Page 28 of The Battery

Cody

I slid my thumb across the phone screen.

“I’m on my way,” was out of my mouth before Leo could say anything.

I hung up to spare my heart the sound of a voice in pain, a voice I had come to know as perpetually masculine, even keeled, and unwavering.

I had to steel myself against that for when I arrived.

I left a handwritten note on the fridge for Freddie. I was dressed and out of the door in under three minutes.

*

Maribel’s company car sat in the driveway, Helping Hearts Home Aides written along the side in bold cursive.

I climbed out of my vehicle and the snapshot of it all burned forever into my memory.

Dark of night, no streetlamps, Maribel’s car there, and the front door open to let the only splash of light spill across the yard.

There was a stillness at this hour, as if everything waited for the big bang of morning to hit.

I jogged up to the front door and let myself in.

I kicked off my loafers at the door and padded barefoot through the kitchen, then down the hallway.

I heard shushed voices and stopped short to take a moment.

I closed my eyes. Tried to harden myself against what lie around the corner.

The lump had already formed in my throat.

Be strong. For him.

I turned the corner quietly. Maribel noticed me first. Leo had his eyes locked on to his uncle.

Ice squeezed my heart. Uncle Andy’s condition had taken a sharp dive the day after we left for Brooklyn.

No water and food for days. His body was shutting down.

I was shocked at how quickly it happened, especially since he had been so lively when I was around.

I had read about that happening—a sudden resurgence of life before the collapse of death, as if the body and soul agreed to one final round.

He was skin on bones. Almost skeletal. Gone was the intensity of a Papadopoulos stare, replaced by a distant view of something lying beyond the mortal mind.

Parched lips. Ragged breathing, if I could even report that.

I don’t think I saw his chest rise and fall.

A white blanket was pulled up to his shoulders over a naked body.

A lamp on the nightstand was set to its lowest setting. Surrounding it were frames of…

My eyes welled up.

Leo’s family. There they are. A mother. A father. A brother who looked exactly like him. He had a twin? A whimper escaped my lips. I hadn’t seen any photos or even knew of their existence. Everything came crashing down at once.

More pictures. Black and whites of his parents and grandparents. Friends. Old pets.

And Leo. In a yellow and purple uniform for the Sarasota Martins, his first minor league. Probably his uncle’s proudest moment.

Maribel grabbed my attention with a gentle squeeze of my arm. “It won’t be long now,” she said in a hushed, respectful voice. She tugged and I understood. Leo still hadn’t noticed my arrival; I turned to follow Maribel out for privacy.

When my back was to Leo, his hand shot out and grabbed mine. I spun.

Those eyes.

Full of pain. Full of pleading.

Maribel closed the door as she left us alone. I stood with Leo at the foot of his uncle’s bed, locked at his side with an iron grip on his hand.

“I have a promise to keep,” he said so quietly I didn’t quite catch it.

“What promise?”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple rising and falling. His lips pursed together as the intensity of his stare at his uncle only increased. I wouldn’t ask again. He could take as long as he needed to.

A full minute passed. He held up his right arm—the one holding my hand—to show me his forearm while our fingers remained interlaced.

His left forefinger traced a particular symbol woven into the swirling patterns of other tattoos.

I had to squint and cock my head to understand. It melted into everything else…

A scythe locked around an hourglass almost empty.

My lips mumbled words I didn’t speak aloud. Did he mean…?

When I looked at him in question, he had been staring at the nightstand. The pictures?

No. There, in the corner. A vial of morphine.

“Is he in pain?” I asked delicately.

“She said no. But still…”

Andy pulled in a slow, ragged breath. A death rattle. His faced pinched together. It was like he knew.

I lifted Leo’s forearm again and ran my thumb along the symbol. “I’ll support whatever you do, Leo.”

He pulled me to the side of the bed where his foot hooked a nearby chair so he could sit beside his uncle. I stood behind him. Hands on his shoulders for support.

Leo prepared the concoction by dipping a dropper into the vial and loading the plastic tube all the way. I had no idea how much was too much or just enough. I knew they were using morphine for pain management. I also knew it would be quick once Leo administered the dose under his uncle’s tongue.

I squeezed his shoulders. “You need to speak to him,” I said as gently as I could without being forceful.

“If you haven’t already, okay?” His shoulders hitched.

I couldn’t see his face but I could imagine the pain there.

“This…” I swallowed. Be strong. “This is your last chance to talk to him, Leo. Say anything you need to say. I can step out for that if you want.”

Leo took in a quivering breath. I squeezed his shoulders harder. No dismissal.

Silence.

