The disconcerned clerk returned to the window after about ten minutes and informed Chris that Thomas was being held on accessory to armed robbery, and assault.
Chris sighed. That, he thought, will not be good at all. While he studied the charges against Thomas, a creaky door diverted his attention; it was Thomas’ auntie, holding Felicia in her arms.
"What they got him in here for Chris?" She begged; a tone of desperation punctuated her words.
"Accessory to armed robbery and assault. He punched the arresting officer and ran," Chris solemnly responded. "They finally caught him four blocks away."
Thomas' aunt began to quietly cry.
"Will you take Felicia back with you to the house my baby? Auntie asked. "Ain't no need for her to be in this place."
"Yeah, of course," Chris assured. "What are you gonna do?" he asked.
"Well, she sighed, wiping tears from her cheek, I guess I’m gonna use the rent money to get him out. Don't know what the Hell I'm gonna do bout' the electric bill; They sent us a cut-off notice yesterday. But, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. The good Lord will watch over us," she optimistically continued.
"With all due respect ma'am, you're gonna need the good Lord to either act as his lawyer and pay the electric bill," Chris quickly advised.
Thomas' aunt glossed over Chris' sarcasim. "He promised me he was done runnin’ with them boys Chris," she stared helplessly into Chris' eyes, as though he could utter a magic word which might help her to understand, or erase the hurt.
Chris recognized the look of desperation on Auntie's face; it was the look of a mother who had just been informed that her son had been stricken with a terminal disease. As he studied her eyes, Chris felt the heartbreak; he fought hard to hold back tears.
Observing the mask of utter dispair on this woman's face was like watching someone trying to hold fast to a ledge before falling, only an invisible barrier holds a would-be rescuer just out of reach.
He saw a woman who has clearly lived a life that's been punctuated with struggles, broken promises and heartache; yet, she still holds hope in mankind and faith in her Lord. Chris felt helpless.
"I’ll take Felicia to the house ma’am," Chris solemnly assured, looking toward the ground.
Felicia is indeed a little lady, to be sure. She's incredibly articulate for her age and a much welcomed breath of fresh air; a bright spot in such a complicated world, Chris thought as he absorbed her bright smile.
They walked through the neighborhood, holding hands; Chris couldn’t decide if he’d taken her for a walk to keep her mind occupied or to clear his.
"Goddamn it Thomas," he thought. "How in hell could Thomas live this lifestyle when he has so many blessings in his life?" He wondered.
Chris wasn’t above recrimination either. After all, he'd had so much going for him yet continually made reckless decisions. There would be no casting of the proverbial stones, he resolved, while taking judgmental inventory of both his and Thomas' life.
Even so, he felt strongly that Thomas was better than this.
"When is my daddy gonna be home?" Felicia innocently asked.
"Soon," Chris assured.
"What’s he doing?"
" He’s takin’ care of some business honey; as soon as he’s done he’ll be home," Chris assured, trying his best to keep her calm.
"Are you the crazy man daddy was talking about with my auntie?" She blurted, as seven year olds are prone to do.
Chris laughed; "I suppose that‘s me. Your daddy likes to joke around a lot. He’s a good man though," Chris assured.
"He gets in a lot of trouble with auntie…more than me," Felicia exclaimed, her eyes widened. Chris laughed again.
"Yeah, I bet he does. That’s cause’ auntie loves you both though or she wouldn‘t yell," Chris assured.
"Well," she continued, "she must love him a whole bunch more than me, cause’ she’s always yellin’ at him."
"I think she loves you both the same Felicia."
Chris was amazed at how perceptive and purely honest children can be. He had very little experience with kids but he loved talking with them just the same, so long as they weren’t his.
Chris’ mind raced; he searched for the words with which he planned to punch Thomas upon his jail release. When his aunt was done with him, Chris stood ready to deliver a harsh round two for young Thomas.
Looking down at Felicia, Chris felt an immense commitment of resolve; seeing how high the stakes were in Thomas’ life, he refused to walk away from this struggling family.
