Read Online A New Day in America by Theo Black Gangi - Free Book Online
Authors: Theo Black Gangi
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scared. Forget it. Forget it
.
“No!” she barks at the dog. “No! No! No!”
The dog’s brow crinkles in doubt as he glances away from the girl. Naomi slides Nos’ head from her lap and stands, her head to the side and pressed against the roof of the van
.
“No!” she yells again, stomping forward, and the dog slowly, unsurely slinks back away and disappears into the dark, and she pulls the door tight to her with a slam and locks it
.
Nay remembers what the crazy man said—make sure you eat something. Her pa didn’t eat all night. Maybe that’s why he’s so sick
.
Nay takes the can of beans and puts a spoonful up to her pa’s mouth. He is lying still now, and his mouth won’t open, so she pulls his mouth by her lower lip and slides the beans in. Only he won’t chew, and the beans just lay there and some fall down his face. She moves his jaw for him, hoping he will begin to chew, but he can’t. The juice from the beans slides down his throat, but he won’t chew
.
Nay takes a spoonful into her own mouth and chews it, but instead of swallowing she puts her mouth up to her father’s and fills him with the mushy chewed beans. She watches his throat as it dips like he’s swallowing, and he breathes and then so does she
.
Chapter 19
Dreams
I had a bad dream…
Was that Yvette or Naomi? Brooklyn or Afghanistan? Where is he?
Wake up in the middle of the night, still living the nightmare
.
He knows what is happening to him. Nos is powerless to stop it. He’s lost the endorphins that maintain mood and functionality. At least that’s what they told him happens back in rehab. Visions flicker, form, and dissolve: the van, the girl, the wife, and then the Afghan night. He has been here before.
It was in the Afghan Kush. Living on mountain spring water and blackberries and opium.
He had tucked the last pinch of tobacco opium inside his lip. Soon the terror returned, just outside his vision. He would snap his head at harmless mountain noises.
The problem was that the opium was gone.
Then he saw something out of the ordinary on the horizon. He had not seen a trace of a human being for so many days he couldn’t even count. The opium had taken both his pain and his sense of time: he worried more about how much to use and when and how to make it last than he did his own rescue. He had kissed the idea of seeing his family again good-bye. Yvette—the kids—Mikey and Jay—when he thought of them he already pictured their world without him. He pondered what man would fill his place, what type: would Yvette turn to a more stable version of himself? NYPD? A Latino detective with blue eyes? Or a man who didn’t even carry a gun, wouldn’t know what to do with one? A trial lawyer? A tax lawyer? No, never that. But she would have a man, Nos was sure of that. Yvette needed a man, she was built for one, and she still looked good, could flirt as easy as a cat purrs. Nos wondered if he already knew the man who would take his place. For some reason, he thought of his buddy Steve from St. Francis at the sociology department at St. Joe’s. He would be home all the time. He would get summers off. Mikey and Jay would be smarter than they’d ever be with Nos. And they’d have a father.
The safe bet
.
Maybe it was the opium, but these thoughts were not nearly as painful as they should have been. If he were being honest with himself, and there was no other choice but honesty when alone at the end of the world, the thought was a relief more than anything.
What he saw in the misty distance was a parachute. The first sign of civilization he had seen in days.
Nos waited and watched, unsure if a man or a box anchored the chute. Either way, it was the good guys. The tribesmen did not use aircraft or parachutes. The soldier kicked the O-head into gear—
get to the chute
.
Nos hustled down his mountain. He tumbled and fell and kicked up dust and made a ruckus. He was spotted now for sure, but he could not let the Taliban beat
.
“No!” she barks at the dog. “No! No! No!”
The dog’s brow crinkles in doubt as he glances away from the girl. Naomi slides Nos’ head from her lap and stands, her head to the side and pressed against the roof of the van
.
“No!” she yells again, stomping forward, and the dog slowly, unsurely slinks back away and disappears into the dark, and she pulls the door tight to her with a slam and locks it
.
Nay remembers what the crazy man said—make sure you eat something. Her pa didn’t eat all night. Maybe that’s why he’s so sick
.
Nay takes the can of beans and puts a spoonful up to her pa’s mouth. He is lying still now, and his mouth won’t open, so she pulls his mouth by her lower lip and slides the beans in. Only he won’t chew, and the beans just lay there and some fall down his face. She moves his jaw for him, hoping he will begin to chew, but he can’t. The juice from the beans slides down his throat, but he won’t chew
.
Nay takes a spoonful into her own mouth and chews it, but instead of swallowing she puts her mouth up to her father’s and fills him with the mushy chewed beans. She watches his throat as it dips like he’s swallowing, and he breathes and then so does she
.
Chapter 19
Dreams
I had a bad dream…
Was that Yvette or Naomi? Brooklyn or Afghanistan? Where is he?
Wake up in the middle of the night, still living the nightmare
.
He knows what is happening to him. Nos is powerless to stop it. He’s lost the endorphins that maintain mood and functionality. At least that’s what they told him happens back in rehab. Visions flicker, form, and dissolve: the van, the girl, the wife, and then the Afghan night. He has been here before.
It was in the Afghan Kush. Living on mountain spring water and blackberries and opium.
He had tucked the last pinch of tobacco opium inside his lip. Soon the terror returned, just outside his vision. He would snap his head at harmless mountain noises.
The problem was that the opium was gone.
Then he saw something out of the ordinary on the horizon. He had not seen a trace of a human being for so many days he couldn’t even count. The opium had taken both his pain and his sense of time: he worried more about how much to use and when and how to make it last than he did his own rescue. He had kissed the idea of seeing his family again good-bye. Yvette—the kids—Mikey and Jay—when he thought of them he already pictured their world without him. He pondered what man would fill his place, what type: would Yvette turn to a more stable version of himself? NYPD? A Latino detective with blue eyes? Or a man who didn’t even carry a gun, wouldn’t know what to do with one? A trial lawyer? A tax lawyer? No, never that. But she would have a man, Nos was sure of that. Yvette needed a man, she was built for one, and she still looked good, could flirt as easy as a cat purrs. Nos wondered if he already knew the man who would take his place. For some reason, he thought of his buddy Steve from St. Francis at the sociology department at St. Joe’s. He would be home all the time. He would get summers off. Mikey and Jay would be smarter than they’d ever be with Nos. And they’d have a father.
The safe bet
.
Maybe it was the opium, but these thoughts were not nearly as painful as they should have been. If he were being honest with himself, and there was no other choice but honesty when alone at the end of the world, the thought was a relief more than anything.
What he saw in the misty distance was a parachute. The first sign of civilization he had seen in days.
Nos waited and watched, unsure if a man or a box anchored the chute. Either way, it was the good guys. The tribesmen did not use aircraft or parachutes. The soldier kicked the O-head into gear—
get to the chute
.
Nos hustled down his mountain. He tumbled and fell and kicked up dust and made a ruckus. He was spotted now for sure, but he could not let the Taliban beat
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