Chapter
9
I awoke at
I went to the bedroom and lay on the bed.
My thoughts tumbled over each other like clothes in a clothes dryer.
I was afraid we had killed Duval. I
wanted to go back to the hospital and see Candy and Marlo,
but I was afraid that if I showed up at the hospital the cop outside the door
would notice my hands.
By the time the alarm went off at
He said he had to be at his new job at the box factory by
Coming out of the bathroom, he rubbed the top of his head with the
palm of his hand. He looked down at
my hands. “Your hands are a real mess, man.”
His voice was thick.
I looked at them and flexed my fingers.
He said, “My feet feel fine.”
“Very funny.”
“Let’s get breakfast.” He yawned,
stretching both arms above his head. He
dropped his arms to his side and shook himself, in a kind of shiver, like
a dog shaking water from its back.
We sat down at the almost empty counter and an attractive, dark-haired
woman in her late thirties took our order.
She wouldn’t meet my eyes and stared at my hands, shifting back and
forth on her feet.
When she left, I said, “What
if we killed him?”
His shoulders arched and his neck seemed to sink into them. “Shit. You
can’t kill scum like that. They don’t
die.”
“I’m going to
He looked at my hands but didn’t say anything.
“I might end up in jail but I’m going anyway.”
“I told you. They don’t care
about scumbags like him. The cops beat
up pimps themselves, whenever they think they can get away with it.”
He had worked as an undercover cop once, busting prostitutes and he
knew what he was talking about. He
said, “Wear gloves.”
I laughed. “Why didn’t I think
of that?”
“Brad. You may be a genius but when it comes to....”
“Stop the genius crap....” I
looked down at my hands.
He laughed, derisively, “Maybe
you ought to preach the Gospel, like your mother.”
“Leave my mother out of this.” I
looked over his shoulder into a dark corner of the restaurant. The waitress was standing behind the cash register,
crying. She went into the kitchen and
a younger waitress, about twenty-five, with red hair and milk white skin,
came out of the kitchen with our breakfast.
My ribs shook in the cold of the early morning.
Fog swirled in the tall trees that almost hid the large hospital building
from the street. I walked very quietly
along the road towards the entrance. The
grounds were empty. I left the road
and walked into the underbrush where we had left Duval the night before.
There was a large flattened area where the tall grass had been trampled
down, but his body wasn’t there.
I entered the lobby. A huge
black woman in a freshly washed and starched white uniform was sitting behind
the desk. She didn’t look up. She said, “Can
I hep’ you?” She was writing something in a binder.
“I’m here to see my sister.”
“Which ward?”
“H. Room 202.”
She looked up. The intensity
in her eyes caused me to lower mine. I
stood motionless, looking at the shiny linoleum.
I waited, looking at my shoes, nervously.
“OK honey.” Her chair squeaked
as it turned. “Simms. Fetch me ward H, level 2.” There was a silence. “Hear?”
A soft, disembodied voice from behind swinging doors said, “Yesum.” A middle aged black man with a kind face came
through the doors, holding a large ring with a key dangling on it.
The nurse took out a map and said,
“You’ll have to go way over yonda.” She turned her body to indicate the direction.
“Up the back steps of buildin H.” Her large,
ringed finger pointed to the map. “Go
up to the second floor. You’ll have
to unlock the door yo sef with the key.” She
looked at Simms.
Simms said, “I’ll take you up
there sir.”
She said, “That is very kind of you Simms.”
I followed him through the swinging
doors towards the stairs.
The twisting of the key in the lock made a loud, squeaking noise. Simms pushed the door open and held it so that
I could walk through ahead of him. He
handed me the key and showed me how to lock the door behind me. I thanked him and locked the door, leaving him
outside on the landing.
I looked up from the shiny, faded-ochre linoleum floor to see two eyes
boring into me from the other end of the hall.
The cop was sitting in a chair against the wall and holding a book
in his left hand. He was wearing a
dark blue, short sleeve shirt and his right hand was on his thigh. I could see the black handle of his service
revolver against his white forearm.
My hands felt cold and clammy inside the gloves.
My heels clicked loudly as I walked towards him. When I reached him, I heard myself say in a
low voice that was almost a whisper, “I’m here to see my sister, Marlo Phillipe.” The expression on his face softened. “I need to be alone with her.”
“I have a kid sister. If somethin’ like that happened to her I’d hunt down the animals
that did it, myself.” He shook his
head. “I’d kill them with my bare hands.”
He looked at my gloved hands.
“I feel like it,” I said, looking at the linoleum.
“I feel for you buddy.”
I made a movement towards the door.
He stepped aside, and I went in.
