Kung Fu High School (16 page)

After Jimmy had gone to sleep in my bed one more night, I thought of Mom. Brain cancer is about as bad as it gets. Out of nowhere, Mom started puking a lot, like
Exorcist
a lot. So I thought it was me. I thought I made her sick with what me and Jimmy did. Every time it came to mind, I apologized, and every time Mom tried to make me understand it wasn't me and that everything was going to be okay. But everything wasn't okay, and the fact that it wasn't my fault didn't sink in 'til I went to Kung Fu and had my own breakdown, my own baptism, just like Cue.

But that didn't change what happened. Dad always had two buckets by the bed and he was emptying them, cleaning them out, like a one-man fire brigade for Mom's puke. "I'm just the Nancy Fire Brigade," he would say, and laugh like it was funny. Nancy was my mom's name. At first, they thought it was really, really bad stomach flu that she got from some beef she ate at a restaurant and so they let it go two days before the headaches started. But we had insurance then so Mom got checked into the hospital so we didn't have to deal with her illness, with her dying. We were shielded from most of it. I guess after having been through so much stuff with Dad, taking care of him and all, I just look back and wish that Mom had died at home. So we could've had more time together, so I could've taken care of her, as naive as that is. Hollow Jen strikes again.

Instead, we'd just go to the hospital in the morning before school and come back for dinnertime. Her hair turned white in one big patch. Like Antarctica. Some days, she couldn't see at all and she'd wake up from a nap screaming that she'd gone blind. Other days she couldn't even speak or if she could, she'd start talking about some guy named Ted. Dad had been with Mom since they were in high school and he didn't know any Ted. The doctor told us that the brain cancer was ruining her memories, altering them, changing them around in her head. It was Cue who eventually realized she was talking about the actor Ted Danson from that TV show
Cheers.
The brain cancer made her think they were friends in real life. That was sad.

Near the end, she just lay there in the hospital bed, lost thirty-five pounds, and died without eating, speaking a word, or even moving her eyes while she was awake for two weeks. From the day she was diagnosed to then, it was one month, three weeks, and five days. She was forty-one, I was almost thirteen, Cue was fifteen, and Dad was two days short of his fortieth birthday. To celebrate, we had a funeral and he buried his wife. I wore a black dress with gray stripes that Mom had bought me and I cried the whole time, getting mucus and tears all over the frill around my collar like an idiot. Cue wore one of Dad's navy blue suits that didn't really fit him in the shoulders and Dad wore a black suit with his NASA black tie that had silver stars with little red and green stripes and the space shuttle on it, angled, with its landing gear out.

I checked on Dad as soon as I was dressed and ready for school, which was about six thirty. He was still asleep and faced away from the door. He'd rolled his self into a little ball at the top of the bed where his pillows were all scrunched up. I opened the window a crack.

"Dad, wake up." I said it right into his ear.

"I'm already awake," he said.

"Good, because I need to check your back, so roll over."

I was glad to see that he did as he was told. I didn't really have the energy to argue with him if he had decided that it was a bad day.

"You got to get up today, okay? I can't monitor your eating but you need to eat better. There're tuna sandwitches in the fridge." At that point I almost added something about the protein content of tuna but stopped. It was something Cue would do. Besides, I had already added a vitamin A, C, and E tablet to his meds. Remo gave it to me.

"Also, you got to get up and moving today, I know you don't feel like it but, seriously, use anything as an excuse, the ball game, the sports report, anything, just get out of bed and move around." I was looking at his back. He was starting to get red marks on his butt and elbows that didn't turn white when I pushed them. His right hip was worse than the left and all the red spots felt warm.

"When you sit or lie down make sure you shift and use pillows, don't let the pressure sink in, right? Shift every couple of hours and use your pillows."

I didn't mean to say it twice, but sometimes he needed to hear it both times. I used the saline and absorbent pads that Remo gave me. He said they were better than soap when Dad was on his back so much. No rubbing or scrubbing, he said. So I didn't.

"C'mon, Dad, you know all this." I really was Nurse Jen and I sounded exactly like Doctor Remo. Like his words were coming out of my mouth.

"Jen, I want to die. Use one of those death machines." Dad said it as I was dabbing at his back with one of the pads. I'd finished with the saline and I was actually dabbing just above my own father's naked ass with a pad when he decided to tell me about his death plans. Perfect.

"Why's that, Dad?"

"Because I'm a burden to you. What's left to live for?"

Mercifully, Dad cut the little woe-is-me dialogue short. He didn't go on and on about Mom being dead or his firstborn son being gone, which, incidentally, meant that our family name was going to go with him. I never play his little game anymore. I used to get all upset and scream about all the reasons to live, you know, all the great things in the world. But that was only after Mom died. I've stopped now. I mean, you're here for as long as you're here for. That's how I see it. That's it.

"You can tell the settlement company that it was complications from my injury, get Remo to vouch for you, and then they'll have to pay more, you can live on that for a while."

"Yeah, thanks for thinking of that."

It's 6:48
A.M
. and I'm in my dad's stale-smelling room that the cracked window isn't helping and not only is he talking suicide but insurance scams.

"...at least six thousand. That's what you could get if I died, Jen. Six thousand dollars."

I only caught the last bit of what he said.

"Maybe with that I could put the gas back on, huh?" Something else I needed to take care of Couldn't forget that.

"Yeah, I guess so, but really," he went on. He'd thought way too much about this.

"When I get home you better be watching that ball game and eating something." I closed the door behind me after I said it.

