The Willow Tree: A Novel (2 page)

Where else I be bringinim. He needin a drink.

I dont want that mutha fucka dyin in here.

What the fuck you be talkin about. If he can swallow a drink he be fine.

The bartender poured a couple of ounces of bar whiskey into two glasses, I dont be wantin no trouble man.

The 2 other men at the bar strolled down and looked at Bobby, Sheeit Marv, what trouble that dude gonna be givin yo? He and the other man chuckled and shook their heads, He sure did take a couple a bad licks.

If he be part of a gang could be some bad ass trouble. Them kids be crazy the way they goes aroun doin people.

One of the men laughed louder, Dont you worry none Marv, ol Darryll here be protectin yo.

Marv leaned his head back, O shit, oh deep purple shit—and the three of them laughed as Darryll gulped his drink then dipped his finger in the other glass and dropped whiskey on Bobbys tongue after seating him and leaning him against the wall, encouraging him to swallow, the other three watching as Darryll continued dropping whiskey on Bobbys tongue, suddenly seeming sober and having all his body movements under absolute control and doctoring Bobby with love and care and the skill of a brain surgeon. Bobby coughed and gagged when the first of the whiskey hit his throat, but kept it down, and Darryll soothed and encouraged Bobby to keep swallowing and waited a few minutes before allowing a few more drops to drip into Bobbys mouth, That the way boy, you jus keep that down—few more drops—you be feelin jus fine shortly, and Darylls voice became rhythmic and hypnotic like a chant as he continued the procedure of putting the whisky into Bobbys mouth a few drops at a time and smooth talking Bobby to keep it down then waiting a few minutes before putting a few more drops in his battered mouth, the other 3 silent and mesmerized by the procedure, watching intently as they leaned against the bar, then looked at each other, still silent, when Bobby moved his head slightly and Darryll put a few more drops into his mouth and Bobby swallowed without coughing and now the drinking was going faster and Bobby actually moved his eyelids and 20 or so minutes later the glass was empty and Bobby was almost sitting up by himself, and they all stared at him for a minute, each other, then Darryll with amazement and approval, and smiled as a glimmer of life started to flicker in Bobbys eyes and Darryll started gently rubbing the back of Bobbys neck, then carefully opened his shirt and shaking his head as the others made various sounds when they saw the bruises and chain marks on his chest and shoulders, You be needin some doctorin boy. Gimme a clean rag an some water…an a couple more drinks. Marv continued looking at them as he got the water, rags, and poured more whiskey into the glasses. Darryll continued rubbing Bobbys neck and shoulders, squinting his eyes as he looked him over carefully, Well, yo be breathin so I guess you be alive. He leaned his head back and looked carefully at Bobby then gently dabbed at his face with a wet rag, Bobby wincing and moving his head, Thats okay boy. Here, have another drink—carefully holding the glass near his lips and allowing a slow trickle into Bobbys mouth. He swallowed and Darryll, again, waited before giving him more to drink, then once more started gently cleaning Bobbys face, backing off for a moment each time Bobby winced and moved his head, Dont be movin yo head too quick boy, it jus might be fallin off. The other 3 chuckled, then one of the men asked Marv if he had a firs aid box or somethin, and Marv said he thought there be somethin aroun somewhere, at leas some curachrome, and Darryll continued his process of alternating between dripping whiskey into Bobbys mouth and cleaning his face, gently rubbing his neck in-between and talking to him in a soothing voice; and Marv found a small battered cardboard box with a couple of bottles of peroxide, methiolate and bandaids and put them on the bar, then asked Darryll how the boy be doin as if Darryll were a surgeon, He be doin jus fine. He be a tough little sucker—and the process of whiskey, cleaning and waiting continued, and in time, painful time, Bobby was sitting more erect, leaning against the wall, his eyes opening in narrow slits from time to time, peering at the men staring at him, barely able to see their faces, all edges still fuzzy, but knowing they were faces he was seeing, but in seconds his lids would close and he would just lean against the wall, painfully conscious of breathing, surprised by the occasional low groan that forced itself from his mouth, a groan that forced his eyes open for a moment as he peered at the face near him, then allowed them to close as he fought the stinging pain of his face and the stabbing pains in his chest and stomach, his breathing too shallow to be visible, but the men could hear the air struggling its way noisily in and out of his battered nose and mouth, Darryll still rubbing Bobbys neck, Marv pouring whiskey into glasses for everyone, Sheeit, that little sucker be breathin like a champ. Yeah, after 25 rouns with Ali. They laughed and continued to look at Bobby with admiration and Darryll with adulation, Damn, yo alright Darryll. Yeah, can you dig that mutha fucka, he be staggerin his ass outta here so drunk he caint stand up his own self an now he aint hardly move couple inches this way an that. They all laughed, Aint seenim this sober since his momma giveim the titty. They laughed again and Darryll picked up his glass and emptied it, I damn sure aint be havin none a that. Everyone laughed and Darryll went back to doctoring Bobby with whiskey and the wet rag and soon Bobbys wincing was only slight and Darryll was able to start cleaning the cuts and scrapes with peroxide and then dab them with methiolate, the process taking more than an hour, Marv keeping their glasses filled, Darryll only giving Bobby an occasional drop after the second glass, This boy no drinker. Doan want him gettin drunk an fallen down. Now how the fuck you be knowin he no drinker??? sheeit, they