Holding Her in Madness (10 page)

Her poor little wrinkled brows remind me of those puppies. What are they called? Shar Pei. Yeah, those Shar Pei puppies.

I want a puppy.

“No, no, ma’am.” I chuckle because I want to pet her little Shar Pei face and squeeze her little wrinkled cheeks, but I don’t. I just tell her, “No, ma’am. Everything is fine, Miss CeCe.”

Her soft hand slides across my forearm before she pats my hand, “Oh... I see.” Her giggle is soft. “My little sugar’s feelin’ the good stuff. Well, good. ‘Cause now it’s time for our chat, Mr. Phillips. You ready to talk?”

I wave my hand, and she spoon-feeds me a few more ice chips. I chew and talk around them. “Sure, whatcha wanna know, Miss CeCe? Wanna know ‘bout how my girl thinks I’m nothin’ but trash? Wanna know ‘bout how I gave her everything I had and was ready to give her even more? Or how about that I made as sure as I possibly could to fucking knock her up just to keep her tied to my piece-of-shit ass. That she and her daddy made sure that I knew even that wouldn’t be enough to keep my little firecracker with me.”

I don’t realize I am fucking crying until I feel the tears sliding into my ears and hair. Miss CeCe has a handkerchief dabbing the tears away.

“Aww...now, now, boy. Nothin’ is as ever final as it seems. You’re so young. You got your whole life ahead of ya. Don’t go cashin’ in ya chips over just one girl. That’d just be a damn waste of a helluva fine young man.”

“No...” A sigh rushes though my dry lips. “Not just any girl, Miss CeCe. She was the fuckin’ one. The only one. And she’s gone.” I look over at her and nod towards the cup of ice chips. She looks away right before I see her tears fall over her eyelids.

“Well…” She coughs, clearing her throat with her back turned to me so I can’t see her dabbing her own tears away. When she turns around, she has a sad smile on her face, but I can tell she’s trying to turn it into a real smile “You’ve ‘bout had enough of those ice chips. You want some juice? I have some coins in my coin purse. I can go down yonder and grab us a Coke from the Coke machine. You like to be an old lady’s company on her break, Mr. Phillips?”

A painful laugh barks from my throat, making me wince. “Yes, ma’am. I think I’d love that, Miss CeCe. But just some water for me please.”

“We’re not done talking, honey. Just so you know.”

“Yes, ma’am. I know.”

Miss CeCe is easy to steer away from the shit I don’t want to talk about. I feel like I gave her more information than I should have during my first hour of flight into my high. I use the same tactics I used on the girls in Cali as well as all the girls in this shit town up ‘til when I fell on my ass trying to run away from Lil.

Lead the conversation to them, ask them about their feelings or how whatever makes them feel. Works every time. And THAT is in the playbook. Actually I’m pretty sure it’s in every damn playbook in the world.

Before I even realize it, I’ve talked Miss CeCe into calling the doc at two a.m. and requesting my discharge orders. Quick little old lady was spinning her magic, saying I was threatening to sign out against medical advice, which apparently docs don’t want to happen unless it’s absolutely necessary and the doc really believes you need to be in the hospital.

So, with fourteen staples in the back of my head, twelve stitches across my right eyebrow and under the same eye on my cheekbone, and another twenty stitches on my right upper and lower sides of my lips along with a broken nose and the hairline fractures to my upper and lower jaw, I am discharged with a handful of fuck-me-I-heart-you-Dilaudid pills, an ice pack, and a kiss on my left cheek from Miss CeCe.

“I want you to take care of yourself now, you hear me, boy? Ain’t no one gonna do it but yourself.”

I pat the hand she has resting on my left cheek and smile into her sparkling blue eyes—
STILL
high as
FUCK
—and whisper, “Yes, ma’am, Miss CeCe. I promise.”

Josh pulls up under the awning and honks. I wobble up out of the wheelchair and go to step towards the car, when I feel Miss CeCe tug on my shirt. I stop and turn around, looking down at her in question. She whispers, “She ain’t gone, my boy. You’ll see. Any girl that you think is special, she’ll be worth her damn salt and know you ain’t somethin’ a girl can just walk away from.”

“We’ll see, Miss CeCe. Thank you for taking care of me this evening. I’ll never forget you.” I smile a broke-ass smile at her and slide into Josh’s car.

