Ch. 15 (Reaching for Sky)

Chapter 15

While my father slept past his alarm this morning, I quietly snuck by him; out cold on the couch. It was still early in the morning as dew and condensation blanketed my motorcycle. Scanning the makeshift carport we made years ago, my eyes fell upon some old oily rags. I snatched one up to wipe off the excess water from my leather seat while the motor warmed up. I had to meet Johnny’s cousin, Christo, down at a local coffee house located shoreside. He seemed eager on the phone in Johnny's regard. Feeling the bike rattle between my thighs, I lit a cigarette…which is something I never do, and took off into the morning sunlight. Pulling up to park, I spotted Christo flirting with a waitress while taking the newspaper that poor girl probably fetched just to give him a rearview show.
“Malice. Hey there, kinfolk!” He stood with open arms.
“What’s up? Hear any news lately on Rocko?”
“Precisely why I asked you to come.”
My nerves became unsubtle as I sheepishly motioned for the waitress to order a cup of coffee.
“She is so fine,” Christo grunted.
I shook my head with a chuckle, trying to seem less nervous. “So, what’s the story, bro?”
I pulled the steaming cup to my lips, dissolving the taste buds on the tip of my tongue. My face scrunched from discomfort, running my wounded tongue against the roof of my mouth.

“Luckily for him, they are unaware on a settled plea-bargain. Though, indicating Johnny’s whimsical actions, they gave him the possibility of parole after serving a minimum of ten solid years. That was just to keep him complacent. The downside of the matter is that the law is convinced this wasn't a one-man job.” His light eyes captured me with a cornering gaze.
“Yeah, he had recovering wounds when I went to see him last.” I steered from blame because I honestly didn't need for Christo to be spotlighted as an accessory after the fact.
“That’s a Rocko for ya. We generally can keep a level ground, but once we are pushed to the edge, the aftermath can be detrimental. He still has visitation rights. They aren’t going to cut him off from the world completely. Especially since he refuses to give up any information or accept criminal insanity.”

We sat through a few cups of coffee, discussing everything that had happened when lunch hour rolled around. To hold me captive for just a while longer, Christo insisted we order some food to pass time. I didn’t object since we hadn’t seen one another in months and it was nice to have someone other than Jacoby to vent to about Johnny. I hated the way shit went down and how he voluntarily made a conscious decision to lie. I’m almost positive that maybe once in everyone’s lifetime, we find that one person who will do anything for us and their intentions always remain unconditional. I, myself, would take a bullet for Johnny in return, any day. The regret and dishonesty in my conscience only held oppressive sorrow, wishing he and I could trade places. I’m a lucky bastard, getting to live my life free of charge, but not free from burden. All of the guilt caved my chest.
I went home in desperate need of a self-intervention, grabbing the bottle of Jack from underneath my bed. I held it up to the lighting, circulating the remaining contents. Twisting off the cap, I chugged several harsh gulps of the amber liquid feeling my stomach scorch. The alcohol alerted the sensitivity on my tongue, causing me to wince in pain. Using the back of my hand to wipe my mouth, I carelessly tossed the bottle onto the floor beside me.

“What is the measure of a man? According to Martin Luther King Jr. “the ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.” The truth is apparent within the words of a wise man. Yet not all men are so wise. Is it wise to remain on your knees while the hammer is dropped? Letting crimson stain your hands for actions not committed alone? No, for it shall not be wise. The true value of loyalty and integrity lies within a fine line of what is just and what is not. How can we ever come to an agreement, one of clarity and understanding, if we are never willing to place ourselves in another’s shoes? Is it wrong to assume otherwise? Of course. But assuming and actually knowing is yet another fine line we struggle to balance on.”

