A Love Hate Thing

by Whitney D. Grandison

“He’s going to be okay, Nandy,” Travis swore as he held me tight.

  An alarm went off, and collectively we lifted our heads.

  “Code blue. Code blue in the ICU, all units report to the ICU,” a monotone voice announced over the PA system.

  A set of doctors rushed by.

  My knees gave out as I screamed. “No!”

  Travis kept a strong hold on me, saying something encouraging in my ear, but it didn’t reach me.

  Tyson.

  They took Tyson.

  He wasn’t coming back.

  No.

  41 | Trice

  My house wasn’t boarded up anymore. It looked brand-new. The grass was green, healthy, and freshly cut. Flowers bordered the front porch. I could hear birds chirping, but I couldn’t see any. The rush of the wind was the only other sound that I could hear.

  It felt like I’d been standing in front of my house for years, just waiting for something to happen.

  As I watched, the front door opened and a boy ran down the steps with a big toy truck in his little hands. He was grinning wide and happy, racing to the front lawn to play.

  The next person to come out the front door was my mother.

  She walked down the steps and looked after the little boy before facing me, her expression solemn.

  I couldn’t breathe. She was here and alive. I stared at her, watching her look at me.

  Mom.

  “Well, I do believe you’ve been standing out here long enough,” she said as she came over to me. She stood in front of me, admiring all that I was, it seemed.

  “You knew I was out here this whole time?” I asked.

  She lifted a brow at my tone. “Yes, I did. Figured it’d do you right to suffer awhile for coming to see me so early.”

  I bowed my head, feeling ashamed. “I’ve done some things, Mom. Terrible things, illegal things, things you taught me better than.”

  She nodded. “I know. Here, I know everything. I’m not happy with you, Tyson. You knew better to get into that mess. To do those things with those boys. Even if it served a greater purpose, I wouldn’t have been happy with you. You know better.”

  “I just wanted to get us a better life.”

  “I never had a chance, but you did.”

  Her defeated tone soured my mood. “Everything happens for a reason, huh?”

  “Who knows, maybe I died so you can live.”

  “Bullshit, Mom.”

  She reached out and smacked me hard across the back of the head. “Who do you think you’re talking to? And another thing, who raised you to speak to your elders the way you have? If you could feel pain, I’d knock you out of your shoes.”

  She was both mad and right. I didn’t feel pain and, looking down at my chest, I wasn’t even bleeding anymore. Wherever we were, pain didn’t exist. Or maybe it did, because even standing with my mother, the woman I’d missed so greatly over the past eight months of my life, I wanted and needed someone else.

  “I’ve been angry with you, with myself, for what happened,” I said.

  “You’re not the only person angry right now, Tyson.”

  I could only imagine how Nandy felt in the aftermath of my death. “I was just trying to fix things for the boys, as a means to say goodbye.”

  My mother shook her head. “Prophet was right, you know. You should’ve left this place good and alone.”

  I sighed. “It’s a good thing I’m dead, because I would never hear the end of it from him.”

  My mother narrowed her eyes. “Is that what you want? To be dead and here, like me? You’re only seventeen, you haven’t even lived your life yet—you haven’t completed your education, you’ve barely fallen in love, and I want that for you. I want to see you happy more than anything.”

  It was hard to answer, so I didn’t.

  In the yard, the little boy went at it with his toy truck. There were no other kids, and yet he seemed as happy as could be. From his dark skin and familiar face, I got a sense of nostalgia.

  “That’s me?” I asked.

  My mother softened. “My little boy.”

  No one else was in sight. “Is he here, too?”

  My mother barely blinked. “Sometimes, when I want him to be. Mostly it’s just you and me.”

  “How could you want him here?”

  “Here, things are different. He’s different—he’s the man I fell in love with. We’re a family. We have a chance. At one time, he was the love of my life. He gave me you.”

  I wanted to understand, but I couldn’t. “He took you from me. He separated us.”

  “And now here we are, huh? Together again. Are you happy?”

  It was like she was digging to get the words out of me, and I didn’t have the heart to utter them. I stalled, once more examining wherever it was that we were. It was our old street, full of our neighboring houses, and they were all well-kept like ours. No one was outside, and there was no sign of another person. Not even a car driving by or parked in a driveway. It was just the three of us in this little world of Lindenwood before.

  “Where are we?” I asked.

  “Where I’m happy. Where it’s just you and me, and things are good.” She observed the younger me. “This is where I get to see you as a normal boy who has a chance to be happy.”

  “So, this what we’re doing from now on?” I wanted to know.

  My mother frowned and shook her head. “No, this is what I’m doing. You’re going back, where you belong.”

  “Mom.”

  She reached out and touched me, feeling more real than ever. “It’s okay. I’m not hurt or upset. I know that this isn’t what you want anymore.”

  Her words were true and omniscient. Still, I felt a flinch of guilt. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay to move on. It’s okay to want more.”

  “How do you know how I feel?”

