Collateral Damage

by Patrick Jones

  “This is Nicolette Douglas. Please leave a message, and I’ll return your call.”

  It was no surprise his mother didn’t pick up. She answered maybe one in ten of Ty’s calls. Ty wondered if she was avoiding the message or him, the messenger. He left a message anyway. “Mom, it’s me, Ty. I’m at the hospital with Dad. Please call.”

  He set the phone on his knee. A moment later, he reached for his wallet and pulled out another piece of paper. He paused and then dialed.

  “Hello?”

  The sound of her voice poured warmly over him. “Hey, Malayeka, you doing anything?”

  “Tyshawn!” He could hear the smile in her voice. “I’m just out of school. What’s up?”

  “I’m at the emergency room at St. John’s in Warren. It’s my dad.”

  Without missing a beat, Malayeka said fiercely, “I’m on my way.”

  A few minutes later, a middle-aged white woman with short black hair approached Ty. “Are you Tyshawn?” she said, her hand outstretched.

  “That’s me.”

  “I’m Mrs. McKay from social services. Let’s go to a consult room so we can talk.”

  Ty followed her down a hallway into a small room. She shut the door behind her.

  “Tyshawn, your dad had a seizure this morning.”

  Ty blinked. “Seizure?”

  “Thankfully, it happened during physical therapy, so he was brought here for testing.”

  Ty still didn’t have enough information. “Will he be ok?”

  “It depends. There are medications to help, and there will be follow-up testing. But you need to know,” she said, reaching across the table to touch Ty’s shaking hand, “your dad told me what a strong young man you are and how well he’s being taken care of. He’s bragged about you all afternoon.”

  Ty looked down and smiled.

  She pulled her hand away. “We have the best neurologists here. When he’s through with testing, we’ll go up and see him together.”

  “They’ll let me in, even though I’m not eighteen?”

  “They’ll let you in because I’m gonna tell them to let you in, how’s that?”

  The two headed back to the emergency room waiting area when Ty saw Malayeka. She wore her blue-and-white Cass Tech school uniform.

  “I’ll be back soon,” Mrs. McKay said as she walked away.

  Ty stopped. Seeing Malayeka was by far the best thing that had happened to him in a long while. He felt a wave of relief come over him.

  Malayeka smiled and began to walk toward him. When the two met up, they hugged one another hard, as if they’d been doing it for years.

  “Thanks for coming,” whispered Ty.

  “Sure. This kind of thing—you don’t have to go it alone.”

  “There’s so much—” Ty said, even though he knew Malayeka understood.

  “It’s going to work out,” she said softly, yet firmly.

  “I don’t know where to begin,” Ty said. Malayeka pointed to a row of chairs, and Ty followed her.

  “Why is your dad here?” she asked. Hospital beeps, families crying, phones ringing, and muffled announcements filled the silence as Ty gathered his thoughts.

  “They say he had a seizure, and—”

  “No,” Malayeka interrupted, “tell me the whole story.”

  Ty took a deep breath like he was at the foul line in a tie game with one second on the clock. Malayeka leaned in, placing her small hand just an inch from Ty’s. “He was on patrol . . .”

  18

  FEBRUARY 20 / FRIDAY EVENING

  WARREN HIGH SCHOOL GYM

  “Great pass, Rondell!” Ty shouted out at the court. Rondell’s perfect pitch to Arquavis set a lay-up, which put the Wildcats ahead by 20 going into the final quarter.

  Ty tossed Rondell a towel. As he watched Rondell wipe away the sweat, Ty remembered the final game of the holiday tourney when he’d soaked up the crowd’s cheers like a sponge. It was only two months ago, but it felt like a different lifetime.

  “Douglas, up!” Coach Carlson yelled. “You’re in for Henderson. Make it count.”

  Ty nodded and took a deep breath. As he ran onto the court, he glanced into the stands. Malayeka sat with Queen and Tori, the girls from Teen ACHIEVE.

  “You remember how to pass the ball, Douglas?” Arquavis cracked. “Seems to me you play more like iron than Teflon.” Ty said nothing, letting the cheers of the crowd wash over him. Shania was leading them—she could cheer for Arquavis now. Ty was fine with Rondell taking his minutes on the court, but Arquavis pouncing on Shania was too much.

