Mr. 60% Read online

  Matt left the bathroom and opened the hall closet. He pulled a jar from the pocket of a winter coat, unscrewed the lid and fished out a wad of bills. When he counted the amount that Big Ed needed, the jar was almost empty. A feeling of total despair hit Matt so hard it felt like he was going to fall down. He clung to the handle on the closet door for support and closed his eyes.

  It took him a few moments to collect himself and put the jar back into the coat. He shoved the money into the pocket of his jeans.

  He rushed to the living room. Jack was moaning, his eyes closed and his face twisted into a grimace. Amanda knelt beside him. She held one of his hands with the fingers sticking out of her brace, and with her good hand she dabbed at his forehead with a wet paper towel.

  “I need to run and get him something.”

  “My keys are on the table. Take my car.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Amanda nodded. Jack cried out so loudly that she flinched.

  “Do you mind staying with him while I’m gone?”

  “No.”

  “I’m really sorry, but—”

  “Just hurry.”

  Matt bolted through the doorway of the trailer.

  Matt drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel of the Buick, waiting to merge with the after-work traffic snaking past the entrance to the trailer park on the main road. He’d finally spotted a small opening behind an approaching pickup truck when Janice banged open the door of her manager’s trailer and stalked toward the car.

  When she got close she made the roll-your-window-down gesture. Matt fumbled with the controls until he found the right one.

  Janice planted her feet in front of the driver’s-side door, smacking her gum and holding a cigarette. “What the hell is this, kid?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You got money for a car now but not the rent?”

  “What?”

  “Rent was due Friday. Last Friday. Now you’re driving around in this?” Janice waved her cigarette up and down the length of the Buick.

  “Shit.” Matt smacked his palm on top of the steering wheel. “I forgot, really. Things have been…it’s been crazy, you know?”

  “Things are crazy for everyone, kid. Always. You wouldn’t believe the stuff I hear when the first a the month rolls around. I still need that money.”

  “This isn’t even my car. I swear.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I was gonna stop by your place today anyway. You got the rent or not?”

  The feeling hit Matt again, like there was a weight on top of his chest and it just kept pressing down, getting heavier and heavier. It took a physical effort to get breath into his body, to squeeze the air past that invisible weight and into his lungs. He got that feeling almost every day lately.

  Janice stopped her smacking long enough to blow a long stream of smoke. “Look, don’t make me go through the same threats I have to use with some a these clowns.” She jerked her head in the direction of a row of trailers. “You’re a smart kid, you know what happens if I don’t get that money. Right?”

  The air leaked from Matt in a long sigh, leaving him feeling deflated. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the stack of bills. After he counted what he owed Janice there wasn’t much left.

  “Thanks, kid. Take it easy.” Janice turned and walked back to her trailer.

  Matt stared at the few remaining bills in his palm.

  The familiar noises of the trailer park pulled him out of it. Slamming doors, barking dogs. He glanced in the rearview mirror at trailer #6, then pushed the nose of the Buick toward the traffic on the main road, trying to find a way in.

  It took Big Ed an eternity to answer the doorbell. Matt stood on the front porch, waiting for the invitation to step inside. None was offered.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “What do you need?”

  “The morphine.”

  Big Ed grunted. “You have the money, then? The price we agreed on?”

  “Not all of it.” Matt cleared his throat. “But I can pay you back. With interest.”

  Big Ed slowly folded his arms across his chest and remained silent. Matt spoke to the welcome mat, unable to look the man in the eyes. The words came out too quickly, no confidence behind them. “I have it all figured so it works for both of us—fifty percent of my profits for the next two months. That should make it worth your while.” Matt hated the desperation in his own voice. “You know I’m good for it.”

  Big Ed shook his head. “Business doesn’t work that way, Matt. At least not a good business. You know this.”

  Matt clenched his fingers into fists, grinding his teeth together and willing himself to make the necessary mental shift. The words stuck in his throat.

