Brown Eyes, Blue Smile, page 10
“It’s not going to do any good, Mich!” he said heatedly, making Michelle flinch. Right away he regretted speaking to her like that and apologised for it. “There’s nothing either you or doctors, or the so-called specialists you’re talking about can do, Mich. This is just the way it is—I’ve got AIDS, and I’m going to die for it. Simple as that. I just don’t want you worrying too much about it anymore.”
“Well, what would you expect me to do, Linc,” she snapped back. “You want me to just sit back with my arms folded across my chest and watch you have another panic attack and then die? Is that what you want me to do?”
“I didn’t say that, Mich. You’re helping me to stay alive much longer, and I’m forever grateful to you for it. I just don’t want to see you suffering too much anymore. You’ve been like a mother hen since I got here, and you haven’t been sleeping at all. It’s taking a toil on you, and I can’t have that. I’ll bet too that Monique wouldn’t want that.”
“But this isn’t about Monique, Linc. This is about you.”
“You’re wrong, Mich. It isn’t just about me anymore, but rather the three of us. You’ve got to move on without me. You’ve been doing that ever since I ran out on you, but then circumstances weren’t what they now are. You’re going to have to adjust your mind to that again once my time comes.”
Michelle looked at him, saw how serious he was, and knew there was no arguing with him anymore. In a way she was already tired of arguing, but was reluctant to throw in the towel so early. She sniffled and wiped off the tears in her eyes.
“Back then, I thought I’d lost you, Linc. Sometimes I actually felt like I’d lost you. That maybe you’ve gone and found someone else who was taking even better care of you than I was and that I—I mean we, myself and Monique—weren’t going to see you again. Whoever would have thought that things would become like this.”
Lincoln drew her towards him, holding her head against his chest and patting her shoulder while she emptied out her tears.
“It’s alright, babe; it’s okay. Everything’s going to be just fine.”
“How, Linc? How is everything going to be just fine when you’re practically on Death’s bed right now?”
Lincoln seemed to recoil from that. Michelle saw the hurt look on his face and reached for his arm.
“That was rude of me, I’m sorry. But you’re scaring me, Linc. I don’t know what my life will be like when you’re no longer around.”
Lincoln pulled her towards him and embraced her. “You’re a strong woman, Mich. You will go on, I know this. I just want you to be ready when it happens.”
“Monique is going to miss you more than me, you know that.”
“I know. Even now I’m missing her already. Now’s the time when you need to be strong … and happy. I don’t want you spending all your waking hours grieving over me. I want you to seriously try and be happy once again. Do you think you can do that for me?”
“I’ll try, Linc. I can’t give you any promises other than that.”
“It’ll do for now,” he said and kissed her forehead.
Chapter Fifteen
Trouble was waiting for Shanice and Eric by the time they arrived at Shanice’s apartment, and it came in the form of Shanice’s ex, Chris.
Chris had spent the last hour waiting outside Shanice’s door expecting her to show any minute. Since she no longer too his calls, and he couldn't stop by the Deli where she worked on account of her boss kicking him out last time, this was his only option. He needed to have a serious talk with her. He’d just about had enough of her foolish games and it was time they put an end to it. Stupid bitch just don’t know when to quit when told to. But that’s no problem; it was high time he taught her some manners to that mouth of hers. Frustrated with sitting outside her stoop under the sun waiting, Chris had done the next best thing—he’d broken into her apartment. He made his way into her den, went into her bedroom and peeked first into her drawers then her closet. He tried to recall the last time he’d been in here how it had been, if she’d made any new changes to her wardrobe or not. Apparently she had. He could only surmise that it was on account of that silly white boy she’s been seeing. No problem, he thought. They were going to have themselves a long conversation about that.
He pulled a chair to her bedroom doorway and lounged back to wait.
