Ch. 13 (Reaching for Sky)

Chapter 13

For weeks, I went without hearing a word from Johnny. The only information I carried was that he was incarcerated at the Bayside State Prison in Leesburg. I spent my days keeping to myself; sadly Tiffany never tried reaching out to me, especially since the incident. I work constantly to stay busy and then come home just to stay up late, talking with Sky. She seemed to be the only thing that has kept my feet on the ground. My father had been getting worse towards my mother, and most days, I was afraid to leave my mother home alone with him. The more the years go by the more my father’s liver decomposed while fermented in alcohol; it only made him meaner as time went on. I had to get the hell out of here--anywhere--just somewhere far far away. A place I wasn't tormented by memories, waking up in cold sweats because I dreamt of my father's hands around my throat. Another city, perhaps a small town, where I can make new memories--and find myself. Where I can live freely, unafraid--less weary of the things that bothered me most. I wanted to love--really love someone to the point it hurt inside. I wanted to give just one person the entire world and leave them to least expect it. I wanted to mesh perfectly with another and it come off simple--but for me, nothing was ever so simple. I was sure to have upset the heavens and remained in bottomless debt with the devil that hope and happiness for me, wasn't and never would be foreseen. Oh, the choices, and opportunities life prevails.
The other night, I had to put my father in a chokehold because he wouldn’t get off of my mother. The cuts above my right eye and etched across forehead still burned from the glass that was hurled my way. I only stopped myself from choking him until he passed out when my mother forced me to release him. I couldn’t stand seeing her cry, I repeatedly begged her to leave him. I always had. The worst of their arguments that resulted in violence always led to a fight-or-flight response. I'd stress for her to pack her shit and we’ll run away together--to somewhere safe, anywhere but here. She'd resist every single time, telling me ‘no no, Mali, we can’t leave. He’ll kill us both!’ I couldn’t believe her selfishness; it made me angry with her to where I just stopped caring when I shouldn’t have. I was old enough to hit the road--to pack up my shit and never look back. I never would--I couldn't leave my mother like that--a target--defenseless in a war zone. One day, we'll learn, right?

After a long day out on Mr. Rick’s boat with Trent, I entered my house reeking of alcohol and suntan oil. My mother was slumped over on the couch--pale and blue--bleeding from her nose and mouth. I stumbled my way over to her, crashing the floor lamp to the to the ground with an obtrusive smash. The sound scared me as I tripped over my own feet, falling into my mother’s lap. I was a fucking wreck! I sat her upright with a struggle, trying to shake her awake. In sheer panic, I placed my middle and index finger to her jugular in search of any life that still flowed through my mother’s veins. Once reality set in, I dropped her limp, cold body onto the floor, attempting CPR but my mother’s lungs refused to inflate.

“No, No! Come on, momma, breathe! Breathe for me!” I cried. “God dammit!”

Coming to terms with my mother being past the point of saving, denial overcame me. I held her tightly in my arms for hours, just crying. My father never came home, my phone was dead, and I’ve never felt so helpless in my entire life. Having to take the next step, I gently laid my mother over onto her side and went to find my phone charger. Once it had enough battery charge, I immediately pulled myself together and dialed 911.
Paramedics were over within seconds, busting through the door in response. I sat in the corner like a child with my arms locked around my knees, watching them strap my mother to a gurney. One EMT motioned for me to come along for the ambulance ride. Sobered up, I managed to get to my feet, swaying outside to the ambulance. I felt extremely sick watching my mother’s lifeless body bounce around from every bump in the road. All I could do was cry--cry until I had nothing left in me. "Why couldn't you just listen to me?" I gripped her hand with a disgruntled whisper. "You left me--alone with that monster. How am I to ever forgive you?"
The female paramedic sitting across from me squeezed my hand for comfort, but If I didn’t have better control, I would have loved to impulsively clasp my hands around her throat, letting her see just how ‘sensitive’ I felt.

Hours later…

I sat in the emergency room for a lifetime it seemed before a doctor summoned me with results. I left my father a voicemail hours ago hoping he’d have the decency to show up. I, of course, heard nothing. To reduce my back pain, I laid over another chair, propping my legs up while my cell phone charged in the wall.
“Malice?" I jumped up to the call of my name. "Mali, hey son.” My father rushed through the automatic doors of the emergency room. He looked like he was drunk--and had been crying.
Giving no words, my father pulled me into his embrace. Holding me like the string of a kite, longing to drift away if he dared to let me go. I drastically gasped, trying to breathe and accept my father’s sincere affection. I haven’t felt this in years; I had forgotten what it was like to be comforted by my father. It ignited a spark in my wounded heart as I magnetizing my arms tightly around his body.
“Mr. Quinton?” A voice inquired.
We both turned to see a doctor in turquoise scrubs, holding a clipboard with expressive sadness.
“Yes?” My father answered.
“I'm sorry. Your wife was pronounced dead on arrival. We just got the results from the coroner. They say she had passed, it seems, hours before she was brought into the light of medical assistance. She overdosed on a heavy amount of prescribed Xanax." His bushy black brows arched with sympathy. "My deepest condolences go out to you and your family, sir. If you wish to say goodbye, you may. A nurse will come and discuss the deceased paperwork. Take care, Mr. Quinton.” He shook my father’s hand firmly.

