Dreaming a Music Mystery

CHAPTER FOUR

Later that night…

The band met up at the hospital to see Mark. As they walked into the quiet, sanitary-smelling soulless hospital each remembered the last time they were there. A friend had been shot down by the police. He was mistaken for a notorious drug dealer wanted on multiple counts of possession, with the intent to distribute. The friend had tried to explain to the officers they were making a mistake, but they didn't listen. In fact, they told him he was worthless, should off himself to make their job easier. When he reached in his pocket for identification, they all opened fire. The first bullet alone would have killed him, but they shot him 15 times. When they got to the hospital, his mother was not even weeping. She was just staring, with an empty glazed look in her eyes.

The band shook off the memories as they wandered into the hospital near the front desk. They asked which room Mark was in and on what floor. They were informed he was still in intensive care and only the family could see him. Well, the band was not family so they couldn't see him.

The band walked back out into the crisp night air. Breathing it in as they escaped the hospital antiseptic smell.

Instead of going home, they all just stood outside. Thinking.

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Abdul walked up from the parking lot with Marisol.  Upon seeing the band members standing there both stopped and awkwardly said “Hello. How are you?”   Waiting to see if any of them responded, Marisol, got miffed when the appropriate response was not immediately forthcoming. 

Opening her mouth to blast them all Abdul said to her to “Not say a word. Let us go see what the hospital wanted.”  Looking at him with anger in her eyes and then at the group, she responded to Abdul in Spanish which he answered in kind.  Sighing and relenting she smiled tightly at the men and walked ahead alone.

Staring at his bandmates who weren’t considering him their bandmate at the moment he said, “Look the hospital called us. We are still listed as his emergency contact.  If you guys would like to wait in the waiting room, we can tell you what we know when the nurse and doctor are done with us. Or you can go home.  We are going to call John in the morning.”  Finishing he turned and walked away before anyone could say anything to him.

Darnell and Marquis were totally for waiting and started to walk towards the hospital. Noticing no one else joining them both turned around and asked, “What gives guys? Come on, wait with us for information.”

One by one, except for Marcus, the men said they will wait for John to call in the morning and left.  Besides Marcus, Darnell, and Marquis only John remained.  He would rather hear what the situation was before he went to bed.  He plans better that way.  Motioning for the four other men to walk towards the hospital John too walked towards the hospital.  He held the door as all walked in to wait in the waiting room.  Abdul saw him as he waited to see who would come.  Acknowledging their presence with a hand raised, he went to talk with Marisol and the doctor-nurse team who was helping take care of Mark.

Sitting down the guys quietly talked for a while before one by one the boys went to sleep. Laughing at them, John went in search of coffee.  Darnell, who was the only awake one in the bunch was told, “I am getting a cup of coffee. You want one?”

Yawning, stretching, and smiling, Darnell said gratefully, “Yes. I would love a cup of coffee.  Here is $2.00 to cover mine. And thanks, man.”  Swatting him in the head, and taking the money, John left the lounge and went in search of the cafeteria.  The last time he had been here, his friend had been murdered by the cops.  And the cafeteria used to be the lounge.  Now the old cafeteria was the lounge and the new cafeteria with more space was located a little farther away.

Looking around he found not much else had changed since that fateful night.  No one could have expected those events.  Lucky was his name.  His mother named him that as a nickname.  His real name was Reginald.  But no one ever called him that unless they were looking to fight. Everyone called him Lucky.  Lucky managed to not be killed any number of times.  He was born with his umbilical cord wrapped tightly around his neck with his little face turned blue. No one thought he would survive after it was unwrapped but he did.  His father and he were involved in a motor vehicle accident.  A hit and run.  They were the pedestrians.  The car actually hit his carriage throwing him and the carriage into the air and knocking his dad to the side.  That little baby survived that.  There were other instances of his being lucky.

John guessed his luck had run out.  He was about to move out of the neighborhood for his protection. It was uncanny the resemblance the police saw-especially as they were the only ones.  Oh, and the lady who identified him.  I guess John thought to himself as he walked, all black folks look alike.  But that is the lie.

That night 15 bullets ended his life at 16 years of age.  None of them were ever the same.  Least of all Abdul knew both of them.  No one ever found out what the cops talked to him about that night.  And Abdul said he would take it to his grave too. 

Shaking his head, he registered where he was -the cafeteria.  Walking towards the coffee machine, he made two cups and paid at the register the nurse who was sitting there.  Smiling in acceptance of his change, he turned and walked back with the coffee to Darnell. When he got there, he handed it to him after waking Darnell up.  The two sat to wait and watch vigil over the others.