Karma's a Bitch Page 4

  Looking down at the phone he noticed that the battery was about to go out. He threw the phone down and pulled out his own phone. He tried to call Quanisha’s house again, but this time his phone wouldn’t even dial out. The message just kept saying “connecting.” Pissed, Tony threw the phone on the seat. He jumped out of the car and searched his pocket for change. All he had was a bunch of pennies, and the two quarters that he was going to give the bartender at Devilutions. Thank God!

  He picked up a payphone, threw in the dimes frantically and tried his boy Terrance again in vain. Instead of the voicemail, this time an automated voice came on and said “45 cents please. Please deposit 45 cents to complete this call.”

  “Shit!” Tony had forgotten that Terrance lived outside of his 215 area code. He clicked the hook to get his change back, but the bootleg payphone ate his quarter. He cursed again and dropped his last quarter into the slot to try Quanisha again, but the phone just kept ringing. The voicemail picked up before he had a chance to hang up, so he lost that quarter too. He banged the receiver of the phone down several times, trying to break it. It had been a total of about ten minutes since his Grandma had called, and he was still a 15 minute run away from her house. It was time to call the paramedics. What the hell was I gonna do when I got there anyway? he thought to himself. He had panicked, and wasn’t thinking right. He picked the phone back up and dialed 911.

  Tony was sprinting down 52nd Street towards Market, but as soon as he turned the corner on 52nd, three blocks away from his Grandma’s house, his legs buckled underneath him and he fell to his knees.

  “Ssss, owww. Damn,” he winced in pain, holding his left hip, the same one that had gotten hit in his accident on the street that day on 69th Street. It had been bothering him ever since, and nobody had seen or reported the guy who hit him. It had been getting so bad that he was starting to think it was necessary to see a doctor about it, but he had no insurance and no money. A bad combination. Any money he needed to spend on medical problems right now would have to be towards his brand new STD, which was still also causing him urgent pain whenever he went to the bathroom. He wished he could use his grandmother’s insurance; she was retired but had very good insurance from her days as a Septa driver. But being 25 and never having even seen the inside of a college, Tony couldn’t be claimed as a dependent under her medical plan.

  Tony set his right foot up in front of him, still grasping his left thigh, and struggled to his feet again. The pain was unbearable. But he had to get to his Grandma’s. He slowly put one foot in front of the other, in a slow and painful gait.

  When Tony finally arrived at his grandmother’s house, he could hear the sirens approaching in the background. It had been almost 25 minutes, and the paramedics were just now coming? He rushed up, pushed open the already ajar door and immediately saw his poor grandmother leaned back on the stairs in her nightgown, passed out. Her hands were strewn across the steps, and her feet were hanging down touching the floor. There was blood coming down the side of her face. He limped quickly to her side.

  “Mom!! Mom!! Can you hear me? Ma? Say something!” he demanded, trying to pick her head up and shaking her shoulders intermittently. She started a low moan and slowly opened her eyes. Though she was beginning to suffer from cataracts, she instantly recognized her grandson.

  “Baby? I’m so glad you’re here…It…” Grandma’s voice trailed off again and she looked as if she was about to lose consciousness again. Tony shook her.

  “Ma you gotta stay up and talk to me, the doctor’s will be here any minute! Tell me what happened??!!” Tony yelled, feeling a lump develop in his throat.

  Grandma tried her best to stay alert. She spoke slowly. “Oh. It was horrible, Anthony. They came in here, those thugs. I think through the back. Cuz I thought I heard something in the back. They had on black….” her voice trailed and she closed her eyes, then they shot open again. Tony listened intently his red eyes nearly bugging out of his head. “They had on black hoodies, I couldn’t see their faces…”

  “Why did you come downstairs Ma? You should have just stayed upstairs and called the police!” He could see the lights from the ambulance now flashing in front of the house.

  A second later the paramedics came through the door and asked Tony to step out of the way.

  “It’s about time, what took ya’ll so damned long!” he let out a frustrated rant, fear evident in his voice from the situation. The paramedics just ignored him.

