Homeless (3 page)

Lifting his head and eyes to meet hers, Lonnie was noticeably confused with her statement. “Huh? Say what?—a plan of action? I already told the nurses I had to figure out how to get money before I called a funeral home. I told them give me some time to get it together. I need to figure some things out.”

Mrs. Bishop knew the young man was unknowledgeable of how the legal system worked when dealing with minors in cases such as these. She realized Lonnie had no idea what had to take place next . . . not only as far as his mother's burial but his immediate fate as well. Taking a deep breath, she proceeded to explain to him that since his mother was gone and he was underage, someone would have to assume responsibility for his well-being. “Do you have someone to call; maybe your father or another relative that'd be willing to care for you?”

Lonnie looked at Mrs. Bishop with a blank facial expression. Shaking his head, he ran his hand down the front of his face. “Look, I don't need anybody to take care of me. I've been taking care of me and my mother for the past year and a half after she first got diagnosed. I'm gonna be good on my own. Don't worry.”

“Yes, Lonnie. I'm not taking anything away from you, and the hard task you handled, probably better than anyone twice your age. I do understand how independent you had to be and are now, but I'm sorry, dear. It's the law and my job to make sure you are in proper care tonight at least. Then ensure your mother's case gets in the hands of folks that can make sure she gets buried properly, funds available or not. The state can and will help you. We just have to go through the proper channels.”

Lonnie lowered his head, thinking what to do next. Praying he had enough available minutes left on his cell to call his always-absent father, and as usual, he received no answer. Lonnie considered himself lucky that the number he had for the deadbeat fool was even still valid. Life was happening at a dreadfully rapid pace since the second he returned from school and walked into the apartment. And as bad as he'd like to slow it down or turn back the hands of time, he knew that wasn't a reality. His mother was dead and gone, and his father wasn't shit; two facts he had to deal with. He was officially an orphan in his eyes. No one truly cared about him in the city of Detroit, the state of Michigan, or the entire United States of America. Lonnie wrung his hands together, knowing from this point on, it would be him against the world.

Not wanting to continue to hear the social worker shower him with dead-end questions and out-of-the-way suggestions, Lonnie got himself together the best he could. He quickly snapped out of his grief, going into full urban street survival mode. Pretending he had to use the bathroom, the calculating young man walked down the hallway. The staff and visitor-congested hospital was bustling with people preoccupied with their own business, not that of a teenage boy who'd just loss his mother. They had their own problems, and he had his. A few sharp turns later and a short sprint down one flight of stairs, Lonnie's still tearstained face was feeling the cool breeze of the night air. Using his T-shirt, he tried his best to get himself together and wipe his bloodshot eyes.

With a few dollars in his pocket, Lonnie soon boarded a bus back to his apartment. The honor student knew that it would only be a matter of time before the social worker had to report his disappearance. However, it was no great secret . . . Detroit was bankrupt. The cash-strapped city had much better things to do with its limited resources besides gathering together a teen task force to try to take him to a foster home to live out the last several months before he turned eighteen. In his mind, she would have to do what she had to do. Going to live with anyone other than his mother was not an option.

In the meantime, Lonnie was going to return home and find a way to get the funds needed to give his mother a proper burial. The drastically overdue bills for rent and utilities would have to wait for now. His mother deserved to have a funeral fit for the queen he always felt she was; plenty of flowers, a beautiful dress, and an all-white casket trimmed in gold. Lonnie wanted nothing more than to make that happen.

Lonnie returned home. Stepping off the bus, his head hung low. He was still borderline hysterical and didn't want to come to grips with reality. With his eyes close to being swollen shut from crying, he didn't look forward to going inside the low-income building he called home, let alone the empty apartment. Each step felt as if his size ten sneakers were sinking deeply into the ground. Before the distressed youngster could make it up the walkway, Lonnie was met with several of the other tenants. Easily observing the state of the teen, they could tell the fate of their cancer-stricken neighbor, his mother, was not favorable. Surrounded with his peers and elderly alike, Lonnie gladly accepted the overflow of hugs, condolences, and praises of what a great person his mother was. Not once did he hear any of them disrespectfully refer to her as merely “the deceased” as the uppity social worker, the foreign doctor, or the rude female ambulance driver did.

