by Don Potter
“Not only will you leave prison, you will go back in time to when you reached the various crossroads in your life that caused you to end up here.”
“How do you rewind my life? And who decided I’m the one to get this second chance? Are you going to break me out of this cell and get me over the wall?”
“It’s complicated. Suffice it to say, we have the ability to put you in a state of suspended animation, lift you to a higher plane, and transport you to the appropriate moment in time in order to experience a renewed life. You will feel nothing and no one will notice what is transpiring.”
“You want to run that past me again?” Rollo was overwhelmed and was known to act badly when he reached this emotional condition. “Put it in simple English.”
“As you wish. You will doze off and go back to when your life first went off the tracks. Then you’ll have the chance to do things differently as other events come up.”
“That’s what I thought you said.” He shook his head in disbelief. “And when will all this be happening?”
“Now,” Michael said and spread his arms open, palms up.
Immediately, Rollo lost consciousness and slumped onto his bed. He awoke in his boyhood home in Detroit. Rollo was twelve years old with no memory of the future.
“I feel funny this morning,” he said.
“You sick?” his younger brother, Danny, asked as he lay on the other side of the bed with his hands behind his head looking up at the ceiling. “Or were you down on the corner last night with the older guys drinking malt liquor and smoking dope?
“Neither one. I just feel different. Not bad or good. Just different. Like something big is going to happen. And I better be ready for it.”
“Well if you didn’t study for that test you’ve been talking about, the big thing coming your way is a big fat ‘F’ in math.”
The boys laughed, jumped out of bed and raced to the bathroom, each trying to be the first one to get to the sink in the only bathroom of this small row house located in a Detroit working class neighborhood.
“Beat ya downstairs,” Danny challenged. This was the final part of the routine the boys engaged in every school day and sometimes before church on Sunday.
“Good morning,” Mom said. “Ready for some oatmeal on this cold December morning?”
“Ugh,” Danny complained. “It’s too sticky. How ‘bout Cap’n Crunch instead?”
“All that sugar. I don’t know why I let you talk me into buying this junk.”
“Cause he goes to the store and helps you with the bags. It’s his reward,” Rollo giggled.
“Be sure to slice a banana on it, Danny. That way you’ll at least get some nutrition.”
“You’re going to have oatmeal right, Rollo?”
“And a banana too.”
I want you boys home right after school, so you can get showers before Dad gets home from work. He’ll get ready and we’ll be on the road by five to Aunt Vera and Uncle Roland’s for the weekend. Don’t be late. Understand?”
“Yes.” They said in unison.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Mother.” Both of them put on their jackets and headed off to school.
Rollo looked forward to seeing Uncle Roland. He was named after him but got the nickname Rollo so there would be no confusion when the uncle lived with them. That was before Uncle Roland got married and moved to Saginaw to take a job at the Dow Chemical plant.
When the boys returned home at 3:30 PM, there were several people in the living room. Their mother was seated on the sofa with grandma next to her. Both women were crying.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” Rollo asked dropping his school bag on the floor. He ran to her. His brother followed.
“There was an accident at the plant just before your dad’s shift ended. He was...he was killed.” She could say no more.
Rollo put his arms around her. Danny started punching the sofa. Both boys cried.
That night, after crying himself to sleep, Rollo had a dream. In it he was floating in limbo while engaging in a conversation with a man who looked vaguely familiar.
“Things will get better, but for now it’s okay to be sad for the loss of your father. This is called grieving. Trust me when I say this will pass. I am here to help you through this difficult time and be with you in the days to come.”
The words did not lessen the emotional pain, but Rollo was aware of the compassionate tone with which they were spoken.
The next four years were not happy ones for Rollo or his family. His mother was forced to take a second job and left the two boys to raise themselves. Rollo’s male role models were school athletes and he excelled in sports, especially football. Danny was less focused so he became the mascot to the older boys who hung out on the street corner and the nearby playground.
Rollo’s sixteenth birthday was on Wednesday and his mother’s was on Saturday. So he convinced Danny that they should take her to a nice restaurant to celebrate.
“Where am I going to get the money?” Danny complained.
“Don’t you ever save anything?” Rollo replied.
“We hardly have enough to eat at home.”
“Well how come you’re wearing the latest fashions?”
“I make a little money running errands and doing stuff. A guy can’t look shabby when he’s out and about.”
“Instead of being out and about you ought to be home hitting the books. Of course, you might want to attend classes so you know what the assignments are.”
“Look, Rollo, I don’t get all over you about spending your time at school, in the library or on the playing field. Everyone’s got their own path and I’ve found mine.”
“And what’s that? If you don’t do something now, you’re going to end up being a small time hoodlum just like those bums you pal around with.”
“Hey, these guys were there for me when nobody else was. They’re like family. In fact, they are my family,” Danny protested.
“Your family cares about you. The street guys only want to use you. Can’t you see that, Danny?”
“Mom and you are never around but my friends are.”