  He looked down at his grandmother again, who had passed out completely again by this time and stroked her wild hair down a bit before finally getting up and letting the paramedics take over. He felt helpless as he watched them load his grandmother onto a gurney. They carried her out of the front door, her head falling lifelessly to the side as Tony followed close behind.

  Chapter 3

  At the hospital emergency waiting room Tony sat, leaning forward and looking down at his hands nervously. Ironically enough, the pain in his upper thigh had ceased as soon as he had arrived at the hospital. There were blood stains on his shirt, and with the expression Tony was wearing you would think he was the one that had tried to kill somebody.

  Tony was thinking about who could have done this. Could it be? Naw, there was no way. That guy from the club couldn’t have had any way of finding out his name, let alone where he lived. But then again, someone from the club could have tipped Gucci off to Tony’s whereabouts. He knew a few people there that night, male and female, some that didn’t like his ass one bit. Tony’s thoughts were interrupted by the emergency room doctor. It was nearly three hours after they had brought his grandmother in.

  “Mr. Jackson? Are you the son of Ms. –”

  “Yes,” Tony interrupted back. “How is she?”

  “Well, she’s coherent at the moment. But she’s suffered a moderate concussion, a very serious trauma to the head for a woman her age. We are going to have to hold her for a while, and do an MRI to understand the extent of the damage. She’s been asking for you,” the frail looking white doctor said as he looked Tony directly in the eye.

  “I want to see her, where’s she at?” Tony requested.

  “Right through these doors. Follow me.”

  Tony and the doctor went to the back through the swinging emergency doors. The doctor led him through a front room, and then into the circular emergency room. There were other patients lined along the room, some concealed by their individual curtains. They finally walked up to the area where Tony’s Grandma was laying, hooked up to a heart monitor, IV and other various machines. She lay face straight up, her eyes closed. They had wrapped a bandage around her head. Tony walked up to her side.

  “Mom? You hear me?” Tony said, not sure of what he should say. He definitely did not like seeing his grandmother, his mom, like this.

  Grandma opened her eyes into a squint and looked into her grandson’s worried eyes. “Baby.”

  “Yeah? How you feelin’ Ma?” Tony asked her and grabbed her hand.

  “Ohhh, my head is hurting.” Grandma tried to reach up and touch the side of her head but the IV was restraining her.

  “Just relax Ms. Jackson, everything will be fine, we’ve given you some pain killers that should kick in within the hour,” the doctor assured. “I’ll leave you two alone for a moment, then I’ll need you to fill out some more papers for your grandmother Mr. Jackson. We’ll be moving her into a room this morning.”

  “Fine,” Tony said and turned his full attention back to his grandmother after the doctor had left.

  “Oh Anthony, they took everything. It was two of ‘em. They went in your room. I know because I saw them with your silver box. The one you keep hidden in your closet.”

  “What?!” Tony yelled just a little too loud, causing the nurses nearby to jerk their heads in his direction and give him dirty looks. But he wasn’t paying any attention to them. “They took my box??”

  “Yes baby, that’s why I came downstairs. I knew they was in your room downstairs.
I didn’t want them to take your box. I heard them in the living room and knew they was taking the TV, and my china, but when I saw your box in the big one’s hand, I ran down the stairs yelling and started swingin’ my bat at ‘em. I hit the one, but the other one hit me in the head with that gun and I fell to the floor. They left with your box, the trophies and the TV that was in your room. I’m so sorry baby.”

