Death of a Friend, part 2

Payton headed straight for the nurses’ station and waited until one of them deemed to look at him. “Ma’am, I was hoping you could tell me how Mac St. George is doing?” Payton asked politely.

The nurse looked at him as if finding him quite tedious and stupid. “As well as can be expected,” she replied in a snippy voice. “He’s in the last stage of cancer so what do you think?”

“But is he worse than yesterday?” Payton persisted, dreading the answer.

“Yes, considerably. You might want to say what you need to say as soon as you can.”  There was a slightly gentle note in her voice now that said all too clearly, “Because he might not be here for much longer.”

Payton feeling terror and panic, gulped and turned away before he remembered his manners. He turned back and thanked her. He then went to the door but couldn’t bring himself to turn the knob just yet. His hand shook, his heart beat very fast and so loud in his ears it was deafening. This was too soon, much too soon. He wasn’t ready for it. He would lose it for sure and Mac wouldn’t want to see that. He certainly didn’t want Mac to see that.

“Suck it up, Kid!” rang in his head louder and clearer than anything else. Funny how the voice in his head always seemed to sound like Mac now. He had learned so much from him everything that seemed so important at the time during the war. How to smoke a cigar and not feel sick for a week afterwards, how to drink hard liquor without puking, how to get a girl flat on her back in less than an hour’s flirting time.

He taught him a few slightly more important things like how to stay alive when everyone out there would rather see you dead, how to be strong when you felt weak, how to appear happy when you wanted to cry, how to stay calm when everything around you was falling apart and  most important of all  how to be a true, forever faithful friend. Semper fidelis.

And that’s what made his hands steady themselves, Semper fidelis, the Marine’s motto. He had to be a friend now, a real, forever faithful, true friend. He had to do this for Mac. It might be the last thing he could do for him. He owed Mac that at least. He took a fortifying breath and pushed the door open and there lay his buddy. What a sad sight that was! Mac had been huge and formidable, six foot six and solid as a brick wall. Linebackers weren’t that big! But what lay on that hospital bed wasn’t the Mac Payton knew so well. It was barely a shell.

Payton licked his dry lips and slowly approached the bed to gaze down on his normally ruddy faced friend so pale now he made the sheets look grey by contrast. The burning started at the back of his eyes just as Mac’s eyes fluttered open and a slow smile lit his face.

“Hey, Buddy, how ya doin’?” he said, his voice so weak and slurred it shook Payton to the core.

“Ain’t that my line, Cap?” Payton replied forcing a grin and grasping the once formidable hand arm-wrestle style. It was the same hand that, back in the day,  could have easily snapped a few necks in two without even trying.

“Didn’t hear ya axe,” Mac countered with a smirk more reminiscent of the old, robust leader of their platoon. His Brooklyn accent was still intact even after more than two decades being gone from the city.

They stared at each other with nothing to say or perhaps too much.

“Getting lazy, sleeping all day,” Mac commented, his tone casual.

Payton attempted a grin. “Gotta keep up your strength for the ladies. Fine ones out there exactly your type, curvy, sweet and willing.”

Mac grinned. “See Holly, the red head? Gonna get me some of that,” he said with a wink.

“She’s all yours, Cap,”Payton replied and this time he could really smile. It was almost like old times. When Mac said he was going to get some he always did. Why should it change now?  But things had changed, drastically, and the silence that followed was palpable. A dread hung in the air between them and neither wanted to face nor voice it. But time was short.

“They started me on morphine,” Mac said answering the unspoken question.

An ice cold fist seemed to clamp over Payton’s heart. He unconsciously tightened his grip on Mac’s hand but could say nothing. His throat was constricted too much for speech even if he could find anything to say. He could only nod and attempt to push down the panic. He knew once the morphine was started the end was near.

They simply stared at each other until a perky, dark-haired nurse came in to check Mac’s vitals.

“How ya feeling, Sweetie?” she asked after taking his blood pressure, counting heartbeats and checking his temperature. .

“I’ll feel a whole lot better, Darlin’, when you shimmy on over here and plant a big wet one on me,” Mac retorted with a devilish smirk.

She giggled as she fussed with the IV drip. After writing on his chart she went to him, took his face in her hands and did as bidden. “I’m gonna take you home with me, Mac honey.”

“Take me right here,” he replied running his free hand over her round bottom.

She winked at Payton and answered, “When you get rid of your buddy I’ll come back.”

“He was just leaving, weren’t you, Payton?”he said without missing a beat.