I placed my journal back into the floor and laid on top of my bed, staring off into the ceiling. I stared so long that I began to let myself overthink. Running my hands through my hair and down my unshaven face, I felt unexpected water escaping my eyes. Even ashamed to cry alone, I rolled over into my pillow, weeping until the burning of my face and lack of oxygen forced me up. I was so angry, I picked up the empty bottle of Jack, smashing it against my wall. For a moment, I let my sanity depart while my tangled emotions ran unrestrained with a feeble mind that fought to regain strength. I destroyed my room within seconds, not stopping until the cuts in my hands slung droplets of blood against the walls. Satisfied with my dismal actions, I made my way into my bathroom, turning on hot water, dousing my wounds in rubbing alcohol. Allowing myself to scream from the pain as the veins in my neck pulsated, I smashed my head into the cold mirror hearing it crack beneath my forehead. Drunk and delirious, I yanked down my towel, causing the hook beneath to fly off, landing into the sink with a vibratory clink. Puffing my chest far from being in control, I slid down the wall, falling over into the bathtub in a childish whimper. The room spun around me so fast I gripped the edge of the tub attempting to make it stop. Shaking my head from side to side, trying to reign control of my own emotional outburst, the feeling of nausea worsened as my bathroom door flew open. The fuzzy, hunched over figure of my father came stumbling in.
“What in the fucking hell are you doing in here, Malice?”
He reached down, pulling my up by the shirt, dragging me out of the tub. My feet refused to work and my knees buckled to the point he was forced to sling my forward.
“Fuck you, dad...” I slurred.
“What did you just say to me, boy?”
His breath reeked of brandy as he held his forehead to mine. I went to push off of his chest, but he instead flung me straight through the door and into my bedroom. The force had the wooden door hanging halfway on its hinge as I lost grip to keep from falling. I bounced against my bed, collapsing to the floor as I struggled to see straight. My father stood over me, snatching me up once more. Pulling the back of my hair, he backhanded me across the nose--screaming about nothing. I sat with clenched teeth as the warmness of blood trickled from my nostrils, down to my shirt.
“You bastard," I was now crying. "You’ve been waiting my entire life, haven’t you? To overpower your son and beat the shit out of him." My father's eyes were quick to water as he released me. "You're a coward."
“You think and say what you want, Malice. It doesn’t put a dent in my heart knowing how much I’ve hurt you. Life implores to watch pain and sufferance. Grow up, kid.”

I reared my fist back, cold-cocking my father dead in the jaw. “Go back to hell where you came from! It’s because of you, my mother is fucking dead! You did it! You killed her!" I gave a massive shove to his chest and he stumbled into my bedroom door. "I am nothing like you...and--and if I have to spend the rest of my life proving that, I will.”
My father was crying, too weak to stop me or fight back any longer. God--every ounce of me hated him. The reality of that pained me but that's all I had left towards him. The bitterness of hate.

Knowing I had to leave immediately, I quickly threw all of my valuables into a bookbag. Running outside with my work shirt halfway on, I hopped on my bike, hauling ass down the road and didn't stop until I made it to Trent's. This was it--I was finally leaving, and there was absolutely no turning back.
I staggered up to the Manzetti's front door giving the bell a ring. I stood waiting for about five minutes before Trent decided to grace me with his overly excited presence.
“Mali, what the fuck happened?” He asked.
“Am I interrupting something?” I looked through him--eager and kind of pissed off.
“No, why?”
“Button your damn jeans, asshat."
He shook his head, motioning for me to come inside. Tiffany was walking down the steps--braless in a tank top with a dirty smile.
“Malice--did you get into another fight?”
I mocked her, directing my response towards Trent. “My father and I had it out, and it was pret-ty legit this time.”
“Well no shit, the blood on your face and hands justifies that much. Come in.” he sighed.

I sat in the kitchen while Tiffany cleaned me up and Trent interrogated me about the situation. I only had one person in mind. I plugged my phone into the nearest outlet so I could talk to Sky.
“Well, if it would make you feel any better, we were gonna go to one of Tiffany’s friend’s for a little--er--party. Maybe some sociality will do you some good."
“Better than being alone.”