  “You feel guilty for wanting to be with her more than me. You feel awful, because you want to live and to love her, and not be dead and gone like me. You feel bad, because you’ve healed and are moving forward and found a reason to live. You feel sorry, because you’re choosing her over me. It’s okay, Tyson. I want you to be happy, and if it’s with Nandy, so be it.”

  She knew me and what I wanted more than anything, and it hurt, because it still felt like I was betraying her. “I didn’t want to be happy. I didn’t want a life without you.”

  “I know, baby. But you were meant for more than this. You’ve got quite a life ahead of you. Don’t lose it now.”

  “You think I could’ve been happy here?”

  She looked at the little boy playing with his truck in the grass. “You are.”

  This was the goodbye I’d never gotten before. It was rewarding as much as it hurt. “I love you.”

  “And I’ll always love you.” She wrapped her arms around my middle and hugged me close.

  Holding her back, I felt peaceful. “Goodbye, Mom.”

  “No.” She leaned back and peered up at me, smiling softly. “I’ll see you later. Much later.”

  * * *

  Blinking my eyes open, I came back to reality. I’d had that dream every night since being shot. Each time, I would stand there and watch the house and wonder where I was and what was going on. This was the first time I’d seen and spoken to my mother. Something deep down told me it was going to be the last. That it was the goodbye that I had never gotten, and now that I’d gotten it, I had to do as she wanted and move on.

  Surveying my surroundings, I found that I was still in the hospital. The left side of my chest throbbed slightly.

  For as long as I lived, I was going to make an effort to never get shot again.

  “Shit,” I let out as I sat up in bed, then winced at the dull pain in my shoulder.

  Movement to my right caused m
e to look over and discover Parker. He had the newspaper in his hands and immediately set it aside at the sound of me waking up.

  In the doorway, I caught sight of my doctor stepping into the room.

  “Trice, hey, how you feeling today, buddy?” He greeted me with a big smile as he came to the foot of my bed. He was the same doctor I’d had the first time I’d been here.

  “Slightly shot,” I told him.

  Parker sighed, and the doctor—Dr. Lehman—chuckled.

  He gazed at his clipboard. “Don’t worry, Mr. Smith, it’s all right here—recovering from a gunshot wound comes with a side effect of sarcasm. Perfectly normal.”

  He was joking, but Parker wasn’t laughing.

  In the past week, as I’d drifted in and out of consciousness, it had become clear that Parker’s patience had been tested. He was tired and upset, and each interaction with him showed me that more and more. He’d stayed by my side, however, and carried out my wishes for no visitors outside of family.

  The first time I’d woken up, I’d noticed a poster with an inspirational writing quote hanging on the wall, a toy typewriter on the nightstand beside my bed, and that the blinds had been pulled back to let in sunlight. All of it was a sign that Nandy had been in my room, decorating to make me comfortable.

  But I hadn’t seen her.

  According to Parker, the first time I was awake and speaking, Nandy wasn’t at the hospital long after my surgery. He wasn’t sure if she’d come back, either.

  I didn’t want to see anyone then.

  I’d almost died, according to Dr. Lehman. I remembered sirens and loud voices all bombarding me. In my blurred vision, I’d managed to make out Travis’s face beside me as we were moving. Later, I realized we’d been taken to the hospital and his words of my being all right were the last I’d heard before I’d been taken to surgery.

  They hadn’t been sure I was going to make it. I’d had an open chest wound. There were lots of tubes and a ventilation machine, I saw during one of my many bouts of consciousness. Dr. Lehman and his team had had to operate to close my chest. I wasn’t too sure of the details; I just knew that I had Travis to thank for my survival. Had he not been there, or if he’d come later, I would’ve died.

  Now, I sat up in my hospital bed, my arm in a sling and my chest sore from the stitches. I was alive, but barely breathing.

  Where was she?

  Dr. Lehman went over my paperwork with me, discussing how I was recovering and my vitals. I wasn’t listening. I was just waiting for him to finish and go so I could ask Parker what I really wanted to know.

  “You’re going to be fine, Trice. You’re very lucky to be alive, do you know that?” he said as he stood staring at me. “I expect you to make a full recovery, just like last time, although it’ll be a little longer before you can participate in any sports.”

  It wasn’t like I was an athlete anyway, but I knew school was going to be a bitch. Not just from the wound, but from the stares alone. If anyone had been afraid of me before, they were going to be terrified now.

  If Parker let me back into his home.

  “Just do me and everyone else a favor and try not to get shot again, okay?” Dr. Lehman said after discussing rehab and my healing with Parker and me.

  I managed to smirk. “I’m not sure I know anyone else who wants to shoot me, so I’ll try to be on my best behavior, Doc.”

  Wednesday, I’d spoken to the police about what happened. I barely knew the clean version, and there was no way in hell I was going to incriminate myself with the truth. I tried to play forgetful, mentioning only remembering leaving home and seeing my friends, and then stopping by Khalil’s.

  I feigned cluelessness as I brought up needing to see Mexico about a car issue, and told the officers that it was fuzzy from there. They said my story matched Travis’s, which was a surprise, because I’d yet to hear Travis’s story and what he’d been doing at the garage.