Then, “I love you, Uncle Andy. You didn’t need to take me in but you did. I’m… I’m so sorry for how I treated you those years. I was so angry. All the time. And you just took it and understood me. I wouldn’t be where I am today without you. This is all because of you, Uncle Andy.

“I love you. And I’m… I’m gonna…” A sob pushed through but he mastered it quickly. “I’m gonna miss you. I love you, Uncle Andy.”

His hand was steady when he pulled his uncle’s chin down and emptied two dropperful doses of morphine under Andy’s tongue.

Leo put his elbows on the edge of the bed and picked up his uncle’s hand in his. Held the knuckles to his lips as he whispered “I love you” repeatedly. Twin streams of tears ran down his face. I fought for my own control. It was a losing battle.

Leo’s chin quivered against his uncle’s hand, his own shaking. I sank to my knees beside him and glued myself to his side. I willed as much love and sympathy his way as I could but I knew he lost himself to the sorrow.

Only space and time would save him. A continuum.

So I stayed in his space. Passing the time.

Leo remained calm on the surface. The only sign of his pain came from the endless flow of tears.

He remained as stone, no longer quivering or shaking, as if he could master the reaction as easily as he could his hours on the field.

Strangely, I could feed from that strength and together we rebounded it to each other, amplified by our presence alone.

I stood again. Put my hands on his shoulders. He could sit there for hours and I wouldn’t budge.

Time passed, I couldn’t say how long.

Leo released his uncle’s hand and gave it one final kiss, then placed it delicately on the bed.

He spun in his chair to look over and up at me.

A single nod was all I needed. I padded out of the room and found Maribel sitting on a stool in the kitchen.

At my appearance she went into the bedroom with her stethoscope.

She placed it over Uncle Andy’s heart for a solid minute.

She looped the stethoscope around her neck and gave a single, sorrowful nod to Leo. “He’s gone,” she said, firm but hushed.

Leo took in a deep, chest-swelling breath of air and stood from the chair. A slow release through barely parted lips, then, “What happens now?”

“You can stay in here with him, if you want. I need to fill out a few things and then make some calls. I’ll be back here in a bit to help prepare your uncle. All right?”

We both nodded.

After she left, I grabbed the box of tissues on the nightstand and ripped a few free for Leo. He dabbed at his nose only and left the wet streaks on his cheeks. Almost like new tattoos.

I wiped my own face. When I put the box back on the nightstand, Leo suddenly swept me up in a monstrous embrace.

His arms went under mine, wrapped around me chest, and lifted me from the floor as he squeezed the air out of me.

I endured, stood on my toes, and squeezed him just as fiercely in return.

Still the man did not whimper or wail. He simply poured his pain into that embrace, as if by touch alone he could convey the depth of his sorrow.

“Do you want to stay for a while?” I asked him after he released me. He nodded yes. “Okay. I think the funeral home will be here shortly. Mind if I go make sure they can get into the driveway and have access to the house?” Another nod.

I started to leave but was stopped at the door by his voice.

“Cody. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Leo.”

*

We sat together in the living room as the deep indigo of a sleeping sky smudged with burnished gold along the horizon.

No lights were turned on and all I could hear was the distant ticking of a clock somewhere within the house.

I sat next to him at the center of the couch, stapled to his side, all four of our hands holding each other like we both needed a lifeline to stay awake.

The funeral home had come to take Uncle Andy away.

There were some things for Leo to sign. Maribel stayed for everything and oversaw it all.

Leo almost broke as they carted his uncle through the front door, but he managed to find steady ground.

He stood on the stoop staring at the street well after the van departed.

A respectful tap on his shoulder helped redirect him back inside where Maribel had more forms for him to sign.

She left with a bear of a hug to both of us, her own eyes moist. She promised to be in touch.

I saw her to the door and by the time I closed it, Leo was on his way into the living room.

I snagged the tissues from his uncle’s room and brought them in but Leo refused to touch them. His eyes were as red as the dawn.

When the sky lightened, Leo finally spoke.

“You saw them. My family.”

“I did, yeah. Beautiful. Was that photo taken during a ski trip?”

“It was. Our last one.”

I wanted to ask what happened but held my tongue.

Leo swallowed. His grip on my hands tightened. He took in a breath, opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut. Still I wouldn’t press. This was his cross and if he wanted to show me its burden, that was his decision.

He swallowed again, as if a lump of pride needed suppression. “They all died when I was sixteen.”

Quietude again, save for the monotony of that clock’s second hand for several seconds.

I squeezed his hand back, an easy urging for him to continue.

“It was during February break. The roads were so icy…”

In the safety of a calm morning, Leo told me his story.