Coup De Grâce (3 page)

I drove a jacked up Ford F-150, much to my parent’s consternation.

We were a car family, pure and simple.

Or at least they were, not me.

I loved my truck.

I could get it dirty and not worry about the interior because that was what trucks were for.

Shoving the keys into my pocket and turning to grab the pie I’d had in my truck since this morning, the coffee cup that I’d downed the moment I got into my cruiser fell to the floor.

My eyes lit on it, and I smiled, thinking about how Nikki had given it to me.

She knew me well.

Or as well as I let her know me.

She knew me better than my entire family, and she’d only ascertained the information in about ten total meetings.

She’d gotten more from me in one night than Joslin had gotten from me in a year and a half.

“About time you showed up,” my brother, Dean, said lazily from the glider in the middle of my parent’s yard.

Bending down, I picked up my coffee cup and placed it gently into the cup holder of my truck before gripping the pie and slamming the door.

“Yeah,” I muttered, walking up the front walk.

“Heard about your day. Sorry man,” my brother said sincerely, blowing out a breath of smoke he’d just inhaled from his cigar.

My brother and I weren’t what you would call ‘close.’

We were family, of course, but that’s where that ended.

He was the prodigal son. The one who did everything right, while I did everything wrong.

And sometimes it was hard not to resent that.

Really
hard.

“Thanks,” I muttered, opening the door once I came to it.

The first thing I noticed was that no one was in the living room where they usually were, and that I could smell dinner wafting from the kitchen.

The smell turned my stomach.

Eating was the last thing I wanted to do right then.

Not with the memory of Baby Nathan’s blood pouring out of his body as I held him on the way to the hospital.

“He’s not coming, I think we should just eat,” Joslin said huffily.

I rolled my eyes as I made my way down the darkened hallways that would lead to the kitchen and formal dining room where I assumed they were all gathered.

“He’s coming. He texted me when he was leaving the hospital,” my sister, Hannah, defended.

Hannah and I were the closest in age.

Irish twins.

She was born ten months before me, in the same year.

Me, being the baby, was the surprise that everyone still liked to point out was the
accident
.

“Thanks, Hannah,” I said, walking into the kitchen and placing my pie on the countertop. “I’m here, so the party may begin.”

The last was said once I was in the dining room, which meant everyone turned to watch me walk in the room.

My father and Hannah didn’t bat an eyelash at my attire.

My mother and Joslin, though, did.

Not that I cared.

Nor was I surprised.

Taking the seat to the right of my dad, and directly next to Hanna, I placed both hands in my lap and waited, like the good boy I was, for dinner to be served.

Which only happened once Dean made his way back inside from his smoke break.

All the while, I spoke with my sister about her daughter, Reggie.

Reggie was a boisterous two and a half year old that was with her ex-husband for the night.

“Reggie told me I was to ‘watch my step’ today because I was telling her what to do. Can you believe that? I bet Joshua taught her that one, too,” Hannah said snottily.

I snorted.

Needless to say, Hanna and her ex didn’t get along.

Not even a little bit.

“Actually,” I amended. “That was me. I’m sorry. I said that to her two days ago when I was watching her.”

Hannah sighed. “I guess I should be happy you didn’t teach her how to say cuss words, I suppose.”

My father snorted. “You and Michael were cussing by the time y’all were three and four. Mainly because your Uncle Paddy thought it’d be funny to teach you them. It was real exciting to slam on my breaks to avoid hitting a car and have the two of you say ‘fuck you’ and ‘what the fuck’ respectively.”

Hannah giggled while I laughed.

My mother, on the other hand, didn’t.

Apparently, she didn’t find it funny.

“Alright, we can eat now,” Joslin cooed as Dean made his way into the room, breaking the silent death glare I was getting from my mother.

Once grace was said by my father, he started to serve himself, and passed the dish around the table.

Once I dished up two pieces, I passed it to my sister, and then so on.

