Read Online (2012) Blood on Blood by Frank Zafiro - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Frank Zafiro
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mother.” He’s barely getting the words out.
“You mean…is she here?” I’m thinking this could be it for him.
“I need to tell him something.”
I don’t know where the fuck Mick is, if he’ll get here in time or even end up coming at all. Mom will come, though. I’m sure of that. Aunt Alina would bring her.
He turns his head back to me.
“Mom’s here. I’ll get her, okay?”
He just looks at me but then his eyes seem to open up a little better.
“Mick. Here.”
“Yeah, yeah, I think I saw him, too,” I lie. “I’ll find them both and be right back, okay?” I get up and lean over. “Okay, Dad? Be back.”
He nods at me and his eyes still look okay for now.
I part the curtains and slide out. The twink nurse is at a desk in the corner and I walk straight to him.
“Is there a waiting room? Coffee shop or an area where visitors go to just sit it out for someone terminal?”
“A coffee shop ?” The fucker sighs and smiles at me all sarcastic-like.
“You don’t learn quick, do you?” I snarl at him. “I swear to God, when this over, I’ll be back for you. Now just point me - don’t say another word or I’ll put that ball point pen in your ear.”
His eyes got big on that and he points me down a short, bright hallway. I can see just the corner of a small sitting area. I don’t waste any more time with this shithead because I don’t know how much longer I have here.
When I come around the corner there are three people sitting there, two of them women but none of them Mom. There is another guy leaning on the wall over by the corner window. His back is to me but it isn’t Mick. Wrong build. I take a few more steps in and I’m sure of it. Nope, not him. I glance quickly around the room again but then something makes me come back to the guy at the window.
I get closer still.
“Hey, Hero.”
“Hey, Punk.”
Two nicknames from another lifetime.
The guy who used to be my brother didn’t turn around but he was looking at me in the reflection of the window. Probably been watching me the whole time, like the cop he was.
I meet his eyes but there are no smiles.
TEN
Mick
He hadn’t changed much. Still big. More cut than last time I saw him, but prison will do that. Still had that same expression in his eyes as when we were kids. A combination of smart ass and hard ass. It used to hide a boy who was just as scared as the rest of us at what the world held. Now it looked like there was nothing left to hide in those eyes but how much he really hated everything the world held.
Like I should talk, though.
“Surprised you came,” he grunted at my reflection in the window.
“He’s my old man, too.”
“Hard to say,” Jerzy said.
I thought for a second he was going to say more, something derogatory about my mother or something, but he didn’t. He just stared at my reflection.
“Almost didn’t recognize your skinny ass. You used to be more muscled up.”
I shrugged and stood up. “I run a lot these days.”
“Yeah? That figures.”
He wanted me to ask why it figures, I could tell. Then he could jack me around about how it was something I could do alone or how running was for pussies and cowards or whatever. But I didn’t bite. What was the point? I had this few hours here and another few at the funeral, and then we were quits again.
“You see him yet?” I asked.
His mouth tightened and he glanced away. “Yeah.”
“Not quite the Gar Sawyer of old, is he?”
His eyes snapped back to mine. “Hey, fuck you, all right? He was more man than ten of you.”
I raised my hands in a peaceful gesture. “Relax. I’m just saying that cancer is brutal. That’s all.”
He eyed me for another moment, as if gauging my sincerity. Then he said, “Fucking brutal is right. Dying in a room full of crazy people and a fag for a nurse.” He shook his head. “It isn’t right.”
“It is what it is.”
“Fucking philosopher. Listen, you seen
“You mean…is she here?” I’m thinking this could be it for him.
“I need to tell him something.”
I don’t know where the fuck Mick is, if he’ll get here in time or even end up coming at all. Mom will come, though. I’m sure of that. Aunt Alina would bring her.
He turns his head back to me.
“Mom’s here. I’ll get her, okay?”
He just looks at me but then his eyes seem to open up a little better.
“Mick. Here.”
“Yeah, yeah, I think I saw him, too,” I lie. “I’ll find them both and be right back, okay?” I get up and lean over. “Okay, Dad? Be back.”
He nods at me and his eyes still look okay for now.
I part the curtains and slide out. The twink nurse is at a desk in the corner and I walk straight to him.
“Is there a waiting room? Coffee shop or an area where visitors go to just sit it out for someone terminal?”
“A coffee shop ?” The fucker sighs and smiles at me all sarcastic-like.
“You don’t learn quick, do you?” I snarl at him. “I swear to God, when this over, I’ll be back for you. Now just point me - don’t say another word or I’ll put that ball point pen in your ear.”
His eyes got big on that and he points me down a short, bright hallway. I can see just the corner of a small sitting area. I don’t waste any more time with this shithead because I don’t know how much longer I have here.
When I come around the corner there are three people sitting there, two of them women but none of them Mom. There is another guy leaning on the wall over by the corner window. His back is to me but it isn’t Mick. Wrong build. I take a few more steps in and I’m sure of it. Nope, not him. I glance quickly around the room again but then something makes me come back to the guy at the window.
I get closer still.
“Hey, Hero.”
“Hey, Punk.”
Two nicknames from another lifetime.
The guy who used to be my brother didn’t turn around but he was looking at me in the reflection of the window. Probably been watching me the whole time, like the cop he was.
I meet his eyes but there are no smiles.
TEN
Mick
He hadn’t changed much. Still big. More cut than last time I saw him, but prison will do that. Still had that same expression in his eyes as when we were kids. A combination of smart ass and hard ass. It used to hide a boy who was just as scared as the rest of us at what the world held. Now it looked like there was nothing left to hide in those eyes but how much he really hated everything the world held.
Like I should talk, though.
“Surprised you came,” he grunted at my reflection in the window.
“He’s my old man, too.”
“Hard to say,” Jerzy said.
I thought for a second he was going to say more, something derogatory about my mother or something, but he didn’t. He just stared at my reflection.
“Almost didn’t recognize your skinny ass. You used to be more muscled up.”
I shrugged and stood up. “I run a lot these days.”
“Yeah? That figures.”
He wanted me to ask why it figures, I could tell. Then he could jack me around about how it was something I could do alone or how running was for pussies and cowards or whatever. But I didn’t bite. What was the point? I had this few hours here and another few at the funeral, and then we were quits again.
“You see him yet?” I asked.
His mouth tightened and he glanced away. “Yeah.”
“Not quite the Gar Sawyer of old, is he?”
His eyes snapped back to mine. “Hey, fuck you, all right? He was more man than ten of you.”
I raised my hands in a peaceful gesture. “Relax. I’m just saying that cancer is brutal. That’s all.”
He eyed me for another moment, as if gauging my sincerity. Then he said, “Fucking brutal is right. Dying in a room full of crazy people and a fag for a nurse.” He shook his head. “It isn’t right.”
“It is what it is.”
“Fucking philosopher. Listen, you seen
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