3. ‘Malcolm’

THREE

‘MALCOLM'

MALTY

I've dreamt of this day for the last couple of years because I couldn't forget that face, those eyes, and that sick demented voice. Didn't think I'd be in the emergency room getting ready to enter a treatment room when said voice stopped me dead in my tracks. No way, it can't be. Not here in my safe place. I mean, what are the chances? The information I was given was there was an altercation in the federal prison, and they were transferring an inmate who was severely injured. Not sure about that, as from what I'm hearing that prisoner is running his mouth off pretty good for being in serious condition. I know my interns are waiting for me to enter the area, but not sure it's such a great idea. Am I able to treat this person as they should be treated, or will I do him more harm than good? I can't truthfully answer that question now. I quietly tell the two interns to go in and stay away from the patient. Then I turn and walk to the office of the emergency department and find my boss sitting at her desk. She looks up when I enter and close the door. Judy raises her eyebrow, which I'm seriously jealous of because I can't do that shit. I've tried, which is pitiful to even admit.

"There's an inmate who was just brought in. Not one-hundred-percent sure, but it sounds exactly like one of the men who attacked Frankie and me years ago. Not sure I can be his attending and treat him accordingly. I know we are shorthanded but, Judy, I'm being truthful. What do you want me to do?"

She knows my story, as I told it to her about a year ago. I have my moments and, thank God, today isn't one of them. At times I have to use a cane, not that often, but it happens. She asked and I told her the entire story. After all she's done for me, I owed it to her.

"Mal, grab the next patient. I'll handle this one. Did they give you any details or am I going to walk in blind?"

As we walk toward the treatment room, we can both hear his bellowing about suing us for not treating him like other patients because he's a prisoner. Judy just shakes her head as she pulls one of the portable iPads from the nurses' station. I watch her fling back the curtain and introduce herself. He starts saying sexual things to her and she replies with a, "Shut it or else."

I think she shocked him because for maybe fifteen seconds he's quiet, then all hell breaks loose. I can hear loud noises then an "oof" from I'm thinking one of the interns. Judy yells for security. I move toward the room, looking for something to use as a weapon. When I spot the toolbox, I reach inside, pulling out a large wrench.

Quietly I enter the room, and it's total chaos. The prisoner has one intern on the ground bleeding while he's trying to strangle the other with his hands cuffed. Not sure where the prison guard is but Judy is in the med drawer, which I'm sure she's looking for something to knock his ass out. Well, I have just the thing. As I approach, not sure, must have made a sound because he turns and that's the first look I get of one of the men who changed my life. Before I can do a thing, he smirks.

"You've got to be shittin' me. After all this time, I finally get eyes on you, Malcolm. Looks like you recovered, though wish we could have watched you hang from that tree, motherfucker. Would have if your bitch of a woman would have minded her own goddamn business, though we showed her who's boss, who wears the pants, didn't we? Then we showed you who was, ugh…."

Before he could spout any more of his filthy nastiness, I swing and hit him with the wrench hard. He goes down grabbing his center, groaning then squealing like a baby. Judy rushes around me and sticks him in the arm with a needle, and within seconds it's quiet once more. When she looks around to me, she mouths "Sorry." I just shrug. I don't care if people find out what all these bastards did to me. My biggest concern is if this one was in prison for most of the time since our attack, I can only pray the other guy is incarcerated too or maybe, fingers crossed, he's dead. Because if he isn't, then that means my Frankie isn't safe and, at the moment, I have no idea where the hell she is. That thought is what has me worried to death.

After my shift, I go immediately home to my townhouse to relax. That is after I get settled and feed my two dogs and three cats that are my roommates. Oh, who am I kidding? They're my fur babies. I go into the walk-in closet in my guest bedroom and pull out two Rubbermaids. Rummaging for what I am looking for, I pull out the phone book. I go through it until I find the number I am searching for. Over the years, we've reached out periodically. Mainly on the anniversary of our attack and when they would call to wish me happy birthday. There was kind of an unstated agreement of not talking or even mentioning Frankie. Not the way I wanted to play it, but not only do I love her parents, I respect their wishes. Her dad, Enzo, finally broke down one day and said they speak to their daughter a few times a month. Just knowing that gives me a little peace of mind, though not much. I want to talk to her too, but not happening anytime soon, obviously.

Knowing this call is going to bring up all the bullshit of our mixed past, I feel bad but need to make sure Frankie's okay. So I dial their number and wait. One ring then two. Before the third one the call engages and I hear a kid's voice.

"Hello, Camano house. Who's calling?"

The little voice brings a smile to my face when in the background an older kid's voice yells something about it being a residence not a house. Then footsteps and a grown man's voice is on the other end.

"Hi. Sorry 'bout that, the lil' one is quick. You got Enzo."

I clear my throat and pray to God I'm doing the right thing.

"Enzo, it's Malcolm."

"Mal, good to hear from ya. Everything okay at the hospital? You and the zoo of animals good?"

I fight to control the emotions because Frankie's family was supposed to be mine too, but again it took just one day to fuck everything up.

