Chapter 25

Houdini has nothing on my brother as far as being an escape artist. I have never seen Manny escape from a locked box, but I wouldn’t put it past him.

I didn’t have a clue what caused him to bolt. But I was afraid that coming back here was too stressful and he needed something to calm his nerves that couldn’t be found in my mother’s house.

Mom came staggering into the kitchen.

“Where’s Mmmanny?” she asked. Mom looked around the kitchen several times, but her youngest son was not there, no matter how many times she looked.

“He’s gone, Mom,” I answered.

“Where did he go?” She looked so hurt. First, Mom gets a phone call from the hospital that her husband is about to meet his maker and then her son disappears again.

“I don’t have a clue.”

She stared at me, her face tilted at an angle like some dogs do when they hear a strange noise.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Mom asked.

He hasn’t been okay for over twenty years, I want to say, but spare her.

“Manny’s fine, Mom,” I reply. “We need to get going.”

“Okay, let me fix my hair and put on some makeup.”

I cringe. This is bad. Mom usually takes a good hour to get ready even when she’s already done all this. I don’t know many other women who would do their hair and make sure their makeup is perfect after getting a call from the hospital telling her that she needs to get there pronto.

“We don’t have time, Mom,” I tell her.

“But we might see somebody I know.”

“You look great, Mom.”

“Do I really?”

“Yes.” Okay, it was a lie. She didn’t look great. The poor woman had to deal with a peeping tom, Manny showing up and then disappearing and also the news that her husband was about to be pushing up daisies.

“I guess it’s okay, then. Are you hungry, Manny?” she asked.

“No, Mom,” I replied. “I’m Michael, remember?”

Mom always thought her kids were hungry every second of the day and always wanted to shove food down our throats. That’s why both of us were a little on the portly side as little ones.

We walked to the door and stopped. She was staring at the chair Manny had occupied before he flew the coop.

“I miss him,” she said, looking at me. “Do you?”

“Yes, Mom.” I escorted her out the door. I saw that Mom had on her house shoes and knew that wouldn’t make her happy once she discovered that.

We walked down the steps and through the yard. I opened the side door in my truck and she climbed in.

“You need to clean your truck, son,” she admonished me.

“Okay, Mom. I’ll do that tomorrow.”

“Good, you can tell a lot about a person by the way they keep their house clean.”

I didn’t really see how this applied to my truck, but I let it slide. She was a little on the goofy side right now. I started up the truck and backed out of the driveway.

“Did you see Slugger?” she asked.

“No, he must be sleeping,” I answered. It’s a good thing I didn’t see Slugger or I would have joined her in the loony department. Slugger was a dog we had as kids and had been dead for probably thirty years. He was a boxer and tended to slobber a lot. Manny and Slugger got along great. I liked him, but preferred a dog that didn’t give me a bath every time I was around him.

“My stomach is upset,” she added. “I think I have gas.”

“Okay. Just let it rip.”

She turned to look at me, still looking confused.

“Let what rip? Is my dress torn?”

“No, Mom. I meant that if you need to cut the cheese, just go ahead.” I wanted to tell her to make sure the window was down, but knew she wouldn’t appreciate that.

“What do you mean by ‘cut the cheese’?”

“You know, to poot?”

“Michael Hunt! I think you can describe that in a better fashion. I do not ‘poot’ or ‘cut the cheese’.”

No wonder she has a stomachache, I thought. We were on the highway and sliding in and out of traffic. Mom wasn’t getting any enjoyment out of the ride.

“My goodness, Michael!” she exclaimed. “Please slow down!”

I lowered the speed, but only slightly. I heard a honk behind me and looked in the rear view mirror. There was a huge truck approximately six inches from my bumper. All I could see was a big grill. There was only one person who could be driving that truck. I floored the pedal, causing Mom to shriek.