  Big Ed placed one hand on the doorknob and started to ease the door shut. “If that’s all, then I’ll see you in a couple of weeks. For your normal appointment.”

  “Wait,” Matt said. He put one palm flat on the door. He could feel the seconds, minutes, rushing past.

  “Yes?”

  Matt spoke in a low voice, through clenched teeth. “Is that transport job still available?”

  Big Ed smiled. “That’s better.” He pushed the door wide open. “There’s always a transport job available.” He swept his hand toward the living room. “Come on in, I’ll give you all the details. And we’ll get that morphine for you.”

  Matt lowered his head and walked through the door.

  It took a concentrated effort to hold the Buick to the speed limit on the way home. When Matt finally arrived at the trailer, he raced to yank open the door.

  Amanda was sitting on the kitchen floor, her back against the fridge. Jack lay sprawled on his side on the linoleum, his head in Amanda’s lap, his eyes closed. She was stroking his head and whispering softly.

  “Jesus,” Matt whispered. He knelt down and almost touched Jack. “Is he…you know, okay?” Matt couldn’t make himself say the word alive.

  Amanda nodded. Her face had gone white, her eyes red. “He finally passed out. From the pain,” she whispered.

  The tension drained from Matt and he slumped backward, sitting on the floor beside them. He looked around the kitchen area. The chairs from the little table were overturned, lying on their sides. Dirty dishes were scattered across the floor near the sink, some of them broken in half. “Are you okay?”

  Amanda tried to smile but her lips trembled. When she blinked, tears slipped from the corners of her eyes and ran down her cheeks. “It was…” She paused and took a few shaky breaths. “It got pretty bad there for a little while. But I’m okay.”

  Matt stared at Jack, trying to take some comfort in the slight rise and fall of his chest. “I know how he gets when the pain is really bad. It’s scary.” He remembered Jack’s first big pain fit. Matt hadn’t been that terrified since he was a little kid hiding in his bedroom and praying for the bad noises from the living room to stop.

  He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. It’s my fault.”

  Amanda shook her head, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. “It’s okay. I was scared for him, not me.” Her other hand was still steadily smoothing down what was left of Jack’s hair. “Were you able to make it to the pharmacy?”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah, I have some stuff right here.” Matt pulled a plastic Baggie of pills out of his pocket. Amanda studied the Baggie but didn’t say anything. “We’ll have to sit him up so he can take these.” Matt bent over and slipped an arm between Amanda’s legs and Jack’s shoulder. Amanda twisted to give him room, then wrapped her good arm around Jack’s middle to help Matt pull. Jack moaned horribly, his head twisting back and forth.

  “Careful,” Matt said. “That’s where he hurts the most.” Amanda shifted her grip to Jack’s upper chest. Together they pulled him until he was sitting upright against the fridge.

  “He’s so light,” Amanda said.

  “I know,” Matt said. He patted Jack on the cheek. “Hey, Jack,” he whispered
. “Can you wake up for me? I have some pills for you.” Jack gasped and moaned, his eyes still closed. One hand reached up and made a halfhearted attempt to push Matt away. “Come on, Jack. This is the good stuff.”

  Jack’s eyes opened to half-mast, cloudy and unfocused. When the light hit them, he sucked in air and clutched his belly with both hands. “Hurts,” he wheezed, his face contorted into a grimace. “Christ, it hurts so bad.”

  “I know, Jack. I’m sorry.”

  “You can understand what he’s saying?” Amanda said.

  “Yeah. You, uh, get used to it, you know?” Matt cupped one of Jack’s hands in his own and placed three morphine tablets in the palm. “Let’s take these, okay? You’ll feel better. I promise.” Matt’s voice was as soothing as he could make it.

  Jack’s fingers were gnarled into odd shapes and his hand shook. He stared over Matt’s shoulder. Matt tried to help him raise his hand to his mouth but the pills slipped out of Jack’s hand and scattered across the linoleum. Jack didn’t even notice. Matt picked them up off the floor and tried again. Same result.

