Eat, Drink, and Be From Mississippi

by Nanci Kincaid

  Out of the corner of his eye Truely saw Arnold dive toward Gordo’s bed a second time and begin to wrestle him again. “Give it to me, man,” Arnold was snarling. That was when Truely saw that Gordo had a gun in his hand. Fear flashed through his body, momentarily paralyzing him.

  “He got a gun, man,” Arnold yelled. The two of them were locked into a grisly struggle. The gun — Truely recognized it. It was the handgun he had taken from Arnold and placed on the library shelf. Damn. He started toward them in slow motion. He was yelling too, screaming, but had no idea what he was saying.

  When the first shot was fired, it was terrifying enough. Arnold and Gordo both groaned as if they had been hit, but their struggle continued without pause. It was the second shot that caused Gordo to cry out and let go of the handgun. A spurt of blood splattered out over the bedsheets. “Goddamn you, man,” Gordo snarled at Arnold. “You shot me.”

  Arnold stood holding the gun in his hand. His clothes were drenched with sweat. He was crying soundlessly, tears snaking down his face. “You a liar, man,” he said. “I’m trying to keep you from shooting yourself. You talking about blowing your brains out, man. I ain’t gon let you do it.”

  By now Suleeta and Shauna were in the room too, both yelling hysterically. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

  “Goddamn Arnold shot me,” Gordo said.

  “He was trying to shoot hisself,” Arnold insisted. He was nearly crying. “He planning on killing hisself tonight. I’m just trying to stop him.”

  Pablo rushed to help Jerry, who collapsed onto the floor, his hands clasped to his jaw. He and Shauna dragged Jerry a few steps to a chair and propped him in it. “What the hell?” Pablo asked.

  “I think I broke his jaw,” Truely said.

  “Arnold gave Gordo that damn gun,” Jerry said in garbled speech.

  “Arnold?” Suleeta asked, disbelieving. “You brought that gun in here?”

  “I came back to get it,” Arnold said. Tears ran down his face. “I tried to take it away from him.”

  “What are you thinking, niño?” Suleeta asked.

  “Gordo beg me.” Arnold was crying now. “He say if I don’t bring him a gun so he can blow his brains out — he get somebody else to do it. He mean it too. He says if I’m any kind of friend I’ll help him go out so he won’t have to keep on like this. I keep telling y’all he want to die. Don’t nobody listen. I come back because I don’t want you finding him in here with a bullet in his head.”

  Truely turned to face Gordo, his words firing like a second round of bullets. “You lousy jerk.”

  Two security officers came barging into the room then. One of them pulled an emergency lever on the wall. A sickening beeping alarm began. Suleeta was saying to them, “He been shot in the hand. See?” It was his hand with the missing fingers. She was trying to wrap Gordo’s hand tightly in the bedsheet to stop the bleeding.

  Two nurses ran into the room wide-eyed. “He’s been shot,” one of the security officers said. “His hand.”

  “Clear the room,” a nurse ordered. “Get everybody out of here.”

  “You got to pump his stomach too. He eat some pills. See here?” Suleeta motioned to the pills in the bed. “Gordo swallow some those pills.” She was like a broken record.

  Shauna was oddly quiet. “I knew something like this would happen,” she said to no one in particular.

  Jerry clutched his jaw with one hand, pointing at Arnold with the other. “He brought drugs in here. Brought a gun too — with intent to kill.”

  “Gordo, you speak up for Arnold. You hear me, man?” Truely was shouting. “Don’t you let him go down for you here.”

  The nurses pushed Truely back from the bed. “You need to leave, sir.”

  The security guards summoned the military police upstairs. Two more nurses came running, code blue–style. Gordo was yelling for people to get out, cursing them by name, starting with Truely. The nurses scurried around Gordo’s bed, getting his vital signs, making arrangements for him to be taken downstairs to have his hand treated and his stomach pumped, getting someone to come up and remove the spilled pills from his bed and floor.

  Suleeta kept saying, “Hurry. You got to hurry.”

  The security guards herded everyone down the hall into the waiting room, where they would all be held and questioned.