* * * *
Shanice and Eric arrived at her apartment building twenty-six minutes after Chris had broken inside. They were both in a jolly mood as they’d reconciled with each other, feeling ten-times more relaxed with each other’s company than before.
Eric parked his car and together they came up the stairs to her building. Shanice was fumbling in her pocket to unearth her house key when her shoulder brushed against her door. The smile that had been on her face vanished when her door came open before her.
“Eric ...” she indicated her open door to him. He too stopped laughing.
“Stand back,” he said to her as he cautiously made his way into her apartment.
They expected to find the place turned out but the opposite was the case—everything was as it was when she’d left in the morning.
“Is anyone in here?” Shanice called out, feeling a bit frightened.
* * * *
“Is anyone in here?”
Chris’ eyes came wide open upon hearing what sounded like Shanice. He’d been having himself a light doze while he waited. His attention became alert when he heard Shanice voice call out; he cursed himself for leaving her door open after he’d jimmied the lock. He got up from the chair and came out of the bedroom with the intent of surprise.
He wasn’t expecting to meet Shanice with her white boy. Both men’s eyes came open as they took in each other.
“Chris?” said Eric.
Shanice too was just as surprised to see him inside her apartment. Eric tried to hold her back but she pushed his arm aside, seething with anger. “Chris, what the hell are you doing in here?”
“We’ve got some talking to do, Shanice. You and I alone.”
“How did you get in, anyway, you bastard?”
“I’ve got a think for picking locks. And I wouldn’t be calling me names if I were you. And I see you’re still hanging out with this white boy fool.”
“I’d be thinking about clearing your ass out of here if I were you, Chris,” said Eric. “Looks like you’ve worn your welcome a long time ago.”
Chris switched his gaze at him, his eyes turned fiery. “I told you before to stop messing with me, didn’t I, white boy? Well, I guess it’s about time I taught you a lesson or two.” He reached behind his jacket and pulled out a switch blade, grinning while he did. “It’s been about a while since last time I carved something on a guy’s chest.”
Shanice made the mistake of approaching him. “Chris, what in God’s name are y—”
Chris swung his right fist and caught her across her cheek with his back hand. Shanice cried out from the pain and fell to the floor. Eric saw what was happening a second before he tried stopping Shanice from approaching Chris and watched as she fell on the centre table, nearly banging her head on the glass menagerie that was on it. Chris, seeing he was distracted, passed the switch blade to his right hand and swung it at him. Eric had time to jump backward; the blade tore a flap of his shirt.
“I’m gonna gut you so bad, white boy,” Chris grinned as he inched towards him. “When I’m done with your ass, then I’m gonna come back for her.”
“I’m going to have to get through me first to do that,” said Eric. He was carefully gagging the distance between Chris and his blade. His eyes darted either side, trying to spot anything hard and strong he could use for a weapon.
Chris jumped forward, feigned with his left hand which was curled into a fist, and then sliced the air with his switch blade. Eric saw the feint coming and smartly moved to his left in time as Chris’s blade came at him. They circled each other like a pair of combating fighters. Eric glanced at Shanice and saw that she was hugging her face where she’d been smacked. That was a mistake. Chris too saw his eyes move in her direction and saw an opening. He rushed at Eric, holding the switch blade aslant.
The blade tore through the left arm of Eric’s shirt, leaving a trail of torn shirt and blood, a second before Chris slammed his body into him. Eric cried from the pain, but that was the least of his worries as he and Chris tumbled to the ground. He drove a knee up Chris’s mid-section, making him grunt from the pain, and then concentrated on wrestling the blade from his grip. Both men struggled and fought against each other, their legs and arms entangled as each one tried to overpower the other. Chris punched Eric’s wound, making him cry out, while at the same time tried to keep his hold on the blade. Eric brought his right arm over his neck and turned him over with all the strength he could muster. Chris was deflected by this. Eric, seeing his grip on the blade now had lessened, slammed his other arm’s elbow on his face. It was Chris’s turn to yell from the punch, and the blade in turn fell from his hand next to Eric’s ear. Eric gave him another elbow punch before pushing his bulk off him and turned over to reach for the blade’s handle.