“Well hell no you won’t. Don’t think your nothin’ special either, sugar.” She winks one last time. “It’d been any other Tom, Dick, or Harry, I’d of done the same thing!” She waves as Josh drives off.

“Fuck, man! You are fucked!” Josh is hopping up and down in the driver’s seat like he’s sitting on damn jumping beans.

“Josh, shut the fuck up.” I open up the pill bottle Miss CeCe gave me and look at it. Says to take one every six... I’m a pretty big guy. I’m sure that dose is for little people, like Lil... I pop four in my mouth, chew them up, and glance around.

“Shit, dude. Here.” Josh hands me a bottle of Mad Dog 20/20 from the floor in the back, banana-strawberry flavor shit, but it washes the crunched-up bits and pieces of pills down smoothly enough. So I chug that bitch dry.

“The fuck, man? When you’d start drinking this pussy shit?” I toss the empty bottle on the floor and relax back into the seat.

“Naw, that’s fuckin’ April’s. I don’t drink that shit. That’s why it’s all I have in this damn car for you to drink.” He turns the radio on and starts flipping through some stations before giving up and turning it back off. “So what’s up? What’s your plan?”

“Packin’ up my shit tonight, my brotha. Gettin’ the fuck outta this shit town. Knew this fuckin’ place couldn’t handle me the second I stepped foot on its God green turf.”

I feel the pills kick in and sigh.

I feel my baby girl. I feel at home. Feel her wrapping her slender arms around my neck, fingers playing in my hair. Feel her legs tighten around my waist and her chuckles vibrate against my chest. I even feel the long ends of her hair brushing against my hands under her ass in my lap. I feel my baby girl. I feel home. Then I feel nothing at all.

It doesn’t take me long to pack up my shit and get everything I own into the trunk of the Camaro. Shit. It’s four thirty in the damn morning. Grands is huddled on the stoop by the front door. I hear her sniffles and head over to her.

“Grands, come on. Don’t cry. Look...” I smile a busted-up smile at her and point towards the shed. “If anything, you got my piece-of-shit ass to clean out the shed. See? You got something outta me being here.”

“Leo, you shut your goddamn mouth this second. You hear me, boy? You are NOT a piece of shit. You are a strong, handsome, smart young man.” Then a fucking sob escapes her and she crumbles apart. Right there in front of me. I have her scooped up and on my lap, and I feel her warm tears on my shoulder. “I wanted you here. I know nobody ever wanted you, sweet boy, but I wanted you here, and I want you to know that.”

Her hands are trembling as she puts them on my face and moves into my line of vision. “I’ll always want you here. This is your home. I know you didn’t grow up here. I know you’ve only been here a couple months, but, baby boy, this is and will always be your home. You come back to Grands if’n you ever need anything. I’ll pull my damn shotgun out on anybody that crosses you or tries to keep you away.”

“I know, Grands. I know. I love you. I do, but I gotta do this for me. Ain’t nothin’ really here for me. And Gramps—”

“The fuckin’ cheatin’ bastard!” She uses a tissue and wipes her face. She’s pissed... Hmm, I sense a story here but keep my mouth shut. I don’t want to know, and I gotta get the hell outta Dodge.

“Well, Gramps has something to offer some piece of—”

“Nah ah!” She narrows her eyes on me, pinning me to the stoop we sit on.

“Gramps has something for someone like me, Grands. I don’t have a high school diploma. All I have is my GED. There isn’t anything here for a guy without college or a name to get in the door. It’s the best move, Grands. It’s the only move I’ve got.”

I chuckle before kissing her gray head.

“I know that. You think I’d let you leave otherwise?”

“No, ma’am. I know you wouldn’t.” I pat her shoulder then go to stand up, helping her weak bones up as well. “Grands, the man with the bike is going to call tomorrow morning,” I hand her an envelope. “Here’s fifteen hundred dollars. Five of it goes to pay off my bike. The rest is yours—”

“No! Hell no, Leo Ethan Phillips, I will not have you—”

I cut her rant off. “Fine. Then keep it for me. Hell, put it in a stock or a bond. Just put it in an account and let it gain interest. If you ever need it, it’s there for you. If not, then leave it to somebody, anybody. But at least let me try to be a man and pay my fuckin’ rent, Grands. Please.”