  “Shit,” Matt muttered. “Here, hold him for a second.” Amanda kept Jack propped up while Matt stood and rummaged through the kitchen cabinets. He found a shot glass, dumped the pills into it and then added a little water from the tap.

  Matt knelt down again beside Jack and Amanda. He held the back of Jack’s neck and tilted his head backward. Amanda helped him keep Jack’s head steady and he poured in the contents of the shot glass. Jack’s head jerked in surprise and he sputtered, but Matt and Amanda kept him propped up until he choked down the pills and water.

  They held him together on the kitchen floor until his moaning got quieter and slower. It was impossible to tell how long they sat there, but it was long enough for Matt’s knees and back to stiffen painfully in his awkward position on the floor. Finally, Jack’s moaning softened and faded until it became light snoring.

  When Jack’s hands fell away from where they had been clutching at his belly, Matt exhaled heavily and slumped against a kitchen cabinet.

  After staring at the ceiling for a while, breathing deeply, he looked at Amanda. Her eyes were still red but otherwise she looked like she was okay. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything, Matt.”

  He leaned his head back until it rested against the cabinet. They were quiet for several minutes. The sounds of the trailer park filtered through the thin walls, but the only thing Matt had ears for was the sound of Jack continuing to draw air into his lungs.

  “You know what?” Matt said.

  “What?”

  “If you don’t make it into that nursing school I’m going down to the admissions office to beat the shit out of somebody.”

  Amanda laughed. The sound filled up the tiny room. She stopped abruptly, her cheeks tinged with pink. “Thank you, Matt. That’s very sweet,” she said. “I think.”

  Matt sighed and stood up. “I need to get him into bed. Hopefully he can rest until morning.”

  Matt bent down, put one arm behind Jack’s head and the other behind his knees, then picked him up, like he was a little kid. He carried Jack sideways down the narrow hallway and placed him in bed.

  When Matt returned to the living room the kitchen chairs were upright again and Amanda was picking broken bits of plate off the floor.

  “You don’t have to do that. I can—”

  “Shhhhhh. You’ll wake him up.”

  Matt put on a new pot of coffee. They cleaned together in silence, Amanda doing the dishes while Matt swept up the last of the broken plates. When they were finished they sat at the table together with fresh cups.

  “I’m sorry you had to—”

  “Matt, stop apologizing, okay? I’m glad I could help. Really.”

  Matt allowed his muscles to unclench a little and he settled into his chair. They sipped at their coffee.

  “Have you been managing all this…alone?” Amanda’s voice was just a whisper.

  Matt was silent, his stare threatening to burn a hole in the table.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s none of my business. I’ll just—”

  Matt held up a hand, cutting her off.

  “Yes,” he said. “I’ve been doing it alone. Managing.” He exhaled slowly. “Barely.”

  Amanda reached out and briefly patted Matt’s forearm as it rested on the table.

  “Jack seems like a great guy.”

  Matt nodded.

  “I guess he must be pretty sick?”

  “Yeah.” Matt studied his hands. “Yeah, he has…” Matt stopped. Neither he nor Jack had ever said the word out loud, not even to each other.

  Matt felt like needles were poking at the insides of his eyeballs, making them burn. He stared straight ahead, trying not to think about anything and not to blink. Blinking when your eyes are all hot like that means tears will come out, even if you don’t mean for them to.

  “Are you okay?”

  Matt nodded. More silence.

  “When I was five years old my dad died,” Amanda said. “I thought I’d never get over it. Sometimes I still think I’ll never get over it. Not really.”

  Matt chewed on his lip.

  “He had a heart attack. I remember being really mad at his doctor. I know it sounds silly but I was mad at his doctor for a lot of years.”

  Matt thought back to the calm face of Jack’s doctor. Too calm. Matt had felt like pounding the guy just to get that look off his face.

  “That doesn’t sound silly,” Matt said.

  They sipped at their coffee for a few more minutes. “How long has he been sick?”

