One of Us Chapter 2

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David stepped into their yellowing apartment, rolling his eyes as he closed the door behind him. “This nigga over in the corner with these pineapple though.”

“This nigga,” being Dally, sitting upon the lime green, tattered arm chair. Holding a bright yellow book in one hand and a can of pineapple in the other, he seemed not to care that syrup was running down his mouth. Taking two lazy chews and focusing more on the can than the new entrants, he fished a spoon through the pineapple as if he was searching for a prize. He opened his dripping mouth, “You get your ass beat lil nigga?”

Dally’s question rang out a little louder than they expected. Must be the small quarters. Their place was something out of A Raisin in the Sun. Too small. Faded and cracked wallpaper. Furniture that looked like it was more in need of care than the care it could provide for others. Three doors lay before them. With two bedrooms and a closet style kitchen, it made one wonder how you could open the stove and be in the kitchen at the same time. They made it work.

“Well, Dally, I’ll have you know…” David began, dropping his keys on the scratched wooden stand next to the door.

“He did,” Darius puttered in, taking his coat from David’s shoulders, and putting it on the hook next to the entrance. “Defense was trash tonight boy.” David turned an eyed Darius, giving him a “What the hell?” expression.

“I don’t know why you’re giving me that look. You got lucky that you surprised that freak. If he caught on to you one second before, and I mean literally one second before, I would have had to vacuum you up.”

“I knew that nigga got his ass beat,” Dally chuckled still peering into his can of pineapples as he shoveled another scoop in his mouth.

“How could I get my ass beat when I won the fight?” David parried.

“Easy!” Dally shot back. “Let’s take a look at you.” He jumped up to his feet, still holding his can in one hand. You don’t really have a sense of how large Dally is until he stands. Certainly, the largest of the three men both in size, height, and width. Standing at 6’ 2, the black tank top he wore could barely contain the boulders that lay beneath his autumn leaf brown skin. He stood wearing a pair of sweats and some black house shoes with white socks. A black durag lay atop his head, tied with unnatural precision. He walked towards the youngest, dropping his face to his level. He looked him up and down and said, “How you gonna tell me you didn’t get your ass beat looking like this?”

This was honestly the first time David thought about how he looked since before the fight. He felt it all when waiting for Darius to collect, but there’s something about knowing in this line of work, your body becomes a canvas for someone else’s brushes. He was bleeding through his shirt, and there were large black bruises peeking through the crown of his shirt. He didn’t want to know what his face looked like.

“What do I always tell you Davy?,” placing one hand on his own thigh. “You always set yourself up to win the battle, and not the war.” He then took a step back, and placed one of his hands to his mouth, making a pseudo-loudspeaker, “Win the war, Davy.”

“You know,” David spat, looking Dally right in the eyes, “You think saying wise stuff like that makes you something, but it doesn’t really line up with how great your life is,” staring right in his eyes. 

Dally literally shrugged off what David said, but David could feel Darius staring right at the back of his head. He became the official de-escalator between all things David and Dally. David could be downright nasty to Dally, but maybe. Just maybe, Dally deserved it. Darius heard his own voice call out:

“So, what do you think, Dal? His injuries?” he asked, leaning against the wall.

“Yeah, it should be fine. Can’t do anything about his face though?”

“His face?”

“Yeah, some of us are just born pretty,” he then posed as if someone snapped a pic of him.

Darius let a laugh fly, David snorted, and Dally smiled wide.

SLAP! Dally went firmly across David’s face with his hand. Darius released an unexpected “Damn,” when he saw the blow. To not yelp out of the pain, David pressed his front teeth against his bottom lip and breathed through, making a strange “Ffffffp'' sound that bordered on a whistle.” He then opened his mouth and held his face, looking at Dally and said, “Can you give a guy a warning before you slap him? Also, why did it have to be a slap?”

“Would you prefer a closed fist?” Dally replied, placing his can on the defunct living room table.

“Point taken.” Just as he finished the word “taken,” the pain dissipated like snow in the spring sun. Dally looked up at  David with his usual half-engaged gaze, “Yeah, I’m really surprised you didn’t lose a tooth, but…” As Dally was speaking the flesh and bone that was out of place on David’s face began to come together in correct alignment. David then placed his hand on his jaw when he could feel the tissue moving around. 

“Don’t touch it.” Dally said without looking at him.

“I mean you’re pretty awful, Dally, but this is pretty dope. I can’t lie to you. If only you didn’t have to hit me to work your healing magic.”

“Well, it is “dope,” but your jaw isn’t done healing, and it wouldn’t be “dope” for your fingers to get fused to your cheek.” 

David, more relaxed, and releasing his grip on his face, “You know, it would be nice not to feel the initial pain of the strike through these hits. Can you work on that?”

Darius interjected. “Ah ah, hell no.” He lifted a finger, as if trying to shoo a gnat, “If you felt no pain, you wouldn't learn anything. Make it hurt, Dally.”

