by Dave Welch
I rushed for the ball, which had almost rolled up under the house.
All I could think about was how hard I would bean her across the head for humiliating me.
I snatched the ball up and whirled around fiercely, dashing to the front yard.
As I turned the corner, my stomach, and my heart both dropped.
I slowed to a stop.
I finally fell to my knees in such trepidation.
I couldn’t rightly perceive the fortuity that odiously installed itself into my slate of time. Never did I expect such an act of misfortune. My nerves ended abruptly. Now there was no need for puzzling questions.
Canieya was too late for this one.
The sun was shining, but my front yard had become dark, inky, and blistering to the concept of visuals. The search for amusement cleared itself from this morning’s database.
On a side note, the universe speaks to us at times, and sometimes it speaks in volumes that we may never store. Why?
Well, maybe because the magnitude is way too substantial to understand in its entirety. But I understood this. And at the same time, I suffered from a misconstrued cessation. My plans, her plans, the neighbor’s plans… everybody’s plans ceased in significance. Cause I know major. And this was way beyond major.
So… who am I? Really?
What was my purpose? Or what was my value?
How much would become too much for mental consumption?
Would we collapse from the shock of horrific sightings?
At this moment, I was far from any of these. Instead, I invited death. And for a variety of reasons.
One, I couldn’t beat this, unfurling horror.
Two, Canieya would never forgive me for such a loss, a juggernaut in unimaginable weight.
And three, I had finally failed. Totally.
If I didn’t act fast, my life would take a turn for the worse.
Mortally wounded and socially convicted, my past evils caught up with me, lastly seizing my soul.
I easily hated myself as I kneeled petrified, stiff as a freezing glacier. I couldn’t blink, think or sink any lower. I was too far, and my adrenaline escaped me for the first time.
If I had only eaten some cereal and watched cartoons a little while longer. Maybe staying inside would’ve thwarted the event at hand. Well, I don’t know… When somebody wants you bad enough, not even protective custody can obstruct a constructed death.
Yet and still, I had done too much.
I wronged so many people, regardless of my reasoning. And in my quest to redeem myself, I helped Canieya bring in so many fugitives. But she didn’t do anything to anyone. Not like I did.
Could it be?
My objectives colliding with my past objections.
And here I was, thinking karma ignored my criminal endeavors. I was such a fool—silly me. No one supersedes karma.
Damn my life. Fuck it all to hell!
I quivered away as I came to grips with this sudden arrangement. My eyes traveled from the ground, trapping the sight of an evil and uncivil substance of a man.
A man that I’ve never seen before, stood boldly in my front yard.
He wore some all-black combat boots, some dark fatigue pants with a black wife beater tucked in, a black utility belt and a large black overcoat, full of pockets. With the coat’s collar popped, he covered a great portion of his face.
He had dark skin with a clean, slender face, small lips, and a big nose. He was tall with brown dreads hanging down his back.
His eyes were soulless, audaciously tormenting evil.
He clenched Bookie by her throat with one hand. Then, holding a chrome 357 Magnum in his other hand, he skimmed lightly against her tender temple.
This was all happening as soon as I turned the corner after chasing down her ball.
The dread-headed reprobate didn’t even give me time to speak.
He pulled the trigger quickly.
Blam!
And just like that, I watched helplessly as my Bookie’s head blew off into fragments.
He threw her body to the ground like a trash bag, and he walked off into the neighborhood.
I left my gun and my criminal mind in the house. I wanted to follow the scoundrel, but I couldn’t. I was utterly too sick to stand.
The neighborhood responded fast. And at this moment, no one cared about what color I was or how I was dressed. All they knew was that Bookie was dead.
They came out of their homes running at full speed. I couldn’t look in their eyes, for self-guilt ravaged my mind. But I could hear them screaming.
“Bookie! Oh no, Bookie!” My neighbor Tom screamed.
He had already come to my aid with his cell phone.
I heard him shuffling in the grass, collapsing weightlessly to the ground.
“Oh man…no… Jesus help us,” he cried.
I dropped the ball and started crying as the blood painted my grass to a purple hue.
I crawled over to Bookie’s corpse as Mrs. Vivian and Carl from across the way, sprinting down the street. I could feel everyone’s energy and desire to help. So many conversations filled the air, and I couldn’t hold my despondent sobbing.
I reached out for my Bookie while still sitting on my knees. I was so weak from my unbridled crying. I held her close to me, ogling at the wound in her head. Blood was everywhere. It filled my clothes instantly.
Everyone crowded around me.
I felt Tom kneeling beside me, clenching his hands into the lofts of my shoulders. My body shook and jolted. I felt like I was being electrocuted by my anguish.
Tom wrapped his arm around my shoulder and rocked me back and forth. From left to right, I swayed as he mumbled a prayer. And that’s when it happened. My crying intensified until I just resorted to screaming. The pain of all my evils visited me with open arms. All of my wrongs, my hundreds of enemies, began to manifest.
That gunshot had yet to settle. I still heard it ringing. The sound will forever blast in my mind.