  IT TOOK THE SAN DIEGO POLICE more than thirty minutes to arrive on the scene. It seems domestic dispute was not unheard of at the VA Hospital. It was not generally thought to be an emergency.

  By the time they arrived the waiting room had divided into the Mackey family on one side and Truely and Arnold on the other. Arnold stood unnaturally close to Truely. “They ain’t going to arrest me, are they, man?”

  “They are if Jerry has his way.”

  “You ain’t going to leave me up here, are you? You going to stay with me, right?”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Truely said.

  “You believe me, don’t you?” Arnold asked.

  “You carry a gun in someplace and what do you think is going to happen, man? You took that goddamn gun down from the shelf, didn’t you? I thought you gave me your word, man. I thought your word was starting to mean something.”

  “It was stupid.”

  “You think?”

  “I tried to come back and get it. Gordo got to tell them the truth.”

  “The Gordo that loves you like a brother? The Gordo that’s always got your back? That Gordo?”

  “We didn’t come back up here he could be dead right now.”

  “Or you could be,” Truely said.

  “What’s gon happen?”

  “Nothing good.”

  In the end, after rounds of contradicting statements were taken, the police handcuffed Arnold and led him away. The expression on Arnold’s face as they led him downstairs to the patrol car was something Truely would never forget. There was a flicker of fear, but a larger look of resignation, as if the biggest mistake of Arnold’s life was ever entertaining the notion that his life could go differently.

  Twenty-seven

  IT WAS THE WORST THANKSGIVING Truely could remember. Even worse than his first Thanksgiving after Jesse left, when for the life of him he struggled to recall what he had to be thankful for. Courtney had planned to have Thanksgiving at her place in Saratoga — invite her usual friends, maybe this new guy on the scene, Bob Gavin, and of course Arnold and Truely. She had asked Arnold if he wanted to invite Vonnie and his grandmother to come too — she and Truely would fly them up to Northern California if he liked — and Arnold had promised to think it over.

  Now Arnold would be having his Thanksgiving dinner in the San Diego jail. Courtney canceled dinner at her house in Saratoga. Bob Gavin had convinced her to join him at his daughter’s house in Palo Alto. She had three kids. It would be fun, he’d promised. Get her mind off her troubles. Courtney would be a Thanksgiving guest for the first time in years — maybe ever. They invited Truely to join them too, but he didn’t have the stomach for it — new people, making nice when he wasn’t feeling nice.

  In the weeks since Arnold had been arrested Truely had established a routine for visiting him at the county jail. He went on Wednesdays and often Arnold’s lawyer joined him. They had to go into the glass-cage visitor stall one at a time, but afterward they could compare notes and collaborate. Saturdays were reserved for Arnold’s grandmother and Vonnie. Truely had kept his room at the Hyatt. He made sure he was around to pick up Arnold’s grandmother and Vonnie to drive them to the jail on Saturdays. That way he could make sure they got there with no excuses.

  On a whim the Saturday before, Truely had invited Arnold’s grandmother and Vonnie to have Thanksgiving with him at the Hyatt. He wanted little more than the convenience of staying put, ordering room service. “Nothing fancy,” he told them. “We’ll have some turkey and dressing, watch a little football, just try to take it easy.” To his surprise they accepted. He arranged to have a small dinner for three set up in his r
oom, overlooking the vast Pacific Ocean. He knew Vonnie would like it, judging by her original longing to stay in the hotel with Arnold. He wasn’t as sure about the grandmother, who had asked that he call her Coletta. Coletta Carter. She was young-looking for a grandmother — but old of spirit, Mississippi-style. Not the type to smile without good reason. Her life had been hard, and if you couldn’t detect that for yourself then she would be more than glad to tell you about it. Truely got along with her okay.

  He drove over to Bay Vista Apartments to pick them up late on Thanksgiving afternoon. They came out to the car looking dressed for church. Had you seen the two of them someplace far away from Bay Vista you would easily have thought they were living the middle-class life they aspired to. But the Bay Vista address gave them away. Truely actually felt conspicuous going into the neighborhood, a middle-aged white man driving an Escalade. “Call Vonnie’s cell phone when you get here,” Coletta had told him. “No need to park your car and walk up to the door.” He understood what they were saying. And he obeyed.

