This is the Part Where You Laugh (19 page)

Ray gives me a ride back to the trailer park because I ask him to take me to Creature's house. I get out of the car and say, “Thanks.” Jog up to the front porch and knock on the door. No one answers. I knock again, and Creature's mom comes to the door looking like she's been sleeping for a year. Wearing one of her tight workout outfits.

Her voice is slurred. “What's it going?”

“Creature…I mean Malik, he got hurt. They took him to the hospital.”

“Gonna be…?”

“We gotta go,” I say. “Can you drive us?” But as soon as I ask that, I know she can't drive. She's messed up on something. “What did you take?”

“Xanax,” she says. “A little bit of…”

“How many?”

She shakes her head. Holds up three fingers, then adds one to make four.

“Four Xanax? Fuck.”

Ray rolls down his passenger-side window. “You guys all right?”

I say, “We might need a ride to the hospital.”

“No problem.” He reaches across and pops the door.

I walk Creature's mom to the car as she leans on me heavy.

Ray takes us to the emergency room entrance, and we get out. I say, “Thanks again,” as I walk through the double doors.

A nurse jogs up to us and says, “What are her symptoms?”

I look at Creature's mom, and her head is all the way back. She's walking forward, but she's asleep on her feet and her body's jerking along like a zombie in a movie.

“No,” I say, “she's okay. She just needs a chair to sleep in.” I sit Creature's mom in a chair and go up to the desk with the nurse. “I need to check on someone who came in an ambulance a little while ago.”

“Okay. Last name?” She moves her mouse and clicks.

“Madison,” I say. “First name, Malik.”

“Okay, let me see…” She scrolls with the mouse. “Now, are you family?”

“Yes, ma'am.” I'm so worried about Creature that I don't hesitate. I say, “He's my brother.”

The woman behind the desk clicks her tongue as her eyes follow the scrolling on her screen. “Madison…,” she says. “Oh, here it is. Let's see…” She looks up. “He's in surgery right now, sweetie, third floor. Operating room two. The surgical rooms have no public access, of course, but you're welcome to wait on the third floor at the surgery check-in. I'm sure they'll come out and give updates to family members as soon as possible.”

“Okay.”

I go back to the chair where Creature's mom is sleeping. Shake her shoulder. She doesn't wake up, so I shake her some more. Rougher. “Come on. We have to go to the surgical center to get news.”

Creature's mom blinks. Opens her eyes. Starts to close them again.

“Come on, Mrs. M. We have to go down the hall.” I shake her hard enough that her head rolls around. “Listen.” I take her face in my hands. “You have to wake up now.”

A nurse approaches me. She says, “Is this woman okay?”

“Oh yeah,” I say. “She took a little Xanax, but she's fine.”

“A little Xanax?”

“She's fine. Really.” I'm nervous about Creature. I need to know if he's okay, and I can taste bile in the back of my throat. It makes me feel panicky. I say, “She's fine. Leave her alone. She takes it all the time.”

The nurse looks unsure.

I shake Creature's mom again. Say, “Malik's in surgery. We've got to go wait at the surgery center.”

“Malik,” she says. She opens her eyes and puts both hands on her armrests. Pushes herself up.

“That's it,” I say. “There you go. Let's walk down and check on him, okay?”

She stands and I support her. The nurse is still next to us, looking back and forth between Creature's mom and me. She says, “Are you sure she's okay?”

“For sure. She's okay. We're just gonna go check on my brother now.”

I walk Creature's mom down three different halls to the main elevators.

I'm nervous and I want the elevator to come quicker. It seems like everything's going too slow, that we're waiting too long. I know Creature's in surgery and nothing I do matters at all, but still I want to get there.

The elevator door opens and I shake Creature's mom and walk her into the elevator. We take it up to the third floor and the door opens again. The surgery check-in desk is in front of us and I say, “Come on, now,” and walk Creature's mom into the waiting room. There's a male nurse in front of us. His head is down, and he's writing something on a clipboard.

I say, “My brother, Malik Madison, he's in surgery. They told us to come up. Can you tell me how that surgery's going?”