I looked into the sky, screaming without ceasing. My neighbors began to cry as well. Some couldn’t look at the graphic content, while others made it their duty to apprehend the fiend.
My Bookie. My only child.
What a day… my poor, terrible day.
I heard the sirens, but at the same time, I heard nothing.
And Canieya. Damn. Canieya… She had to hear this news.
Bookie was innocent. I would’ve politely died for her.
Then, I suddenly stopped crying. The tears, snot, and sobbing ceased as my anger increased. My criminal mind returned with a vile showering of hatred, a sun dance of explosive antipathy. I looked straight into nothing, clearly gazing through anyone that stood in front of me. Even though I was surrounded by a bunch of people that genuinely cared about my loss me, still there was no one there but me and Bookie. The only thing that mattered was me finding this ass hole of a person. This complete fuck.
My facial expression turned into a blank canvas as I gripped Bookie tighter.
I accepted karma’s decision.
The act of forgiving the criminal was far from my mind.
I had never killed a man before, but now, I would be making an exception. Wouldn’t you? I mean if a man killed your only child. Damn right!
The sirens whistled on as they finally approached the edge of my driveway. I hadn’t moved an inch and neither did Tom. A few of my neighbors were still lurking, speaking hectically to each other. But I had been rendered speechless as the memory recycled.
I bit into my bottom lip until it began to bleed. Everything was clear and valid now. I had never seen this man before, but his face was just as plain as day. And I never, ever, forget a face.
The Bronx, New York: Montefiore Medical
The night was still young as the setting fell to a reluctant change. I was still speechless as I found myself in the hospital being interrogated. Man, I felt like I hadn’t blinked in several hours. My rage singed my every emotion.
&nbs
p; “Mr. Lawson, do you have any relatives or loved ones that you or we may contact?” The officer asked.
The thought of Canieya receiving this news awoke me from my mindless daze of hate. Regretfully blinking my eyes, I responded sickly.
“Canieya Lawson.”
“Canieya Lawson… the, Canieya Lawson?” The officer quizzed with delight.
“Yeah, that’s my wife.” I answered.
The officer looked at me for a minute; then, he put his pen and pad away. “I’ll be right back,” he announced as he rushed out of the empty cold lobby.
The hospital seats here were uncomfortable. And the blood in my shirt began to smell. I was somehow fueled by this discomfort, and I didn’t care to leave. I had nothing to go home to. Canieya was in London, and there was no way she could make it to New York within a decent amount of time.
I found myself staring at every patient that entered through the sliding glass doors. I was looking to see if any of their faces could resemble or fit the description of the virus that plagued my conscious.
I walked over to the large window in the waiting lobby. I looked out into the sky as the man’s face stiffened my peace. Then, I heard someone yell.
“Mr. Lawson!”
I turned around, looking back into the waiting lobby to see the officer holding the phone between his face and shoulder.
“Sir!” he shouted. “I got in touch with your wife. She’s on the phone now. Would you like me to break the news or…?”
I shook my head in disagreement. He looked puzzled.
“Is she on hold?” I whispered.
“Ughhh…yeah, she’s on hold,” he quickly inserted.
I sighed with sorrow. Now was the time.
“Tell her, her mom was in a car wreck,” he looked confused again as he held the phone still.
“Please… I’ll tell her when she even comes,” I mumbled.
I saw a brief look of gloom come over the officer as he dropped his head.
“No problem, Mr. Lawson,” confirmed the officer.
Turning back to the window of the waiting room, I pondered into the distance, planning to gratify my vengeful taste.
I started to tear up again as I recalled all the times that Bookie and I shared.
“She’s on her way, sir!” yelled the officer.
I whirled around, looking at him with a stroke of disbelief.
“What?” I howled from the empty bellows of my soul.
“Yea, she just landed about two hours ago,” he included.
What type of devil witch timing is this?
I thought for sure that she was still in London. I knew I had to tell her the truth now. My breath grew short. The walls closed in. I felt dizzy and lightheaded.
I grabbed my chest.
“Are you okay, sir?” The officer asked as he hung the phone up.
I propped my hands up on my knees as the officer made his way over to me. I looked into the shiny, newly waxed floor with my back against the wall. My reflection was pitiful, yet a glow of hatred covered me. And right before I could begin to cry again, I saw his face. My eye twitched with an intensified gust of loathing.
The officer approached me as I stood up.
He stumbled as he drew closer. For a minute there, I thought he may have realized who I was. I prepared myself as he reached into his top shirt pocket. He pulled out a bunch of folded tissues and handed them to me.
“Was that your first child?” he asked with a glint of teary eyes.
“My only child…” I replied as I politely took the tissues from his hands.
He stood next to me with his back against the wall.
“Man, I couldn’t imagine this feeling. I don’t have any kids, but I do have a brother. And he’s been going in and out of a coma for about a year now. Every time he goes off into that…sleep, I feel like dying,” he solemnly stated as I looked at the ground.
“Me too,” I interjected. Then, he pulled out a box of cigarettes and gestured for me to take one.
“You smoke?” He asked.
“Might as well. Only poison could speed death up any quicker,” I said as we both walked out of the hospital and into the dreary night lights.