  Tony flopped down in the seat next to the bed in complete shock. They had taken his box! The box that held every possession he held dear to him. It contained his real mother’s high school ring and her picture, the last items he had to remember her by after her death 12 years before. It held some old baseball cards that were valued at over $3,000 in today’s terms and a signed baseball by his favorite Phillies pitcher from when he was seven. At the bottom of the box was page after page of rhymes he had written from age 11 and up, at least 80 pages of his masterpieces. His little league trophies were just about the only thing to prove that he had accomplished something in life. Why would they need to take those? They weren’t worth anything except to Tony. And what his grandmother didn’t know, was that he also had stashed a $9,000 Rolex watch he had stolen in a carjacking with his boy Lamar a month earlier in that box. He had planned to pawn it, put a down payment on a new Lexus and car insurance, and use the rest to press a thousand CDs when his rap album was finished. That way he could project a believable image of a rap star, he couldn’t be taken seriously riding around in an old raggedy Cavalier. It was all gone. All of his plans were done with.

  “Tony? Are you alright? Sweetie I’m so so sorry. I tried to stop them.” His grandmother started crying from seeing the distress and hopelessness in Tony’s eyes. She wanted so badly for Tony to do something for himself in life, and she knew that this was the last thing he needed: to lose all of his precious belongings.

  “No Mama, don’t cry. It’s not your fault.” Tony struggled his way up out of the seat, feeling as if he were about to faint at any moment. Regaining his balance, he managed to reach over and kiss his grandmother on her forehead. “Get some rest, I’m going to sign those papers.”

  “Tony, baby, I love you. It will be alright. My insurance might be able to cover some of it,” his grandmother pleaded.

  “Right mama. Get your rest. I’ll be back tomorrow alright?” Tony ran his hand down her leg, still deep in thought and walked off towards the emergency room exit.

  As Tony was walking out of the hospital doors, forgetting to sign his grandmother’s papers, he suddenly snapped himself back to reality and realized that his car was still parked in the middle of the street on 53rd and Baltimore, the heart of the hood. He needed to get back to it before it got stripped down to its suspension. He reached in his pocket for his cellphone to call Quanisha, but it was no where to be found. He thought back, and remembered that he had left it in the car.

  “Ohhh noooo,” he complained and lowered his head down once, lifted it in thought, and then dropped it again in defeat. That phone, and his stereo system, was probably long gone by then.

  “What the fuck else could go wrong!!!” he screamed out at the top of his lungs in the hospital parking lot. It was after 9am and hospital people were still bustling around the area, just coming into work, looking at Tony as if he were crazy. Tony thought about what he should do. He could call Terrance or Scoop, but they were probably at work already. And Terrance was probably still pissed about what had happened at the club the night before. He had to get in touch with Quanisha somehow.

  Tony walked back into the hospital emergency room and immediately spotted an average looking young sister at the desk which was guarded by a bullet proof window. He cleared his throat and put on the saddest, sorriest look he could muster.

  “Miss? Miss?” he got her attention, and the young girl looked up. “I need to get in touch with my sister to tell her about my Grandma.”

  “Your grandma’s the one that just came in, a blow to the head right?” the girl, who looked to be in her early twenties, asked.

  “Yes, I need to tell my family. But I don’t have a cellphone or my car,” he let out a big sigh and shook his head. “Can I use your phone?”

  The girl looked back at him, overcome with pity. “Of course.” She took the phone off the receiver and handed it to him underneath the bullet proof glass. “What’s the number.”

  Tony ran off the number and she dialed. This time Quanisha picked up on the first ring.

  “Tony! Where the hell are you? Why you leave that message on my voicemail last night??”

  “Nish, it’s a long story. Mama got robbed, I’m at Mercy Hospital in Darby. I need you to come get me.”

  “What happened to your car? How did you get there?” she inquired with a tinge of suspicion.

  “Look, my car broke down and I rode in the ambulance. Would you quit asking questions and just come get me? This is urgent, my shit could be getting took right now while you speak!” he spit into the phone, his anger at the whole situation finally coming to a head. Quanisha had a way of bringing it out of him.

  “Alright, alright. I’ll be right there.” Quanisha hung up the phone. Tony handed the receiver back to the girl behind the counter, and she in turn handed him a folded piece of paper.

  “My name is Jenny. You can call me on my cellphone here. I’ll…. personally keep you updated on your grandmother’s condition,” the girl said and smiled. Damn, she was bold. Tony returned the smile, tucked the paper in his pocket and moved towards the exit.