She giggled, kissed him again and scooting on out but not before Mac smacked her lightly on her butt.

“Want me some of that too before I go,” he muttered. He sunk deep into his pillow looking ghastly white and completely worn out from the simple exchange.

Alarmed Payton  thought about calling back the nurse. Then Mac held out his hand and Payton grasped it again, emotions welling inside him. He wasn’t ready to lose his best friend, his mentor, his brother.

“What can I do, Cap?”he asked , his voice husky and unrecognizable to his own ears.

“We need to talk,” Mac mumbled now struggling for breath.

“You should rest, Cap. It can...”

“No, it can’t wait, Payton.  Don’t have much time left,” he said gruffly. “My... Jameel.... at my sister’s but she...she can’t stay...don’t want her there.”

“Why?” Payton asked, bewildered. He knew Della loved Jameel and her kids were crazy about her too. What could possibly be the problem?

“She hates it there. Della and the kids are great, they love her but.... Joe,” Mac just shook his head looking grim.

“Joe what?” Payton asked, trepidation running along his spine.

“Della says it’s just teasing...”

“Teasing?” Payton repeated frowning more now.

“He calls her... the little terrorist... little Miss Jihad,” Mac said through clenched teeth.

“I’ll kill him!” Payton growled looking ready to strangle the guy once he got his hands on him.

Mac shook his head and even that made him grow more pale still. “ Forget him. Just get her outta there for me, ‘kay?”

“I will, Mac. I’ll go right now,” Payton suggested without hesitation. “I can take care of her  until you find....”  He paused here staring into Mac’s baby blue eyes as a thought occurred to him. “Is that what you want me to do for you, Mac? Find someone suitable to care for Jameel?”

His eyes seemed to bore into Payton’s brown ones as if to tell him without words. “Already got someone,” he said.

“Yeah? Who?” Payton returned eagerly.

“You.  Jameel loves you.”

Payton gaped completely nonplused. “But... but I don’t know how to do that, Mac. I’m not.... I wouldn’t...”

“You got it in you, Kid. I’ve seen you with her since she was born. She loves you and she’ll listen to you. She’s a good kid, Payton. She’s smart and sweet and...”

“Mac, ya don’t gotta tell me that!” he interrupted, panic seizing him. “I know she’s an awesome kid. I love her too, but... I don’t know how to be a dad. I can’t be you. I wish I could be, Mac. I’ve tried to be. You taught me how to be a man. You taught me so much. I can never repay you for all you’ve done for me,” Payton said now unable to keep from tearing up.

“You do this for me, you take care of my Jameel, you be her father and we’ll be even. Payton, please. I can only trust you with my jewel. Do this, please, Payton. Semper fi,”he said, his voice suddenly fierce, more like his powerful, old self.

“Semper fi,” Payton repeated. And that was the end of that. He would do it. He had to.

“Get her now, Payton, ‘kay?” Mac whispered, sinking into his pillow, closing his eyes and taking a ragged breath in. He looked like death. Payton feared he wouldn’t get back before God called him home but with wings on his feet --or perhaps angels guiding the way-- he got Jameel.

Payton sent Della to get Jameel who was playing out back with her cousins. It was just enough time to put Joe up against a wall, knocking down a couple of pictures so that glass littered the tile floor. He held him there by the throat, Joe’s feet dangling in midair struggling helplessly to pull away. Payton just barely restrained himself from crushing the moron’s neck.

He only managed to snarl, “Call Jameel a little terrorist one more time....”  He didn’t bother finishing the threat before he let go. Joe dropped to the floor gasping and coughing for breath.

“Weasel like you should know better than to mess with a Marine’s kid,” Payton said just before Jameel burst through the door and ran into his arms.

“Uncle Payton!”she shouted hugging him tightly.

“Hey, baby, we gotta go see your dad, okay?”

She stared up at him and knew without being told. Without a backward glance she left with him  and they were back at the hospital within twenty minutes. The ride to the hospital was unnaturally silent, Payton not knowing what to say and Jameel coming to grips with what lay ahead.

“Uncle Payton,” she said, in a still and quiet voice as they approached Mac’s door, her hand trembling slightly in his, “This will be the last time, won’t it?”

The constriction in his throat wouldn’t allow speech so he nodded. To his astonishment she didn’t cry but instead smiled. She actually smiled!  She lifted her chin in a defiant gesture he’d grown to admire in her –it was so like Mac-- and she opened the door with that ever-so-sweet smile still on her face. Mutely he followed her.