We didn’t do a sit down dinner often, but when we did, we were expected to actually sit down at the table instead of in front of the TV like we wanted to.

“It’s good, Beth,” my father said around a mouthful of food.

My mother smiled. “Thanks.”

I looked down at my untouched food, and couldn’t say the same.

It reminded me of the gore from the double wide.

What I’d later learned was a cop from a neighboring city, and his wife, who was a stay at home mom to their ten month old.

And as I picked at my food, I couldn’t help thinking about the cop.

What had happened?

Had he slipped through the cracks?

Had he needed help, and no one noticed?

Would I have noticed had he been my friend?

If someone had intervened, would the mom still be alive? Would that baby growing in her belly still be sheltered in her mother’s womb?

“Michael, Joslin tells me you had an interesting day,” my mother said, bringing my attention from my plate to her.

I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. Nothing special.”

Joslin, never one to let something go, sat forward.

“You saved that baby’s life. You’re the reason that he’s alive! You’re the talk of the hospital,” Joslin crowed.

I shrugged, not answering.

I really,
really
didn’t want to think about it anymore.

Like
really
.

So much so, that if she continued not to catch the hint, I might have to leave.

“Well, I have some news,” my brother said, breaking the awkward silence.

I turned my attention to him, and saw him watching Joslin weirdly.

“We’re engaged!” Dean smiled, holding Joslin’s entwined hand up with his.

I blinked, surprised.

My mother, who loved Joslin to pieces, stood up and clapped loudly.

My father and Hannah, though, turned to me, watching me for a reaction.

I shrugged again.

I didn’t care.

I should warn Dean, though.

They didn’t know why Joslin and I had broken up.

They only thought that the dissolution of our marriage had happened because we’d fallen out of love.
Joslin had practically begged me not to tell them because she and my mom had grown so close.

“Congratulations!” My mother crowed excitedly.

“You okay?”
My father asked worriedly.

That was when I realized he’d known.

That was what the hesitation had been about earlier.

“Fine, why?” I asked.

Hannah looked at me, almost as if she was waiting for me to break apart.

“You’re sure?” She asked persistently.

I nodded. “Yeah. It’s good for them,” I lied.

I really should’ve told them why we’d split. Yet, I couldn’t because Joslin had acted like…well…
Joslin
.

“Mom,” I said, standing. “Do you mind if I have a sandwich? After today, this isn’t very…appealing.”

I had to eat no matter what. My medication couldn’t be taken on an empty stomach or it wouldn’t be absorbed correctly. And if it wasn’t absorbed correctly, then we’d be in a very different situation than we were now.

My mom looked at me, and I mean really looked at me, and she saw right through my flippant attitude and immediately dropped Joslin’s hand and started hustling to the kitchen.

I followed her, keeping my eyes on my mother’s back instead of on Joslin’s annoyed face, and Dean’s pissed off one.

Whoops.

Spoiled their big reveal.
My bad.

She may love Joslin and Dean, but she loved her baby boy more. Tattoos, disappointment, and all.

“They told me about today,” she whispered once she was in the kitchen.

“I…I don’t like it. I feel like I should’ve done more. Been faster. I don’t know. He was a police officer,” I told her.

That tid-bit hadn’t been released as of yet.

So when she gasped and whirled around, a block of cheese in one hand, and a Tupperware of cold cuts in the other, I realized I’d surprised her.

“What?” She asked in horror.

I nodded. “The murder suicide was with a cop and his wife,” I confirmed.

“God, that’s horrible. And I heard the doctors talking. The baby will live, but they’re not sure about what cognitively was effected yet, correct?” She asked, placing the food on the counter and making me a sandwich.

When she would’ve reached back in for the tomatoes I stopped her. “None of those, please.”

She looked at me, looked at the tomato that she knew I loved, and nodded, placing it back on the shelf in the fridge and closing it with her backside.