“Let's see…,” the nurse says. He turns to his computer. Types in Creature's name and scrolls the page. “Yes, here it is…room two…and…his surgery is scheduled for four more hours.” He looks up. “I'm sorry. But we have drinks and vending machines down the hall. A waiting area here.” He points. “Family members are more than welcome, and we'll give you updates as they come in.”

“Okay.”

“Also, I do need to see the family insurance information if you have that.”

Creature's mom is leaning against me and her eyes are closed. I say, “Yeah, I don't know about that. I'll see what she's got with her when she wakes up a little bit more.”

The man stares at Creature's mom, asleep on her feet, so I walk her away before he asks me anything else. I take her over to a comfortable-looking chair in the corner and let her slump down sideways. Tilt her head against the armrest cushion. Drape her knees over the other side of the chair.

I walk down to the vending area and find the free soda machine. Pour myself ice in a little plastic cup, some Sprite to go with it, hoping to wash that bad taste out of my mouth. Then I walk back to where Creature's mom is sleeping and sit down next to her.

I drink the Sprite and think about Creature. Try not to be too nervous for him. Look around the room. There are newspapers on the table, magazines in stacks. I pick up a newspaper and open it to the sports section, but it's all baseball. Baseball won't keep my mind off Creature.

I walk back up to the desk. “Sorry to bother you again, but what kind of surgery is my brother having right now?”

“Let's see here…Madison, right?” The man types and clicks. “Let's see…bowel repair, multiples…then vascular surgery. And that will be at least…three more hours, minimum. Could be more.” He looks up and smiles like he's chewing on something bitter. “I'm sorry,” he says.

I go and sit back down. Look at Creature's mom and wish I had some pills to take, some Percocet to numb me. Something to make me sleep. My ribs ache. I check my pockets, but I don't have any loose Vicodin or Percocet on me. I adjust my body in my seat so I'm leaning back against my good side, tilted.

I see the newest
ESPN The Magazine
and two
Sports Illustrated
s on the table next to me. I pick those up. Flip to the table of contents in
ESPN.
I read an article on Chris Paul, but there's nothing in it that I didn't already know.

I put the magazine down and wonder about Creature some more. Think about him with tubes in his mouth. Knocked out. Cut open. I try to pray the way my grandma used to when I was little. I close my eyes and start the way she always started,
Dear Lord, thank you for everything you give us. Thank you for the good things and the bad things….

I don't know what to say after that, so I say,
And help Creature to be okay. Help him to be good. Really good. All the way strong.
Then I open my eyes and look around the room. Say amen out loud. There's no one in there to hear me. The nurse is too far away to hear, and there's no one else in the room with us.

I don't know if that's a good prayer or not, but I feel a little bit better after I do it, so every once in a while I pray again, and I sort of pray the same prayer over and over like I'm practicing free throws.

Creature's mom is sleeping next to me and I wish I could sleep too, but I'm so worried about Creature, and the lights are bright above us, and I close my eyes for a few minutes, but there's no way I'm going to fall asleep. No way at all.

I pick up one of the
Sports Illustrated
s. Read another article about basketball, this one about a Division III college called Haverford and how they were one of the worst teams in college basketball history. They couldn't win a single game even though they worked really hard, and they ended up losing 46 straight games before they finally won a game against a bad school by using a “run-and-jump trap” zone that turned into a two-three zone by the end of the game. The article is pretty good, much better than the Chris Paul article I read in the ESPN magazine, because this article tells a story no one's ever heard and it's all about guys sort of like me, short guards, short forwards, guys who are maybe not as athletic as the average college basketball player, although I hope I'm a little more athletic than these guys since they sound pretty sad.

I read all the way through the article without looking up, and I forget about everything for 20 minutes until it's over. But then I finish, and I look around, and I think about Creature inside, still in surgery, and I don't know what else to do but pray, so I pray for him again even though I'm not really sure if there is a God up there above us at all.

Then I wait.

A doctor comes out through the double doors. It's been four hours, and this man in blue scrubs comes through the door with a clipboard and says, “Is the Madison family here?” He looks around like he's searching through a crowd even though it's two in the morning and we're the only people in the waiting room.

I stand up. Turn and shake Creature's mom. “Hey. Wake up.”