Chris was quick to recover, getting up to his knee, his hand massaging the spot close to his clavicle bone where Eric’s elbow had made repeated contact. At the same time Eric now had the switch blade and was rising to his feet. Chris saw things weren’t in his favour anymore but not ready to give up yet, made a flying tackle at his enemy. Once again, both men toppled over the furniture and then fell over it. Shanice came from behind Chris who was struggling to get the switch blade from Eric’s grasp, and smashed the glass menagerie over his head. The glass shattered into a thousand pieces, sounding like a bomb going off, and the sound of it shattering echoed along with Chris yelling from the pain. Eric raised his hand to protect his face from the flying debris of glass. Somehow the blade got knocked off his hand. Shanice pounced on Chris, scratching her fingers over his face while Eric tried to turn around to find where the blade had gone. Chris pushed Shanice off him, his face was now a bloody mess from the crystal shards of glass that had sliced his skin, and growled as he reached for Eric’s leg.
“Get off him, you bastard!” screamed Shanice, who once again jumped on Chris.
Chris was distracted and instead of still holding onto Eric, he turned his attention to Shanice. Eric got hold of the switch blade at the same time that Chris gave Shanice another hard smack at the same time kicked her off him. Eric saw it happen and was enraged at what he saw. He came at Chris and swung a fist at his jaw. The punch connected; Chris’s head wobbled from the punch and blood gushed out of his nostrils. Eric held him by the collar of his jacket and ploughed his fist once more at his face a second time ... and then a third. He was screaming while he did it, but was unaware of it. All that was on his mind was beating Chris to a pulp who hurting his woman. Chris fell to the ground and Eric fell on top of his too, still pounding his face. He didn’t know when over people came into the apartment and began pulling him. He was still screaming with rage even as they fought to pry him loose from Chris. One of them was yelling into his ear but he wasn’t listening. Then someone locked an arm across his neck and held his head in a vice-like grip. Eric’s screaming fit turned into mumbled sputtering; he kicked his legs out frantically, trying to squirm free from the hold he was in. Spite filled his mouth and he felt as if he were choking on it ... he felt like he was drowning. He tried to fight the grip that held him but couldn't. His arms were becoming weak. His fear was that somehow Chris’s pals had heard him kicking their friend’s ass and had come to his rescue. In a second they would be waking Chris up to have a go at him ... and he would succeed this time.
“Noo ... nooo ...” he muttered over and over.
His eye lids were becoming heavy, and so was his breathing. He was choking on his own vomit. He was drowning ...
Less than a minute later he gave in to the flood and passed out in blackness.
* * * *
He was in a different world when his eyes came back awake. Everything around him was white ... including the clothes he was wearing, and for a brief moment he got scared thinking he’d died and gone to meet the Man. He was lying on a bed with the sheets up to his chest staring up at the white square boards of a ceiling. He looked forward at his feet sticking like twin tent poles from underneath the bed sheets. He flexed his muscles and saw them move and was momentarily happy for that; he doubt if they would have moved had he actually been dead. It came to him then that he was in a hospital. How had he gotten here?
He tried to sit up and groaned when he felt a throbbing pain in left arm and saw the thick wraparound bandage that was there ... then he remembered how he’d gotten it.
Chris. Where the fuck was he?
He tried to sit up again, grunting from the pain in his arm while he attempted it and just then there came approaching feet. He turned to his right—he hadn’t noticed the visitor that was in the room with him. He recognised her right away from the weak smile that came to her face as she approached his bed to help him sit up. She looked just as pretty as the last time he’d been with her ... except now she was spotting a dark bruised spot beneath her right chin where her former lover had hit her while they’d fought in her apartment. The bastard.
