Sometimes Danny comes around. Today, when I am with Kathleen, my face is sticky from the tears. I can’t answer the door. Can you get the door? I plead, burrowing deeper under the covers of my bed. As she peers down the stairs, through the glass, she calls out, I don’t think thats him, her voice wavering. I don’t get up. I know it is him. I am not ashamed. He is ashamed, as he walks up the stairs, head perched on top of a long neck. A tall man never looked so small. That is what Danny is like, what he looks like. He used to be one of the biggest baddest drug dealers in the city. He commanded respect. Now he is nothing. Just man who’s life was then, and who doesn’t know what to do now. His face says it all, but only if you care enough to look. He is the man you sit next to on the bus, but you make sure your purse isn’t near him. The guy you pay attention to, but only because you don’t want any trouble. He is the 31 year old man that doesn’t have his s*** together. The person who sells the sheets his mother buys for his hotel bed for a quick fix. He is my cousin, who comes around for a shower, cheesy food, and AMC movies or the football game. To watch the game he says. But really? Really it’s just for some company. Someone to talk to. So when Rocky is on, I slip slide into the living room creaking the door shut. Watch! he whispers, this, this is the best part. And I watch. We watch. The world goes on just outside the window and still we sit, and watch. Maybe tomorrow, he will be a new man. Yes, yes, yes. Tomorrow.
Danny and The Sheets That Were Sold and The Shoes With Holes
April 11, 2011