat that if I didn’t he would refuse to further treat me. It allowed Jim and Phil time to make some progress in preparing me for our new endeavor. Phil had remained working on MobilCom’s dime while he used up more vacation time. Jim, on the other hand, was putting in extra long hours, showing up at work around four in the morning to use the company’s machines and tools in his off time. I assured him some day he would have his own toys to play with. Twisty had been busy gathering everything necessary for her vision of my alter ego to come to life. I felt left out of the process, as all they ever needed me for was to take measurements of everything from my skull to my fingers. Although Phil volunteered for it, Twisty was the one that measured me for the controversial codpiece. Whatever they were working on, I was sure to be impressed.

  Dominick became immersed in the case with absolutely no leads. He had begun to rely on me for any semblance of a social life, resorting to quick lunch breaks or morning coffee, but we mostly discussed the case. The fact that his target had gone from daily attacks for almost a week to no activity for nearly a month had left him without any direction. Any support he was receiving from the force during the inception of the case was all but gone when The Freak fell off the radar. He was simply left in limbo, staying out of everybody else’s way. Being distanced made him work harder, almost to an obsessive level of dedication.

  If anything had come of all this, it had served as a catalyst for all my friends to do something with their otherwise boring lives. I was glad I could supply some spice. For me, it was simply a way to give my darling girl a chance to see a future. Admittedly, it also implemented a dash of excitement into my own humdrum life.

  “This thing itches, Daddy.” Moxie frantically scratched at the PICC line the doctor had inserted into her arm during the first treatment. He assured us it was much more reliable than an IV, but it would seem like a nuisance until Moxie got used to it always being inside her. The only comfort to her was that this was the alternative to getting a weekly shot.

  “Here, use this.” I pulled a toothbrush out of my back pocket that I had brought for just that reaso
n. Reading the message boards online, one parent shared with other posters a tip for relieving the bothersome tingling around the line’s entry point. I unwrapped the brush from its cardboard backing and handed it to her. “But be gentle,” I warned her. She immediately began scrubbing the red area inside her arm, letting out a sigh of relief.

  “You’re the best.” She smiled as she laid her head back on the pillow.

  “I dunno about that,” I said, “but I sure ain’t the worst.” She let out a faint giggle.

  “Hey, how long you gonna be here?” Reggie addressed me as she was straightening the kitchen.

  “I’m not sure. I don’t have to work tonight. Why?” One advantage about Moxie’s treatments was that me taking extra time off from Tully’s was not at all suspicious. As a matter of fact, I am sure everybody would have been shocked if I hadn’t stopped my long hours. I cut myself back to three shifts a week, just to keep up appearances. The less hours the better, if for no other reason than to reduce the awkward times I had to work with Randy. Twisty left her schedule the same, acting as the eyes and ears of our operation. It was clear Randy was still very much in business, if not even a little busier running errands for Mouse who was recuperating at home.

  “I need to get a few things done today,” Reggie informed me. “It would be a help if you could stick around with her for a while.” That was definitely a sign of Reggie’s almost unbelievable transformation since Moxie’s first chemo session. Before that, she would think nothing of leaving Moxie home alone for hours on end. The bulk of our arguments revolved around the amount of time she was absent from the apartment, when she should have been watching over our daughter. For the first time, it seemed Reggie was willing to be a mother. It still seemed more like a chore than a joy, but it was definitely a step in the right direction. There were doubts in my mind that she had completely sobered up, but she stayed clean enough to be there for Moxie and that is all I wanted.

  “Sure. It’s no problem,” I told her. “It’d be my pleasure.” I squeezed Moxie’s hand, still kneeling by her side.

  It was a very quiet day, comprised mostly of Moxie napping in between meals. During her lucid hours we talked, but I kept the conversation light and fun. Typically, when Moxie was not feeling her best, she had a tendency to be a tad gloomy or even morose. This was not good for her overall condition, so I would crack jokes or entertain her with funny stories. The tales I had to tell from Donnelly House always mesmerized her. While at the time they were not funny, in hindsight, some of them were downright hilarious.

  Several hours later Reggie came home, stinking of cigarettes and looking a little out of sorts. Whether she was drunk, stoned or a little of both I could not tell, but I didn’t bring it up. This was a hard time on both of us and if she needed a release, I couldn’t fault her for that. As long as she was doing her deeds while someone was taking care of Moxie, I didn’t care.

  “Hey,” I whispered with a wave. Moxie was asleep on the sofa as I was quietly reading one of the many books I had gotten on coping with a child suffering from leukemia. “Did you get your errands done?” My voice was still soft and I tried my best to not sound accusatory in my tone. Reggie didn’t need to be aware that I knew she was high.

  “Yeah, thanks. I’m exhausted, though.” She flashed what I thought was supposed to be a smile. We hadn’t smiled in each others’ presence for so long, I wasn’t sure it wasn’t just gas. “What time is it?”

  “Five thirty,” I told her after glancing at my phone.

  “Oh shit! Did you need to be somewhere?” She asked, as if I was her prime concern.

  “Nope. Just had a fun and quiet day with the girl,” I told her. “I’m glad you could get out. You’ve been doing a great job with her.” I figured encouragement might go a long way with Reggie.

  “Huh?” Any sign of praise directed towards her threw Reggie off guard. “Oh. Yeah. Thanks.” She stumbled over her gratitude.

  “I mean it. She really needs you right now and you’ve been great.” I gave her a tight-lipped smile, unsure what to say past that.