Finally getting himself together, Lonnie found the courage to go inside and face whatever demons he felt were lurking. Deciding to take the stairs instead of the elevator, he started the long climb up to the fourth floor. Arriving at his door, he instantly got pissed. Met with a bright orange note taped to the door, he snatched it off. Immediately he knew what it was. This wasn't the first time he and his mother had a meant-to-be-embarrassing-nonpayment-of-rent-eviction notice displayed for all to see. Since Mrs. McKay's illness had kicked into full swing, they were almost a monthly occurrence at their household. Crumbling the paper up, Lonnie let his anger overtake mourning his mother's demise. It wasn't that he felt they didn't owe the money; it was the fact the entire building knew the ambulance had taken his mother out of the apartment barely alive less than six hours prior. He felt like a note like this could've waited; at least until the following day. But Lonnie knew the source. It wasn't the elderly caretaker's doing to be so callous on a night such as this. He was quiet, for the most part, known to be generous, kind, and easy to get along with. Lonnie knew this bullshit was the work of his longtime live-in girlfriend. She was the complete opposite of her better half. The insecure, middle-aged bitty felt every woman in the building, on every floor, both young and old, wanted her man. Everyone knew the caretaker was nothing more than a first-of-the-month meal ticket to her, but if he liked being used, then so be it.

Unfortunately for the residents of the low-income building, the bitter, overweight female forced his hand to make folk try to live by the letter of their leases; especially the ones she felt her man favored. Which, of course, meant Lonnie's once long-flowing-hair-deep-dimpled beautiful mother and a few others she always boasted were on her list when she got drunk.

Lonnie had bigger fish to fry than to go toe-to-toe with some old broad. She, just like the rent, several months past due, would have to wait. Shutting the front door behind him, he took a deep breath. Opting not to turn on the lights in the apartment, he made his way to the bathroom. After splashing cold water on his face, he tried to gather his thoughts. Coming to the awful realization his mother would never be coming home again, he fell to his knees. With his hands gripping the sides of the toilet, Lonnie violently threw up seemingly every meal he'd consumed over the past week or so. As the terrible smell of the vomit filled the air, he grew even sicker to his stomach. Scared to abandon the porcelain god he was now worshiping, Lonnie curled up on the bathroom floor until he fell asleep.

Daybreak came, meaning Lonnie had to man up and try to make some calls. He knew he'd fled the hospital the night before, not informing the staff of what he intended to do. In the light of day, he knew he was probably wrong to do so, but he definitely wasn't trying to hear or accept that crap the social worker was talking. Gathering envelopes of paperwork from his mother's room, Lonnie paused, staring at her bed. They'd had countless talks on what he was going to do when the time came, but Lonnie wasn't trying to hear what his mom was saying, feeling like she'd live forever.

After placing the call, Lonnie was put on hold. A few seconds, later he was greeted by the same social worker he'd run out on the night before. “Yes. Hello. This is Lonnie McKay. I was there last night.”

“Yes, Mr. McKay, I know who you are.”

“Well, I was calling about my mother. I want to find out about getting that financial assistance you were talking about.”

The social worker had worked a double shift and was not in the mood to cater to who seemed like an out-of-control youth. “Listen, son, I tried to help you last night and give you some options. But instead of taking that help, you opted to play games, so I don't know what to tell you.”

Lonnie sensed the tension in the conversation and tried to diffuse it. “Look, I didn't call to argue with you. That's not my intention. I just want to help my mother, that's all.”

“Well, you definitely can't accomplish that behaving like some small child. That's all the more reason you need someone to care for you now that's your mother is deceased.”

“Stop saying that,” his tone deepened.

“Excuse me? What do you mean?”

“Stop saying deceased like my mother is nothing.”

“Okay, now, Mr. McKay. I don't know where the major disconnect is with us, but the word
deceased
is proper terminology when speaking of the dead. No harm is meant or intended.”

Lonnie was fed up. He'd tried to call his father yet again and received no answer. He wanted to ask one of his mother's supposed friends how burying someone went; however, when she got ill, they all stopped coming around for fear she'd keep trying to borrow money they knew she couldn't repay. So for now, Lonnie tried to hold his composure for his mother's sake. “Look, miss, I just want to bury my mother, and I don't know what to do. Can you help me?”

The social worker had just about enough of his apparent attitude and unloaded. “Listen, young man, I fully understand your dilemma, and as I stated last night, I sympathize, but I'm not going to let anyone, especially a smart-mouthed teenager, disrespect me. Since the beginning of this call you have been nothing but combative, and trust me when I say, I'm over it!”

“What the hell!” Lonnie barked. “I just lost my mother and am trying to get some information about how things go, and you on some crazy power trip! You just like that other lady down there; that head administrator!”

“Oh, you mean the one you referred to as the ‘old white bitch' last night?”

Lonnie wasn't in the mood to back down. He'd been through hell over the last twenty-four hours and knew there had to be someone other than Mrs. Bishop that could help him with his plight. “Yeah, well, if the shoe fits, then wear that ugly motherfucker!”