After a nice shower, I grabbed the pair of jeans and Black Sabbath tee Trent left for me on the foot of the bed. Walking back downstairs, Tiff instantly struck a conversation. “I invited that Jessa girl, by the way.”
I cut my eyes as she walked past, barely brushing against my arm to further peeve me. Was she trying to throw something in my face or was her incessant behavior in the nature of sympathizing with my situation? I may appear incorrigible, but it’s not like I grew up precocious over others.

Squeezing through the front door, some jackass rudely shoved by and I suddenly thought back to the time Johnny had pinned that guy against the wall at Robbie's.
“Take it easy, man. You all right?” Trent asked.
I continued on towards the kitchen in search of alcohol. Colton was in the room just ahead, positioning a pool stick behind his back. He met my eyes, nodding with a smile and I raised my bottle returning the gesture. To my absolute surprise, Jessa was behind him raging in cheer. I was eased on the thought of having to entertain her all evening. Moseying around the clumps of intoxicated strangers, I stopped dead in my tracks. Nicki was sitting on the staircase, talking with another female friend of hers. From my standpoint, Nicki seemed to be comforting her--but with girls, who knows? By the time I finally caught the breath that was lodged in my throat, Nicki’s eyes landed on mine. With no escape, I was forced in saying hello.

“I assume you two don’t know each other?”
Nicki jumped to her feet, dragging me off. “No, absolutely not! I’m tired of my own tears, what the fuck makes that broad think I want to deal with her microscopic problems as well?”
“Drinking already, I see.”
“Malice, that’s all I ever fucking do anymore. I can’t rid the pain or erase the imagery that’s engraved into my memory. There’s nothing that can help me. I so badly want to go see a damn psychiatrist but that’s out of the question. School has even become so difficult to focus on that I'm already failing most of my classes this quarter.”
“Jesus, you sound like Trenton with that shrink talk.”
“What the fuck do you expect? How have you been coping exactly, huh? I see those marks on your face, and your hands are all busted up. Has violence been your escape?” Her voice rose.
I shushed her, pushing her into a nearby bathroom. Nicki leaned against the sink, staring at me intently.
“No, violence has not been my coping mechanism. I’ve been doing a lot of drinking myself. Where have you even been? You never return any of my calls or texts. I thought you did what you’re so good at.”
“And what is that?” She glared.
“Disappearing...”
Nicki drew in a deep breath, lowering her eyes submissively. “I have just been keeping to myself, trying to figure out a way on how to handle all of this shit. I have a heart, Malice. But that night, I didn’t. None of us were ourselves. I spend hours trying to come up with an excuse as to why I had the nerve to kill someone else, and not even care.” She glanced back at me. "That's not me."
“I just think that when one is pushed beyond their breaking point, all shit goes to hell and it is what it is until it isn’t.” I took a long pull from my beer.
“It’s easier said than done.”
I sat the bottle down on the counter next to her, taking her in by the face. “I never said it was easy, but in time, it will seem possible.” My lips parted.

Lurching forward, Nicki took me by either side of my face for a long, heated kiss. I pulled her in closer by her front pockets, feeling Nicki drag her bottom lip across my neck.
“I will always love and care about you. I never thanked you for doing what you did.”
"I know."
She held me in her eyes for a moment longer before shoving me out of the door and back into the crowd of people.
Parting ways with a wink, that was the last time I ever saw Nicki.
I looked around the room in search of Trenton and Tiffany when I found them in the main room, playing beer pong. I took that time to be social and join in. After being three rounds deep, I could hardly stand without wall assistance. Using bourbon instead of beer didn’t help matters, either. Trenton asked me several times within the hour if I wanted to go home, but I refused. 'Home' was a distorted mythical structure in the center of my fucked up fairytale. It wasn’t until the cops busted the party that we were forced into leaving the premises at once. I jumped in the back of Trenton’s truck along with Colton and busted my head off the tailgate after losing my balance.
“Fuck!” I groaned.