We held the burial three days later, down at the Gardner Funeral Home. We flew down the Atlantic City Expressway in a long funeral procession. Who knew so many cared for my wreckage of a family? I felt my Adam’s apple pinch against my collar from wearing my tie so tight. I looked just as rough as my father had--unshaven face and dark lines beneath my eyes from the lack of sleep.
Standing at the podium, I briefly shared my emotions before excusing everyone. Looking through dark lenses, I saw Tiffany seated to my left, two rows back, holding onto Trent’s hand with Bri clutched to his other side. Towards the back, I noticed a familiar necklace clinging onto the neck of a woman wearing a black vail. Nicki raised her eyes, meeting mine through the crowd--a sinful tongue running across ruby red lipstick. I loosened my tie before stepping down from the podium and advancing down the aisle bedecked with mournful faces. Along the way, I received my final hugs from distant family members and close friends. Trenton approached me after all the madness cooled, hiding his disheartened eyes behind a pair of RayBan’s.
“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. Take as much time off as you need to mourn and heal that heart of yours.”
I held him tightly in my arms, thanking him. “I appreciate your compassion, but I need to work in order to keep my mind far away from depressive thoughts.”
“Take at least a day or two, to clear your head and relax. Regain your sense of living and the capability of actually feeling again. Talk to Sky, she seems to be of great help to you lately, and you’ll need it once all of this mayhem settles in. I love you, Mali. Always will.”
“Yeah, Malice, you know we are here no matter what," Colton added.
“Thanks, you guys. You’re my brothers and it shall forever remain so. Have any of you heard from Johnny?”
They all shook their heads.
“None of us have. Keep us posted if you happen to come in contact with him before we do.”

I casually walked my emptiness back to the Lincoln Town Car with my already father seated inside--gazing out the window. The cold leather sent chills up my spine, causing my fingers to tremble as I undid my tie. Its black fabric lay motionless across both shoulders while I unbuttoned the top of my shirt to release some of the trapped body heat. Stilling my movement, I observed the dark world through the tinted window pane. I didn’t bother waiting for my father once we pulled up to the house. I went straight into my bedroom, plopping onto of my bed without the care to undress. I just kicked off my shoes and began to smoke a joint while sipping on my flask. In the meantime, I slid off my blazer, rolled my sleeves and gave my chin whiskers an irritated scratch while my laptop started up. Sky left a message asking how everything was going since we haven’t spoken in over three days. I automatically clicked the call button, praying she’d answer.

“Hey, oh my God! Where have you been?” Her platinum blue hair was fixed in generous curls as she sat in ripped jeans and a silver knit boyfriend sweater that hung off her left shoulder. I noticed her neon nails tipped at a point, fidgeting with a long, golden necklace, charmed with a round moon and stars medallion. Naturally captivating me with those bright blue eyes.
“I’ve been going through one hell of a time, babe.”
“When are you not?” She smiled. “You’re looking a little rugged over there. Everything all right?” She dropped her head downward. "Ugh--I feel I'm always asking you that." Sky's pouty face melted me down.
I dropped my head into my hands, shaking with a ferocious sob. “My life is just…so fucked up right now. I’m losing everything.”
“Whoa, hey... calm down. What the hell happened?”
“My mother’s funeral was today. She uh…” I cleared my throat. “Died from an overdose a few days ago.”
“Holy shit! I’m so fucking sorry, Malice. If I could, I’d totally hug you right now!”
“The thought gives much comfort, so thank you,” I smirked, wiping my eyes.