  Ty took the ball from the ref and stood out of bounds. The whistle blew, and Wildcats scattered across the court, dogged by Brighton Bears. Ty head-faked left, inbounded right.

  Arquavis gathered up Ty’s perfect pass and started up court. Ty raced behind and set up near half court. The ball came back to Ty; he was back on point.

  With the Bear guard growling in his face, Ty passed to Jamal, the Wildcat center, at the top of the key. Jamal pivoted, faked a shot, passed the ball back, and then set a screen. Ty took the ball, but only for a second as Arquavis cut for the basket. Ty tossed the pass high and hard between the defenders into Arquavis’s hands, who laid it off the backboard into the net.

  ***

  “Great hands, LeBron!” Benj joked when Ty dropped the Big Mac Benj had thrown to him.

  “I like your hands just fine,” Malayeka whispered in Ty’s ear. She sat next to him in a crowded McDonald’s booth. Queen, Tori, Demonte and Benj jammed in next to them.

  “Maybe I’ll teach you how to pass,” Ty countered.

  “And maybe I’ll teach you how to skate that ramp like a champ,” Benj said.

  “And maybe—” Demonte jumped in the conversation. Back and forth they went, taking shots at Ty. How friends talk.

  Ty sat back in his seat as Malayeka held onto his arm. “It seems like everybody’s getting along just fine. I told you it would work out,” she whispered.

  “You always say that,” Ty whispered back. He had never met anyone as confident or optimistic as Malayeka. Or maybe it was something else, that word Coach had used. Resilient.

  “How’s your dad?” Malayeka asked. She always asked; Shania never had.

  Even with bright lights and laughter all around him, Ty felt darkness. He hesitated. “You ever study mythology, Greek gods?” Ty asked.

  Malayeka shrugged.

  “There’s this guy called Sisyphus who pissed off Zeus,” Ty explained. He loved the Greek heroes for the same reason he loved Bruce Lee: in the end, they always won. “So as punishment, Zeus made him push a big rock up a hill, but right when it gets to the top, it rolls back down.”

  Malayeka held Ty’s arm tighter.

  “That’s my life, my dad’s life now.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” Malayeka pressed her head against Ty’s shoulder.

  Tyshawn looked over at her. “Just be on the hill with me.”

  19

  FEBRUARY 28 / SATURDAY AFTERNOON

  VETERANS CENTER, DETROIT, MI

  “Mom, it’s not like that. He can walk now.” Ty felt Malayeka squeeze his hand for support.

  “He fell into a chair.” Ty’s mom sounded overwhelmed, even over the phone.

  “He’s getting better. They say his seizure was probably due to the medications he’s taking, that he might have missed one or something. It’s a small setback. And someone comes by to clean and do stuff for him. He’s better. You should come home.”

  “I’m buried in this Chrysler contract. I can’t risk it.”

  “Not even one evening?”

  There was a pause. “I’ll think about it. Listen, where are you now?”

  “I’m at the Vet Center. There’s a support group I’ve been going to.”

  “So you’re going to therapy?”

  “It’s not therapy, it’s more like—”

  “See, this is what bothers me. You’re not the one having the problem, and you’re goi
ng to a support group?”

  “But it’s—”

  “Your dad used to be strong. If he just didn’t have everyone taking care of him, he’d get better faster.”

  “And he is, Mom.”

  Another pause. “Sorry, I’ve got someone from Chrysler in the lobby.”

  Ty listened to the silence on his phone. “Mom? Mom?”

  Malayeka put her arm around his shoulder. “Remember what Mr. Gomez said: work on the things you can control.” She looked in his eyes. “I’ll help you push the rock.”

  The two walked into Teen ACHIEVE and took seats next to Mr. Gomez. Going on six meetings now, Ty felt he was among the older, wiser members of the group like Malayeka, who’d been coming to the group for months.

  Mr. Gomez opened the group and then asked each teen to discuss events from the past week. First to speak was a newcomer, Danielle, who talked about how much she and her younger sister missed their father.

  Ty raised his hand, and Mr. Gomez called on him.

