Bloodroot (5 page)

“I died in Manhattan,” Danny said. “That was the beginning of the end, so to speak.”

I leaned back against the bench. My hands fell into my lap, nearly pulling the Guinness into it with them. “You died? In Manhattan?”

This is it, I thought. This is when the worms burst out of Danny’s eyes and the alarm goes off and I wake up sprawled across the mattress at home, exhausted, depressed, and defeated before the day even started.

“So you’re dead,” I said. “And none of this is really happening.”

“What?” Danny reached for my Guinness, sniffing it, sipping it, then handing it back to me. “You find an old stash of mine or something? No, I’m not dead.”

Danny rocked his head from shoulder to shoulder, assembling the story.

“In Manhattan,” Danny said. “About a year after I last saw you, I died under the East River Bridge. OD. Got brought back in the ER.”

“What the fuck were you doing under the bridge?”

“Living, I think,” Danny said. “I’d been there awhile; I don’t know how long. A week? Maybe more.” He ate more ice. “It’s a big junkie hangout over there. It’s where I ended up. Junkies are like carnival freaks. Or cops. Or crooks. We prefer our own kind. Anyway, one night my appetite got too big for my heart. So my heart stopped. Or maybe I got a bad shot. Either way, the result was the same.”

“How’d you get outta there?”

“Some guy with a stolen cell called nine-one-one. Then he threw the cell in the river and split.” He grinned, shaking his head. “But not before they took my stash, my works, my wallet, and my shoes. That’s how the EMTs found me, anyway. Stone dead and stripped clean. I suppose I coulda lost my wallet and shoes long before then.”

Danny stretched his arms across the back of the bench and puffed out his chest, watching a pair of giggling, whispering girls walk by. He was breathing hard, as if telling the story took the wind out of him. In the dim light of the bar, I couldn’t read his eyes.

“Bumps in the bathroom,” he said. “I remember it well.”

I did, too. The two of us jammed into a filthy stall in another bar. Another life.

My hands went sweaty. “Jesus fucking Christ, Danny.”

“Not where I was,” he said. “I didn’t see Him, no host of angels, no blinding light, nothing. The EMTs brought me back but they lost me again as they loaded me off. I got brought back for good in the emergency room.” He fished the lime from his glass and popped it in his mouth, chewing it without so much as a wince. “I remember noticing I was sitting in piss and pigeon shit while I stuck the needle in, then
bam
, these thick glasses and this big nose right in my face. I don’t know who was more surprised when my eyes popped open, me or the doc. I puked all over both of us.

“That’s about all I remember, his goofy fucking face. That and this weird snap in my spine, like a running dog hitting the end of his leash.” He shrugged. “Then I wondered where my stash was and when I could shoot up again.”

“Did you?”

“I never got the chance. I spent some time in ICU and then got moved to the detox ward. I can’t remember how long I was anywhere. It beat detoxing at the folks’ house, but it still wasn’t no picnic. Better drugs and worse food.”

“But you went back. To the heroin.”

“Yeah, I went back. Not to the bridge, thank God, but to the drugs, yeah. I felt so fucking good when I got out of the hospital. What better to do than get high? So I did a few snorts with an ambulance driver three blocks from the emergency room. God bless America, huh? I didn’t pick up a needle again for six months. Dying was a fresh start. I was back at the beginning and could do it right this time.”

“You gotta be kidding me,” I said. “You died twice in one night and all you thought was that you’d figured out heroin?”

“I came back from the dead twice, is how I looked at it. Bit of an ego trip. Look, I’m a junkie, that’s how we think. I’m not sayin’ it makes any sense.”

He tapped his empty glass on the tabletop. He wouldn’t look at me.

“I’m sorry I jumped your shit,” I said. “It’s just that the logic is hard to follow. In fact, the whole story is a lot to take.”

“No shit,” Danny said. “Listen, if I was bullshitting you, wouldn’t I come up with something a little more glamorous? Sit through one NA meeting and you’ll hear ten stories a lot more far-out than mine.”

