Stuck

As the sliding doors parted, the smell of tobacco raced up Janae's nose. A smell she'd become all too familiar with anytime bad news parted a physician’s lips.

The acrid aroma led her to her brother, Malcolm; sitting hunched over on the curb, cradling his knees to his chest. Janae hesitantly, but gently rested her hand on his wide canvas of a back before joining him. When he passed the cigarette to her, she flicked the smoldering ember into the distance, causing him to release a sigh of nicotine.

“Last thing you should be doing, Malcolm,” Janae said. She cradled her own knees and sat closer to him. “Especially after all of this.”

“What we supposed to do?” Malcolm asked. Janae let out a breathy chuckle and turned her gaze to the night sky. Stars filled the foreground as if they were competing to be seen. Janae rubbed her forearm with her thumb.

“I…I don’t know,” she sobbed. Without looking, Malcolm took Janae into his bulky frame, she cried in his chest ,leaving a stain the size of a baseball.

A car pulled up to the curb and asked for Janae. Janae embraced Malcolm once more, grabbed her book bag, and walked to the car. Malcolm’s eyes did a frantic dance around the parking lot before jolting to his feet.

“Wh-what’s going on?” he asked. Janae sighed as she stood at the rear of the car.

“I’m catching an Uber, Malcolm.” She placed her bag in the trunk.

“Don’t have to.” Malcolm reached for the trunk before she could slam it. “I brought you here, I can take you—"

“Malcolm,” —Janae removed his hand and slammed the trunk— “I’m leaving,” She said.

“Leaving?” Malcolm called on the good Lord, did a small lap, and rested his hands on his hips. “You’re really going to leave me” — Malcolm pointed at the hospital— “With all of this?”

“I have a family back home that needs me, Malcolm! I only came to help with Ma!” Malcolm shook his head.

“Flight already booked, huh?” he asked.

“We both knew...” Janae sighed. “Look, I’ll be back, and I’ll start making some arrangements for the funeral.” Janae opened her arms. Malcolm just stood there, yet she embraced him, causing a stream of tears to flow into his beard.

Janae rubbed his back and whispered into his ear,

“You have to tell him.” Malcom pushed her off and shook his head like a drenched dog.

“No, you do it,” he said.

“All I have is the address, not the number,” Janae said.

“Do it when you get back, because I’ll be damned.” The Uber driver honked the horn. Janae put one leg in the car.

“Not like you have to stay and crack open a cold one. Just tell him and go.” Janae shut the car door.

As the Uber driver pulled off, Malcolm reached in his pocket for a cigarette. He looked at the pack of KOOLS and threw them into the trash before entering the hospital.

The next morning, Malcolm hopped in the red pick up truck and found himself traveling the dirt roads of Texas Hill Country.

The truck hummed as Malcolm thought to himself; rehearsing the brief dialogue in his head, anticipating any potential rebuttal, even moving his shoulders to practice his stride back to his truck.

Malcolm sighed; reliving the moment he threw his pack of salvation in the parking lot trash, wondering if there was a chance they’d still be there. He looked at the photo on his dash. An image of his younger self, mother, and Janae.

“Doin’ this for you Ma,” Malcolm said. He kissed his finger tips before resting them on the photo.

Within an hour, Malcolm arrived to a secluded back road engulfed in trees. He squinted at the chicken scratch on the sticky note.

“One…nine,” he mumbled to himself. Malcolm turned into the long driveway and cruised along until he arrived at a bright yellow house. The yard was cramped in the front, but vast in the back. Classic rusted-cars rested on cinderblocks, spare parts were scattered in the yard, half swallowed by the earth, and a giant tow truck rested in the corner.

When Malcolm slammed his truck door, hounds wailed behind a compromised fence. Each of the dogs took turns looking at Malcolm through the cracks of the fence, even biting each other in the process.

The beaming sun smacked the back of Malcolm’s neck through the canopy as he stood in the driveway. He took several deep breaths. His chest ached with every approaching step as the gravel shifted under his feet.

Just four steps and a knock. Malcom thought to himself. He tripped on the final step and froze, as if the screaming dogs weren’t enough to alert anyone of his presence. No one in sight. There was still time to turn back.

Malcolm’s hand weighed a ton as he lifted the shaking limb to knock. He shut his eyes tight and banged on the door three tines. Nothing. Malcolm tried for a few minutes, and turned to step off the porch, thanking God eternally for a mission he could pass on to his sister.

When Malcolm turned around, he was met by an old man aiming a shot gun at his face. Slouched, receding hairline, and a glaucoma filled eye. Malcolm screamed.

“WHAT YOU DOIN’ ON MUH…” The old man rested the shotgun at his side. “Malcolm?” he asked.