She's slept the Xanax off by now and she wakes up all the way. Sniffs a little and rubs her eyes, then stands up next to me.

“Are you Malik Madison's family?” He looks at us, confused.

Creature's mom says, “I'm his mother.”

He says, “Okay…”

Creature's mom is really awake now. She says, “If you're struggling with this concept, I'm white and his father is black. Does that make sense?”

I can tell that the doctor isn't used to people talking to him like that. “Okay,” he says. “Well, let me give you an update on the patient.” When he says that, something moves in my lower intestines, something heavy.

Creature's mom has her hands on her hips. “Is he okay?”

“He's doing well,” the doctor says. “Malik had bowel and vascular surgery tonight. Both went as well as could be expected in these types of cases. The team had to do a small-bowel resection—”

Creature's mom says, “What does that mean?”

“It means that we had to take out a very small piece of the small intestine that was too damaged to repair. Two of the knife wounds were very clean and easily reparable. The third was much more significant. There was internal damage, and that became the major focus of the first surgery: the resection.”

“Is he going to be okay, though?”

“We're quite optimistic. The second surgery was successful as well. His vascular system was repaired in the lower abdomen.”

“But is he going to be okay?”

“Like I said, we're optimistic. We're hopeful for a full recovery. But that will take some time. He's going to be sedated in the ICU for a few days, under close observation. He has catheters in place and a feeding tube, and we're hopeful—considering his excellent physical shape—that he'll bounce back quite nicely.” The doctor smiles.

Creature's mom doesn't smile. “I want to see him.”

“Absolutely.” The doctor nods. “But again, he's under heavy sedation and being transferred to the ICU as we speak. Family can visit him there as soon as he's set up. He won't be awake, but you're welcome to visit. Please speak to someone at this desk here and they'll give you information and directions to the ICU. Do you have any other questions for me?”

“Yes,” I say. “When can he play basketball again?”

The doctor takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “There's no way for me to know that. I'm optimistic, but can't make any promises. I would hope that he could resume all normal activities in a few months.”

“A few months?”

“That would be my best guess, but like I said, I can't make any promises.” The doctor looks at his watch. “Any other questions?”

Creature's mom is glaring at the doctor. He doesn't seem to notice.

I say, “So we can go to the ICU now and wait?”

“Yes. They'll give you directions at the desk.” The doctor looks at his watch again and says, “I'm sorry you had to go through this. This was a serious case, an unfortunate case. Take good care.” He turns and hits a button on the wall. The double doors open again and he walks back inside the surgery center.

At the desk, a new nurse asks Creature's mom for insurance information. She gives the nurse her Oregon Health Plan numbers, and I stand behind her and wait. Then the nurse gives her directions to the ICU, and we walk down the hall.

We're not allowed to enter the room where Creature is, but we get to see him from behind glass. He's sleeping, propped up, his head tilted to the side and a tube taped into his mouth. He looks tall and thin in that bed. An IV line is in his arm. Monitors are behind him.

“Oh my God.” Creature's mom begins to cry.

I say, “It'll be okay.” But I have to take a deep breath because I feel like I'm watching a person who's about to die. Then, for some reason, Creature is dead, and I picture a coffin built up around him. He's sitting back against a few of those funeral-home pillows with designs sewn on them, bright flowers in vases all around him, and someone's playing the church organ.

A nurse touches my arm and I jump. She says, “Are you here to see Malik Madison?”

I don't say anything.

“Yes,” Creature's mom says. “He's my son.”

“Well, the report from surgery is that it went well. He'll be sedated for a while according to the chart, but you'll be able to talk to him, hold his hand, and sit with him starting”—she looks at a clipboard and flips the page—“starting tomorrow, it looks like.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes. So stay here as long as you'd like tonight. Go ahead and look in on him. Then head home and get some sleep. And tomorrow you'll be able to visit. He won't be fully awake, of course, but you'll be able to go right up to his bed then. Hold his hand and all of that.”

Creature's mom is shaking her head and crying without making a sound. I put my arm around her, and her whole body is stiff. “It's okay,” I say. “We can come back tomorrow.”

We stand there for a long time just looking at him. I can't shake that image of Creature in his coffin, but after a while Creature's mom gets tired and I agree to go.