Damon
“Hey, D, man, can you meet me over at Ephraim’s?”
Damon answered the telephone summons from Stump without asking any questions. It was, December 31, in the evening, dark, cold and frigid like Damon’s mood. Stump’s voice had been laced with fear and stress. He banged on Ephraim’s front door and it was immediately snatched open by Stump, who looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.
“What’s up?” asked Damon, stepping into the house. The heat was overpowering in contrast to the outside weather. The living room was trashed, with liquor bottles, papers and clothing strewn around. Ephraim’s mother was a neat freak and Damon had never seen anything out of place before. Stump closed the door behind him.
“I been here two days,” said Stump.
“Where is Mrs. Armstrong?” asked Damon.
“She got called into a double shift at the prison,” said Stump. “Then she got mandated for overtime because somebody didn’t show up. She didn’t want to leave him alone because he’s been acting all depressed, so she called me.” Stump gestured towards the back of the small house. Damon gave Stump a sharp look.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure,” said Stump. “But he been drinking and crying and acting straight up nuts for hours. That’s why I called you.”
“Ephraim, drinking?” asked Damon, and then sprinted back to the closed door. Ephraim never drank. He claimed that alcohol tasted like piss.
Damon tried the bedroom door, but it was locked.
“Yo, E, man,” he called. “You in there?” Silence. A silence so ominous that Damon turned to look at Stump.
“How long has he been quiet?” asked Damon.
“Few minutes,” said Stump, shrugging his shoulders. Damon hammered on the door with his fist. Still no answer.
“Break down the door, Stump,” said Damon, after a few minutes.
“Man, I don’t want to wreck Ms. Armstrong’s crib,” protested Stump.
Damon threw his shoulder into the door. He heard the wood splinter but the door still didn’t give.
“Come on man, help me,” said Damon.
“I’ma tell her you did this,” said Stump adding his considerable bulk. With both of them pushing the door gave in a few minutes and Damon rushed into the room to find Ephraim sprawled on the bed, his lanky legs hanging off the side and head slung back at an odd angle.
The room was trashed.
Damon rushed over to Ephraim and grabbed him by the shoulder. He shook him hard and called his name. Relief streaked through him as he realized that Ephraim was still breathing.
“Ephraim, wake up, fool,” he said.
For long moments nothing happened. Then, finally, Ephraim opened bleary eyes and whispered,” Hey D, was sup?”
The smell of liquor breath and a seventeen year old’s two day old body odor rolled over Damon, causing his stomach to pitch. Ephraim’s eyes rolled back and his head flopped to the side cutting short Damon’s sigh of relief. Damon grabbed him under the shoulders to sit him up but Ephraim was boneless.
Damon slapped Ephraim on the cheek with an open hand. Ephraim snapped to attention.
“What’s wrong wit’ chu, fool?” asked Ephraim. He swung back, but missed.
“What did you take, E?” asked Damon. He sat the boy up on the bed with difficulty. “He do anything besides drink?” He looked over at Stump, who shrugged.
“I don’t know if he took anything,” said Stump. “He been drinking since I got here, anything he could get his hands on. He cleaned out his mama’s little bar over there by the kitchen. I didn’t see him take nothing, but he been to the bathroom a couple times.” Damon got on his cell phone and called his brother, David and explained the situation. David advised him tersely. He hung up.
“Let’s get him in the shower,” said Damon. He lowered his friend to the bed gently and stripped down to his baggy pants and bare feet. He could grab some of Ephraim’s clothes later.
“I ain’t undressing no dude,” said Stump.
“Just help me drag his butt to the shower,” said Damon, rolling his eyes. Stump pushed Damon out of the way and hefted Ephraim over one shoulder. Once they got into the small bathroom, Stump stood Ephraim up in the shower and Damon turned on the cold water. Ephraim screamed and fought like a tiger until they were all soaked and bruised. Stump held him pinned to the wall until the fight went out of him and they dragged him out of the shower, everyone’s teeth chattering.
Stump went into the hall to get some towels and Ephraim started to cry, great wrenching sobs that made Damon’s stomach twist and knot. Damon helped him out of the shower and Ephraim slumped onto the toilet.
Stump took one look at the sobbing Ephraim and said, “I’ma go change and clean up the living room some, okay.”
Damon nodded and grabbed one of the towels. He draped one over his own shoulders and then draped one over Ephraim’s heaving shoulders.
After Ephraim had quieted down somewhat, Damon spoke quietly.
“What happened, man?”
“I talked to Kelly,” said Ephraim, voice dull and lacking inflection. “You know, we been talking some, lately. I was trying to understand. I asked her why she killed my baby and she told me that it was for the best, that I would thank her later. She said our lives would have been hell with a baby. She said she still loved me, but if I was going to hate her, then we couldn’t be together.”
“Okay,” said Damon.
“And then,” said Ephraim. “Stump called me and told me