  “I didn’t know about this until I came to the group,” said Ty, “but if you bring in a photo of your dad, the auxiliary here has a printer where they’ll print your father’s photo on a pillowcase. Might be something you can look into for your sister.”

  Malayeka squeezed Ty’s hand.

  “Great recommendation, Ty,” said Mr. Gomez.

  A new guy named Jermaine told how hard it was to concentrate at school, that watching the news every night—the bombs, the wounded, the gunfire—had him worrying all the time.

  Ty raised his hand. Again Mr. Gomez called on him.

  “You should be here next time we have art therapy. Mr. Gomez, when is that?” He saw Jermaine’s raised eyebrow as Mr. Gomez responded, and he jumped back in. “I know, art therapy sounds kind of . . . I don’t know. It’s good, though. And have you tried writing stuff down, like the things you’re thinking and worrying about during the day? It seems like busy work, but it really helps.”

  Mr. Gomez’s nodded at Ty and smiled. “Thank you for that contribution. As Ty mentioned, when we have feelings we don’t express, they come out some way—sometimes in anger, sometimes in depression.”

  This time, Jermaine nodded knowingly.

  “You have to find a way to express yourself,” said Mr. Gomez, “and journaling or art therapy, those are both good ways.”

  ***

  Ty and Malayeka found themselves strolling the long hallway of the Veterans Center again after the group meeting.

  “Right here,” said Malayeka. “This is where I gave you my number, right?”

  Ty looked around. “I believe it was.”

  With that, Malayeka punched him softly in the arm. “So why’d it take so long to call?”

  Ty put his arms around her waist. “I had stuff to take care of. You know how busy I’ve been.”

  Malayeka smiled. “I know. But things are getting better, aren’t they?”

  “If I could just convince my mom of that.”

  “What did she say when you called?”

  “She’s still on this kick about ‘Dad won’t get better unless you leave him alone.’”

  “Isn’t he already getting better?”

  “Lots better. But how will she know if she doesn’t even stop by and visit?”

  The two continued, walking in silence. Ty thought about the group and what a great feeling it was to have helpful things to say. Then he thought about his mom and how, try as he could, he couldn’t get her to come home. A thought then crossed his mind. If he brought in her picture, he could have it copied on a pillowcase for his dad. Ty laughed aloud.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Malayeka.

  “I may have to take my own advice.”

  20

  MARCH 14 / SATURDAY AFTERNOON

  TYSHAWN’S HOUSE

  “I thought he was better,” Ty’s mom whispered, glancing inside as Ty greeted her at the door. Ty had invited her to dinner to meet Malayeka, but his mom was more concerned with her husband when she saw that he was in a wheelchair.

  “He overdid it the other day,” said Ty. She didn’t need to know the details. “He’s learning he can’t to do too much at one time. Just like he coached me, balance in all things.”

  “Not everybody grows up with Bruce Lee as a father,” she laughed.

  Ty couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her smile or laugh, but it was too long ago.

  “Mom, this is Malayeka,” Ty said, glancing her way with pride. “She goes to Cass Tech. You know, the team I personally crushed in the holiday tournament?”

  Malayeka stepped from behind Ty’s father. “Nice to meet you.”

  “I hope for everyone’s sake you did the cooking,” said Ty’s mom. “I wouldn’t trust either of them.”

  “Hey, I’ve gotten to be pretty good at cooking,” said Ty.

  “And at ordering pizza,” joked Ty’s dad.

  “Why don’t we all have a seat?” Ty’s mom said, pointing toward the living room.

  “Already got one.” Ty’s father tilted his chair up like a kid doing a wheelie on a bike.

  Ty’s mom took a seat in her usual chair. Ty took a seat on the couch, gently pulling Malayeka to his side. His dad did most of the talking, while Ty did most of the eating. Ty noticed his mom wasn’t saying much, not even questioning Malayeka like a cop with a suspect, which is how she treated every other girl Ty had brought home. Ty sensed an odd vibe in the room. It was like one of those puzzle pictures where everything looked normal, but when you looked closer, stuff was wrong.

  After an awkward silence, Ty’s mom finally spoke. “I have good news and bad news. That Chrysler contract? They gave it to another vendor, so I told the company I was taking a few days off to be with my family.”

