Love You to Death (8 page)

“Heyhon,howareya?” Her words all ran together
in a speedy singsong as she stepped around the waist high partition
to hug Stewie. Her grey hair was twisted in a knot and secured by a
million ancient bobby pins.

“I’m hungry. Can I have pancakes?” Stewie
blurted out anxiously.

Estelle laughed, a big booming noise. I shook
my head, settling into our usual booth by the window.

“You bet hon.” She shooed him to the booth
then looked at me, her soft blue eyes casting warmth and
compassion. “How ‘bout you, hon? The usual?”

“Yes, please.” I smiled.

“Okay, pancakes and bacon for the big boy and
a cheese omelet for the lady.” She winked, hustling away to place
our order.

Stewie giggled like a two year old when the
plate of pancakes was placed before him. Estelle had made a smiley
face, with a bacon mouth, two strawberries for eyes, and a wig of
whipped cream.

I ate slowly, savoring the taste of melted
cheese and hot buttered toast.

“What will we do tonight, Cherry?” Stewie
asked, his mouth painted with a chocolate milk mustache.

“I don’t know.” I sighed. I was tired. There
wasn’t much we could do at this time of night except walk the
streets, maybe hang out at the all-night Laundromat.

We finished our breakfast, thanking Estelle
like we always did, with promises of payback before we hit the
road. We ambled along, like we had all the time in the world, which
we did. Stewie decided he wanted to swing so we headed east to
Patterson Park.

During the day it was great. There were
playgrounds, UTZ Stadium, an ice skating rink, a lake. A couple
weeks ago I took Stewie to the annual Great Halloween Lantern
Parade & Festival they held. We had a blast.

However, this was not the best area of town
to be in after dark, but I thought it was still early enough that I
didn’t expect any trouble. I should have known better.

“Look at me, Cherry!” Stewie laughed as he
swung past me, his legs pumping like twin hydraulics. I was sitting
on the swing next to him, dozing.

“Hey!” Someone hollered from the dark.

I came to with a start.

“Skank, I’m talkin’ to you!”

I pushed to my feet in one fluid motion,
scanning the darkness. A young boy was walking purposefully toward
us.

“Get off the swing, Stewie.” I tried to sound
casual.

“Not yet, Cherry. I need to go higher, so I
can jump off,” he said, legs pumping harder.

“Now!” I snapped. The chains on the swing
squeaked as Stewie flew off the seat. He landed on his knees and
rolled to a stop. I took him by the elbow, helping him to his feet.
I kept my eyes on the stranger.

“I wasn’t ready to jump,” Stewie whined,
sounding a little disgruntled.

“We have to go.” I told him urgently,
moistening my lips.

“But we just got here. I don’t wanna go!” he
bleated.

“I know you better answer me when I’m talkin’
to you, ho.” The stranger was about twenty feet away. Now I could
see his face through the shadows. He was just a kid, like me, but I
knew he wasn’t coming over to be social. He wore gang colors.
Little icy shivers rippled down my back.

“That’s not a nice word,” Stewie said. I
squeezed his hand, telling him to be quiet.

The kid stopped about six feet away. He
looked Stewie over and chuckled. “You and Rain Man here need to pay
up.”

“Pay up for what?” I asked, trying to sound
as polite as I could.

“There’s an admittance fee for being in my
park after hours,” he snickered. He wasn’t the only one. I heard
several snickers behind him. There were three other guys walking
out of the night, all wearing gang colors.

I swallowed hard. My mind raced for a way to
escape. Stewie wasn’t a fast runner. I had to think of a way to
talk our way out.

“We don’t have any money,” Stewie said,
bouncing on the balls of his feet. Great, just what I needed, a
Stewie melt down. I squeezed his hand again to reassure him.

The kid frowned at Stewie, studying him like
a bug under a microscope. “I ain’t talking to you, Forrest
Gump.”

“Look, we didn’t mean to trespass. We’ll just
leave and never come back,” I said, inching backward, away from
him. I reached out to pull Stewie with me, but Stewie was scared,
and he didn’t listen very well when he was scared.

“Too late.” The kid smiled at me. It wasn’t
friendly. “Since you didn’t bring me no money, than you gotta pay
up another way.” More snickers.