I thought about it. Who was I to call bullshit on Danny’s story? The conversation had certainly moved beyond the realm of my expertise. And what did it matter whether or not he’d told the whole truth? That Danny lived and breathed in front of me, physically healthier than I had ever seen him, was more important than how he’d gotten there.

“Okay,” I said. “So you went to rehab.”

“I did.”

He still wouldn’t look at me; he just stared down through his empty glass, through the table, focusing on something only he could see.

“So rehab worked,” I said. “Finally.”

“Seems like it,” Danny said. “Who knows what was different this time? I got busted copping from an undercover in Sunset Park. I gave up a guy selling guns and got rehab instead of jail.”

“Good for you,” I said.

“Maybe. Anyway, I never bought that Higher Power shit they put on you in those places, especially not after dying, and those meetings are one long misery trip, but I met some people I liked in there. Guys that reminded me of you. They made quitting seem worth it.” He reached for my half-empty glass. “Let me get us a fresh round.” Halfway to the bar, he turned around and came back. “Thanks for listening, for being here. And if anybody has a right to jump my shit, it’s you.”

He didn’t wait for me to respond; he just headed back to the bar. It was just as well. I don’t know what I would’ve said. I was grateful for the break in the conversation. Danny returned holding a Guinness in each hand.

“This cool with you?” he asked, sitting.

“If you say you’re good, I believe you.”

We touched glasses and, moving in unison, drank, settled our pints carefully onto their coasters. I knew Danny had only told me a tiny portion of the past three years, but I’d heard enough to get the point. I knew the stuff that mattered.

“So have you talked to Mom and Dad?” I asked.

“No,” Danny said. “I wanted to reach out to you first.”

“Makes sense, I guess. You and I parted on better terms.”

“We didn’t part on any terms,” Danny said. “I disappeared.” He wrapped his hands around his glass. “I’d love to say it wasn’t on purpose, but in a way it was. And it wasn’t anything righteous like saving you from my sins. You just didn’t fit into my life at the time, such as it was. No, that’s not even true. I didn’t need you again for anything after that night, so I forgot about you.”

I sat back in the booth, hanging my head, picking again at the burned plastic and pouting like a little kid who’d got his feelings hurt. I couldn’t help it. And it wasn’t even like Danny was telling me anything I hadn’t figured out a long time ago. But his words still stung. Didn’t need me for anything? Maybe if he’d stuck with me he wouldn’t have ended up under that bridge, or sweating it out in an interrogation room. But I’d hardly looked for him, either; I could’ve tried harder.

“Look, this is important,” Danny said. “Disappearing was a shitty thing to do, especially to you.”

“It was a shitty thing to do to all of us,” I said.

“Yeah, but you hung on after Mom and Dad gave up. I owe you. I owe you a lot.”

“I’m your brother, Danny. You don’t owe me shit.”

“Somehow, I knew you’d say that.” He pushed his glass aside and leaned over the table. “Sometimes, even now, I dream about that cop car, those red lights. It’s never a good dream. I could’ve ruined your life that night.”

“It would’ve ruined all our lives,” I said. “Except for that cop’s.”

“My life was already ruined,” Danny said. “I just didn’t know it yet. And Tommy? He didn’t last much longer after that. I’m sorry for that night. I’m sorry for it all, for all the bullshit. I’m gonna make it up to you.”

“Forget it,” I said.

“I’ll never forget,” Danny said. “I’m gonna pay you back and you can’t stop me.”

“How’re you gonna repay me?” I asked. “You got a time machine?”

Danny leaned farther across the table. “There are some things on the horizon, certain opportunities. The answer has not yet revealed itself, but it will. And I intend to be hypervigilant. We live, after all, in the Land of Opportunity.”

“You could make your peace with Mom and Dad,” I said. “I could help pave the way. That’s an opportunity that’s right in front of us.”

Danny leaned back with his hand in the air, just like he’d done in the car. “All in good time. You first.”