Making my way to the kitchen, it occurred to me that I didn't need the movies. 1 didn't need anything like
Big.
I didn't need to make a wish with some busted arcade fortune-teller to be older and wake up the next day and bam. Because the reverse had already happened. There was an old woman inside my body taking care of my broken dad and worrying about his pills and bills and heat and putting food on the table and I hadn't even graduated from Kung Fu High School yet, if I ever would.

THE PILLS

Jimmy was washing his empty cereal bowl in the sink and he smiled a strained mouth-curve at me when I cruised in.

"You okay?" Jimmy was finishing up the last of the orange juice too.

"Your uncle wants to kill himself."

"What?" He overreacted and had to spit his orange juice back into the glass.

"Yup, you ready?"

"I guess," Jimmy said. He was wearing some of Cue's old clothes. They didn't fit him, but I was at least pleased to see that he was taking his safety a little more seriously. His purple bruises were going brownish yellow over his nose and eyes.

We had to be at school at 7:30 for first period and it probably wasn't the smartest move just to walk out the door like it was safe but really, I didn't care. If I had to roll in the front yard, I'd roll in the front yard. With Melinda to watch mine and Jimmy's backs now and the drive for survival waning, I felt less like doing anything.

Well, someone was there, standing in my front yard like they owned the place. It was a pack of Wolves.

"Time to roll with the new, kids." Melinda was standing outside the door like she had posed herself on the broken part of our fence for a fashion spread, sticking her legs out. I think she was even wearing makeup, out of nowhere. Flanking her were Mark and Rico, standing on the sidewalk though. It was a cloudy day but they were both wearing sunglasses. Chumps.

The walk was actually good for my knee. It'd gotten stiff overnight. But there was still a cold front combing through the air, for at least another week, the weatherman had said. I could still see my breath and had to pick my way along the street to avoid any black ice.

"Go to your classes and sit in the same seats, spread that around so everyone gets it. We don't want Dermoody or anyone thinking anything is going to crumble because of Alfredo. Seems simple, but I just wanted to be clear." Melinda was good at ordering people around.

"That it?"

"I also need your help tonight."

"For what?" I didn't like the sound of it.

"We're going in for a little reconnaissance." Melinda said it real sassy. "Something big is definitely going down. Moves about to be made."

She didn't just mean dropping in on one of the other families, she meant scouting Ridley. Probably his operation in the cafeteria, or I should say, his rumored operation in the cafeteria because no one we knew ever saw it. Of course Melinda would give us something dangerous to do right off the bat, just because she could.

"Jimmy, when you get home call Remo and ask if he can take care of Dad, ayight?"

"I'm going with you." He was walking behind me but it sounded like his voice was right in my ear. I really hoped he didn't think he was my protector all of a sudden.

"Wait, what?" I didn't stop walking but I wanted to. I mean, what the hell was he thinking? Melinda was looking at us with some serious interest. I knew I had to diffuse the situation as quickly as possible.

"Suit yourself, but if I have to roll, you roll too." I said it not knowing how he'd respond and he didn't. He was just quiet.

It was Melinda that made the first noise, something girly, something not like her at all. If you glanced at this solid woman, with her perfect scars that looked like they'd been painted on because they made her look better, not worse, the way they somehow matched with her calloused hands, you'd definitely have thought the sound came from somewhere else, like from me. Even Mark and Rico exchanged an uneasy glance through their smoked lenses, but it was definitely Melinda and I could best describe it as a squeal of anticipation.

Five thirty
P.M
.: there is only one entrance to the cafeteria kitchen through the building and it's through a single sliver of a door right next to the vacant salad bar. There is another entrance but it's through the truck-loading bay, where they park the big semis that shuttle Ridley's product to the airport and points continental. And I guaranteed Jimmy that we weren't going in that way because chances were a shipment would be in the middle of getting loaded up and unless I wanted to fight through ten to fifteen Runners by myself while he watched, we'd be better off trying the building way.

Melinda had gotten the information from Janitor Will, or JW as he was known, about when to go in. JW always emptied the trash cans in the kitchen at
5:35
P.M
. Melinda worked it so that he'd leave his main collecting bin, the one that had wheels on the bottom, in the door if the coast wasn't clear. If it was clear, he'd unlock the door, go in, and put the deadbolt out so that it wouldn't close all the way.

Which was exactly what happened. Jimmy and I timed our move and we swept right in after JW and undid the bolt and shut the door. JW acted like we weren't there for the most part, just emptied the trash, but he did nod toward the walk-in pantry as a good place to hide. Jimmy went first and I followed, we got squeezed in tight together next to a box of dehydrated potato flakes that was almost bigger than me. I left the pantry door slightly cracked open.

Two big metal tables dominated the main kitchen space. Behind them were four large ovens: two on one side of a corner, two on the other side. In the back, down a hall, were the floor-to-ceiling walk-in freezers. Just about all the food that came in was frozen, even the bread got iced at some point. That was also where the bulk of Ridley's store was hidden, at least, Melinda thought so. Lemon cleaning liquid, that's what the whole place smelled like.

"Mistah JW!"

"Hey, how you doing, Mr. Ridley," JW said. I couldn't see him but I knew he was nearby.

"Did you get Sally that Ride-'Em Jeep she wanted for her birthday?"

"I sure did, Mr. Ridley, thanks to you."

"It was my pleasure, you just let me know if she needs anything else, okay?"

"I'll do that, Mr. Ridley."

It sounded like we lucked out. Ridley didn't spend a lot of time overseeing the cafeteria operation: red fuckin' flag. JW shuffled out the door and didn't even look at the pantry on the way out. Good man.

"I want this out by six-o-five, Mock"—Ridley's voice again—"so send the Whips to the mall to start bashing up the food court at ten to the hour, then have the Runners take the back way to the interstate."