by Katy Kaylee
We went out to the squad car the Nathan asked if he might drive. I nodded and got into the car with him and we followed the police downtown. Milwaukee is a very old, grungy city on the shore of Lake Michigan. People think of beer or maybe tools, but I think of things that are dark and frightening. I always hated downtown. And there we were and now I hated it even more. Our first stop was the morgue. The officer who had been helping me came up to the car and tapped on the window.
“I’m going to need you to go inside with me, sir. I’ll need you to make an official identification, I’m sorry.”
Nathan nodded and looked at me briefly. “You stay here.”
I watched as he opened the car door and slung his long legs out onto the chipped concrete. The building they went into had bars over the windows. I was curious about that. Just who do they think would that run away? I supposed that the building used to house the precinct itself, but I was exhausted, mentally and physically and trying to just keep my mind busy.
Nathan was ashen when he emerged from the morgue and got back into the car. “That can’t be my son. My son is young and healthy, smart and loving. My son works hard and shows respect to everyone he knows.”
I nodded but said nothing. We both knew the truth but it was an unspoken rule that you only said good things about the dead.
The police precinct was busy at that early hour of the day. The sun was already rising and the smell of hot, somewhat burned coffee wafted down the corridors of the block building. Police were everywhere, like ants coming out of an anthill, pouring onto the streets and into their squad cars, off to pick up a few more bodies here and there. After all, Milwaukee was not a happy city. We were ushered into a room with a long table in several utility style chairs pushed beneath it. The fluorescent lights overhead blinked and hummed. No one could have a tanned face in that room — the lights simply wouldn’t allow it. They may as well have been six corpses talking to one another for all the warmth that room exuded. I told my story and Nathan listened, tears streaming down his cheeks. He answered the questions they asked, but of course he knew very little. When it was over, they handed us their business cards and said they’d be in touch to let Nathan know when he could arrange for the funeral. Stoic, he walked down the long hallway beside me, opened the front door as I passed through and we got into his car.
“Would you prefer I drive?”
“No. I’m okay. In fact, I need to feel in control of something, if only a steering wheel.”
I nodded and wanted badly to turn on the radio, diversion of any kind was welcomed. I left it off, however. It was his car and I was no longer his girlfriend, or so I didn’t think. We drove back to his house. I guess he just assumed I’d be coming with him. I couldn’t think of any good reason not to, since it was Saturday and I didn’t have to work. We went inside and I walked to the kitchen and put the tea kettle on, waiting for its cheery whistle to blow some life back into the room. I opened the door of the refrigerator but there wasn’t much breakfast I could make from half a bottle of ketchup and moldy bologna I found in the cheese drawer. It didn’t matter. Neither of us were hungry, anyway.
I found him in the living room and handed him the cup of tea, the bag still steeping in the hot water, just the way he liked it. I sat on the sofa across the room and dipped my tongue to test the water. It was too hot, I pulled back, too hot for so many things. I waited for Nathan to speak first and when he finally did, I was surprised.
“I know about you and Macon.” The words laid there in the air between us. They shocked me and I felt a wave of nausea as a result. His voice was calm, unemotional. I wasn’t sure how to respond but I could tell he was waiting for me to say something.
“How did you find out?”
“He didn’t tell me, at least not at first. You know I make my living reading people. There was something about the way the two of you behaved with one another, it wasn’t normal for people who had been strangers just a few days before. There were no questions, no conversation about the future. You behaved like two small children waiting to get caught for having broken the cookie jar. It wasn’t all that hard to see. When I finally realized it, I confronted him. He got quite a kick out of it, one upping the old man, so to speak. We decided it would be a good idea if he didn’t live here anymore and so I gave him some money, quite a bit actually, and sent him on his way. Obviously, I paid for him to die. He would’ve never made that drug by if I hadn’t given him the money.”
“Nathan, don’t do that. Don’t do that to yourself. I blame myself, too. If I hadn’t treated him that way, if I’d shown him a little decent respect, I have 100 reasons if I have one. But it all comes down to the same thing. He’s gone. He made the decision that led to it, not you and not me.”
“I’m glad you can see that so simply.”
“Don’t be so facetious. It’s the truth. You know better than this. Wallowing in guilt will not bring him back. He knew the risks. If it hadn’t happened during the by, it could have happened one night when he mixed too many chemicals or may be swerved on his bicycle and got hit by a car. I don’t know, Nathan. All I know is he was a troubled man. People tried to help, but he wouldn’t let them. He enjoyed being a troubled man.”
“Well, maybe there’s some truth in what you say. I’m not sure I really knew the man, Macon. I’ll always remember him as my son, the little boy who wave goodbye when I left for work each day. He was very much like his mother and a lot of ways. Actually, he was very generous, but he never had anything material to be generous with. He didn’t judge people, not like you and I do. He let them be who they were and that’s all he wanted and return.”
The silence hung between us as I searched for something more to say. “Do you have any idea who those two men were? Did Macon ever talk about any of his so-called friends?”