“Okay, sir, I tell you what.” She hoped the grieving teen was ready for what was to come next, but if not, so be it. The boy asked for it raw. “Your mother, the deceased! Since no one was here to sign off on any paperwork since you disappeared, as you know, her corpse was taken down to the hospital's basement morgue. And if no one comes forth claiming the deceased from there in the next forty-eight hours, that body will be considered temporarily indigent and sent over to the overcrowded medical examiner's office. So with that being said, you can contact either department for further assistance. Good day, Mr. McKay, and good luck!”

Lonnie was heated. Mrs. Bishop had not only disrespected his wishes by calling his mother “the deceased” yet again, but an “indigent corpse” as well. In his eyes, she was a monster and a true bitch. Wanting nothing more than to march down to that hospital and slap the fire out of her mouth, Lonnie knew he had other business to handle. He did just as she suggested and called the morgue. They informed him that he needed to get in touch with the funeral home of his choice and make some sort of arrangements for them to pick his mother up. They informed him the funeral home could better explain the out-of-pocket costs and what funds, if any, the state would pay. Lonnie did just that.

Upon finding out he was underage and had no available funds to his name, each funeral home sadly turned him away. He created a GoFundMe account on Facebook, but knew that was a long shot in raising money. He'd sold or pawned everything of value they owned to ensure his mother could get her medications so there was nothing left; no television, no PlayStation, or even an old-school VCR. Lonnie had no aunts, uncles, or cousins to turn to. Fighting back the tears, he knew he had to get himself together to go take his midterm exams. Lonnie knew his instructor would probably give him a date to take a makeup test considering, but he had to at least show up at school to explain what he was going through.

Dressed and on his way out the door, Lonnie was met with more declarations of love and respect for his mother as soon as he stepped foot off the elevator. He thought about asking them to help with the burial expenses, but knew most of them were on fixed incomes, living month to month. Concentrating on getting to school to take the test he needed to pass to remain at the top of his class, Lonnie was devastated and his demeanor showed just that. With his head now lowered and his shoulders dropped downward as well, he fought back more tears.

“Excuse me, Lonnie, but did you get the paperwork that was on your door?”

“What?” he paused seeing the caretaker's girlfriend emerge out of the shadow.

“I said, did you get the paperwork; the notice about the rent your mother owed?” She had a smirk on her face as if something was funny.

“Look, lady, I'm not in the mood or right state of mind for this now. You do know my mother died last night, right?”

“Yes, I figured that was going to happen when she left here looking the way she was.”

“Hold up. Wait a minute! What in the entire fuck did you just say about my mother?” Lonnie's irate voice could easily be heard echoing throughout the building, and rightly so.

The money-hungry woman could see the teenager was pissed. She was certainly old enough to know she was wrong, yet seemed not to care as she continued to speak. “Hey, I wasn't trying to say nothing bad about your momma. I was just saying she looked real, real bad when they wheeled her out!” The more the woman spoke, the more residents came out of their apartments telling her to shut her crude ass up and keep her outrageous comments to herself.

“Look, I'm warning you, this ain't the time for you to act like you running things around here! Shit is fucked up for me right about now! My mother died last night, bitch! She died and ain't coming back, and your greedy ass taping shit to motherfucker's doors and lurking in the corners dry begging for money that don't even belong to you!”

The woman's intent was to shame Lonnie, but just like that, the tables had turned. Everyone knew what he was saying about her was right as they nodded their heads in total agreement.

“Okay, that's enough,” the elderly caretaker finally found his voice and tried to intervene. “Go back to our apartment and leave this young man alone! Don't you realize he just lost his mother?”

“Yeah, you better tell her something before shit gets real up in this place. Me or my mother never caused any trouble around here.” Lonnie looked around at the growing crowd of neighbors for affirmation he was telling the truth.

“And y'all never paid y'all rent around here either; at least on time or in full anyways,” she hissed back, still trying to go for bad.

“And so what?” Lonnie was at the end of his rope. Female or not; older woman or not—she was itching to get the shit smacked out of her if she didn't fall back. “Why is you hawking so bad for the white man that owns this raggedy bitch? We all know you fucking the old man here to have a roof over your fat, ugly ass, but is you sucking Mr. Charlie's white dick too?”

“Oh, hell naw,” she screamed out as the old man pushed her back down the hallway. “One day soon I'm gonna fix your smart-talking ass! Watch, little boy; you'll see!”

Lonnie was done. Not bothering to say another single word, he just turned and left.
These bitches is out of control with their mouths. First, that damn Ms. Bishop; now, this lady. What the fuck!