  “Well, thanks for being here for her. I… ummm…” She was fishing for words that were not too complimentary, but conveyed her thoughts. “I couldn’t do this alone.”

  “No problem. Now, why don’t you go to bed? You look exhausted. I’ll take Moxie duty tonight. You just go get some rest.” Sleep it off is really what I wanted to say.

  “Well, if you need somewhere to sleep you can…” I feared what was coming next as she motioned her head toward the hallway so I cut her off.

  “This chair is fine. I like to stay next to her while she sleeps.” I innocently turned down any impending proposition before it turned into an issue.

  “Okay. That’s cool.” Reggie shrugged her shoulders as she popped a few aspirin in her mouth while standing at the kitchen sink. With a swig of water, she tossed her head back and swallowed. “Well, guess I’ll make it an early night.” I didn’t mention the fact that the sun hadn’t even set yet. I preferred quietly listening to Moxie’s snoring over awkward and forced conversation anyway. Reggie came over and gave Moxie a kiss on the forehead, causing her to stir slightly.

  “Mommy?” It wouldn’t have surprised me if Moxie was still totally asleep and thought she was dreaming. If I ever caught myself dreaming of Reggie kissing me, I am sure my suicide would quickly follow.

  “Good night, sweetheart.” Reggie lightly ran her fingers through Moxie’s matted hair, kissing her forehead a second time.

  “Night Mama.” Moxie’s heavy lids came crashing down again, as her lips were in half pucker, attempting to blow a kiss to her mother.

  “G’night.” Reggie trailed her fingers on my shoulder as she passed and I did my best not to cringe.

  “Night,” I said, in an unmistakably friendly, polite and formal manner. She disappeared down the hall and I relaxed.

  After watching Moxie snooze for about twenty minutes, my phone began to buzz in my pocket. It was Phil.

  “Hey. Hold on a sec.” I answered with a whisper and quietly stepped outside to the porch. “That’s better. What’s up?” I asked, closing the front door to muffle my voice.

  Are you coming over tonight? There was an excitement in his voice I hadn’t heard for over a week. Phil and Jim’s enthusiasm over the project had started to dwindle due to exhaustion from long hours of work accompanied with very little sleep. That night, however, he had a new hint of zeal in his manner.

  “I’m on Moxie watch. I just told Reggie to go to bed. Why?”

  Jesus. Are you guys married now or something? Phil knew exactly what buttons to push.

  “I swear to Christ I will beat you to death with a claw

  hammer if you ever utter such filth again.” As much as he probably thought I was kidding, I was a little serious. The thought of being married to Reggie was nothing less than vomit inducing.

  Well when can you get here? He was obviously anxious to have me check out their progress. Up to that point they had done their best to keep me in the dark, hoping to surprise me with a giant reveal. They had been working diligently for almost three weeks. Could they really be ready to unveil the finished product?

  “How early will you be up tomorrow morning?” I asked, making it clear I wasn’t leaving Moxie’s side that night.

  I probably won’t be in bed till noon…so you tell me.

  “Let’s make it nine. I’ll get some breakfast in Moxie and then head over.”

  Do you work tomorrow night? Phil asked.

  “No. Why?”

  Good. Don’t make plans. By the sound of his voice I could tell he was smiling. I was dying to know what he had in mind.

  “Got it. No plans. I don’t suppose you’ll fill me in on what we will be doing, will you?” I already knew the answer.

  Not till you get here. Make sure to be well rested. Phil loved sounding ominous.

  “Got it. Well, I’m gonna go check on Mox. I’ll see you in the morning.” My curiosity was piqued, bu
t my main concern still lied with Moxie.

  G’night hero. Phil taunted me before hanging up.

  Sitting on the steps outside Reggie’s place, I saw kids running up and down the streets. Halloween was the only night of the year Cross really ever looked alive. Sprinting from door to door, the children’s enthusiasm was almost contagious and everybody around seemed less on edge. Less guarded. As false as the sense of security was, it felt good.

  Talking to Phil energized me. My mind had been so consumed with Moxie and her treatments, I felt like maybe I needed a retreat from my worries. Whatever Phil and Jim had planned for me, it would certainly serve as an effective distraction. I was in need of some excitement.

  The slam of the screen door as I reentered the apartment forced Moxie to stir from her slumber.

  “Daddy?” She was obviously still half asleep and probably not quite sure if I was a dream or not.

  “Yes sweetheart?” I knelt by her side again, stroking her hair.

  “Did I miss trick ‘r treating?” She asked in a daze, her eyes still closed.

  “No. Kids are still out there.” A tear ran down her face as I told her this. “Did you want to go hit a few houses?”

  “Can I?” Her tired face brightened slightly.

  “Sure, baby. If you think you’re up to it. Think you can handle it?” I asked, not sure what the response would be.

  “I really wanna,” she said, obviously torn. “I just really wanna wear my princess dress.”

  “Well, how about this?” I offered, “why don’t you put on your princess dress and if you have the energy after that, we’ll go to a few houses. Deal?” Just as I was in need of some excitement, so was Moxie.

  “Deal,” she said, pulling herself up into a sitting position. “But what about your zombie soldier costume?”

  “Don’t worry about me, honey.” I wrapped my arms around her and helped her up. “I’ll save it for next year.”

  After a few minutes of stretching and getting her blood flowing again, she pulled on the costume gown. I may, to this day, have no idea what a ballerina princess is, but I do know that she looked radiant. Her glow had dimmed the past two weeks, so to see some spark in her eyes again was a Halloween miracle.