He shook his head. “I was going to ask you pretty much the same thing. They’ll be like just all the other pushers in town. They’ll keep their head down and disappear and will never find out who killed him, or more importantly, why. If he was a good customer, you think they want him around. Maybe he had all the money with him in cash and flashed it. Maybe they decided they couldn’t wait, or they didn’t want to use up their inventory selling it to him. I don’t know. That’s for the cops to figure out.”
I could only agree with him, so I nodded. “I hope I can let it go at that.”
13
Nathan
Milwaukee is a hell of a cold city in the wintertime. Even though the lake lies to the east, the wind has a way of doubling back and giving you one more icy shock of it. Once the coroner released Macon’s body, I had a decision to make. I wanted to have a funeral for him, but there were few people who would come, if any. Those who would warrant the kind of people I wanted there. I thought I would bury him next to his mother. She would’ve liked that, having her son at her side. There was an extra spot there, supposedly waiting for me. I didn’t want to be buried there. I had hopes of being remarried and having more family and maybe even smile again before I died I didn’t want to be chained to a burial on my calendar.
So it was that Christina and I stood silently as a minister read a prayer, said the few words they say when they don’t know the deceased and then pat you on the back for holding out their hand for the donation envelope. She and I each threw a handful of dirt on the casket followed by a bouquet of red roses. Then we left.
We got into the car and I was going to take Christina home. I had no clue where we were at that point and it didn’t seem to be the sort of day to talk about it. I didn’t start any conversation, but she did.
“Can we go somewhere? You know, somewhere to talk? Not your place and not anywhere we’ve been before. Maybe drive up the shore little ways?”
I nodded. “Sure.” I didn’t have anywhere else to be, and to be truthful, all I wanted was to be with her. We found ourselves at a wood trestle table in a restaurant dedicated to the Vikings of Wisconsin, whomever they may be. We waited for a stein of beer
and a platter of barbecued ribs. It was extremely awkward, and I knew we both felt it. They brought the food and drink and then left us alone. It was a Monday afternoon, not much going on. Most people were still in work.
“I want you to ask me the questions you’re putting off asking.” She was serious, I could tell by the look on her face.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t pretend. We’ve come this far without pretense, don’t start now.”
“Why did he call you and not me?”
“I’ve given that question some thought myself. I’m convinced that he didn’t want you to know why he was in the park. He thought I was the safer person, I guess.”
“But they must’ve already stabbed him when he called you.”
She nodded. “I know. I think he knew he was done for and maybe he didn’t want his final thoughts to be humiliation in front of you. I don’t know. It wouldn’t have made any difference you know. He was too far gone when I got there and the same would’ve happened if it had been you.”
I took a sip of my beer. “I know that. No one is blaming you.”
“He did.”
“He did? What did he blame you for?”
“For not taking the time to understand his true needs. I never truly listened to Macon much. He was always playing those infernal games, the sound up too loud, trying to intentionally annoy me. He knew I was worried about money and yet, he never went out to look for a job. He asked me to marry him, did you know that?”
“No. He never got that far. I threw them out of the house as soon as I found out you lived together. He tried to tell me it was innocent that you’d never been intimate.”
“He was telling you the truth. God knows, I wanted to. I did everything I could to make myself attractive. I tried to initiate it, but it was no good. It never would be good enough.”
“Why do you say that?”
She took a deep breath and went straight into it. “Nathan, you do know that Macon was gay, don’t you?”
For the second time in four days she saw my face go white. “No, I didn’t.”
“Does it matter?”
“No. He was my son and I loved him, with all his dents and scratches.”
“I wish I could have been as unconditionally loving as you are. When he didn’t hold up his end of our deal, I became angry and even resentful. There were times I made his life in absolute hell and he just patiently waited me out. It wasn’t until the end that he finally lost it, shouted at me, picked up his things and left. That’s a credit to you, you know.”
“I appreciate you saying that. I accept that Macon was a troubled person and I don’t think anyone was responsible for that, not even him. People just turn off that way sometimes.”
“I know this is a lousy time, but will I ever see you again?”
“Do you want to?”
“You know I love you, don’t you?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Will Macon be hanging over us?”
“Christina, to tell you the truth, I really don’t know. I’m in shock right now, as I’m sure you are. I think we need some time to take stock of things and to examine our own hearts. If we pick up where we left off, the process of grieving could pit us against one another. I don’t want that.”
She sighed and played with a strand of her hair, a sign that she was uncertain and vulnerable. “I understand.”
I nodded and motioned to the plate of ribs between us. “Have you had your fill?”
I knew she heard the double entendre. She was smart enough to get that. She nodded and I pulled her chair back for her, through some bills on the table and we left the restaurant, heading home. I pulled up at the end of the alley where the pitiful trailer sat. It seemed to be waiting for her, hungry to feed off her humiliation yet another day. I got out went around and opened her door, holding out my hand for her. She took it and stood up, brushing invisible wrinkles from her coat. “How much time before you will know?”
“It’s a fair question but I don’t have an answer for you. I’ve already decided I’m going to close my practice for a while, anyway. I’m going to try a little traveling. I really don’t know any more than that. I’m truthfully shooting from the hip.”