My hands were ice-cold and I felt the muscles in my neck trembling. The cop shut the door behind me and I stood
there, motionless, looking down at Candy’s empty, unmade bed. In the other bed on the right, Marlo was lying on her side and her head was covered with
a blanket. A few strands of blond hair
were visible on the pillow. I walked
towards the bed noiselessly. I reached
out and put my hand on her shoulder. I
said, in a very light voice, “Marlo.” Her head moved
very slightly. I placed my hand on
her shoulder, gently, and repeated, a little louder, “Marlo.”
She turned over and pulled the covers from her head. Her small voice sighed, “Yes?” When
she recognized me, her features registered disbelief.
“I wanted very much to see you,” I said, and felt myself holding back
tears. She shook her head back and forth, slowly.
She raised her head, looked down at the covers and then past me, at
the wall. When she realized where she
was, her head sank back onto the pillow. She looked into my eyes again and I was seared
with her pain. I knelt beside the bed.
“I am so happy to see that you are....”
Her eyes brimmed with tears. She
looked at my hair and my shoulders and my ears, as if she wanted to make sure
I was really there. Tears began rolling down her cheeks and I took
her into my arms and she cried, gently. I struggled to control my feelings,
but my tears flowed onto the pillow. I
held her for a very long time, bending awkwardly over the bed. For a moment, I was afraid to release her and
look into her eyes. Then I moved away
and put a finger of my coffee-colored wool glove to her temple, pushed her
hair back and kissed her tear-stained cheek.
She asked, “Why are you wearing
mittens?” Her voice was soft and high-pitched
like that of a small child.
“It’s cold.”
She reached up and squeezed my hand.
“Ouch.” I lowered my voice. “Actually, I hurt my knuckles. I won’t be able to pitch for awhile.”
“That’s so bad. You’re such
a good pitcher. I was so impressed.” With my gloved finger, I traced a tear line
from her eye to her full upper lip. She
closed her eyes. “I’m so ashamed of
myself.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
She shook her head back and forth.
“I can’t get it out of my mind Brad.
I can’t stop thinking about it.” She
began to cry again. I leaned over and
held her in my arms again.
I said, gently, “You’ve got to.”
She was silent for a moment and then she said, “I’m no good.”
“Don’t say that.” I searched
her serious face, and saw that the wonderful, airy beauty had been transformed
into heaviness and dark despair. Her
hair was tangled and matted together at the ends and her eyes were dark and
sunken from crying. There were bruises on her arms.
She asked, “Did you and Anne fight again?”
“No. But we decided we’re going to start seeing other
people.”
“She’s my best friend.” She
lay back and closed her eyes. There
was a large bruise at the back of her neck, partially covered by her golden
hair. I shuddered.
She lay motionless on the bed, with her eyes closed.
“I’m your big brother now.”
She opened her eyes and tried to smile.
“That’s how I got in here. It’s
what I told the nurse at the main desk, and the cop too.”
Her eyes widened, slightly. I
looked around at the shiny, yellow walls.
A bare light bulb hung by a long cord from the high ceiling. I looked at Candy’s empty bed. “Where’s Candy?”
Her mouth opened. “Do you know
Candy?”
“It’s a coincidence. One of
my childhood friends helped her out once.
He tried to help her get away from....”
I looked into her eyes for a sign that she knew about Candy. The expression on her face didn’t change.
“You know, she’s just a kid. Lyle tried to get her to go back to her father.
She’s only seventeen. That’s his name, Lyle. He introduced her to me once, to see if I could
help her.”
Her eyes were questioning. She
said, “You know she’s a....”
“I know...”
“She told me all about it. It’s
so sad. I like her a lot. She’s so sweet. And I felt so sorry for her that I....” She stopped.
The heaviness was in her face again.
After a few moments, she raised her blue eyes and they were clear and
serious again. “She went to the bathroom.”
I felt my eyebrows pulling together into a questioning frown. I said, “She’s
been gone a long time.”
“She went to see that ... creep down the hall...” She motioned towards
the door with her head. “Somebody beat
him up last night. Real bad. Right out in front of the hospital.” Her eyes grew wide with emotion. “Candy heard the nurses talking about it and
she told the cop in the hall that she was going to the bathroom but she was
really going to see him. I told her
not to go.”
“There’s a bathroom in here isn’t there?”
“It was another cop. A young
guy. It was last night. I don’t know how she did it, but he let her
go. She didn’t come back.”
My eyes blazed with a mixture of feelings that the author couldn’t
decipher.
She said, “I feel the same way.”
I looked around at the bare, yellow-gray walls and up at the lone light
bulb and at the big white grid that was the bedstead behind her pillows and
said, “We’ve got to get you out of here.”
“I can’t leave yet.”
“Why not?”
“They want to see if I’m pregnant.
My body stiffened.
“They threw me out of the car afterwards and I ...
and it was a long time. I...”
“Did you...?”
Her tiny voice wavered with emotion,
“I was so scared that I couldn’t sleep and so the next morning I took
the bus to the hospital and told them what happened.
I didn’t even tell my mother, at first.”