  They got in the car, Coletta in the front, Vonnie in the back. Truely noticed Vonnie waving to a group of older boys standing in front of the building, leaning against the wall. “Who’s that?” Truely asked.

  “Nobody,” Vonnie said. “Just L.J.”

  “That boy be in jail before he turn twenty,” Coletta said.

  “Like Arnold?” Vonnie asked sarcastically.

  “Arnold don’t belong in jail,” she said, “but L.J., he do.”

  “He’s not as bad as she make out,” Vonnie said. “He got redeeming qualities — she just don’t like him.”

  Coletta laughed a harsh nasal laugh.

  “This sort of crazy, huh?” Vonnie said. “Couple of weeks ago we didn’t even know you. Now here we are having Thanksgiving at your hotel.”

  “I guess we can thank Arnold for that,” Coletta said. “I wish he was going to be with us today. I hate to think of him over at that jail.”

  “You and that lawyer are going to get Arnold out of there, right?” Vonnie said to Truely. “He say you are.”

  “We’re going to try,” Truely said.

  DINNER WENT PRETTY WELL. Coletta and Vonnie admired the view awhile, commented on the hotel furnishings, opened some of the dresser drawers to see what was inside. Truely and Coletta drank a glass of champagne. Vonnie had a sparkling water. As soon as the food was rolled in on a small table with white tablecloth and fresh flowers, they pulled up three chairs and sat down. Truely lit the small tea-light candles on the table.

  Coletta said, “Okay, y’all, let’s bow our heads and thank the Lord.” She proceeded to launch into an elaborate impromptu prayer, ending with “Forgive me for the ways I have failed my daughter, and now my grandson. They both locked up in jail and here I am sitting here about to eat a beautiful dinner. It ain’t right, God. You know that better than anybody. Please act upon their hearts and deliver them from their hard-living ways. We thank Mr. Truely Noonan for his concern over Arnold and for hiring a good lawyer to help us. I thank you for my baby grandgirl, Vonnie here. Keep her out of trouble, Lord. I don’t believe I could take no more bad news concerning my children or grandchildren. In Jesus’ name we pray.”

  “Amen,” Truely said, relieved not to have been asked to add a verse of his own to Coletta’s prayer. He looked up and noticed that Coletta had tears in her eyes. He saw that with the slightest encouragement she might lapse into a full-out crying jag — which he didn’t feel prepared to deal with.

  “This a lot of food for three people,” Vonnie said, serving herself. “We going to have a bunch of leftovers.”

  Truely had overordered on purpose. As far as he was concerned leftovers were an important Thanksgiving tradition. He would have the leftover food packed up to go home with Coletta and Vonnie. He had learned that from Courtney. She always sent her guests home with beautifully wrapped leftovers.

  Coletta said the food was plenty good — that she could have made better if she’d cooked it herself but the nice thing was not having to cook it herself. Vonnie ate with enthusiasm too, but she was small and had a small appetite. She lost interest in the food quickly and became more interested in the perks of the hotel room. She studied the minibar, exclaimed over the absurdity of the price list, went in the bathroom and marveled a little at all the stuff they were giving away free. She asked Truely, “Are you fixing to need this lotion right here? What about this bath gel? Do you want this shower cap or these emery boards?”

  “Take what you want,” Truely said. “I got what I need in my shaving kit.” So Vonnie loaded the toiletry items into her backpack, along with the stationery in the desk drawer and the notepad and pen beside the phone.

  After dinner they watched the first half of the USC–Notre Dame game. Coletta claimed to be a USC fan — but Truely wasn’t convinced. She talked almost nonstop through the whole first half, barely watched a down. Vonnie pretended to pull for Notre Dame just to make it interesting, but she was mostly thumbing through magazines. At halftime USC was up by twenty-one points. There was not much hope for a comeback by the Irish, so Truely drove the two of them back to Bay Vista Apartments.

  Before she got out of the car, Coletta shook Truely’s hand and said, “You a white man, but you a good man. Makes me think maybe I was wrong to ever leave Mississippi. Me and Vonnie appreciate what you’re trying to do for Arnold. Arnold is a good boy.”