She opened her mouth as if to ask another question but thought the better of it. “Bye.”
I watched her back as she disappeared down the alley and into the junkie trailer. There had been a time not so very long before when I never would’ve allowed that to happen. That was before Macon died. Everything had changed now.
14
Christina
Life changed at that point. I wasn’t able to tell Nathan about the baby. He was too raw, too vulnerable and I knew he was a gentleman. He would delay his grieving and stay by my side, but not because he loved me. He would stay because it was the right thing to do. He was a man driven by guilt and therefore easily manipulated. I refused to take advantage of that. He had asked me about the birth control and in my feverish need for him, I had lied. That made it my fault and my responsibility. Not his.
I didn’t know if or when Nathan would be coming back. I asked myself what he even had to come back for. Sure, there was a house, but he could call an agent from out of town and have it sold. Yes, he had a going practice, but he was bright, personable and had easily grown the current practice. A new one would be no trouble to launch.
That left me. Was I enough to come back to? Would I become enough if I had a baby on my hip? I suspected I would, but I didn’t want him that way. No, not that way.
There was only one option for me, and that was to move forward under my own power. I couldn’t depend on Nathan to take care of me, that wasn’t fair. I couldn’t depend on anyone, it was no one’s responsibility but my own. So I let life just continue along. The morning sickness passed eventually and my tummy grew outward. I began to have cravings for things I couldn’t afford. I would stop at thrift shops on my way home from work and comb the tables for maternity clothes that would not be obvious. I hadn’t told them at work yet about my condition. I was always slender so I had a lot of time to hide it. I knew I would have to eventually. I needed their health insurance, and I needed my job to take care of my child. There was a free clinic nearby and they looked after me during my pregnancy. They were pretty good about it, giving me free vitamins and doing the occasional ultrasound to make sure everything looked okay. I was grateful.
Piece by piece I began to accumulate the things that babies need. Not knowing whether it was a boy or girl, I decided to go neutral and chose navy blues and reds and purples. Why not? I checked in with social services to find out daycare options. There were some, but not for an infant until they were at least a year old. That meant I would have to quit my job and stay home full-time. I cringed when I thought about it. I knew I had to come up with something, and so I began to look online for work from home positions. I was competing with the rest of the world, I learned quickly, and they worked for a fraction of what I could afford to work for. Nevertheless, I used my college training and began writing blog posts for psychologists or others in the psychology field. The pay wasn’t great but at least I could be home. They were accommodating and I could start as soon as the baby was born which meant I would keep my current job for the medical insurance. Everything worked out when you really needed it to.
It was one week before I was due to quit my job. The doctor said I was due any day and boy I could feel it. I got cramps regularly down the backs of my legs, making it almost impossible to sit still and even watch television. I had scrimped and saved and slowly managed to accumulate formula and diapers and the things babies need. Me? I would eat Ramen noodles and boil the crap out of a soup bone to survive. Winter was over and spring was beginning. I knew I’d have one big savings and that was my Uber fares. I’d see to it that I didn’t have to ride anywhere, but I could walk and push the cheap stroller I’d picked up at the goodwill for the baby. Sure, I had some distant family I could’ve called on, but I wasn�
�t there problem either. Women before me had been single and raised entire families. Why couldn’t I do it?
The uber let me off the end of the alley and I instantly smelled smoke. I heard sirens in the distance but they grew closer and with horror I saw flames shooting out of the top of my trailer. Someone must’ve called the fire department. I ran, or rather waddled as quickly as I could toward it, hoping I could pull out something to salvage, but it was too far gone. Trailers were notorious for going up in flames in a matter of minutes. I had no renters insurance — that was for rich people. And now, I had absolutely nothing and nowhere to stay. The fireman took me to a shelter for the night, run by the Red Cross. There is absolutely no privacy and they weren’t really prepared for a pregnant woman. I saw their nervousness and their faces and knew I had to find somewhere else to go. My insurance was good through the end of the month, so at least that part was fine.
I went to the public library and looked up everything I could find about forcing your labor to start. In some obscure magazine I found the mention of drinking castor oil, a noxious product of the castor bean plant. In its powdered state, it was ricin, one of the most toxic substances on the planet. It’s oil, however, was as old as the hills, having been hawked as a tonic to cure everything from depression to a male’s lack of performance. According to the article, if you drink 2 ounces of the stuff and you are near labor, it would start. If you weren’t ready, you just end up having to sit in the bathroom. It was a chance I had to take. I stopped in the corner drug store and bought the smallest bottle I could find, it held exactly 2 ounces, how convenient. I went outside around the corner where I found a bench and sat down to try and pour the stuff down my gullet. It was utterly miserable and I gagged and threw up everything I drunk so far onto the grass. Resolved to do it, I went and bought a second bottle, and this time I added a bottle of lemon lime soda. I decided to quickly take a sip of the oil and chase it with the soda which was effervescent and help the oil slide down my throat more quickly. I gagged twice more but I didn’t throw it up and eventually the bottle was empty. I sat back, waiting to see what would happen.