“And yes, that’s what I heard when I called to check on him earlier. They’re keeping him in a medically induced coma until they’re sure the swelling is down to a manageable level. They’re contacting the paternal grandparents, too.” I knew that would be her next question.

My mom had a bit of a soft heart for those who didn’t have family.

Which was why Joslin was so loved by her.

Joslin’s parents weren’t what one would call ‘quality’ people.

They both smoked weed and neither had a job. I wasn’t
even certain how they funded their extracurricular activities.

Then again, I’d never asked seeing as I was a fuckin’ cop.

She smiled at me.

“That’s good. Is he on the
ped’s floor or in ICU?” She asked.

My mother worked on the pediatric floor.

That’d been where she was working when she met my father, who was a pediatrician, thirty five years ago.

My sister worked on the ICU floor, and Dean was a general surgeon.

“ICU for now. Ped’s when he gets better,” I answered, accepting the sandwich she offered me.

Her nose scrunched when she caught a closer look at my tattoos, and I barely restrained the urge to roll my eyes.

What was the big fuckin’ deal about the tattoos?

I thought they were fuckin’ great.

She, on the other hand, thought they were ugly.

Whatever.

“So,
when did Joslin and Dean start dating? I hadn’t realized they were even together
,” I asked, taking a bite of my sandwich.

It felt like a mouthful of sand as I chewed and swallowed.

I washed it down with a large slug of sweet tea that my mother handed me, and finished the sandwich in three bites while my mother worked the corner of her lip with her teeth.

“Well?” I asked again.

She sighed. “They’ve been seeing each other for going on a year now, Michael.”

I blinked. “No shit?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Michael, you know how I don’t like when you curse.”

Being on the ped’s
floor really kept my mother from using bad language day in and day out. She rarely, if ever
, used them. And hated when her family did.

“What’s the big secret?” I wondered aloud.

My mother pursed her lips. “Joslin said you’d be upset, and she’d like to keep it quiet until they were ready to share the news, and I went along with it.”

I raised my brow at her. “You do realize, right, that
I’m
your child and not her. She was in the family for less than a year if you want to count the amount of time we spent separated. Why keep her secret from your own son? It’s not that I’m torn up about it, I’m just disappointed in my family for keeping it from me. I’m not going to fucking break.”

“Language!” She snapped.

I threw up my arm.

“Thanks for dinner, ma. Maybe you can let me know when you’d rather put me ahead of my ex. I’ve got some awesome stories that I think you’ll find extremely interesting,” I said, walking to the back door.

“Mikey,” my mother said worriedly.

I held up my hand. “Save it.”

With that, I left and didn’t look back.

I hate you. Not in an ‘I hope you die’ kind of way, but more like I hope you develop an allergy to chocolate and cheese kind of way.

-Coffee Cup

Nikki

“Hey there, Nikki!” Joanna said from her position behind her desk at the Pediatric ICU nursing station. “How have you been?”

I smiled. “I’m good. I just came up here to check up on that little boy. How’s he doing?”

She smiled sadly at me. “Lonely, I’m sure. But I’m short two nurses and we’re nearly at capacity.”

I brightened. “Do you mind if I sit with him for a while?”

“I think he’d like that,” she smiled.

Taking her words to heart, I followed the directions to his room, and walked in on a starkly white room with a crib in the middle of it.

Well, a hospital bed, crib.

It really wasn’t much of a crib.

It didn’t have that homey feeling like most cribs had.

This one was cold, metal, and bland.

And the tiny boy in the middle of it, hooked up to hundreds of tubes and wires, broke my heart.

I loved children.

I loved them with a passion and fierceness so powerful that I could barely see straight.

And I’d never have any of my own.

So I soaked it up by spending time with other people’s children.

And it looked like this little guy could use a friend.

Walking over to the crib, I took a seat at the chair, just to the side of it, and watched him.

His little head was wrapped in gaze from about the nose up, only one eye revealed.

His hands were taped to little boards so if he were to move, he wouldn’t pull out the IV lines they had in both hands.