19. Uri
Uri
“What the fuck do you mean he has an infection?” Uncle Bradon asked Nadine. He stood in the middle of my hospital room, visibly upset. He ran his hands over his bald head, then chuckled. “What happened to him?”
“I don’t know,” Nadine answered. “He was brought because of his father’s secretary; she said that he passed out at the office. She tried calling Robert, but he didn’t answer. Since she’s aware of his CIPA, she didn’t chance it and called the ambulance.”
“He’s not even supposed to be here,” Uncle Bradon told her, and Nadine’s face twisted in confusion. “He goes to boarding school, him and his brother. I haven’t seen him in months. They hardly come home.”
“Well, he’s here now, and besides the infection, he has cuts on his back and a broken wrist.” I looked down at my cast arm. I figured it was broken because of how swollen it was. Nadine said I would probably need surgery to fix the break, but I didn’t care. It wouldn’t be my first or my last.
“What does his blood panel say? Is it showing where the infection is coming from?” Uncle Bradon asked.
“I’m waiting for the answers,” she said. “But as soon as I know, I will let you know.”
“I appreciate it,” Uncle Bradon told her.
I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and listened to them talk for a while. When they were done, Nadine said she would be back to check in later and left Uncle Bradon and me alone.
“Ay man,” Uncle Bradon said, tapping my arm. I opened my eyes and looked at him. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Nothing,” I answered, shaking my head.
“How the fuck did you end up here?” he asked, chuckling. “Because as much as I love you, nephew, I don’t have a clue as to what is going on with you right now. Getting that call from Nadine took a few hours off my life I ain’t ever getting back.”
“Sorry.”
“Ain’t shit to be sorry about,” he said, shaking his head.
“Just know I thought the worst for a minute.” I nodded, and he took a seat next to the bed.
“How long you been back?” I shrugged, and he snorted.
“Still a man of few words, huh?” My stomach growled, and he looked up in surprise. “You hungry?”
“Yeah.” Truthfully, I was starving; I couldn’t remember the last time I ate. Robert had been in a bad mood all week and wouldn’t let me eat anything but a sandwich once a day.
“Alright, let’s get some food.” He stood and then walked out of the room. A few minutes later, he came back with a wheelchair, smiling. “I talked to the nurse; she said that food delivery is down and we gotta go to the cafeteria to get some food. You can't walk, but I can push you.”
“I can-“
“You ain’t walking, Uri,” he said, shaking his head. “Get your ass in this wheelchair.”
“Uncle-“
“Get in the chair, Uri,” Uncle Bradon insisted.
He pointed to the chair, and I knew that I wasn’t going to win this argument.
I got out of bed, grabbed the pole that held my meds, and walked over to the chair.
Uncle Bradon took my pole, attached it to the chair, and, once I was seated, pushed me out of the room.
“Your big ass up here on the peds floor like you ain’t over six feet.
” We got on the elevator and rode it down to the cafeteria. “What you in the mood for?”
“Food,” I answered, looking around. People moved around us, stepping out of the way as he pushed me towards the cafeteria. I didn’t like big crowds or the noise, but I wasn’t complaining. I wanted to feel normal even for a little while.
“I know that,” he laughed. “You eat whatever?”
“Yeah,” I answered.
He pushed me towards the food. My stomach growled so loud I was pretty sure the people in front of us heard it. The line moved quickly; we ended up getting a burger, fries, and a shake. Uncle Bradon pushed me to a table, then sat, and we ate.
“Alright, start talking,” he said in between bites. I looked up from my food but didn’t say anything. “The broken wrist, what happened?”
“I don’t remember,” I mumbled, then went back to eating.
A large group came into the cafeteria, and I couldn’t help but watch them.
There was no way they were here, not right now.
I set my food down, sat back in my chair, and continued watching them.
Even after all these years, I knew who each of them was.
I remembered their names, ages that Robert killed their parents, and what they looked like.
They were just older now, teens in high school who their grandparents were raising because the man who raised me to be a killer was obsessed with their daughter.
They went through the line; they looked exhausted but not dead on their feet.
Their grandmother stood behind them, telling them to hurry and stop making so much noise.
They quickly moved and then sat across from us.
It was only five of them, including the older woman.
“We need to go,” I said, pushing back from the table.
“Why?” Uncle Bradon asked. “You feeling alright?”