It didn’t do any good. We were outside of town now and the road had narrowed from four lanes to two. I heard an engine roar and looked behind me again. Squiggy had disappeared, but then reappeared beside me, driving on the shoulder.

He had his window down and was waving at me. The girl he had picked up the night before was sitting next to him. Mule was on the other side. He held his beer up for me. What a thoughtful gesture, I thought. At least there was no sign of Pyscho.

Squiggy made the motion for us to roll down the window. Mom gave me a threatening gesture. She had never thought much of Squiggy and I doubted her impression had improved.

I waited several seconds, then rolled the window down.

“Michael!” Mom shouted, louder than I thought was possible.

I ignored her and waved at Squiggy.

“Hey, ya queer!” he shouted. Mom leaned forward and looked out the window. Squiggy looked like he had swallowed a shoe. “Not you, Missus Hunt.”

Mom stuck her hand out the window and tried to shoo him away, like she does with a fly. It didn’t work.

All the cars we were meeting kept getting over as far as possible. They were obviously not used to seeing two trucks meeting them on a two-lane vehicle.

“Where y’all goins?” Squiggy shouted.

“To the hospital!” I shouted back. I hoped that Squiggy would realize the seriousness in this and back off. He nodded, then leaned down and cranked his stereo. It was playing Bad to the Bone by George Thorogood and the Delaware Destroyers.

Mom must not have liked the song, or how loud it was being played. She put her hands over her ears and closed her eyes.

“Ya like this song?” Squiggy hollered.

“Yeah, it’s cool,” I yelled back. I loved hearing it playing louder than a jet engine while driving down the highway. “See you later!”

“I’ll foller ya!”

It took a couple of seconds before Mom realized what Squiggy had just said.

“Oh my, he’s coming to the hospital!” she stated. I think Mom was more worried about this than her husband dying.

“It’ll be okay,” I tried to tell her. She wasn’t buying it.

“I do not care for that boy. Or, his friend, uh, what’s his name?”

“I don’t know his name. They just call him Mule.”

“That’s an odd name,” Mom declared. “Is it because he works hard?”

“You got me,” I answered. There are a lot of things that I am comfortable talking to my mother about. But I draw the line when it comes to telling her the real reason why Mule earned his nickname.

Mom fumbled around until she finds the button to roll up the window. She rolls it up and looks straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge Squiggy’s presence. Finally, he slows down and whips his truck back into the normal lane.

I watch them in the rear window. Mule leans out the passenger window and throws a huge bottle at a sign. It hits and shatters glass. There is a car behind them now and thanks to the lights shining in the cab, I see Squiggy and Mule exchange a high five.

We make it to the hospital without any more trouble. I park, get out and help Mom out. Squiggy pulls in beside us and slams on his brakes to keep from hitting a truck. I see that he has taken up two parking spots and it doesn’t surprise me.

Mom and I are speed walking toward the entrance, hoping they will not follow. I hear the doors slam and laughter behind us.

“Y’all wait up!” Squiggy hollers. “I gotta shake the dew off of willie first.”

Mom stops and looks at me.

“What is he talking about?” she asks, then turns around before I can stop her. “Oh my goodness! That man is urinating!”

I turn around and look. Squiggy is standing next to his truck, apparently trying to spell a word with his pee, based on his movements. He would probably misspell it, I decide. The girl is standing next to him, her gaze never rising above his waist. Mule is on the other side of the truck, also emptying his bladder. He sees us looking and waves. Mom makes the mistake of looking at him.

“Oh my!” she says. It takes a minute to get her turned around and headed back to the hospital. She is rather frazzled.

As we enter the hospital, Mom still looks a little uneasy. At least now I won’t have to tell her why Mule earned his nickname. I turn around and see them walking toward us. Squiggy has his arm around the girl. Mule is on the other side, staggering badly. A car approaches them and stops. Squiggy runs at it, hits it and falls down. He is writhing on the asphalt as Mule laughs so hard, he has to bend over. Something starts coming out of his mouth.