“JUST CAME TO TELL YOU MAMA DIED, MAL,” Malcolm yelled over the barking dogs.

“SAY AGAIN,” Mal yelled.

“MA PASSED!”

“HUH?”

“SHE’S DEAD! DEAD!”

Mal yelled for the dogs to shut up. You could hear a feather fall. Malcolm dropped his hands to his sides. Malcolm asked him to repeat himself once more. Malcolm puckered his lips and the whites of his eyes grew red.

“Mama’s dead,” he said through his teeth. Malcolm still couldn’t hear.

Before Malcolm could storm off, Mal told him he needed to get his hearing aid out of the house. He invited Malcolm in. Malcolm stood on the porch, hands in pockets, eyelids low.

“Come on man, only take a sec,” Mal said. Malcolm sighed and stepped in. Mal said he’d only be a second as he scooted to another room.

Malcolm looked around the room. Animal mounts along the wall, a vinyl collection of 70’s and 80’s music, and a picture. The same picture that rested on the dashboard of his truck. Malcolm turned the frame face down.

Mal returned; hearing aids in, and hands in his overall pockets.

“Hey there Jr. How—”

“It’s Malcolm. Just stopped by…” Easier rehearsed than performed. Malcolm hesitated as if the words themselves were strangling him. “Mama…lost her fight…with cancer.”

Mal’s eyes widened to the point of no return. He pulled a chair from the living room table and sat down.

“Yeah…I’m out.” Malcolm marched towards the door. When he opened it, there was a downpour, a shower like he’d never seen before.

Mal stood to his feet.

“Been in a drought for months.” He reached for Malcolm’s shoulder. “Come, let’s wait it out—” Malcolm bumped him off. He put his shirt over his head and charged into the downpour.

The water was ankle deep, as if the driveway had become a shallow stream. Malcolm took one labored stride after another until he reached the truck. He dug in his pocket for his keys, but dropped them in the process, praying the current hadn’t carried them away. He felt around in the clouded water until the keys shimmered like gold.

Finally, he retrieved the keys and got into the truck. Drenched and ten pounds heavier, he sat in the drivers seat and watched as Mal stood in the doorway.

Malcolm started the truck and attempted to back out. When be did, the left rear tire wailed and sank into the mud, rendering him stuck. He pulled out his phone, water damaged beyond return. Malcolm pinched his the bridge of his nose, exited the truck , and charged for the front door.

When Malcolm entered the house, Mal was nowhere to be seen.

“Yo.”Mal returned with clothes and a towel, and offered them to Malcolm. When he extended them, Malcolm hesitated.

“Bathrooms down the hall, to the right,” Mal said. He put his hands in his pocket and stepped aside. Malcolm scrunched his lips and nodded. He dragged his feet, leaving a trail of water in the process.

When Malcolm returned, Mal was sitting at the table. Two steaming cups of coffee rested before him. He told Malcolm he could put his wet clothes in a bag and join him at the table.

“Got a phone?” Malcolm asked.

“W-well yeah, I—”

“Mind if I use it…please?” Malcolm asked. Mal pointed at the phone resting on a small table. When Malcolm tried to dial for help, there was no service. He rested the phone on the hook and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t get much service. Storm ain’t helping. When it clear up, I’ll pull you out,” Mal said. Malcolm’s boots squeaked on the wooden floor. He peeped out the window. It was as if the storm was growing stronger by the second.

Malcolm sighed and joined Mal at the table. Mal scooted the steaming brew before him. The vanilla bean raced up his nose as he took the cup in his hands. He nodded before taking a sip.

The heavens roared, sending tremors through the walls and floor boards. Malcolm rested his head in his hand on the table. Mal cleared his throat.

“So, uh. How you holdin’ up?” Mal asked. He blew on the coffee and took a sip. Malcolm sat up straight and intertwined his fingers.

“With all due respect. I know this your house and all, but I’d like to sit in silence while we ride this out…appreciate the hospitality.” Malcolm crossed his arms and closed his eyes.

“You’re right. This is my house,” Mal said. Malcolm opened his eyes and looked in his direction. “I got lots to say.” He opened his mouth, but the words stalled. “Jr,” Mal said.

“Don’t call me that,” Malcolm said.

“Son, I’m sorry.”

“Little late for that, and the woman you owe that apology to is dead.”

“You right, but I owe you an apology too…and your sister—” Malcolm started to clap.

“Now everything’s alright now, hmm?” Malcolm asked. “You’ve written all your wrongs and you get to go on with a clean slate. Make room God, another one of your faithful servants is on the way!” Malcolm kissed his teeth. He tapped the table several tines before leaning towards Mal.

“We’re supposed to be cool, right? Hmm? Should I call you daddy again, or that moving a little fast?”