Dally, placing his hands in the pockets of his sweats said, “ You know it’s nothing personal Davey. I need to transmit healing energy through a strike. Haven’t figured out how to do it other ways. He placed his hand on his chin, and continued, “You must have taken a mean hit to the face though. Your jaw was broken,” looking up at Darius who had arms folded and was leaning against the door. “You didn’t tell him his jaw was broken?” Dally asked with a strange curiosity.

“Well, I didn’t know for sure. I mean it looked a little off, but I didn’t know if that was his regular ugly mug.” Darius spat.

David’s eyes then lifted to meet the durag-clad man, but Dally wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at Darius. They were doing it again, communicating with their eyes. David would catch them here and then doing it. Must have been due to the nature of their work before, Dally’s hand began to glow and hum, as it touched David’s face. “Seems like your face healed pretty nicely, but,” his hand drifted down until it firmly touched David’s chest, “You really got fucked up here, huh?” David flinched a bit, inadvertently taking a step back.

Dally breathed in and out deeply. “You know what’s coming. You have a broken rib. I don’t need to tell you this is going to hurt a lot.” David’s eyes glistened a little, but they froze holding Dally’s gaze. He then looked back at Darius, who nodded at him, passing him the belt he was wearing David grasped it and placed it between his teeth. He then nodded at Dally, whose fist was already covered in blazing, baby blue energy. The large man drew back and struck David squarely in the chest. 

The young pugilist thought he would bite through the belt, as a large grunt left his forced smile. As he dropped to his knees, tears streamed down his cheeks, the belt making a large jingle sound as it fell from his mouth.

An inadvertent, yet soft “ah,” left his mouth, as if his soul was leaving his body. That seemed enough for the three things that came next. The first was the dissipation of the pain and the second, the internal mending after Dally’s strike. The other was the emergence of a little pitter-patter on the ground, as he knelt upon the ground in front of the yellow door.

The door opened. A mess of red hair, wearing a large pink shirt and yellow sunshine pajamas stood before him with a big, yet mischievous smile. “Daddy, David?”

Interlude

WAAAAAAAA! A child’s cry ripped through the night, as the three…

I hesitate to find a noun to describe what these three were. Boys, certainly, in age. Oblong voices and bodies, yet to be perfected by puberty. Men, in the sense of the responsibilities they possessed. Men, in the hopes they deferred for tomorrow. Men, in the regrets they held for the wrongs they committed. And now those wrongs bubbled over into magma, as fire spewed from their family home. They stood outside of the large factory, hands laying hold on dirty cash. Their last five years of effort culminated in smoke, ash, and rubble, and…

WAAAAAAAA!!!

The cry broke the back of reflection shouting, “Look at me. I need you. I know your dreams and wicked imaginations have been brought to naught, but I need your help. I need you to pivot right now. Put your eyes on me and:

WAAAAAA!!!

“Fuck, shit!” one of the young ones sputtered, looking over at the source of the cry.

Another knelt down to look at the child, daring not to touch it, as if it were a poisonous herb. He spoke with a certain defiance, but not without detachment “I have no idea who this kid is. Never seen him before.”

“Her,” the third spoke.

“Don’t fucking think it,” the first one spat, placing both his hands on his head, still watching the soon to be ash heap.

“WAAAAAAAA!!!!” They all flinched at that cry. 

“Don’t think what?” the youngest said, lifting the small child in the blanket that held her. 

“First. Put the child down,” he spoke without looking at him. Second. We’re not taking her with us.”

“Are you kidding me, D?”

The first sucked his teeth in Olympic fashion, “Nigga, after a night like tonight, it’s you that’s gotta be kidding me? You think we can take care of that, her, whoever the fuck? We need to focus on figuring our own shit out.”

“What are you talking about?” the youngest replied. “We can’t just leave her here.”

For the next few minutes, bickering of the highest importance took place. The conversation ended with an exasperated and pitiful last defense, “She doesn’t even have a name.”

“We don’t have to figure that out now. Until she finds a permanent home, the kid can hang around us.”

The taciturn young one looked on with the only smile of the night, as he warned, “Understand, this decision you’re making affects all of us Da…”

“Vid. Daddy David!”

Quickly wiping the tears from his face, his laughter boomed as he donned the silliest voice he could. “KIIIIIIIIIEEED, Hyuk Hyuk!” She then ran towards him and wrapped her tiny hands around his neck. Always taken aback by her unbridled affection, he placed one hand on her back to return the hug.

“Ahp! Ahp!” Darius called out. “Daddy David worked late tonight, so he’s pretty stinky Kid, (David shot his older brother a look with that line), and you should be in bed.” With the words “in bed,” he eyed Dally, who somehow was munching on more pineapple.