be babies crawlin aroun on they knees be drunk. Might be, but not this boy. If theres one thing Im knowin its drinkin and he no drinker. Marv guffawed and laughed so loud tears came to his eyes, Ol Darryll could be layin in his natural grave an he be reachin for a drink. Sheeit, no way a little bruisin be stoppin him. They all laughed long and loud and Marv refilled their glasses and they toasted Darryll who smiled at them and drained his glass while still rubbing the back of Bobbys neck and making sure he didnt move too suddenly. Seems like some ice be a good thing about now. Marv wrapped some ice in a towel and Darryll put it on the back of Bobbys neck and head and in a few minutes Bobbys eyes started fluttering and staying open longer and he looked around, dazed, How yo feelin boy? Bobby squinted and started nodding his head, but stopped and groaned. Yeah, you be busted up some, better jus sit still. See can yo drink some more a this, Darryll holding the glass of whiskey to Bobbys lips, Mary, and the other 2 men, smiling and giggling, in spite of themselves, at the faces Bobby was making as he sipped the whiskey and gagged and coughed and swallowed, holding on to the bar and swallowing again and again as Darryll encouraged him to keep it down, An you be feelin fine. What the fuck you be talkin about Darryll? dont matter how much whiskey you be pourin down that boys throat it be one long ass time befo he be feelin fine. Yeah, aint no body can hold that much whisky…not even you Darryll—and they all laughed again, mostly with relief as they watched Bobby becoming more and more animated, wanting to pound their man Darryll on the back for fixin the boy. Darryll let a few more trickles of whiskey into Bobbys mouth then leaned back a bit and peered at Bobby for a moment, then put the glass on the bar, That be about all yo can take. Dont wantchyuall gettin drunk an fallin down an bussin yoself all up again. The others nodded with approval and joined Darryll in emptying their glasses and leaning against the bar for support, and watching Bobby move around on the stool. Darryll smiled at Marv, I think he be needin a coke cola about now, right boy? Bobby nodded his head, very slowly, and leaned against the wall. Marv put the coke on the bar and Bobby started reaching for it and groaned and stopped as the pain in his right shoulder shot through him, then slowly inched his left hand forward and picked up the glass very carefully and sipped a little, allowing the ice to rest against his lips as long as possible. From time to time Darryll pressed the ice pack against the back of Bobbys neck and head and soon he looked at them without blinking his eyes, able to see them clearly, and asked where he was? MARVS RESORT, th
e home of the righteous drink. They chuckled and laughed and Bobby looked at them dazed trying to figure out what in the hell they were talkin about and he shook his head puzzled and Darryll told him about bumping into him and what followed; and Bobby told them what had happened to him, very slowly, becoming increasingly alert and aware as he spoke, obviously in a lot of pain, but the whiskey having taken enough of the edge off so he could, at least, speak. The men nodded occasionally as they listened knowing there was nothing unusual in what had happened, and when he finally finished Darryll looked at him and told him he should be gettin to the mergency at the hospital. I jus call 9ll an you be on yo way. Yo need some good doctorin boy. Bobby shook his head, No way. The men looked at each other and shrugged, not surprised at Bobbys reply, and Bobby went on to tell them he couldnt go there because theyd report it an then the fuckin poeleece be on his ass an he dont need those mutha fuckas on his case, an he sure as hell caint go home, the moms get all hysterical an those fuckin spics come he caint do shit. Well, what the fuck you goin to be doin, ride the muthafuckin subway for a month boy? Youre bad hurt. Bobby shook his head, bewildered, I be alright. I be holin up somewheres, plenty bandoned buildins—the men nodded—an get my strent back then I be gettin them muthafuckin spics. But somehow I got to be seein my girl…I dont know, I caint seem to think too clear right now…you know where Im comin from? The men nodded in agreement and sat with Bobby, sippin the whiskey Marv poured from time to time, watching Bobby make the inner adjustments needed for him to go where he had to go an do what he had to do…in time Bobby grabbed the edge of the bar and slowly slid off the stool, very tentatively putting one foot on the floor, then the other, the men simply watching, not helping, not interfering, allowing him to find the strength he had someplace within him. He stood for a moment, occasionally bending his knees, then stood straight, wincing the entire time, blinking his eyes as he attempted to focus his eyes, the men smiling as they saw him not only dealing with the results of the beating, but the whiskey he obviously had no experience with. He finally let go of the bar and faced them smiling, Hey, right the fuck on. That the way baby—and Marv refilled their glasses and Bobby tried to smile but it didnt get very far, but he continued to feel the strength in his legs and took another drink of his coke. He looked at them for a few minutes, shrugged his left shoulder slightly, then slowly started turning from the bar. He stopped and looked at them for a moment, silently, and Darryll put out his hand, palm up, and Bobby laid his left hand on it, and Darryll returned it, then the others gave Bobby five, and he started toward the door, the men leaning forward an inch at a time as Bobby had to spread his legs to keep from falling, but they stayed where they were and let him do it his way. He reached the door and leaned against it for a moment then grabbed the knob, feeling so many different kinds of pain he couldnt concentrate on one so was able to move…slowly, carefully, vaguely aware of something different, something new, impossible to define yet very real as something pushed him on….