  “We don’t know. Probably a long time. But we found out about a year ago.”

  Matt remembered the day too well. Coming home from school, surprised to find Jack’s car parked outside already. When he went inside he heard the strangest sounds. He had found Jack in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet with his pants around his ankles. Jack was slumped over, clutching at the shower curtain for support, some of the rings hanging empty from where he had ripped the curtain away.

  Matt didn’t know at what point in the recollection he had started talking. But it felt like a plug had been pulled and all the words were draining out of him.

  “He couldn’t take a shit, said it had been over a week. I guess he’d been chomping on Ex-Lax for a few days by that point. I’d seen him mad before, real mad sometimes, and I’d heard him yell and scream, but I’d never seen anything like that. He sounded like he didn’t have any control over himself. Like a wounded animal. Scared the shit outta me.”

  Saying the words to another actual person for the first time intensified the memory. Jack shaking all over, his hands trembling and his whole body rocking with convulsions. His forehead and shirt drenched in sweat.

  Matt had retreated to the living room of the trailer, scared, but at first more embarrassed to have seen Jack like that. When the growling and screaming didn’t stop, he eventually crept back down the hall.

  “I managed to get him out of there. Laid him down in the backseat and drove his car to the emergency room. They said he had ‘intestinal blockage’ and needed surgery right away. I sat in the lobby all night.

  “When I got in to see him the next day he looked like a ghost. Worse. The skeleton of a ghost. He didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe didn’t want me to know right away.”

  The picture on the hospital room TV had been fuzzy, the sound too low to hear much of the dialogue or canned laughter of some mindless sitcom. But he and Jack had watched for hours, Matt sitting on a hard plastic chair pulled up next to Jack’s bed.

  Matt sipped his coffee for a while before continuing. “I finally got it out of him. He told me that when the doctors cut open his stomach to remove the blockage, they found the…you know.” Matt tried to fight off that burning needle feeling behind his eyes again. “They found the cancer.”

  There it was, finally, the word raw and blood-flecked, forced f
rom his throat.

  “I guess it was…all over the place inside him, you know? Just everywhere they looked. We never had any health insurance or anything, so he hadn’t been to see any doctors in a lot of years. When I look back now I think we both knew something was wrong. Had known for a while, probably. He’d been losing energy, doing less, sleeping more. For a few years, probably, but it was slow. You know, real gradual. I don’t know what he was thinking about it because we never talked about stuff like that, but I think I just told myself it was because he was getting older, even though he’s not really that old. Not near as old as he looks now.”

  Sometimes Matt wondered whether he’d even be able to recognize Jack if he hadn’t been with him through the sickness. If Jack had left for a year and then come back the way he was now, Matt didn’t think he’d be able to make the connection to the Jack he grew up with. Even now, it was hard sometimes. The cancer had eaten away so much of that person he used to know.

  “Did the surgery help at all?” Amanda said. Matt blinked, Amanda’s question bringing him back to the little kitchen area in the trailer.

  “They were able to clear out the blockage—he eventually got to take his shit—but beyond that there was nothing they could do.

  “He had to stay in the hospital for a week and he let me sit in the room when the doctors came to talk to him. There were a lot of them, and they all said a bunch of different things. But the only thing I heard then, and the only thing I remember now, is two words: pain management.

  “It meant there was nothing they could do. Or maybe nothing they would do. No chemo, no more surgeries, no experimental drugs. Nothing. Just pain management. Just try to keep him comfortable until…you know, until it’s all over.”

  Matt held out his hands, palms up. “So that’s what I’ve been doing. But I don’t always do the best job, as you can obviously see.”

  Amanda dabbed at the corners of her eyes with the end of her sleeve. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I know that’s a lame thing to say in situations like this, but I’m sorry.” Matt pressed his lips together and nodded. “Have you tried to get any help? I know they have outpatient nursing programs, or you could call hospice. It must be so hard to be trying to do all of this all by yourself.”