  Quanisha pulled up to the curb of the emergency entrance dressed in her night clothes and a big gray pull over sweater. Tony got in and the inquisition began.

  “What the hell happened??” she asked as she pulled off. “Where’s your car?”

  “I told you, Mama got robbed. They took just about all our shit and hit her over the head with a gun.” Tony stuck his fingers in his spongy fro and leaned his elbow on the door-rest, looking out of the window at nothing in particular.

  “What!? Oh no, Tony, is she okay?” Quanisha put her hand over her mouth in amazement, genuinely concerned as she slowed down a bit.

  “She alright, damn! Just drive, I need to get back to that car,” he commanded. “They already took most of my shit, I don’t need them taking my car stereo too! Hurry up!”

  Quanisha sat up straight, holding onto the wheel as she resumed her speed. She seemed to think carefully before saying her next words. They were already on Baltimore and on their way to Tony’s car when she finally spoke up. “You know Tony, I know you goin’ through something right now and I’m sorry about your Grandma and all, but you still don’t need to be talkin’ to me any kinda way. I’m here, trying to help your ass and ask about your Grandma and you yellin’ at me? What the fuck did I do? You treat me like I was the one that took your shit!”

  “Nish, just shut the fuck up right now. I do not want to hear it,” Tony said firmly.

  “No. No. I will not shut the fuck up. You know why? Cuz you in MY car right now, you living in MY house and Imma tell you exactly what the fuck needs to be said. You gonna hear me out—” Her words were muffled. Tony had reached over and violently pushed her face into the window. Her head knocked into the glass.

  “I just said to shut the fuck up right!?” he yelled, gesturing wildly in the car. Quanisha swerved the car and came to a screeching halt. She reached under her seat and produced a sharp kitchen knife.

  “Get the fuck out my car!!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, clutching the knife in Tony’s direction. Tears began to run down her face. She had a crazed look in her eyes that said she meant business. “Get OUT!”

  Tony, thoroughly shocked, reached for the door latch and let himself out of the car without a second thought. She had caught him by surprise. Quanisha sped off, leaving him standing on the corner of 58th and Baltimore. Tony, still shook, stood in the same spot for a few minutes before finally beginning to put one foot in front of the other and walk the rest of the way towards his car. Five steps later, the pier
cing pain returned to his left thigh.

  At 54th, the limping Tony could see that his car was still at least sitting in the same spot where he had left it hours before. Thank God, he thought. Traffic was now navigating around it. He was surprised the cops hadn’t tried to have it towed, but not really since they were rarely on top of things as minor as that. Tony pulled his keys out of his pocket.

  When he finally reached the car he looked sadly in through the gaping hole that had been busted in his passenger side window. The stereo was long gone, wires hanging out of the dash. It was definitely the work of a quick and skilled crackhead. Tony slammed his hand on top of the car and said curse words that hadn’t even been invented yet. He kicked the car and then slowly made his way to the driver’s side, getting in. The pain in his leg had magically disappeared again. How convenient. He put the key in the ignition and the thing started right up.

  “What the fuck is going on?” he said aloud to himself incredulously. He merged with the cars going around him and headed for his grandmother’s house.

  While driving he searched for where he had thrown his cellphone. He looked on the floor, under the seat, and between the seats but it was nowhere to be found. They had taken that too. Why wouldn’t they, he thought. A look of disgust was written all over his face.

  When he got home, he didn’t even have the heart to look at the rest of the house. He just went straight downstairs to his room, which was situated in the basement. Just for his own knowledge, just to be sure, he looked in the secret place in his closet for the silver box. Nothing. Without a word, he went over to his bed and laid down, staring up at the worn out ceiling of his room for a moment. When he looked back down he saw the empty table where his television had been.

  Never moving any other part of his body, except his right arm, Tony reached over and picked up the receiver of his room phone. He dialed his cellphone number, not really thinking anyone would answer. But someone did.