“I’m good; I just need to go,” I told him. He opened his mouth to say something, and I shook my head. “I don’t want to be here. Not anymore. I want to go back to my room. Robert is probably here waiting in the room.”
“I told the nurse to let him know we were getting food.”
“I want to go back to the room,” I insisted. I started wheeling my chair away from the table.
“We can finish our food, man,” Uncle Bradon chuckled.
“If Robert has something to say, he can say it to me.” He got up from the table, but it didn’t matter; I was going back to the room.
I steered my chair towards the entrance and stopped dead in my tracks.
Corinthians, Psalms, and their grandfather.
Her arm was wrapped in a bandage from the shoulder to her wrist.
Psalms noticed me first; her dark eyes narrowed, then her hand went to her back.
Her grandfather noticed her movement and looked right at me.
Corinthians was the last; the small smile she wore dropped, and her eyes filled with tears.
Instinctually, I stood, ready to kill whoever hurt her.
Watching her sleep from time to time over the years was totally different from seeing her now.
She was beautiful, with warm brown skin, full lips, and dark eyes.
Even dressed in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, she looked like the prettiest girl I’d ever seen.
“Uri,” Uncle Bradon said. “Uri!” His calling my name didn’t matter. I continued staring at Corinthians, my eyes going from her eyes to her arm. I could feel myself getting angry. Uncle Bradon grabbed my arm and pulled me back into the chair. “Uri, what the fuck happened to your back?”
“He’s fine,” Robert said, coming from around the corner.
He stepped around Corinthians. To anyone who didn’t know him, you would think he didn’t know Corinthians from the way he stepped around her and made sure not to make eye contact, but I knew differently.
I saw how he hesitated when he was close to her, and how his hand grazed her arm.
“Stop saying that shit because he ain’t fine. That’s why he’s here. He has an infection and these fucking cuts on his back!” Uncle Bradon yelled, stepping around me to get in Robert’s face. “What the fuck did you do to my nephew?”
“Nothing,” he chuckled. “I made him better.”
“Better?” Uncle Bradon questioned. He looked Robert up and down, then back at me and lifted his brow. “He did this to you?” I looked at Robert, who was watching me closely, then over his shoulder to where I’d last seen Corinthians to see that she was gone. “Did he do that to you?”
“Yeah,” I answered.
Uncle Bradon hit Robert so hard he fell into the wall. Robert grabbed his mouth and glared at him. Uncle Bradon pulled a gun from the back of his pants, grabbed Robert by the front of his shirt to make him stand up, and put the gun under his chin.
“I don’t know what the fuck you thought you were doing to him, but it's over. He’s coming to live with me,” Uncle Bradon told him. “Him and Kenbral both are.”
“They're my sons.”
“I don’t give a fuck!” Uncle Bradon yelled. Spit flew from his mouth to Robert’s face. “I said they are coming with me! Try and stop me!”
**
“You don’t have to rush; the food isn’t going anywhere,” Breighton said, looking at me as I ate.
I’d spent a week in the hospital; between the infection, open wounds on my back and wrist needing surgery, I was over being there and was happy when Uncle Bradon came and said I could leave.
I knew I wasn’t going back to Robert’s; Uncle Bradon had been true to his word and got Kenbral and me out of there.
We were living with him and Breighton now.
“He always eats fast,” Kenbral told her.
I looked between them then went back to eating my spaghetti. I was starving, and it was too good to slow down.
“Nadine will bring you some more,” she laughed and shook her head. “Trust me, it won't be the last good meal you get.”
“Yo daddy is with Nadine?” Kenbral asked.
Breighton laughed so hard that she almost fell out of the chair. After she got herself together, she wiped her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “No, they are best friends. He’s the only person she will let Mecca see in our family,” she said, shrugging. “I think Nadine has a boyfriend.”
“You sure?” he asked and lifted his brow. “They seem close.”
“Trust me, they aren’t anything but best friends,” she insisted. “Nadine is the only person I know that can cuss out my daddy and live to talk about it.”
“Then they probably fuckin,” Kenbral said, shrugging. “The only woman a nigga lets talk tough to him is his bitch.”
Breighton’s smile fell from her face, and she narrowed her eyes at Kenbral. He was too busy eating to realize he messed up. Mecca and his best friend, December, walked into the kitchen just as she was standing up. December stepped in before she could grab Kenbral.