  She got out of the car carrying the sack of leftovers and walked up to the door. Truely noticed that the same pack of boys were still standing around outside, leaning against the building like before, looking plenty rough and ready for any sort of trouble that might come their way. Did Arnold used to be one of those boys? he wondered. Did he used to spend his Thanksgiving Day leaning against a wall looking lost and bored with life?

  The swarm of idle boys propped up against the decaying building at Bay Vista were nameless except for the one Vonnie called L.J. Boys without fathers and without futures, Truely assumed, who had accepted their deficits long ago and stopped complaining. They dressed in mostly black, aiming for invisibility he guessed, with those droopy, baggy pants all the better for hiding contraband. They wore fake diamond jewelry, same as Arnold, and exaggerated sportswear — Nike, Adidas, Reebok, Chargers, Raiders, Lakers, USC, ASU, SDS. If they really were athletes they might actually have futures — or at least shots at futures. But from all indications, these boys were not athletes. They were wearing costumes like kids at Halloween — who dressed up like Superman fully understanding that wearing the costume was as close as they would ever come to having the powers. Truely waited until he saw that Coletta and Vonnie were inside with their door closed and then he drove back to his hotel.

  THE FIRST TIME Truely visited Arnold in jail it had not gone well. Arnold was scared. Truely could see the fear in his eyes and it made him mad. “Don’t even think about feeling sorry for yourself,” Truely began. “You put yourself right where you are. You and that damn gun of yours. I guess you could see that Court and I trusted you. We stopped checking the bookcase for your gun. How’s that for stupid? If I’d known you had that gun with you on the drive down here I would have stopped the car and put you out on the side of the road and been done with it. All of it.”

  After a long moment of silence, Arnold found his voice. “I messed up, man. You was saying one thing. Gordo saying the other thing. I ain’t sure who to listen to.” Arnold was staring at his clasped hands. “I know Gordo is counting on me. At first, you know, I see why dying don’t sound too bad to him. I see why putting an end to things seems like the right thing when he all busted to hell and his legs torn off. There was times I felt like maybe putting an end to it all myself and I never had no bomb blow me apart like that.”

  “Excuses,” Truely said. “Your specialty.”

  “So, what? You hate me now? You think I get what’s coming to me?”

  “You keep on like you’re going, man, and you’re going to self-destruct. You’re halfway there now. Look
around you, man. Do you see where the hell you are? I’m not your old man, right? I know that, but if I were, first thing I would do is try to beat some sense into you — Mississippi-style. I should have lit into you that night at the VA Hospital.”

  “I wish you had of. I don’t know what stopped you.”

  “Me either,” Truely said.

  “Then, after that, after you beat the hell out me, what you do?”

  “If I was your old man I’d blame myself. Isn’t that what parents always do? But I’m not your old man and I don’t blame myself. I look at you and see a kid who was born into a mess and grew up in spite of the fact that he never got any basic instruction on how to be a decent human being. You figured it out yourself — sort of. Like you changed your mind and went back in there to get that gun away from Gordo. That’s about the only part of this whole damn story I like.”

  “Me too.”

  “Here’s the thing, Arnold. I don’t know where the hell you came from or how you ended up in my life, living in my house, hanging sheets all over the place, but dammit, you did. And in spite of everything I was starting to get used to you being around. I’d come in the house looking for you. On Saturdays when all the college games were on I liked having you in there hollering, pulling for the wrong teams, eating me out of house and home. Courtney always trying to cook something just because she thinks you’ll like it. Goddammit. We aren’t ready to give up on you yet. Courtney tries to tell me you were sent into our lives for a reason. But I think that’s bullshit. I think somehow you just pushed your way in — God knows why — but never mind, because you’re here now, your life all snarled together with ours, and now we can’t be happy if you aren’t. Isn’t that one hell of a note? We can’t be happy if you aren’t.”

  Truely paused and ran his hands through his hair in a gesture of aggravation. “And you can’t be happy locked away in this purgatory of a jail for doing something totally stupid, for your infuriating lack of judgment — and so, dammit, we have no choice. We have to do what we can. And we’re going to.”