"Are you really crazy Mr. Chris?" Felicia innocently asked.
Chris smiled and, after a short pause, he replied. "Not today sweetheart; I’m a work in progress."
"What does that mean?" She inquired.
"It means that today is better than yesterday and hopefully tomorrow will be even better than today," Chris answered as he knelt, coming face to face with Felicia.
She held a puzzled expression on her innocent face. Chris smiled assuredly before continuing.
"I don’t get it either, but it’s a good thing sweetie.
"Well, that’s good cause’ you seem pretty nice to me and I don’t think crazy people are supposed to be nice. You must be cured Mr. Chris," Felicia happily announced, as if the problem were completely resolved.
"Chris gazed at Felicia; he stood in awe at the unspoiled optimism that only children know. He hoped that it would stay with her forever.
As he fought to hold back tears, Chris smiled..."Yeah, I feel good; now let’s get you to bed."
Rising to his feet, he took Felicia’s hand and led her up the steps to the front door.
.
After dinner, Chris tucked Felicia into bed. As he turned to leave the room, Felicia called out:
"Mr. Chris?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think my daddy loves me?"
"Why would you think that he doesn’t?" Chris pried.
"Because he’s not home much AND he never yells at me like auntie yells." Chris laughed as he, again, fought to hold back tears.
"He loves you very much, I know he does," Chris warmly assured.
"Well, since you’re un-crazy you must be pretty smart so I believe you," she smiled.
Chris stared for a moment at a picture on a shelf above Felicia's bed. It was a picture of she, Thomas, her Aunt and her mother.
"Goodnight Mr. Chris!" Felicia broke the silence.
"Goodnight sweetheart."
Chris leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. "Sweet dreams sweetie," he whispered as he turned off the bedroom light.
Chris sat on the front porch for an hour, smoking cigarette after cigarette until Thomas and his aunt approached the house.
"How’s Felicia?" auntie asked.
"She’s sleeping; we had a nice walk and then I fixed her a pizza...so she ate. She’s good," Chris assured.
"Thank you my baby," she smiled, placing the palm of her hand to Chris' cheek. "You need to getcha one of your own," she laughed as she walked to the door. "Cause’ you ain’t gettin’ no younger," her laugh trailed behind as she closed the door.
"Thanks a lot!" Chris quipped.
Chris stood on the porch, solemnly looking down to Thomas at the bottom step. A minute had passed when Thomas broke the deafening silence.
"Go ahead, let me hear yo’ bitchin’ now, cause I didn’t get enough from her." Thomas pointed to the door.
Chris smiled and shook his head slowly; he slowly walked down the steps, coming face to face with Thomas.
"Nah, you’re a grown man; I suspect I can’t say it better than your aunt." Chris stared Thomas eye to eye for a few seconds before walking toward the tiny, fragile gate to the sidewalk.
"That’s it??" Thomas indignantly snapped.
"Yeah man, that’s it," Chris casually shot back.
"So that’s how it is; I save your sorry ass from bein' zipped in a plastic bag in the street and as soon as I get in a tight spot you wanna just be all cool and stroll your ass on down the street and say fuck Thomas. That’s how it is ain’t it Chris? You got your little thing goin’ so everything’s sailin' along in the breeze and all nice so now I’m just a piece of shit under ya’ shoe huh C?"
"Not at all Thomas; and I’d call what you got into today a little more than a tight fucking spot," Chris’ voice grew in intensity with each word. "How bout’ we call it what it is Thomas…armed robbery. Oh, wait, I suppose they got the wrong guy huh? Did they get the wrong guy Thomas?" Chris sarcastically glared.
Thomas looked away, refusing to make eye contact as Chris continued.
"What's wrong? The man still tryin’ to keep ya’ down Thomas? Is that what happened today with your tight fucking tight spot that the rest of the world calls violent crime? Because the only person I see keepin’ Thomas down is Thomas!" Chris yelled as he quickly darted back to the porch.
"Yeah, you got it all figured out brother Chris; it must be nice from them seats where you at right now bro," Thomas sarcastically replied.