“Malcolm—”

“YOU FAILED US! YOU TREAT THOSE DOGS OUT THERE BETTER THAN YOU DID MY MAMA!” The thunder roared, shaking the entire home. “BEAT THEM TOO?!” Malcolm asked. He stood to his feet and towered over Mal.

“Beat them when you in a bad mood? Little alcohol in ya system? After YOU cheat?” Malcolm leaned in Mal’s face. “Beat me, hit me now, I dare you!” Malcolm whispered through his teeth.

Mal sat, fingers intertwined, and his head resting on them. Malcolm exhaled and walked over to the window where he peered into the storm.

“Just like ya daddy,” Mal mumbled to himself.

“What?” Malcolm asked.

“What Ma used to say. I’d be just like my daddy; an abusive, lying, cheating drunk. Unlike yo Ma, Regina, she stayed. ‘Real man beat ya’ if he love you,’ what she’d say to my sisters. Ain’t buy it. Looked like he tried to kill her every time. How could you harm something so precious and delicate and claim to love it?”

“You tell me,” Malcolm said. “Didn’t stop you every time you got hammered. Had us cowering in a bedroom closet, praying the locks held out till you sobered up. Then one night we just up and ran like some runaway slaves. Thought we escaped you, but you wouldn’t even give Mama her divorce,” Malcolm said.

“Thought I could fix it, man. Thought if I changed, she’d give me a second chance, us a second chance. Come back and live a normal life like we supposed to.”

Malcolm erupted into laughter. When be turned to Mal, his laughter intensified at his stoic face, sending tears down his face. He wiped the tears from his eyes and stroked his beard.

“You hilarious, old man. Think life some kind of fairytale? You altered our lives forever. Took Janae forever to trust a man, and it took me years to trust myself.” Malcolm’s smile faded. “Know how hard that was? Thinking, oh, it’s gotta be in me too; just a matter of time before I get the urge to just beat a woman! Don’t even drink because I’m scared it’ll wake up whatever demon that’s slumbering in me,” Malcolm said.

Mal turned to him and nodded.

“Proud of the man you’ve become, and I can’t take no credit for that. Every man got a free will and you made the right choices. Malcolm, I ain’t asking you to forgive me. Not asking you to understand, because I knew better. I’ll die alone out here in these woods, and I ain’t got nobody’s to blame but muh self.” Mal’s eyes started to water.

“But I still have to apologize, and I can go on knowin’ my kids turned out alright, and that your mother forgave me.” Malcolm turned around swiftly.

“What’re you—”

“We talked, Malcolm. Week or so ago. Said she forgave me; didn’t give me a chance to apologize, and that hurt me more than anything.” Mal cried to the point of drooling. “Why would she?” he asked.

The pounding on the roof grew quiet and the sun shone through the window. Mal wiped his eyes and stood to his feet.

“Let’s get that truck out,” he said.

Malcolm stood by with his hands in his pockets as the winch pulled the truck out the deep depression. Once the truck was free, Mal shut off his truck and stood next to Malcolm.

“No damage, should be good to go, and uh…keep the clothes, or toss ‘em. Take care…Malcolm,” Mal said. Malcolm felt the collar of the shirt and watched as Mal walked away.

He remembered his own clothes and rushed to the closing door. He knocked. Mal opened the door.

“My…” Mal nodded and stepped aside. When Malcolm reached down to pick up the soiled bag, he noticed the phone line had been cut, and a cellphones print in Mal’s shirt pocket.

He walked to the door, and stopped in the doorway. Malcolm looked at the tow truck.

“Got a business card…or somethin’?” Malcolm asked.

“Uh, yeah.” Mal rushed to the back room and returned with a card. Malcolm took it in his hand and nodded.

“We…I’ll…call. When everything is arranged.”

“Yeah…yeah, alright,” Mal said. Malcolm nodded and stepped off the porch.

Malcolm blew into the charging port of his phone as to resuscitate it. The screen saver illuminated. Malcolm made a call as he cruised down the road.

“Nae?” he asked.

“Malcolm. How’d it go?” Janae asked.

“Talked to D—Mal, and…he’s coming. So, thought I’d let you know.”

“Oh. Yeah, okay. Alright then—”

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Did Ma talk to somebody on the phone, like a week a go. A,” —Malcom looked down at the card—“237 number?” he asked.

“Yeah, made me dial it, told somebody she forgave them. Why?” Janae asked. Tears rushed down Malcolm’s hand as he covered his mouth and bounced. “Malcolm?”

“Nothing, see you when you get back,” Malcolm said. He pressed end call and wiped his eyes. Malcolm looked around the surrounding area. There was no signs of rain for months. Roads bone dry without a puddle in sight.

He looked at the photo on the dashboard and touched Regina’s face.

“You do this, Ma?”

END