I sat on the curb and the officer sat next to me. He pulled out a lighter and lit my cigarette. He was, however, already smoking.
“Life’s crazy…and we make it that way,” he asserted as he blew his cigarette smoke into the air.
“I’ve seen so much shit in these streets, but never in my day did I expect this,” he bleated as he began to cry.
“You’re a strong man. How can you look so plain, with no regard? It’s as if this isn’t even affecting you. Hey!” he shouted.
I peeped over to him as he continued.
“I’m the one crying here, and this shit didn’t even happen to me,” he grumbled.
“This world is beautiful, man…just look around you. We make it ugly. We do!” He huffed in frustration. “And the fucked-up part is that we don’t have to.”
I looked at him boldly, steely piercing into his eyes as he blew his cigarette smoke into the air. I watched as a tear rolled down his face. I had only taken a few puffs of my cigarette before I stopped. I just hate smoking.
The officer then sniffed up a lump of mucus. He spat to the ground, and reached into his pocket for his cell phone. Then, in the distance, I saw Tom walking from his car.
I couldn’t hold it anymore. I started weeping again as the officer held his phone over to me, pointing at a social media post.
“You okay, homie?” Tom asked as he approached.
I sniffed while answering. “I’m holding on, man…”
I wiped my tears and then looked down at the post the officer was sharing with me. I read it as Tom handed me a card. He also had some snacks and a bushel of roses.
“The roses are from my wife,” he said. “Sometimes I think you guys got something going on…”
“Thanks, Tommy G,” I added with a smirk.
“Anytime, homie. I’ll take these in,” he said. I nodded my head as he walked off and into the hospital.
The officer and I were still sitting outside on the curb. He was still looking up into the sky, smoking while I continued to stare off into nothing. Then, I felt him redirect his attention back onto me. He stared at me for a while as I continued to stare straight ahead.
“Man, I can’t cry like I want because I can’t forget his face,” I uttered, flicking my cigarette into the hospital’s driveway.
The cigarette burned to a stop as the officer put his phone away. He then flicked his cigarette ashes and smoked without hesitation.
“Vengeance is a dish best served cold, my friend,” he paused during his brief lecture.
I kept quiet and still with hopes of concealing my identity.
“I can’t advise you to take matters into your own hands, but then again, I believe I’d shoot that pussy ass motherfucker in his face if it were me. And…” he growled while blowing out his cigarette smoke.
“I already know what you’re going to do, because I know who you are,” he mumbled.
I froze still and dropped my head in disappointment.
“I knew who you were when you first walked into the hospital. You’re, well… You were a thug, a criminal, a mastermind if you ask me. But times will change a man. And I’m guessing a child would help. A wise man once said, ‘A character, in the end, would either change or die in his failure to change.’ And I can see that you are not the same man that I grew to despise. But don’t concern yourself,” he admitted. “If I wanted to turn you in, I would’ve done that a long time ago.”
The officer sat still while smiling.
I was outdone and completely thrown off.
“I can keep a secret,” he whispered while puffing on his cigarette and standing to his feet.
He held out his hand, and we shook firmly. He held his cigarette in his mouth as the smoke entered his eyes. He squinted his eye while staring in my face.
“Besides… You’ve had a pretty gruesome day already. This tragedy is enough punishment. You have my deepest condolences, Crane.” The officer mumbled, sparsely dropping my hand.
I looked over my shoulder as the officer comfortably walked away. I realized how altered my path for vengeance had become. But the reality was, there are still some good people out there and that one police officer, for instance, wanted justice. I mean, why else would he let me slide? The answer was simple. He obviously understood the situation.
Then, I thought about that social media post.
I took out my cell phone to relay the same message.
‘Racism is stupid.’
An hour passed, and I relocated to the lower floors of the hospital. And there again, I found myself pacing back and forth, right outside the door of the freezing morgue. I was so angry, sad and mixed up. I propped up against the wall.
Then I heard it—the voice of all voices.
“What the hell are we doing down here?” she shouted from outside the main hallway doors.
I knew it was her. I recognize that vocal vent anywhere.
Suddenly, the hallway doors swung open, and two brutes walked in wearing some form of military gear. I immediately gawked into their faces to make sure they didn’t fit the mental description plastered to my brain “I know my momma ain’t dead.” She bellowed as she drew that much closer to the corner.
The agents weren’t moving fast enough for me to see her. Or maybe I was a bit too anxious. I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t ready to see her. But I couldn’t leave now… I had to face her.
Bookie had been saving me for so many years. But now, not even she, in this aftermath, could save me from Canieya’s wrath. I could feel the floor shaking as she shoved the double doors open.
She made her grand entrance.
I saw her clearly as we made eye contact.
She stopped in her footsteps. Her eyes wandered rampantly.
She almost turned around, but I quickly opened the door to the morgue.
She paused as I held the doors open.
The two liaisons walked up to me.
“Mr. Lawson. I’m Agent Woods,” he said as he shook my hand.
He stepped aside, and the other agent entered the morgue without a greeting. I hadn’t noticed because I was still looking at Canieya.