                  He started to turn to say something, but the pain stopped him so he nodded his head slightly and struggled first with the knob, then leaning his weight against the door slowly opened it, crack by crack, the brightness of the street slicing its way into the bar and his eyes, continuing to push the door even though blinking his eyes against the light was painful, then stopped momentarily when he heard Darryll say, You be cool, man, hear?

Yeah, you be one righteous dude—chuckling.

You need somethin you just give a holler, hear?

Bobby nodded slightly then eased his way out the door into the sudden brightness, noise and energy of the street.

The 4 men watched Bobbys exit, squinting against the light, their eyes opening as the door clicked shut returning the bar to its comfortable darkness. They stared at the door for a moment, then looked at each other and smiled, Sheeit, thas the most sober I ever see you be Darryll. Marv refilled their glasses and they continued to look at each other, smiling, grinning, heheheheing…Gauddamn….Yeahhhh….

Bobby lowered his head against the glare of the sun and the stares of the people, able to walk down the street very slowly, with just a little weaving, staying close to the buildings in case he might suddenly need support. Every step, every breath painful, not knowing if walking or breathing was more painful, but he continued moving, wanting to get to the abandoned buildings cross-town as soon as possible, not wanting any hassles with the cops, but unable to move faster than a goddamn kid stumbling after his mommy, yet his body was already covered with sweat and it burned like a muthafucka, every scrape and cut on fire. After just a couple of blocks he wanted desperately to stop and sit down on a stoop but knew he couldnt afford to, that hed freeze to the steps and never get his ass up and before you knew it somebody be callin the man an he get his ass in deep shit, so he forced himself to keep moving, to keep putting one foot in front of the other, one agonizing step at a time….

           eventually becoming aware of more garbage on the streets, of abandoned and stripped cars, boxes, crates and debris from all over the fuckin world, and he carefully picked his away around and over the accumulation of years of refuse and knocked into the railing on the side of the steps going down into the cellar of one of the many abandoned buildings, carefully clutching the railing as he slowly descended, easing his foot down gently on the next step, panting, sweat rolling like fire down his face and the rest of his body, all of his body so wet he looked for puddles of water on the ground. He reached the bottom and the sudden shade was so refreshing he had to lean against the wall catching his breath…then inched his way into the increasing darkness and coolness of the cellar…