“Hey there,” Shanice said as she picked up a lever that was beside his bed and pressed a button which then elevated his bed for him to sit upright. “How’s my hero doing?”
“Like I just went ten rounds with Ali and lost,” he said.
“Well, trust me when I say this, Ali wouldn’t have equalled what you did.” She caressed his face. “You were my dragon slayer.”
“Yeah right, and look at the beating you and I both had. Where’s he anyway?”
“Chris? Right now he’s cooling off in a room down the corridor from yours, with a cop watching over him. You really roughed him up, you know.”
“That’ll teach him to lay his hands on my girl next time. A good thing his friends came in and held me back, or he’d be dead.”
Shanice looked at him. “What friends?”
“You know ... the ones who held be back. I remember hitting him and then someone came and held me back ... I couldn't breathe and that was when I sort of passed out and woke up in here.”
She laughed. “Those weren’t his friends, it was the cops. It seems my neighbours heard the raucous that was going on and called the cops. It was them who held up back. You were still struggling with them when they did.”
“No kidding. They ain’t going to press charges, are they?”
“I don’t think so.” She leaned closer and kissed him. “You saved my life, Eric. I’m so happy I found you again.”
“You never lost me; I was always around for you.”
“Let’s hope I don’t get to lose you again.”
“Don’t you worry, I’m going to start hitting the gym once I’m out of here,” he laughed.
“Michelle is here too,” she said. “She brought in Lincoln some hours ago.”
“How’s he doing?”
She shook her head, her face turning sad. “Not good. He’s in the terminal wing, in the next corridor. He had a seizure attack a couple of minutes ago, but he’s sleeping now. Michelle has been crying her eyes out all day.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Give her my condolences.”
“I will, but now you’ve got to rest yourself.” She got up from the bed, leaned forward and gave him another kiss, a lengthy one this time. “Doctor said you’ll be out of here in a day or two. I’ll be back tomorrow; I’ve got to go put this chin of mine to rest.”
“Yeah, you do that.” He held her hand, reluctant to let go of it. “I love you, Shanice.”
“I love you too, Eric.”
He gave her back her hand and waved to her as she turned and left his room.
* * * *
The bedside clock on top of his drawer told him it was 9:45 P.M.
Eric had long been fed dinner and the nurse had stopped by to check his temperature as well as see how well his wound was healing more than an hour ago before leaving him alone. He had tried to fall asleep but that eluded him. He felt like taking a walk. He’d asked permission from the nurse if it was alright for him to walk around just to exercise his legs a little bit. She’d told him to wait till about nine, by then activities in the hospital would have ebbed down somewhat, but also for him not to go about disturbing any of the other patients. He’d promised he wouldn’t. It was way past the hour already, but he’d opted to sit back and wait till it was ten before he began his walking exercise. He shut his eyes for a while and when he opened them and checked what the time now was, the bedside clock was telling him 9:57 P.M. That should just about do it, he thought to himself as he pushed his legs out of the thick bed sheets for the first time since he’d woken up and found himself inside it. His wounded arm wasn’t hurting much anymore. He gave the arm a couple of flexes just to test it. He went into the small restroom beside his bedroom to look himself in the mirror. His hair was looking messed up, and he saw that he too had a purple bruise on his right cheek; battle scars, he muttered to himself as he turned on the water faucet in the sink and washed his face with it. Done with cleaning his face, he headed for his bedroom’s door which opened out to the hospital corridor. Shanice had indicated the room where Chris was being held up was to his left. He didn’t plan on taking that route, instead he turned to his right, in search of the terminal suite.
One or two nurses passed him along the way though neither made any attempt at stopping him or enquiring where he was headed to—he wasn’t looking sick or like he was in pain or anything. He did ask one of them the corridor that housed the terminally ill, saying he had a friend who was sick in there and she pointed him in the right direction. It didn’t take long for him to find Lincoln’s room. He had it all to himself, and from the suffering he was under that was understandable.