Now I understood what they wanted. This was
some kind of initiation. I was going to be his ticket into a thug
family. My stomach flip flopped. I fought the waves of nausea
threatening to erupt. I had to protect Stewie, as well as myself.
God, why had I thought it would be safe to come here? This was my
fault.

Please God, help us.

I took a deep breath.

“Run Stewie!” I screamed and shoved him into
action. I ran the opposite direction, hoping to draw them all to
me. When I looked back there were two thugs chasing Stewie and two
chasing me. I saw Stewie’s wobbly gait, his backpack shifting over
his wide back like a clock pendulum just before he tripped and
fell. The two thugs were on him in seconds, kicking him.

I darted to the left to circle around back to
Stewie. A pair of hands caught my coat. I heard the tear of fabric
as I was yanked backward and off my feet. I fought like a caged
tiger. Kicking and punching while I screamed my head off.

The kid was on top of me. His bright colored
clothes flashing as he struggled to keep me pinned down. I looked
up at his face. He had protruding front teeth, and as he laughed, I
thought he looked like a deranged Easter bunny.

Hysteria bubbled up inside of me. This
couldn’t be happening. After all this time, I was going to be taken
down by a pint-sized wanna-be Crip.

Stupidstupidstupid!

The second boy held my hands down on the
ground above my head while the kid straddled my thighs. I bucked
and twisted so it wouldn’t be easy for him to undo my jeans, but it
was a wasted effort. He didn’t even try to take my clothes off. I
watched him raise his arm, hand clenched into a fist.

The first blow made my ears ring. I closed my
eyes for the second hit, which felt like he broke my jaw. I barely
felt the third. After the fourth, I sank into oblivion.

* * * *

I tried to open my eyes, but they wouldn’t
cooperate. I could feel the heat of the sun on my face. A thousand
drums erupted in my ears when I turned my head to face the
light.

“Easy now,” a voice whispered over the drums.
“You got a good walloping, but you’ll survive.”

“Where...” I tried to ask, but my throat was
as dry as the Sahara.

“You’re at Maryland General.” The woman’s
voice carried a soft accent. “Try not to move too much. My name is
Flor.” She rolled the ‘r’. She placed something hard and cold into
my hand. “Just press the button if you need me.”

“Water...” I croaked. She tapped my lips with
a straw. I took a long hard pull. “Thanks,” I murmured.

“You’re welcome. Try to get some rest. I’ll
get the doctor, to let him know you’re awake.” I heard the sucking
sound her orthopedic shoes made as she crossed the room then the
heavy sigh of the door opening and closing.

I must have dozed off.

The room was darker than before. I was
thirsty again. My tongue seemed glued to the roof of my mouth. I
tried to swallow, but there was nothing but dust. I groped along
the blanket for the button to buzz the nurse. A large hand covered
mine. A man’s hand. Was it the doctor?

“What do you need?”

“Water.”

Once again the straw was put against my lips.
I emptied the cup in no time.

“It’s the morphine. Takes away the pain, but
makes you thirsty,” he said.

And then I knew who was there by my bed.
Cass.

“What happened?” I asked. I remembered the
kid beating me, but I wanted to know what happened after that.
“Where’s Stewie?”

“Well, let’s see.” He blew out a breath. “You
got your ass handed to you in Patterson Park. You’re lucky someone
called it in when they did.”

“Who—”

“Who knows?” He cut me off. He was angry.
“Probably a hooker. Does it matter? What were you doing in the park
after dark?”

“We were swinging,” I explained. It sounded
lame, even to me.

“Swinging?” He huffed. I could just picture
the sparks shooting out of his light blue eyes.

“Yeah, you know, at the playground. It’s
relaxing.”

“Don’t,” he said. The hard edge to his voice
told me he wasn’t in the mood to joke. “Don’t even go there with
your smart mouth. Do you know how close you came to being
killed?”

Yes, I did.

“So someone called it in?” I prompted.

He didn’t answer me right away. I could tell
by his labored breathing he was calming himself down. It was kind
of sweet that he cared so much.

“I heard it on the scanner. An anonymous
caller said two kids were attacked in the park.” He paused, huffing
out another breath. “I had a gut feeling. I decided to check it
out. They were loading you into an ambulance when I got there.”