The bad news about Mom settled on the tip of my tongue.

“Him first what?” Al said, walking up to the table, drink in hand.

“Kids get to bed okay?” Danny asked.

Al nodded.

“You got kids, Al?” I asked.

He snorted, rocking back on his heels. “Me? Rug rats? Fuck that.” He sniffed his empty glass. “I need another Crown. You guys?” Danny and I both had half a glass left. We shook him off. “Suit yourselves.”

“What’s his fuckin’ problem?” I asked. “It wasn’t that personal a question. You brought it up.”

“It’s got nothing to do with you,” Danny said. “Trouble at work lately.”

I pinched my nose. “Well, he oughta be more careful about changing diapers. Even all that cologne can’t cover the smell.”

Danny leaned out of the booth, checking Al’s location, saw he was waiting at the bar. “Let’s keep that between us. Al’s kinda sensitive about certain things; he fancies himself a bit of a stud. Thanks for not mentioning the hair.”

Al finished half his Crown Royal on the way back to us. “This place sucks,” he said, not even bothering to sit. “It’s a goddamn sausage party. Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

“Danny and I used to hang out here all the time,” I said.

Al raised his eyebrows at me, like I’d asked him a question he couldn’t possibly answer.

“Whadda you think, Kev?” Danny asked. “You up for a little more action?”

I checked my watch. “I got school tomorrow, and a stack of papers to grade. I’m behind.”

Al snorted and bulled his way toward the door.

“It’s not even ten,” Danny said. “C’mon. Anywhere you want. The city? Brooklyn?”

“I need to get some sleep,” I said, rising from the booth.

Danny grabbed my elbow. “You need to get off this fucking island, is what you need. C’mon, man. We got the run of the capital of the free world. You worried about money? I got plenty for the both of us.”

I jerked my elbow back, nailing the guy behind me right in the spine. He spun, his forearm soaked with his cocktail, jabbed two fingers into my chest.

“Yoooo, fucko. I’m standing here.”

Apologies caught in my throat but before I could pick one and cough it out Danny appeared between us. The stranger’s drink hit the floor. Danny had him by the wrist, bending it back at an awkward angle. Fucko’s face went white and his eyes started to water.

“All my fault,” Danny said, looking past Fucko to his friends. “My bad. Did you know you can make a man wet his pants by bending his wrist just the right way? Should I teach it to you?”

The poor bastard didn’t know which question to answer. His friends had backed away from him. He tried blinking away the tears in his eyes.

With his free hand, Danny reached a twenty-dollar bill over the guy’s shoulder to one of his friends. “Again, sorry about the drink. Let me get the next two or three. Keep the change.”

Danny released the guy and the two of us had a clear path to the door.

Across the street, Al had the car running at the bus stop.

“How bad did you hurt that guy?” I asked as we crossed Forest Avenue.

“He’s not
injured
or anything,” Danny said. “He’ll be fine in the morning.”

Danny had overreacted. The confrontation had been one of those accidental moments in a bar that usually went nowhere. But I didn’t say anything. I felt too good about it. Without Danny there, I would’ve slunk away intimidated and embarrassed. Instead, I walked out of the bar with my head up and yet with no real damage done.

Danny pulled open the Charger’s back door for me, propped his elbow on it.

“I don’t usually do things like that,” he said. “But then he put his hands on you . . .”

“No big deal,” I said. “Listen, about tonight.” I shrugged. “I got a life, you know? Responsibilities. Call me Friday. I’m free all weekend.”

“Understood,” Danny said. “C’mon, we’ll give you a ride home.”

WHEN WE STOPPED OUTSIDE MY BUILDING AND I GOT OUT OF THE
car Danny got out, too. He walked past me, around the back of the car and into the middle of the street, his frown trained on the corner. He gestured for me to join him out there. I stayed rooted on the sidewalk. A couple of the corner boys noticed him, rocking from side to side for a better look at him, their faces hidden beneath their hoods.