Nearing the street my house was on, I saw a giant cloud of smoke wafting through the air. Sirens came from behind us, carrying an ambulance through the traffic light ahead.
“What the fuck is going on now?”
Trenton stepped on the gas, having the same disturbing thought I had myself. Swinging around the corner for a better view only revealed city aid vehicles crowding the of my house as it stood in lambent flames. My mouth fell open and I had large eyes, taking in the unbelievable sight. I sprung from the back of the truck, rushing towards the scene.
“Hey, what is going on? What fucking happened?” I asked a nearby firefighter.
“Please, stand back, sir.”
“Oh my God, is that my father?”

Paramedics were rushing a charcoaled body resting on a gurney towards the ambulance. With no need for permission, I ran through the front door, flying to my bedroom. The house was rising in smoke and the heat captured my breath. I frantically yanked up the piece of wood by my bed, pulling out my journal. The house was burning at a thousand degrees, draining my oxygen by the second. I began coughing and coughing and my eyes watered and burned as I traveled down the hallway. Fighting to remain conscious, I grabbed the only family photo from the wall before collapsing into the arms of a fireman.

“Where am I?" I was staring up at a bright light and began to panic. "Where the fuck am I?" I sat straight up, realizing I was in the back of a parked ambulance.
Trenton assured the paramedics that he’d take me to his house where I’d be safe until contacted by authorities. I fell weakly into him, dropping my journal on the ground. “No, no, please grab that! Guys don’t fucking leave that, please!” I struggled to reach for it.
Tiffany ran up behind me, scooping it up into her chest and I passed out.

Later that evening...

I woke up in the guest bedroom of Trenton’s house. Clutching my smoke scented shirt, I could feel my heart pounding beneath my sternum. I hung my legs over the edge of the bed trying to process the fact that my entire world somehow flipped completely upside down. Glancing around the room, I noticed a pile of my belongings resting on a cedar chest. Trenton must have brought my stuff in while I was asleep. I got up to grab my laptop and sent a long message to Sky about another adventurous moment of mine.
Moments later, Mrs. Manzetti called me down for dinner and boy, was that awkward. I sat quietly across from Trenton in a staring contest. His mother made some lasagna and insisted on a sympathetic family meal. One in which included the new homeless guy whose parents died tragically. How inviting?

“The fire marshal claimed your father was barely breathing when they arrived. They found him in the kitchen by the stove, gasping. Apparently he suffered severe carbon dioxide poisoning and they had to perform CPR. He was unresponsive and they called his death on site at approximately 7 PM. My guess is he might have passed out drunk while cooking.” Trenton said.
“Trenton, please? Not at the damn dinner table.” His mother sighed.
I picked at my plate of lasagna in silence, swallowing the stomach bile that kept creeping up my esophagus. With a loss of appetite, I dropped my fork with a clank. “Please excuse me.” I shoved back in my chair, walking back up to the guestroom.
I was uncomfortable and wanted to hide out rather than dig deeper into my wound.