Her blue eyes were clear and reassuring.
“They’re taking really good care of me Brad. The doctor is so nice, I can’t believe it.”
“Did they hurt you?” I looked
at the bruises on her arms.
Her eyes dropped and her face darkened.
“I...” She didn’t finish her sentence.
“Can we talk about it later?”
“Yes.”
We were silent for a few moments. I
asked, “When are they going to let
you out?”
“They said I’m lucky because my period is due any day and that makes
my chances better. Keep your fingers
crossed for me. I don’t want to have
an abortion.” She shuddered.
“Are you sure you’re all right in here, all by yourself? I couldn’t stand to be in a room like this alone
all day. I’d go crazy.”
“Candy keeps me company.” She
craned her neck around and looked at the empty bed.
“Anyway, she used to keep
me company. I couldn’t stand to be
here alone.”
“Can’t you go home and wait for your period at home?
You could stay with...” I finished the sentence with my eyes.
We heard muffled voices from the hallway.
The door rattled behind us, and Candy came into the room. I was on my knees and I twisted myself around
to look up at her. Her face was black
and blue and swollen beyond recognition, and her eyes looked like a boxer’s
eyes after a bad beating. She stood
motionless in front of the door and I got up.
She raised her left arm and gave a little wave. Her right arm was in a cast that extended from
her elbow to her hand. “My God.
What happened?”
She stood motionless.
I said, jauntily, “Marlo’s
my sister.” With exaggerated movements,
I jabbed my finger towards the wall, behind which the cop was sitting. Her eyes opened wider and the whites were full
of blood.
“Marlo’s your sister?”
I pointed to the wall again. I
whispered, “It’s how I got in here
to see her.” She smiled and I saw that
she was missing at least two teeth.
I said, “You look horrible.”
Marlo said, “Brad!”
Candy climbed into bed and pulled the covers over her head.
“I’m sorry I said that, baby.” I
went over to the bed and tried to pull the covers from her head but she slapped
at me with her left hand and I moved back.
I heard myself yell in a very loud voice,
“Stay away from that son-of-a-bitch or I’ll kill him.”
Marlo got out of bed and locked her arms around my waist.
The door opened and the cop stuck his head into the room.
He asked, “Everything all right
in here?”
Tears were in my eyes.
The cop said, “Take it easy Mike.”
He approached me. He put his
hand on my shoulder. “Calm down kid. It’s over now.”
I said, “I’ll be all right. I just got on a bummer talking about it.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yeah. I’m all right.” I looked into his eyes. “Really. I
need to be alone with my sister. Please.”
“OK. If you promise no more yelling.”
“I promise.” He went out.
Candy hadn’t lifted the covers from her head.
I said, “Candy. I’m sorry I said that. Please come out now.”
The covers were shaking and she was making whimpering sounds.
I said, “Please. I’m sorry. I’ve
been through a lot. I’m sorry.”
Her high voice came through the covers.
“You’ve been through a lot! Now
I’ve heard everything.”
There was a very long silence. Finally,
I said, “I’ve never been beaten at
chess by a girl before.”
Her voice came from underneath the covers, strong and confident. “You’ll never be able to beat me.”
“You can play blind chess, with the covers over your head if you want
to, but I’m going to have a rematch.”
“I don’t want anyone to see me.”
“You’re beautiful baby. I swear
it.”
She lifted the covers. “I look
like Quasimodo.”
“Hey. You have a few bruises. Some broken places. You’ll heal.”
I went over to the bed and tried to kiss her cheek. Her head moved back and she pushed me away.
“Don’t look at me.” She pulled
at the pillows underneath her with her left hand, trying to make a soft place
to lean against. I helped, clumsily. When she finally got into a comfortable position
she said, in her small voice, “Someone
beat him up real bad last night. He’s in a body cast.” Her swollen eyes opened imperceptibly. “I felt sorry for him.”
My fists clenched, involuntarily, causing my knuckles to ache. “Candy...” I raised my gloved hands and placed
them together in front of my face, as if I were praying. She stared at them. I turned to Marlo
and heard myself snap at her, “When
does your mother come to visit?”
“My mother? At three, usually.”
Candy said, “Marlo.”
Marlo’s voice rose. “She comes at three.”
Candy said, “She won’t come because I’m here.”
“That’s not true. She won’t come because she wants me to come
home. But the doctor said I should
stay for a few nights.” She stared
at her hands, which were folded on the bedspread covering her chest.
I looked up at the clock on the wall and then back to Marlo's
profile. I said, in a low voice, “I have some things to do.” Her face fell. “I should get going....”
She turned her face towards mine and her blue eyes were wide and questioning.
I said, “When can I come back?” She looked down at her hands and smiled.
“You can come after dinner if you want.”
Candy said, “Make sure you come
after dinner. Just looking at the food they serve here will
make you barf. I eat blindfolded.”