"You wanna think that? Then, think that all fucking day long if that’s what helps ya’ get through the night man. The truth of the matter is that you’re a smart guy, you can do something better for yourself, for your aunt; for God’s sake Thomas, do something for your daughter. But you don’t and you won't. You’re chicken shit man! Grow up!" Chris verbally pounded Thomas in rapid fire delivery.
"You wanna wait for everything to be handed to you because you’re poor Thomas...My parents died, Felicia’s mom died, I’m black, I can’t get ahead cause’ the “Po-Po” profiles me and everyone hates me because I’m Thomas and I fucked up a few times. Boo fucking hoo!" Chris continued, growing even more animated and harsh in tone.
"I don’t got the same world of privilege you have Chris," Thomas interrupted. "I got a past, I got strikes against me; ain’t nobody gonna take a chance on me no matter how fuckin' much you wanna lecture me."
Chris stood silent and motionless as Thomas retorted.
"Look how those motherfuckers at ya’ pub look at me. They wonderin’ why the fuck Chris be hangin’ out with this guy? Oh, that's just Chris; maybe it’s a pet project for him or community service. You don’t fucking know me boy!" Thomas continued, as tears welled in his eyes. "You never been where the fuck I've been so don’t pretend that you have Chris!" Thomas yelled.
"Fuck you Thomas! I DO know you man. You’re a fucking coward. You run with people who give you a false sense of importance, only you think it’s real and that it’s great; I got news for ya', it‘s a street gang! What‘s gonna happen to you when they get tired of you? You think they give a rat‘s ass about you? Sadly, there‘s a hundred more just like you waiting to take your place. Jesus Christ, you‘re so fucking stupid!" Chris continued to pound Thomas relentlessly.
"Why not go out and earn respect on your own and think for yourself? Oh, wait a second, that’d take effort! Thomas doesn't got no time for that...right, bro??"
Thomas shot back, "How’s it feel to just have it handed to you so effortlessly like I did for your crazy ass on that street last week? Thomas barked, throwing his bag to the ground.
"I gotta tell ya’ Thomas, my world felt pretty damn good to me for a while, like a drug. As a matter of fact, you’re me not so long ago Thomas, only I wasn‘t runnin‘ with a group of fuckin' criminals for validation. Don ‘t get me wrong man, my guys were bad influences in some ways, but we weren‘t breaking the law. Unfortunately, there's no law against being a douche-bag.
Chris continued, "I made an honest living, I’m smart and I still listened to the wrong fucking people, which makes me stupid. I made incredibly bad decisions which made me my own worst enemy. I fucked up my life! Hey, even better, instead of goin’ down on the Goddamn Titanic alone, I decided it to be a good idea to bring two other people along with me."
"Yeah?" Thomas yelled back, "at least you and those people HAD chances in life; you chose to fuck it up all on your own but my shit was fucked up before it could get off the ground Chris!"
"Bullshit Thomas!" Chris now stood squarely in Thomas’ face, almost nose to nose. "Your shit was fucked up because you felt sorry for yourself, something, by the way, I DO have experience with. Don‘t you dare fucking tell me I don‘t understand. You got sense and smarts; you got a wonderful aunt who’s worked her fucking ass off to take care of you all this time, wipin’ your lazy ass and, because of your shit, she used rent money to get your skinny ass outta jail tonight."
Chris punctuated his lecture by kicking Thomas' bag across the front yard. Thomas' body language held a defensive posture.
"For God’s sake Thomas," Chris yelled, "don’t listen to me, don’t listen to anybody for that matter, since you seem to know it all. Look at the police blotter if you wanna know how your pathetic story ends. But, then again, deep in the back of that troubled head, you know how your story ends...and don’t tell me you don’t. I’m sure your aunt and Felicia will take the news real well Thomas. When they hear that you were found lying face down on the sidewalk with about 20 bullets in your dumb ass; that’ll be a big happy nice fucking piece of news to them. They‘ll probably bake a cake and go to Disney World they‘ll be so thrilled," Chris continued his verbal assault.