“Okay. Then ask them for fifty bucks so we can have a nice dinner on Saturday. Better make it seventy-five dollars so you can get her a gift too.”
“I’ll get a hundred so my present is nicer than yours.” Having one-upped his brother, Danny walked out.
At eleven that night, there was a knock on the front door. Rollo was at the dining room table studying for a test and went to see who it was. Two uniformed policemen stood on the porch.
“Is your mother home?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Please get your mother.”
She was halfway down the stairs and called out, “Is it my Danny?”
“Sorry, but there’s been a shooting.”
“It is my Danny.”
“He tried to hold up a convenience store. The owner had a gun. Your son is dead.”
Once again Rollo had to comfort his mother as she mourned over the loss of a loved one. All that was left of the once happy family was the two of them.
When he finally got his mother settled for the night, Rollo fell into bed, exhausted. For the first time since his father’s death, Rollo cried while blaming himself for what happened to Danny.
“If I hadn’t pushed him to get money for Mom’s birthday he wouldn’t have tried to rob that store for a few lousy bucks. The cops said he didn’t even have a gun, but held a finger in his coat pocket as if he did. It scared the guy behind the counter enough to blow him away,” Rollo cried into his pillow.
“It is not your fault. Your brother was already headed in the wrong direction. Be sad for him, comfort your mother and be grateful for the road you have chosen.” The voice Rollo heard was the one that came to him on the night of his father’s passing.
Rollo and his mother became close over the next five years; although their busy schedules limited the amount of time they spent together. She continued to work t
wo jobs in order to be sure her boy could go to college. He attended to his studies and played sports throughout high school. He was on a college football scholarship and was excited about returning for his senior year. The future looked bright, indeed.
One summer night, his mother fell to the bathroom floor while getting ready for bed.
“Help me, Rollo.”
“I’m here, Mom. I’m here. What’s wrong?”
“Seems that I have this pain up here on my side that likes to let me know it’s there every once in a while.”
“Have you seen a doctor?”
“No. It’s not that bad. Doesn’t happen that often.”
“Promise me you’ll make an appointment to get a check up.”
“I will. I will. See, the pain’s gone already,” she said and gingerly walked to her bedroom.
“You have to take better care of yourself. I’m almost finished college. Can’t you stop working so hard?
“Got to save for retirement.”
“Your health is the most important thing.”
“Now you sound like my father instead of my son.”
“Please call the doctor, Mom.”
“Yes, Daddy.” She laughed and shut her bedroom door.
By morning, Rollo’s mother had turned very ill. He took her to the emergency room. She was so sick they took her in for examination right away. Tests showed she had pancreatic cancer. Her diagnosis was that she had a shorter rather than a longer time to live.
“I’ll take care of you,” Rollo said.
“No, you’ve got to graduate. This is your last year.”
“You can’t fend for yourself. I’ll stay home this year until you’re better.”
“Nonsense. I won’t be getting better. And if you don’t go back and play football, you’ll lose your scholarship and never graduate. That’s all I ever wanted for you. That’s why I worked so hard for all these years. That’s the greatest gift you could give me. Promise me you’ll do it.”
“If you say so, Mom; I’ll do it for you.”
Rollo’s mother went to live with Aunt Vera and Uncle Roland. He went back to school. Before the first game of the season, she died. His aunt and uncle questioned why he was not there during her final days, filled with suffering. Rollo tried to explain, but no one would listen to him.
The night after the funeral, he sobbed for what seemed like hours before finally falling into a troubled sleep.
“You are not alone,” the soothing voice said. “As a man, you must move forward knowing that there is true meaning and purpose for your life. Have faith and take the appropriate actions to accomplish good things for you and others.”
“This is the third time my life has been struck by tragedy. And the third time I’ve heard you say everything will be all right. Well I’m not buying your line of crap any more. Three strikes and you’re out. So get lost. I trusted in what you said, but all that’s happened is everyone I loved and needed is gone. I’m alone now and nothing you say can change that. From now on, it’s me against the world.”
“Hey, Rollo, what are you doing home? Ain’t you supposed to be away at college?” Jinky asked.
“My mom died.”
“But what about football?”
“Have to take care of selling the house and paying the bills. All the stuff that goes with handling the details when your last parent is gone. School will have to wait, and so will football.”
“So now you’re an orphan.”
Jinky’s cruel joke did not warrant a response. Rollo pushed past him and went into the neighborhood grocery store. When Rollo came out with a bag of groceries, Jinky was waiting for him.
“Didn’t mean nothing by that ‘orphan’ thing. It’s tough to know what to say at times like this.”
“Saying nothing would have been better.”
“Let me know if you need a few bucks after you finish with your mom’s stuff.”
“Thanks, but I’ll be okay.”
“Like I said, if you need anything, I’ll be around.”