“I don’t like it none. But if you decide to pull that pride, man-honor bullshit card, I’ll put it away for one of YOUR rainy days. You understand?”

“Yep, I understand. So give the five hundred to Josh when he comes over. He’s gonna go pick up the bike with his friend. I’ll come back for it in a couple of months though. To get the bike, but also to check up on ya, Grands.”

“Don’t need no man checkin’ up on me, boy. Didn’t before you, and won’t after you drive off.”

She heads to the front door, so I head towards my car but stop with my hand on the door handle when I hear her speak. “This is all ‘cause of that damn girl in your drawings isn’t it? That Lil?”

Her voice is filled with accusation and hate. “You’re better than her, Leo. I know she had somethin’ to do with the shape your face and head is in, and I hate it. I hate her, Leo. You always have been and always will be better than that fast-ass girl.”

I swallow the ball of concrete lodged in my throat before I croak out, “Love you, Grands. I’ll see ya soon.”

“Love you, too sweet boy.” I hear her say before both my car door and her house door shut.

I grab a beer out of the cooler on the passenger’s side floorboard before I chew up three more pain pills, guzzle the beer down, and toss the empty bottle in the back seat. As I slide my way into traffic on I-220, I open up my second beer, take a swig, and place it in between my knees.

I crank my fucking stereo full blast as Aerosmith pumps ‘Sweet Emotions’ through my speakers. I feel the pills kick in as well as the feeling of coming home. Even though I’m headed the direct opposite of my home.

I shift my ‘79 Camaro into fifth gear, sipping my beer, listening to some kickass music, and head away from my firecracker and towards Lake Charles.

Where some old dude I’m supposed to call Gramps is gonna give me a job and a furnished apartment.

All ‘cause Lil is gone. All ‘cause I lost her. But right now, I’m too fucking high to dwell on that shit.

Lake Charles... Here I come, motherfuckers!

Lock up your wives and hide ya damn daughters. I got a self-righteous bitch to erase. And I plan on starting ASAP.

A chuckle escapes my raw throat before I drain the beer bottle in my hand and grab another.

Don’t. Jesus Christ, don’t fucking ask me how the hell I end up in my Gramps driveway, on all fours, dry heaving after throwing up the seventeen beers and ten pills I swallowed on my hazy drive to this godforsaken hellhole. I roll onto my back, groaning, “FUCKING FUCK, BITCH-ASS MOTHERFUCK!”

I drape the crook of my elbow over my eyes to block out the bright as FUCK sun.

Then I feel a callused hand grip my forearm and haul my ass up so I am standing in front of a man my exact height. ‘Cept older than fuck. The back of his hand meets the left side of my face before he pats the broken right side with his sure hard, assertive hand.

“How ‘bout you explain why you’re showing up on my damn lawn for the first time so fucked up!”

His eyes narrow and his old lip curls in disgust before he steps back and takes me in from head to toe. “Christ. Did the ol’ bat just let ya do whatever the hell? Act like whatever the hell, dress like whatever the hell, just downright look like whatever the hell? Shit, boy. What in the hell?”

“Sir.” I gag on a dry heave. “Look. Sir. Right now is really not a good time.” I retch around another dry heave. “As far as I’m concerned.” My gagging and dry heaves finally turn into a productive exit of bile, but my voice decides it isn’t finished for some damn reason. Around the gags, spewing emesis, and dry heaves, I curse the words out. “I am the LAST motherfucker to ever ask what the hell.”

More bile is lost on the dirt driveway that I’m on all fours on. Once I’m somewhat positive it’s over, I wipe my mouth with the hem of my t-shirt. Leaning back on my haunches, I finish. “Because, Gramps! I AM in fucking Hell!”

“Aww, shit. You ain’t one of those kinds, are ya? Sad and using damn sissy words and shit. I was hopin’ the long damn hair was just because you were too lazy or didn’t give a damn. You did that shit on purpose? So the other sissies can spot ya? Know y’all are on the same page, same page with fancy words about your feelings and shit? Huh, boy?”

“I don’t have time for this, old man. I don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

I stand up, wiping the dirt off my hands and onto the knees of my jeans. “Where am I staying? Grands didn’t give me directions to the apartment, just here. And I apologize for my shitty entrance. As you can see by my FACE, I’ve had a pretty shitty twenty-four hours.”