Dally shrugged his shoulders, hands still in his pockets. “Bro, she was in deep sleep before y’all walked in, like comatose. Looking down at Kid, he said, “What is it we say Kid, when you point a finger at someone?” Both Kid and David were far too distracted playing for her to complete the statement. By this point, David had already lifted her in the air, making SHOOOM and CHUGGA CHUGGA noises.

Dally then turned to Darius, closing his eyes, “You point four fingers at yourself. That’s what we say to one another.” He then nodded as if he were reassuring himself of the validity of the expression. He then laughed and said, “Kid,” in a tone of voice that immediately got her attention, as she floated in the air. He then said, “Bedtime.”

As she drifted back down from David’s hands, he visibly winced. Dally’s healing work missed a spot. They tried not to bring work home in front of Kid. Of course, they didn’t tell Kid that David fought apparitions at night. They weren’t that irresponsible. The story was that Daddy David worked at a factory at night on the weekends. But tonight, Kid captured his pain-filled face for a split second and her own expression shifted from glee to horror. Recognizing the transition from glee to concern, David placed her on the ground and said, “Daddy’s fine, girlie.”

Her face then shifted from horror to something else, almost as if she looked past and within him simultaneously, so when she said, “You’re hurt,” David knew immediately she was telling the truth in ways that he may not have understood. She lifted her hand and placed her stubby finger on his chest. He looked up at her and smiled until her finger glowed the same hue of blue that Darius used. His entire torso lit up through his shirt, and disappeared almost as quickly as it began. “That should be better, Daddy,” she smiled, then yawned deeply. 

His mouth fully ajar, he looked up at Darius who held the same expression. She then said, “Daddy Dally, I’m ready for bedtime.” Dally's paternal instinct overcame his desire to ask questions. He scooped her up, entered the child’s room, and shut the door, not before exchanging wide eyes with the brothers in the living room.

David remained kneeling on the ground for a long time. He then rose and met Darius’ gaze and said, “What the fuck was that, Dar? Bro, she healed me. Bro, she healed me better than Darius ever did,” he rasped.

“How do you feel?” Darius asked, looking him up and down. 

“Great, but that’s not really the point right now is it? What’s going on?” David hissed.

Darius in his ordinary dispassionate tone replied, “You act like I know,” looking over his brother’s shoulder at the child’s closed door. He then looked back at his younger brother, “This was my first time seeing it just like you.”

“I mean… For a kid to use dimensional energy at this age. We began using it at what, “8, 9?”

“10.”

“Do you think Dally’s teaching her?” David whispered.

“No,” Darius said, with a certainty that was rare in conversations with such speculation. His thinking face then transmuted into that of a man who had been awake for the past 18 hours. “Well, we aren’t going to figure it all out tonight, David. Let’s chat about it tomorrow. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

“Bro, she just used some higher-level dimensional energy technique and she can’t even read yet,” David ended, looking around as if the spiders in the corners of the ceilings were listening to report to someone.

“To be fair, Dally’s been doing a pretty good job at preparing her for preschool, so she’s actually a very strong reader for her age, in the 80th percen…” Darius could see that this light-hearted divergence wasn’t appreciated, as his brother's face pinched itself in annoyance. The older sighed, “Look, this isn’t something we’re going to figure out without outside support. Neither of us studied pediatrics, and although we’re decent at using it, we don’t know enough about dimensional energy. And, we have an early morning tomorrow. It’s close to one in the morning, and you still haven’t showered yet.” Before David could say anything, Dally held his hand up, “Let’s approach this when we’re at our best, or at least when we’re both functional. We have a long train ride tomorrow. We can talk then.”

David’s bare toes shifted and flexed on the beige carpet on the living room floor, as if the digits would revolt based on Darius’ response. He bit his lip and nodded his head slowly. “You’re right.”

Darius would try a light-hearted response again. He was looking for that right reaction from his brother. “Yeah, when am I not right, Dave?”

David rolled his eyes. That’s the reaction Darius was looking for. “Wait, you mean, we really have to go tomorrow? Come on man. I just had a fight tonight,” David said, arms dropping to his sides.

“Good night, David,” Darius replied, standing his ground.

As the younger brother walked to their shared room and shut the door, Darius closed his eyes while standing. He then took a few steps backwards until he reached the front door. He tilted his head back until it rested on the cold wood. He then sunk to the floor and sat. He stared off in space for a while, then placed his fingertips tip to tip. He took deep breaths for a few minutes. He then heard the shower start up from their room. As he sat, he removed the wad of cash from his pocket and counted it again. He then went to their darkened kitchen, and walked over to a drawer next to their tiny stove. From the same drawer, he pulled out a small slip of paper and mouthed something. His eyes rolled up as his head tilted again. After about five seconds of silence, he laughed, “Hmm, that’s enough.”

He then turned off the lights in the living room, and entered his shared room with David. Laying down on his twin-sized bed, he drifted to sleep.