  I told the cops that Mexico had been lying there dead, and before I could call for help, Money attacked me. He had been in the hospital for a few stitches and was now in lockup for Mexico’s murder. Who knew if Money would come out and bring us all down with him for our whole operation?

  I was still holding my breath on that.

  Dr. Lehman smiled at my sarcasm once more before leaving me to Parker.

  I faced him. “Is she here?”

  He shook his head. “No, Trice. This hasn’t been easy for her.”

  I looked elsewhere. It wasn’t easy for Nandy? I knew there was truth to what Parker was saying, but still, her absence hurt.

  “I pray you never see a day where you have children and you have to watch them break down like I had to watch mine,” Parker went on. “Jordy and Nandy, they didn’t take this too well, Trice. I want you to think about that and carry it with you. I’m not buying Travis’s story, and despite the fact that the police do, I’m willing to bet something else was going on. You’re grounded.”

  His words turned me back around. He was joking, right? “Where am I going to go?”

  Parker stood from the chair and walked around my bed to the window. “For starters, you’re coming home, to Pacific Hills. I was going to give you a choice between my banning you from coming to Lindenwood and being grounded, but then, I’m sure you wouldn’t like the idea of not seeing your friends.”

  “My friend shot me,” I said.

  Nothing had changed. My goodbye with Khalil was the final goodbye. If anything, Money had made it even easier to choose to remain away. To take Prophet’s and Nandy’s advice.

  “What were you doing at an auto garage in the middle of the night?” Parker glanced back at me. “Tell me the truth.”

  I wanted to, but what did it matter?

  What did any of it matter?

  All I wanted to do was get back to her and she wasn’t even here.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “It was reckless and stupid, and I’m sorry I wasted your time in trying to fix and save me. I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you.”

  “So that’s it? You came here to see a friend, and then you went to the garage?”

  Without blinking, I nodded. “Yes. Money came out of nowhere.”

  Parker regarded me with suspicion. He eyed me like the father he was, one who was serious and compassionate. Willing to punish me and help me at the same time.

  He wasn’t like my father.

  I could’ve left it there, with him in the dark. But I wasn’t ungrateful for the time I’d spent with him and the Smiths. Parker was every bit a part of my second chance, and lying felt unfair.

  “Say that there was more, that I was doing something that wouldn’t fare well with the police, what would you say? Where would that leave things between Nandy and me?” I asked.

  Parker became solemn as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “First, I would like to know if this is the end of the unspeakable activity. Next, I would like to know if my daughter was involved in any way. And last, I would like to know the extent of what you were doing before I can make a judgment call. Are you going to need a lawyer?”

  “Right now, I don’t think so. I went to the garage clean. There’s nothing they can put on me that’s out of the ordinary. On paper, it looks like attempted murder,” I said. “I don’t know about motive for Mexico, but Money was jealous of me. He was angry I got out and that people expected more for me. He set me up.”

  Parker began to pace. Everything about Parker was white-collar and by the book. He worked in an office all day designing commercial aircraft, and was a loving husband and father by night. I felt guilty for bringing him in on my troubles. If this was my third chance, I wanted to go all in and not lie.

  “Start there,” Parker said. “You and I will discuss the not-so-legal bits of what you were doing there, but as far as the police are concerned, you were there for the mechanic
and your jealous friend assaulted you.”

  “He called me last Thursday,” I said. “The phone number was different. I realized it at the last moment. I didn’t want to think that he could go there.”

  Parker took in this information. “He probably bought a prepaid phone. Either way, we can work on the setup angle to tell the police. The police are saying the mechanic had been dead for a while, so if you can get the kid you visited to give your whereabouts before the murder, you can swing this. You just have to say Money got you to the garage that night, that he set up the appointment. It looks like he beat you there, and why would he do that unless something else was going on? Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yes,” I said. With Mexico already dead, we were in a hole. Money wasn’t psychic, he had reason to want me dead, but he wouldn’t know where I would be that night unless we had spoken.

  “The bigger problem is, what does Money know that can put you away?”

  “He’d put us all away and further incriminate himself, but with this murder, he has nothing to lose,” I said.

  “Was it a chop shop?” Parker was able to come out and guess.

  “Yes.”

  He rubbed at his jaw. “You better hope that garage is spotless and nothing can tie back to you. I think we can get out of this. You just have to hope Money doesn’t talk.”

  Parker seemed on board and willing to help. The extent of his willingness to take care of me made me envy Nandy for how good of a father she had.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “For all of this. Nandy and I were just hanging out and he called me out of the blue. I just thought something was wrong and my friends were in trouble. He was my friend, we grew up together. I never saw him turning on me.”

  “The thing about growing up in a rough environment and getting out, it’s hard to go back, because there’s always going to be someone mad that you made it and they didn’t. We’ll see that you get out of this unscathed.”

  “And Nandy?”

  Parker sighed. “I’m sorry, Trice, she just hasn’t taken this well. Max is trying to get her to come up here. She came here the first night, and it looked bad. I don’t want to see her go through that ever again, you hear me? If you say this is it, let it be it, because I do not ever again want to see my daughter break down the way that she did over you.”