"Don’t worry Thomas, don't worry; I’m sure it’ll only take Felicia 20 maybe 25 years to get over it, if ever! Piece of cake," Chris sarcastically dismissed. "And your aunt, even better, she’ll be haunted by it for the rest of her life. But, then again, you don’t fucking care cause’ you only care about one thing…YOU. Isn’t that right…BRO?" Chris pounded, barely taking a breath.
"I tell ya’ what asshole," Chris continued, in Thomas’ face, "don’t take my word for it, take your fucking lazy, cop out, feelin’ sorry for yourself ass up those steps to find incentive to stop your bullshit. You’ll find the best reason in two places. Stop by the bathroom and look in the mirror first. Take a long look, cause pretty soon nobody’s gonna wanna look at your sorry ass, including me!"
"After the bathroom mirror, drag your sorry ass down the hall a little further for a real eye-opener; I believe if you take the second door to the left you’ll find it. It’s a beautiful, vibrant young girl who’s sound asleep right now while her daddy was in jail. She's someone who thinks you hung the moon and she loves you more than anything in this world; I saw it for myself. Then again, I can understand why you wouldn’t take any advice...you gotta love yourself before you can love anyone else; your daughter included.
Thomas bowed up as if he were about to knock Chris out cold or put a bullet in in him.
"She worries about her daddy and she needs to know he’s gonna be alright Thomas...you wanna hit me, you wanna shoot me, you wanna call yo’ boys out on me for callin' you out? I’m right fucking here Thomas! At least I’ll die for a better cause than takin’ a handful of pain pills and a fifth of whiskey. And I’ll sure as hell die for a better cause than you eventually will."
Thomas moved closer to Chris' face; he clinched his hands, never diverting his piercing stare from Chris' eyes.
"Go ahead; hit me or shoot me and be done with it if you can’t handle what I‘m sayin‘ Thomas. Add me to your fuckin’ rap sheet and go back down the street behind those steel bars where you belong...because I’m not afraid of you and I’m sure as fuck not afraid to die!"
Chris paused for a moment, lowering his tone for a solemn finale..."But you already know that, don't you?.
"What do you know about my life Chris?" Thomas finally spoke. Tears rolled down his face. "I met your ass when you gave up and was at the end of yours layin’ in that street to die. So, how the fuck do you have so much hope and trust in my ass when you got your own shit goin' on?"
"Because," Chris began, "you saved a total stranger and you didn‘t have to. You’re not those guys in the gang. You deserve a better life; Jesus Christ Thomas, your daughter deserves better," Chris quietly assured. His voice softened, exhausted from his rant.
After a moment of silence, Chris turned and walked to the street. He turned back to Thomas when he reached the sidewalk.
"Before you head to Felicia’s room you might wanna stop by the trash can first," Chris instructed.
"Why’s that?" Thomas asked.
Chris lit a cigarette and took a long drag. He exhaled a stream of white smoke into the night air before answering.
"Toss that chip in there once and for all so it doesn’t fall off your shoulder on top of your little girl. You could learn a thing or two from her optimism; try not to poison it Thomas. This is the big time man, you still got a chance with your life and it‘s NOT too late.
Chris took another puff from his cigarette before continuing:
"But if you wanna be a coward and give up, at least don’t take her with you. Someone in your family needs to have another chance at a real life since you're pissing yours away."
"She’s my life Chris," Thomas blankly looked to the sky.
"Then ACT like it," Chris unforgivingly shot back.
Redirecting his tear filled eyes to Chris, Thomas' words held a tone of utter defeat.
"She’s beautiful, she’s smart, she's full of promise Chris. She’s everything good bro, she‘s her mother man!"
"She’s you," Chris quietly replied before turning to walk away.
Unaware that his aunt had been watching between the blinds from the front window, Thomas stared to the street until Chris disappeared around the corner. He sat, quietly, on the steps, resting his head in his hands, wondering how and why fate had brought he and Chris together.
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2008
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