We sat for a while talking like we always do to keep me from being upset when my phone began ringing.
“Hello?”
“An inmate from Gardner State Prison is trying to contact you. To accept this call, please press one.” The automated voice echoed.
“Johnny?” I said frantically.
“Hey, brother!” His voice muffled.
Sky sat Indian style on her bed, smoking a blunt while I spoke to Johnny.
“How’s everything going?”
“How the fuck do you think? The food is fucking horrible, I got my ass beat twice already because of my smart mouth. Not to mention, my bunkmate is a 250-pound black guy who’s in for raping and killing two nine-year-old girls!”
I was taken aback by the traumatizing information he was feeding me through the telephone.
“So when’s your trial date?”
“It was August third. I’ll go for my sentencing in September.”
“Why didn’t you inform us? We would have been there and you know that.”
“Why? So you could gaze upon my unremorseful face? To witness my smile every time the prosecutor questioned me? Be happy I didn’t invite you to my public display of condescending humiliation. Which in fact, it was televised nationwide while the predominant reporters bombarded me with cordiality. So, it’s your own fault for not watching television, Malice.”
I put Johnny on speaker for Sky to listen. She leaned against her pillows in a deep trance, listening to Johnny ramble on about prison.
“Hey, Johnny. Say hello to Sky.” I interrupted.
“What? She’s an actual person?”
“Yes, you moron. Now stop being rude and say hey.”
“What’s up, baby doll?”
“Hi, Johnny.” Sky released a giggle.
“Well don't she sound cute as ever?" Johnny laughed a little. "Malice, visitation hours are tomorrow from two to four in the afternoon. I put you on my visitation list, so you better fucking show your face.” He warned.
I made the deal and hung up so I could finish talking with Sky. I had a long day ahead of me.

The next day…

I walked through security having to practically strip down just to get inside. They slapped a visitor’s sticker onto my right peck that was inscribed with my name and I was escorted into a small room with inmates seated at tables, gathered with their loved ones. Some were smiling and laughing, but more were pinch-faced, quietly sobbing.
Johnny sat near a window with a correctional officer standing against the wall right behind. He stood up to hug me when we met eyes.
“So glad you could make it! How are you?”
“Johnny, do you want honesty?”
“No, I want you to lie to me and tell me the sky outside is full of sunshine and rainbows and how you rode in on your fucking unicorn to visit me.” He was caustic as always.
“You are still an asshole.” I laughed. “No, on a serious note… my mother passed away last week.”
Johnny sat still, "Fuck..." His gaze was steadfast. “How are you holding up?”
I could tell he wanted to break down and cry. “Johnny, it’s gonna be all right. I promise.”
“No, it’s not! You’re out there having to face the world without me, and you just lost your only mother, Malice. Out of all the years of knowing you, you have always been so brave. No matter what life throws at you, you handle it with the best of your abilities. You’re the strongest person I know, and it goes without saying how much I love and care for you. It just hurts me to not be there for you like I should be.”
We shared a tiny fragment of our time weeping and reminiscing over our past to kept us from going insane.
“What are they looking at charging you with?”
“Aggravated assault, criminal homicide in the first degree, heinous brutality with the force of a deadly weapon, unrestricted bodily harm and abuse of a corpse, oh--oh, and illegally concealing a handgun that wasn’t registered to me.” You can guess their families are pressing for life without the possibility of parole. I've read the slander in the paper."
“Are you scared?”
“More than you know. But I’ll adjust. If they pin me with those charges, letters will be the only thing keeping us in contact for a while until I earn some privileges. Look out for my shithead brother and keep him out of places like this. Along with the rest of you, live your lives and be adventurous for me. I want to know every detail, even about anyone you end up with. Don’t write me off just because I’m stuck in here.”
“I wouldn’t…I promise you that. But you've gotta stop thinking so negatively.”
"Malice...what happened that night--I deserve far more than what's to come."
The correctional officer yelled ‘times up’ having all of the inmates say their final goodbyes.
“You will see me again, someday. Don’t lose hope. My advice to you is keep working with Trent, get the money you have saved, buy a plane ticket and go see that girl you’ve been talking to. Get the fuck out of here! This world has so much more to offer you outside of Jersey.”
“What if she doesn’t agree to it being a good idea? I mean, we have only text messaged each other and talked over Skype, that’s our only communication.”
“So what? What have you possibly got to lose, Mali? You want her, don’t you?”
“Well, yes.” I stammered.
“Then go fucking get her! Love her like your life depends on it. Just be happy.”
Falling in line with the rest of the inmates, I waited to be escorted out to the lobby as Jonny reentered the facility.

On the ride home all I thought about was everything Johnny and I had discussed. He was right, I needed to get the hell out of here and start over somewhere new. Just like my mother and I used to talk about when I was a little boy. I believed that Sky and I had built up a pretty sturdy relationship, regardless of it being over web chat. The only problem with this was it was the first time we have ever encountered our feelings. I guess I never really took the time to sit around and think about whether or not I have affectionate feelings towards her. I knew I trusted her and that I was dying inside to meet her, but I’ve always been held back by bashfulness and the animosity of rejection. It has been several months since we began talking, I didn’t see what harm it could possibly cause. Like Johnny said, what do I have to lose? Well, let's see--I'll try my best to not scare her off with the truth about what happened that night at the train station.

Photot credit to the author. (Hand painted grafitti by Kyzer)