“The guys got away?” I knew they did. Thugs
are street savvy.

“Yeah, they got away. But they did a great
job rearranging your face first. You have two black eyes, swollen
shut. Your bottom lip is busted. Your whole face looks like a damn
plum,” he growled.

“Call me Violet Beauregard,” I smiled. Well,
tried to. My lip started throbbing.

“You also have a fractured arm and a bruised
clavicle,
Violet
.”

I felt the bed dip as he settled beside me.
“Do you have any idea how lucky you are? They almost killed you,”
he said softly.

“I think it was a gang initiation.”

He cursed under his breath. “Did you get a
good look at them or their clothes?”

“Yeah, but right now I wanna know about
Stewie. Is he alright?”

I felt Cass shift his weight on the bed. He
didn’t say anything for a while.

“Where is he?” I asked. My heart started
skipping. My palms broke out in a sweat. Cass tried to hold my
hand, but I pulled it back.

“I’m sorry, Arden,” he said quietly.

“No!” I yelled, ignoring the pain pulsing
from my lips and the flames licking up my throat, still raw from
all the screaming yesterday. “No. You’re lying! I wanna see him. I
wanna see him RIGHT NOW!” I struggled to sit up, kicking the
blankets off. Cass held me down on my right side; my left arm was
numb. I fought against him as much as my drugged stupor
allowed.

“Nurse!” he yelled.

I heard footsteps hurrying into the room.

“Shhh. Calm down,
querido,
” Flor
soothed into my ear.

Big fat drops of tears collected in the
corners of my swollen eyes. I killed Stewie. It was my fault he was
dead. Oh, how I wished I were too. I felt the warmth of the
sedative seeping into my body. I heard Flor humming a light tune,
maybe a lullaby.

Then I didn’t hear anything.

Chapter
Eight

“Your ride is here,” Flor swept into the room
pushing a wheelchair. She was a tiny little Hispanic woman with a
cropped cap of dark hair. I just stared at her.

“Mr. Cass is on his way up for you. He said I
could perform a citizen’s arrest if you give me a hard time.” She
laughed.

I’d been in the hospital for two weeks. I
think they wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to kill myself. I
wouldn’t, of course, because that would require some sort of
emotion for me to do that, and right now, I wasn’t feeling too much
of anything. I was numb from the inside out.

“Mr. Cass will take good care of you,” Flor
was saying. “You need to eat more. You are so thin. A body needs
fuel to heal.”

She helped me ease into the wheelchair. I
held my tattered backpack in my lap as she pushed me down the
hallway to the elevators. Cass was waiting for me in the lobby. He
loaded me into the Porsche without saying anything. I waved
half-heartedly to Flor as we sped away.

I looked out the windshield, staring but not
seeing. The little car purred down the busy street. I noticed we
were heading in the opposite direction of the shelter.

“Where are we going?” I mumbled without
looking at him.

“Home.”

“Home is the other way.” I thumbed to my
right.

“My home,” he replied.

I closed my battered eyes. The swelling had
gone down, but my face still looked like a patchwork quilt. I
didn’t feel like arguing. I didn’t feel like doing anything. I just
sat beside him, watching the city disappear behind us.

We drove for what seemed like forever, but in
reality it was only about a half hour. The neighborhood was old.
Most of the houses had that 1940’s baby-boom structure. Neat little
square houses sandwiched together on small patches of land. The
tiny yards were well tended and relatively clean, with the
exception of a few rundown houses here and there.

Cass pulled into a driveway and parked under
a walled carport. His house was cream colored with burgundy
shutters. It was plain, no frills like flowers, or a decorative
welcome sign. It looked like what it was: a bachelor pad.

The inside was the same. An undecorated
living room that opened into a dining room that led into the
kitchen.

“I’ll show you to your room, let you get
settled,” he said, motioning for me to follow him down the hall. He
opened the first door on the left and stepped inside. A narrow bed
sat in the middle of the room, directly under the only window that
overlooked the backyard. I suspected he recently purchased the soft
butter-yellow comforter and sheets because they looked stiff. The
walls were painted pale lavender.

He tossed the pack on the bed, turning to
look at me with raised eyebrows.