RANDOM THOUGHT NO. 4
There’s this thing I used to see
kids at the playground do
with their dads.
They’d stand on their father’s feet,
the dads holding the
kids by the arms, walking
stiff-legged like zombies.
The kids had to trust the fathers
to guide them because the fathers
could see what was coming
but the kids,
holding tight to their dads,
moved blindly
backward.
09:08:37 a.m.
THEN POP MADE THE FIRST MOVE.
A step forward.
I made the next.
Then he took another.
We met in the middle.
Again,
dove into each other.
This time the hug,
a mix of I miss you
and who are you
and I’m confused
and I’m cracking
and I don’t know what
the hell to do
or where the hell to go.
My father’s hand
gripped my back
as I did my best
to bury myself
in his armpit,
to get lost in the new
and strangely familiar feeling
of fatherhood.
AND THAT’S WHEN IT HAPPENED.
He pulled the gun
from my waistband.
And put it to my head.
I FREAKED OUT.
What you doin’?
I shrilled,
in shock.
What the hell you doin’!
Eye-to-eye,
a tear streaming
down his face.
Just one,
so it ain’t
really count.
Chest aching
like a weight
crushing me,
biscuit tight
against my temple.
He cocked it.
Sounded like
a door closing.
I CALLED OUT
for help
but couldn’t
see no one.
Not Uncle Mark,
or Dani,
or Buck,
or hear them,
or even smell
the dank
of tobacco turning to tar.
Like it was suddenly
just the two of us,
me and my dad,
both of us apparently
losing
our minds.
POP STOOD OVER ME,
the gun pressed against
the side of my face.
Was the first time I had
ever had one to my head.
First time I had been that
close to death. To the end.
And at the hand of
Pop. Pop? Pop!
YOU WOULD THINK
I would be thinking
about whether or not
he could actually do it
since he wasn’t real.
But the hugs were real.
And the gun was real.
Weren’t no ghost bullets
in that clip.
Those were real bullets.
Fifteen total.
One for every year
of my life.
MY STOMACH
was aching,
the quaking world
in the bottom of it,
and it wasn’t long
before I could feel
myself splitting
apart.
A WARM SENSATION
ran through the lower
half of my body,
seeping
down my leg
into my sneakers.
Cigarette smoke
cut once again,
this time by the smell
of my own piss.
09:08:40 a.m.
THEN POP UNCOCKED THE GUN,
wrapped his arms around me
again,
squeezed tight like
I was some rag doll,
stuffed
the gun back into
my waistband.
I SCREAMED,
pushed him away,
yelled until my throat
stripped,
until my words became
sizzle.
Weak.
Wet.
Worried
about looking like
a punk-ass kid.
And my father
leaned against the wall,
staring,
chin up,
cocky,
quiet,
while I exploded.
AND LIKE OLD TIMES
Uncle Mark
came to his side
like a brother,
pulled the extra cig,
the one tucked
behind his ear,
handed it to
my father,
chest heaving.
Eyes on me,
he threw the cig
in his mouth.
Buck took his cue.
I backed into
a corner,
wished this
stupid elevator
would get to L ,
for this whole
thing to hurry up
and be done.
Buck struck
a match and the
elevator came
to a stop.
A STRANGER,
chubby,
light skin,
almost white,
the type that
turns red,
that burns,
dirty brown hair
curled up
on his head,
got in the elevator
like a normal guy.
Didn’t acknowledge
nobody.
No dead body.
No live body.
No smoke.
Normal.
SO I FIGURED
he was real.
Which
made me real
embarrassed
about the pee
but
made me real
happy
I wasn’t all
the way gone.
09:08:47 a.m.
THE THICK PALE DUDE
stood staring at his
blurry reflection in
the metal door
when Buck started
trying to get his
attention.
Yo,
Buck said.
Psst.
The guy didn’t
budge.
Yo, dude,
Buck called,
reaching
for his
shoulder.
THE MAN TURNED AROUND.
I know you.
Buck flashed his
big choppy grin.
Your name
Frick, right?
Only to people who
know me
know me,
the guy said,
reluctantly reaching
for Buck’s hand.
Remember me?
Buck said,
like a distant
relative at a
reunion.
Buck,
he said,
showing the back
of his T-shirt again.
Oh shit,
Buck?
Head cocked.
Buck?
Arms wide.
What’s good, man?
Nothing.
Is good.
At all.
THIS IS
Dani,
Mark,
Mikey,
and
you remember
Shawn?
This his little brother,
Will.
BEFORE FRICK COULD ANSWER,
I asked Buck
how he knew
him,
what his connection
was to me,
what he was doing
in this spooky-ass
elevator.
09:08:50 a.m.