I realize that Mule has laughed so hard that it caused him to vomit. Hopefully, we can lose him in the hospital. We roam the halls for several minutes until we find somebody who can help us. It’s a tall nurse who is so thin it looks like a heavy wind could blow her away. She has a huge mole over her right eye. I try not to stare at it, but can’t quit.

We finally find Dad’s room. I am about to open the door when it opens from inside. A doctor and two nurses come out, giggling. He is wearing the typical doctor outfit of the white coat with a stethoscope tucked in the pocket. His name is above the pocket but I can’t read it.

He is wearing a tie, which I find comforting. At least he tries to be professional. He is a little older than me with a full head of hair that almost looks like a mop. It looks like he uses the anti-grey stuff on his hair. His glasses are as thick as the bottom of an old Coke bottom.

The nurses are young and attractive. I wonder if he is having an affair with either or both of them.

He straightens the thick glasses, stops and smiles.

“Good evening, Mrs. Hunt!” he says, and puts his hand on her shoulder. “How're you doing this evening?”

Mom looks to me for guidance. I don’t even want to begin.

“How is he?” I ask. The doctor gives me a dirty look for interrupting.

“I’m fine, Doctor,” Mom answers. She is looking much better now. “And you?”

“Doing great!” he says, and I believe it. “Gladys and I just built a new house. We just love it.”

The two nurses look at each other and cringe. Apparently they don’t care for Gladys and her standing between them and the doctor’s money.

“Good,” I said. “How’s he doing?”

The doctor glares at me again. He is not through exchanging pleasantries with my mother.

“Michael!” Mom says sternly, also giving me the evil eye.

Well excuse me. All I want to know is if my father is still alive, and if he is, how long his heart will still be beating.

I shake my head and look at the nurses. They are checking me out, probably wondering if I have any money and a wife that could keep them from it. They smile at me in unison. I nod back, but hold out on a smile. I am not in a smiling mood.

Mom and the doctor exchange compliments for several minutes. There is a loud noise down the hall and I know what is coming. The doctor stops smiling for a minute. I know he has to think this is most unusual. Normal people do not come into a hospital in the middle of the night, shouting and laughing. The people coming down the hall are far from normal. I make the mistake of looking down the hall.

Squiggy has climbed on top of a bed. Mule is pushing him, running and banging the bed off the wall and doors. So far, they have not seen us.

“What is going on?” the doctor asks.

“You don’t want to know,” I answer. “Let’s go inside before they see us.”

“Are those people your friends?” he asks. Mom moves away from me, like it could rub off on her.

“Not really.” I open the door and guide them in. I look for a lock but can’t find it. The sound of a hospital bed slamming into a door can be very loud, I discover.

The room is fairly dark, only a light over the bed. In the hallway, Squiggy is hollering my name. The doctor, nurses and my mother glare at me. I am hoping the hospital has good security in place and not just rent-a-cops.

They look at me like it is my fault. I am about to protest my innocence when there is a voice behind me.

“Can’t you people keep it down?” he asks.

I turn around and see my father sitting up in bed, glaring at us. We all turn to the doctor, who is smiling.

“I thought he was about to die?” Mom said.

“Apparently, there was a mistake,” the doctor admitted, smiling gingerly. “The nurse accidentally called you instead of the right person. Your husband has not changed.”

I looked at the nurses. One of them was looking off into the distance. The other one nodded her head in the direction of the other nurse.

“Oh,” Mom responded. She didn’t know how to act or what to say.

I was about to lose my cool. It had been a long day and I was tired. But before I could get started, my father beat me to it.

“You people need to get out of here,” he said. “I need to talk to my son.”

The doctor, nurses and my mother walked out of the room. I watched them go, wishing I could join them.

Dad waited for them to leave. He motioned for me to sit down and I did.

“I need you to do something for me,” he said, and changed my life forever.

Chapter 26