My laptop dinged with a call from Sky and I couldn’t have been more excited to talk to her.
“Hey there!” I smiled.
“Hello! My gosh, I just read your message and it literally freaked the shit out of me! I just don’t understand why horrible things keep happening to you, or how you manage to have survived it all?”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, I did have a rough night from drinking entirely way too much tequila and just recently stopped throwing up. Also, my friends and I got stopped by the five-o and they gave our asses a Breathalyzer. So coming out of an alcohol induced coma, reading all of that just tripped me out!”
“Sorry to burden you with such enthusiasm.” I chuckled.
“For a guy who just lost his home and both parents, you sure seem to be handling it quite well?”
“Talking to you helps...a lot.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
This was the moment I had to grab my balls and express to her what I truly wanted to do. My nerves were so far on edge that my stomach twisted into knots. “Honestly at this point, I’m not quite sure? All I have is my phone, laptop, money and some other shit.”
She laughed at my pitifulness. “I have a proposition for you, Malice.”
“And what might that be?”
“Move up here. With me!”
“To Chicago?”
“Yes, why not? You’re from the cold, it's completely bearable for you. And I know you have nowhere else you’d rather be, am I correct? Besides, I think you and I both knew for a while that the other knew how we felt.”
“Even though we have never met?” My heart melted in my chest as I gushed over her offer. “I can be up there in a week if you’re serious. I have to take care of some things here beforehand and then I’ll fly to Chicago.”
“I’m being dead ass about it. Do what you need to and I’ll take care of your flight.”
“I can totally pay for my own ticket.”
“Oh my God, stop being so stubborn!” She whined.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll have my phone on me to keep in touch.”
A light tap at the door broke my attention.
“Come in?”
Trenton slowly walked in with his brows furrowed. I figured he wanted to know why I was smiling so hard.
“Sky asked me to come up to Chicago.”
“That’s great, man! Are you gonna go? I mean that’s what you’ve been wanting, right?”
“Of course! But I think I’m gonna ask Colton if I could stay with him until I leave.”
“You don’t want to stay here?” Trent suddenly frowned.
“No offense, but your family’s version of “siesta time” isn’t quite what I’m used to. Nothing against you, though, brother.
“None taken. If that’s where you feel more comfortable, then I don’t blame you. But are you sure it isn’t because of Tiffany?”
“Nonsense, Trent. I’d just feel better over there. Plus, I need to spend some time with him too, before I leave.”
“All right, if you insist.” He sighed.

After Trent left the room, I called Colton to see what he was up to. His foster mother didn’t seem to have a problem with having an extra set of hands around the house for a week. She even took me out to get some new clothing and whatever else I needed before I left.
“You’re such a lucky bastard.”
“I’m waiting until she dies so I can inherit all of her shit. I may not be blood related, but if I can keep shit kosher, I’ll be in her will in no time.”
“I take back what I said. You’re a fucking sick individual.” I laughed.
“Hey, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Two days later…

Visiting Johnny for the last time had my heart rate reducing as I walked through the metal detectors. I stretched out my arms, feeling my hairs raise underneath the wand. When Johnny walked through the door in handcuffs, he bared a smile and a freshly shaved head.
“How’ve you been, Malicat? What's the big news/”
“I’ve been better. My uh, father…” I cleared my throat. “Got inebriated one night and caught the house on fire. He burned to death in the process. I no longer have a home and am currently staying with Colton and his caretaker until I fly out to Chicago.”
“Holy shit, dude! That’s some intense shit right there. But let’s face the facts here, you and I both know your father was on a downward spiral…especially since your mother…anyway,” He quickly changed the subject. “I see you’ve decided to take my advice about going to see that boo of yours.” He winked.
My face flushed with embarrassment. “Yeah, she invited me up to stay with her.”
“Congrats, I’m happy for you! I want colossal details about that ass and don’t look at me like that! Masturbating to a soap opera magazine and having a wildly advanced imagination only lasts for so long in here.”
“Ugh, I’m going to miss your insanity, you mad fuck.”
“Hey, somebody has to love and accept me and my ways. Seriously, though, take care of yourself, Malice. You deserve this chance to move on with your life."
I stared at him for a moment, feeling my eyes water. "I'll be sure and keep in touch with you."
"You better."

Standing outside with Trent, he shoved his hands into his back pockets, kicking around a small stone. “I’ll be over Colton’s bright and early to take your ass to the airport. Don’t sleep past your alarm, Mali.”
I gave Trenton a hardy slap on the back before straddling my motorcycle. Out of all the years of knowing him, never have I seen such sadness in his eyes until that very moment.
"Yeah, well, don't let Tiff wear you out too much." We shared a smile as I pulled out of his driveway.
I had a lot of leaving left to do and it wasn't getting any easier.