The bills from his mother’s illness kept flowing in for the next several months. Many of them were not covered by her medical insurance. Rollo learned that she had taken out a second mortgage to make ends meet. The modest house was worth less than what was owed on it. After adding up the assets and comparing them to the debts, the latter was nearly fifty thousand greater than the former. He had no idea of how to make up the deficit. And going back to college seemed to be an unattainable dream. “My God,” Rollo said as he stared at the stack of bills. “This entire situation has become a nightmare.”
“What you up to?” Jinky asked.
“Just picking up a few groceries,” Rollo replied.
“I see a sold sign on your house. You’ll be moving soon and taking all the money you made with ya.”
“Wish that were true. I’ll be moving but don’t have anyplace to go. Maybe I can qualify for the ‘Poor House.’”
“Things not working out like you thought?”
“That’s an understatement.”
“How bad is it?”
“Nothing that fifty thousand dollars won’t fix.”
“Fifty grand. That is bad. But maybe I can help.”
“I don’t think so, Jinky. I’m talking about real money, not chump change.”
“And you think I’m only a nickel and dime kind of guy?”
“I didn’t mean it that way. There’s no way I can earn this much money.”
“Then you’ll just have to steal it.”
“Get serious. Banks probably don’t have that much in cash on hand at any given time. Everybody uses plastic today. Besides, I’m not going to rob a bank.”
“There’s no bank. No innocent people involved. I’m talking about taking the dough from a low-life drug dealer.”
“No way. Things aren’t that bad.”
“Really? There’s a guy selling drugs to high school kids. Hell, he’s even pushing the stuff around the junior high and grades schools. He lives just a couple of miles from here. We can drop in on him after he collects from his runners on Friday afternoon and relieve him of his booty when no one else is around.”
“This is craziness. I’ve got to go home.”
“Well according to you, Rollo will soon be homeless.”
“Better to be homeless and free than locked up in prison.”
“This is a no-brainer. In fast and out faster with lots of money, which we split fifty-fifty. It might not be all you need, but it’ll go a long way in helping with your money problems.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. See you around,” Rollo said.
“I’ll be here.”
Rollo tried to put the offer of quick and easy money out of his mind. But when he checked the mail box, there was a delayed bill from his mother’s exploratory surgery for ten thousand dollars.
He downed a couple of drinks from a bottle of cheap whiskey his mother kept in the kitchen cabinet for company or medicinal purposes. Rollo poured the amber liquid into a glass. “Even though I don’t drink, it’s time for a little medicine,” he said and toasted the growing pile of unpaid bills.
It did not take long for the alcohol to perform its magic. He was enveloped by the worn, but comfortable, stuffed chair in the small living room of the home in which he grew up but would soon be leaving for someplace unknown. A few minutes later, he moved from his half-dazed state to an alcohol induced sleep.
“Rollo. Don’t despair. Dealing with your problems will make you stronger and wiser. Have faith in the future. Trust that everything will work out. Let go of your anxieties and do what you know is right.” Rollo’s subconscious chose not to hear the words.
“I was thinking about your little proposition. Take me through your plan one more time,” Rollo said when he met up with Jinky on the street corner.
“Well, it didn’t take long to change your mind.”
“I didn’t say I changed my mind, it’s just that the idea intrigues me. Taking money from the
scum-bag dope dealer is not necessarily a bad thing.”
“Yeah, like Robin Hood.”
“Something like that.”
“It’s pretty simple. Didn’t think I’d have to explain it more than once to a college guy like you. But here we go again.” Jinky went over the details of the job and answered all of Rollo’s questions. After that he had one question of his own, “You in?”
“I’m not in, but I’ll help you with this one job. After that I’m out. Understand?”
“Whatever you say. Meet me at my place Friday afternoon at three. Wear clothes that cover your entire body with no logos or anything that can be used to identify you.”
“He’ll recognize our faces.”
“No he won’t. I’ll supply the ski masks. We’ll burn everything afterwards. So have a change of clothes with you. Don’t come around here after today. Any more questions? If not, I’ll see ya Friday.
The men met as agreed and traveled about a mile or so to an empty lot where they parked Jinky’s car behind a fence. They followed a crooked narrow path across the sad little field that was once the site of a machine shop but was now home to weeds and trash.
Several individual homes, all in need of repair, sat on a dead-end street on the other side of the lot. The men put on their masks when they got closer and crouched down as they approached the back of the last house on the block. Jinky took a hand gun from his pocket.
“You didn’t say anything about a gun.”
“It’s just to scare the guy a little. You know, make sure he cooperates. Nothing to worry about. Remember in fast and out faster.”
They were up on the back porch in no time. Loud music blasted from inside. Jinky smashed a small pane of glass and reached inside to unlock the door. He led the way through the laundry room and into the living room. The head of a man could be seen looming above a chair which faced the other way. The smoke that floated above the man indicated the dealer was sampling some of the crack cocaine he sold to eager addicts.
Jinky motioned for Rollo to move left while he went right. He then stood up and pointed his weapon at the dealer. “Put the pipe down and your hands up.”