  “Honey, I’m sorry,” said Ty’s dad.

  “I didn’t lose my job or anything like that. In fact, I think it’s a good thing. Contracts can come and go, right? But not family.” She paused, and her face softened as she looked at Ty’s father. “I found out the hard way.”

  Malayeka smiled. “That sounds like something my father would say.”

  Ty grabbed Malayeka’s hand. “Malayeka was in the stands at the city tournament.”

  “You saw the big play?”

  “I did. Too bad it took your son three months to call me.” She nudged Ty.

  Ty started to protest, but Malayeka cut him off. “But you know what else I saw that day?”

  “What was that?” asked Ty’s mom.

  Malayeka’s gaze turned toward Ty’s father. “I saw a hero.”

  ***

  After dinner, Ty and Malayeka put the dishes away, stealing kisses when they could. Ty stayed quiet, apart from the clanking of plates, listening in. When Malayeka started to ask Ty something, he stopped her and pointed toward the living room, where his parents sat and talked.

  “I wanted the Denver I knew,” his mom said, “The Denver I fell in love with in school.”

  “I’ve always been here, honey,” Ty’s father insisted. “We had a little setback, that’s all.”

  “I know that in my head, but in my heart . . . We dealt with setbacks before, but this, this—” Ty’s mom paused, then leaned forward. “Denver, are you really doing better?”

  Looking into the room, Ty thought his dad seemed hurt by the question, but then a smile returned to his face. “I’ll show you. Ty?” he called.

  Ty stepped back into the room and motioned for Malayeka to join him. “Yeah?”

  After taking a deep breath, Ty’s father pushed himself up from his wheelchair, grunting with the effort. Once he stood, he reached out for his wife’s hand. “Everybody, time for hoops.”

  Slowly, Ty’s dad made it out the front door, his wife by his side. That’s how it should be, Ty thought. Instead of walking down the ramp, Ty’s dad sluggishly made his way down the steps. From inside the garage, he grabbed a basketball. “Dad, what are you doing?” Ty asked as he handed it over.

  “I got this,” Ty�
�s father said with a confidence that Ty hadn’t heard in a while. Ty’s father bounced the ball off the pavement, slowly at first, then faster, harder until he got to a yellow line painted on the driveway. “Three pointer?” Ty’s dad took a half-step, planted his foot and shot. The ball clanked the rusted hoop and then fell in.

  Malayeka and Ty laughed. Ty saw his mom wasn’t laughing; she looked stunned.

  Ty’s father grabbed the ball as it bounced back. He turned quickly to his wife. “Layup?” He took three slow steps and jumped, bouncing the ball against the backboard and into the net.

  Retrieving the ball again, he turned to his wife, a little winded. “You asked if I really am doing better, yes. You just haven’t been around to see.”

  Ty nodded and put an arm around his mom. He and Malayeka were still laughing at his father’s showing off, but his mom started to cry. Ty was glad it was not because she’d lost something, but rather because something she’d lost had been found.

  21

  MARCH 15 / SUNDAY, LATE AFTERNOON

  WARREN CITY PARK

  “Drive, Demonte, drive to the basket!” Ty’s dad shouted. Demonte gathered in Rondell’s pass and then made his way to the basket, forgetting to dribble. “Travel!”

  “You travel so much, you should get frequent flyer miles,” Ty cracked.

  Demonte tossed the ball to Ty. It fell inches short. Ty and Benj were up by two against Rondell and Demonte with Ty’s dad yelling orders like a drill instructor.

  “I ain’t never gonna get the hang of this,” Demonte said, almost in a pout.

  “You’d be surprised what you can learn,” said Ty’s dad. “Never give up on yourself.”

  For a minute, the only sound among the five was Ty bouncing the ball. Behind him, the soundtrack of games on nearby courts—blocked shots, trash talk, slam dunks—seemed louder than normal. Finally, Ty broke the silence as he passed the ball to his dad. “Dad, you prove that every day.”

  His father caught the ball, bounced it twice, and passed it back. “You, too, Ty. You, too.”

  “I gotta get to the dentist after hanging out with you two,” Demonte cracked. “You’re all givin’ me more cavities than a bag of candy.”