'You are so full of not trying today.'
'That was dirty.'
'I'm just saying.
'What we were doing wasn't love. It was pain and anger. Trying to get a feeling back. I don't know. Like we both, we all were chasing something that may not have been real.'
'I thought something was going on, just hoped I was wrong. I wanted to go on record as being concerned with the potential smell of that situation.'
Everyone was full of that kind of brilliant hindsight, as if saying they thought something was up was the same as doing something. Most times she wanted to say 'why didn't you say anything?' or 'didn't you care enough about any of us to speak up?' Instead, she just nodded and let it go. 'Uh oh, girl, what's up? You still with Fathead?'
'Lady G. Look here, I'm going to need you to come get your people today. It's your turn to deal with this foolishness, okay? Okay.' She made a phone out of her fingers.
'I'm on a break from him and his foolishness. I'm too through.'
'Do better.'
'I'm done. Nigga came home smelling like pussy. Don't need no taco stink on his breath.'
'Nuh uh. For real?'
'Next day, some Mexican hootchie had the nerve to try and call me out. I'm asking what's up with that. Then she accuses me of being on crack.' Rhianna pushed back in her chair like she was pushing away from a table.
'Bet she got on the phone right away bragging to her girls. So I cut that fool loose. Better off on my own anyway.'
'You a down-ass girl. You know that, right?'
Rhianna found it difficult to accept praise for her own abilities or herself as a person. Especially as a friend. She never was around enough or got involved enough. Spent so much time close to things but not really engaging in it.
The automatic doors which sealed off the Intensive Care Unit swung open as Percy and Mad Had came in, escorted by Wayne and Esther. Big Momma trundled in behind them. Lady G kept her eye on Wayne and Esther. She knew both from Outreach Inc. But something about their behavior struck her as familiar. Esther leaned a little too into him; he occupied her personal space. Without touching hands or even so much as a lingering glance, they seemed so… intimate. Lady G dismissed her thought as maybe her projecting her own ways onto others.
'How are things?' Wayne asked.
'Same old.' Lady G couldn't meet his eyes. She picked up her shirt and fumbled with the needle and thread again.
'Nothing changed?'
'No.'
'How he look?'
'He doesn't even look like him. Not even like him sleeping. Like part of him is missing.'
'It just don't make sense. Things keep falling apart,' Wayne said.
'It's like there's a cancer in the group.' Lady G guessed what others thought of her because she certainly knew what she thought of herself.
'G… come on. I didn't mean…'
'Yeah, you did. I sure did.'
His round, expressionless face and his indifferent eyes fixed on nothing in particular. His red jacket, with yellow sleeves and dirty cuffs, stopped two inches shy of his wrist. Mad Had screamed then writhed about on the floor, pounding it with his fists and feet as he bawled. A couple of nurses raised their heads above the cubicle wall, like prairie dogs catching a scent. Big Momma waved off their concern to let them know she had the situation under control.
Tears welled up in Percy's eyes then trickled down his face. Everyone was hurting. There wasn't anything he could do for them besides cry. He ached from powerlessness as much as anything else. As he rocked back and forth, he hummed to himself, but found little comfort in it.
The tinny strains of 'It's All Right (To Have a Good Time)' erupted as Wayne's cell phone went off. It wasn't one of his pre-programmed ringtones, but apparently a message had gone straight to voicemail. He put the phone to his ear and the first words he heard was 'Don't be daft. Put me on speaker.'
'Dag, Merle don't ever stop,' Wayne said. At the mention of his name, everyone stopped and turned to Wayne. Half-throwing his hands in the air, he put his phone on speaker.
'Sir Wayne, it is the prerogative of the truly wise to play the buffoon. I must go away for a time, but no matter because the story keeps telling itself. There are keepers of grails, guardians of blessings, and miracles through whom wonders come. Sacrifices of blood through which healings come. And when those treasures go missing, they need to be sought without further delay.'
Merle's words brought back a memory to Percy. When he was on the streets, raising ruckus with his mom, Miss Jane, he once broke into Rhianna's place.
Miss Jane convinced him to break in. Rumors of the household hoarding money and jewelry, eccentric ghetto millionaires. Such tales bubbled up from time to time, excusing would-be treasure hunters their Robin Hood ethos, though the poor who were targeted by their charitable impulse were usually themselves.
Two windows in the apartment, one with an air-conditioning unit in it, though it too was stolen from a first- floor apartment down the street. The bedroom window slid open easily enough. A young girl stirred, disturbed by the rush of traffic sounds from the outside, Percy closed the window behind him. Pausing, he bent over the frame in case the girl fully woke and he needed to make a hasty retreat. He sensed her in the dark, could hear her breathing. Fumbling along her dresser, his large, nimble hands found no jewelry. He ran them along a chalice; inside was a lone ring. He picked up the ring, holding the metal goblet in case it clattered against it. He peered over his shoulder. The sleeping figure didn't move.
Percy leaned over her. Rhianna. The warmth of her brushed against his cheek. He took in a deep breath. Flowers and powder, a gentle scent. Peaceful. The ring grew hot in his hand. He lost the heart to continue going through her things. It was a violation. He ran his finger along her face. Gripped by the panic that always seized him when around her, that sense that he might break her, he scuttled out the window.
'Anything?' Miss Jane demanded.
'No, Momma.' The ring burned in his pocket. A memento.
He returned the ring, but it and the cup came up missing not too long ago. He'd always meant to find it again.
'Though the journey be fraught with peril,' Merle continued, 'when isn't life a risk? Only the innocent can enter their castles. Do not eat anything within the castle, no matter how tempting or hungry. The chalice must be brought home. Its true guardian will know what to do with it.'
Mad Had calmed and then moved to lie down with his left hand supporting his head. He dragged his empty pillow case. Mad Had had taken to carrying a pillow with him everywhere. An old, ratty thing, yellowed by sweat, but he insisted on toting it about, sniffing it on occasion. 'Momma, my pillow's broke.'
'I know, baby. I told you I didn't want you dragging that thing everywhere.' It comforted him, but Big Momma wasn't going to drag a mangy pillow around with them everywhere they went. So she let him take his pillow case, which she was careful not to wash — a hard-learned lesson. Babies with his condition tended to wither without the attention of their mother, but Mad Had had thrived as well as a crack baby could. Big Momma had the distinct feeling he could speak more regularly if he wanted to. She saw the glint of the tempest in his eye no one else noticed.
'Be strong and be true, my precious knights. It is in your nature to win the battle.'
On the way to Haughville from downtown, off Oliver, a gravel road branched from a railroad crossing, appearing to be little more than a service road. A graveyard for garbage, it wound past rusted-out rail cars to a thick copse of trees between warehouses. This whole side of town stank, as the old garbage dumps had been built over. Not too long ago, folks had brought every bit of metal they could get their hands on. Rumor had it that when China hosted the Olympics, they bought scrap metal in such quantities, it was going for three dollars a pound. Fiends became industrious. Outreach Inc.'s air conditioners got jacked twice during this time. Two days after the Olympics, the price had dropped to seventy cents a pound.
The industrial park closed at dusk as it was difficult to find one's way around at night. The woods took on a