"Yeah, Enzo, work is good. That's why I'm calling. I need to tell you something and ask you a question. First, a patient was brought in from the prison earlier today due to an episode inside, and two prisoners were severely injured. I hate to say it but, Enzo, one of the prisoners was one of the men from back then. I didn't want him to see me but because he's an asshole and started trouble, I went in and stopped him, along with help from my boss. My worry is if the other is not in jail or dead, don't want him to find Frankie. No, I'm not asking for her number, just want to make sure she's safe. Can you reach out and make sure?"

"Damn, Mal. Yeah, I'll have Billie reach out once we're done. Now what's the question, son?"

Knowing I'm opening myself up to a world of pain, it needs to be done. I can't keep living in the past. As much as it hurts, this is another process of healing, or that's what my therapist has told me time and time again. Why I think this is the right time, who knows? Here goes nothing.

"Enzo, I need you to be honest. Is she happy? I mean truly engaged and enjoying her life? If you tell me yes then I'll try to move on, but something deep in my gut is telling me she's not. You know we had that once in a lifetime connection and that's what I'm going off of. No one can compare to Frankie, but I will try to move forward 'cause I want her happy."

The other end of the phone line is quiet, then I hear boots hitting the floor as Enzo moves away from his grandchildren. A door squeaks open then slams shut.

"Mal, if you ever tell my Billie I told you this, I swear to God and all of my Italian ancestors that I will make sure you suffer before going in your grave deep in the ocean's floor. Personally, I don't think our Frankie has been happy since right before those degenerates ruined both of your lives. Billie and I were just talking about maybe getting Frankie to tell us where she is so we can visit her. Problem is, she's so afraid of being found by the wrong people. Shit, Mal, hang on, got another call. Well, what the shit… it's Frankie. Give me a minute, son."

I start to pace waiting for Enzo to return to our call. Minute by minute goes by as I listen to nothing. My dogs, Buddy and Chloe, start to pace with me while the cats ignore the shit outta me and bathe themselves. Must be five minutes before I hear the line engage.

"Mal, you still there?"

"Yeah, Enzo. Goddamn, it's driving me crazy. She okay? Did you find out where she's living? Come on, please just spit it out, man."

I hear him walking around, calling for his wife, Billie. These two, damn, what they've been through and are still strong and together. Enzo is an Italian whose parents brought him to the States when he was a young boy. Billie is an African American woman who grew up in New York. Frankie and her siblings got the best of both. When I hear Enzo tell Billie it's me on the phone and I hear her yell, "Hey, Malcolm." She's one of the few besides her daughter, who when not calling me by the nickname she gave me, uses my full name. Enzo is whispering but when Billie lets out a loud gasp, I'm about ready to jump in my vehicle and drive to their house.

"Mal, hey, sorry, wanted to fill Billie in. Now, do you work tomorrow? Or better question, you got any vacation time, son? The reason for Frankie's call is someone is out there looking and asking about her. Someone she knows took a picture of the guy and yeah, son, Frankie says it's one of the men from… you know. I begged, pleaded, and threatened until she told me where she was and what she's been up to. Get this, son, she's part of an all-female motorcycle club in somewhere called Timber-Ghost, Montana. Billie is right now on her computer trying to book us flights. You in? And no, I didn't tell her I had you on hold or you called worried about her. Personally, it's time you two get your heads outta your asses and talk. No, don't give me none of your bullshit, son. So, are you in or out?"

My mind is going in twenty directions. Yeah, I have quite a bit of vacation time, though I also have five fur babies. Can't just up and leave. Before I can say a word, Enzo cuts into my thoughts.

"Mal, Billie has Shamonda on the phone. Our youngest daughter can't go because of being seven and a half months pregnant. She just told her mother she can come and stay at your place and take care of your house full of animals. She'll bring her two older kids since her husband has been deployed. Because she's pregnant, she can have her boys clean the litter pails. You still got the three cats, right? So if that was what was holding you back, am I telling my wife to get a ticket for you too? No, don't go there, Mal, we got it. Make a list of what needs to be done to take care of the cats. You still got Buddy and Chloe, right? Damn, we haven't seen them in a while, they gotta be getting' up in age. Shit, as usual, my mind goes in all directions. Hang on. What, Billie? Yeah, get Mal a ticket. What time? Woman, are you fuc… I mean, frigging nuts? Oh, okay, that works better. Mal, be here tomorrow by four forty-five in the morning. Plane takes off at eight fifty-five. Since Tharon is back home yet again, that little bastard can drive us to the airport. Any questions?"

I shake my head then, realizing Enzo can't see me do that so I tell him no. He tells me to try and relax, we'll get some answers tomorrow. Once we say our goodbyes, I go to the office and start up my computer. Then I start my list of how to take care of my fur babies. No one has ever had to watch them—well, yeah, they did—when I had my third surgery. My sister was living with me at the time so the dogs and cats were used to her. Hopefully, Shamonda will be able to handle the crazy I call home.

After making and printing my lists with where everything is and what to do, I head to my master bedroom to pack while I try to envision how this is going to go. No matter what runs through my head, one thing I know for certain. This time I'm not letting Frankie go without a fight.