The Way Home

TWENTY-SEVEN

Lawrence Newhouse stood in the heat of the bedroom he shared with Dorita’s younger kids and slipped a lightweight burnt-orange North Face jacket over his white T. The gym bag, filled with money, and his daypack, containing the guns and Ben’s carpet knife, sat on the bed.

He had been up, unable to sleep, for most of the night. He had stayed on his back, on the bed, his forearm draped over his eyes, thinking of what he was about to do. Pondering his strategy, and Chris.

Lawrence lifted the daypack and slipped one strap over his shoulder.

His smart little nephew, Terrence, came into the room. He grabbed his sneaks off the floor and looked up at his old uncle, overdressed for this summer day.

“Where you goin, Uncle L?”

“I got business.”

“You a businessman?”

“You know I am.”

“I’m gonna be a scientist,” said Terrence, his face hopeful and bright. “Look at the solar system through one of them telescopes and stuff.”

“You can do it, Terrence. Just keep your head in those books.”

Lawrence reached out and touched Terrence’s warm scalp. The boy could do it. He had the brains. But he needed to get out of this place and away from his mother, who was too busy putting on weight and talking on her cell to get the boy in a position where he could succeed. Lawrence had heard of those charter schools the kids slept at, away from their homes. That was the type of hookup Terrence needed. But Lawrence didn’t know how to make that kind of thing happen. It got him confused and angry to think on it, so he reached for the gym bag and gripped its stiff handles in his hand.

“I’ll check you later, little man.”

Lawrence walked from the room. He passed through the big area off the kitchen, where Dorita was sprawled out on the couch. Her little girl, Loquatia, was seated on the carpet in front of the TV, her hand in a bag of Cheetos.

“Where you headed?” said Dorita.

“Out,” said Lawrence.

“Bring me back a soda.”

“That’s one thing you don’t need.”

“I ain’t ask for your opinion.”

“Okay, corn chip.”

Lawrence kept moving out the door. He cared about his sister, he supposed, but damn, Dorita wasn’t much more than two hundred fifty pounds of waste. He had considered giving her some of the money, but only for a minute. She’d blow it on stupid shit that would come to no good for the kids. Instead, Lawrence was gonna do something with it. One thing right.

Out on the street, he went to his Cavalier. Marquis Gilman, his teenage nephew, called out to him. Marquis was standing around talking to some boys he shouldn’t have been talking to. Lawrence walked to his car, popped the rear lid, and dropped the gym bag and the daypack into the trunk. Marquis was now beside him, looking at the trunk’s contents. Lawrence closed the lid.

“You leavin out?” said Marquis, his gangly arms hanging loosely at his side.

“Nah, man. Goin for a ride.”

“Looks like you takin off for real.”

“I’m straight hood, son. Where would I go?” Lawrence put his hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Look, Marquis…”

“What?”

“I’m gonna go talk to Mr. Carter one more time. See if he can’t hook you up with some worthwhile employment. But whatever happens, I want you to listen to that man and do what he says. He’s lookin out for you. Ali is cool people.” Lawrence made a sweeping motion with his hand. “You don’t belong on this street. Time for you to make your move or you ain’t never gonna get out.”

“ You stayed.”

“Does it look like it was good to me?”

Marquis did not answer. Lawrence clasped one of Marquis’s hands and put his free arm around Marquis and patted his back.

“See you up the road,” said Lawrence. “Hear?”

Lawrence got into his car without looking back and sped away. A couple of blocks from the apartment, he stopped and threw his cell phone down a storm drain. He was done with it and didn’t want to be called or traced. He was shedding his skin. He then drove over the Frederick Douglass Memorial Bridge and tossed something over its rail. On the other side of the Anacostia, he turned around, recrossed the river, and rolled back into his neighborhood.

He drove around for a while, till he spotted what he was looking for. Down around Firth Sterling Ave and Sumner Road he saw a boy, no older than ten or eleven, on a men’s road bike that looked to be in perfect shape and was way too big for him. Lawrence pulled over and leaned out the open window.

“Young!” shouted Lawrence. “Yeah, you. Don’t worry, you not in trouble. I just want to talk to you.”

“What you want?” said the boy, who was pedaling the bike slowly in a tight circle.

“You about to make some money.”

“What kinda money?”

“Kind you spend,” said Lawrence. He killed the engine and stepped out of the car.

Flynn and Hector carried a roll of Berber out of the warehouse of Top Carpet and Floor Install in Beltsville and loaded it into Hector’s van. Hector was not his usual upbeat self. He had been upset by the killing of Ben and his general air of optimism had been tested. But he was determined to work his way through it. He and the others in Isaac’s crew, in the absence of Ben and Chris, had doubled their load and come through for the company.

Flynn’s chest ached as he pushed the roll into the back of the van. He stood straight and waited for the pain to pass.

“You okay, boss?” said Hector.

“Fine,” said Flynn. “This is going to that Tenleytown job.”

“Tito gonna meet me there,” said Hector, speaking of a new guy from the Dominican.

“Okay. Then you need to come back and pick up that roll for the lady in Tysons.”

“We gonna take care of it. We make it nice.”

“Thank you,” said Flynn, looking Hector straight in the eye. “I appreciate it. I do.”

As Hector drove off, Flynn entered the warehouse, passing the stage where a man spun a large piece of carpet levitated by air, and walked into the office area. Susie, the chubby girl with the fried-perm hairdo, and Katherine were seated behind their desks. Katherine had dark semicircles beneath her eyes. It was obvious she hadn’t slept.

Flynn looked at Katherine and made a head motion toward the door.

“I’ll just be a minute, Suze,” said Katherine, and she got up out of her chair and followed Flynn outside.

They went by a parking area, crossed a narrow road, and stood in the shade of a lone oak.

“You hear from Chris?” said Flynn.

“No.”

“We haven’t, either. I’m in touch with Ali, and of course Amanda is sitting by the phone at home.” Flynn touched Katherine’s arm. “I don’t want you to worry.”

“It’s like it was when Ben was missing,” said Katherine. “It feels the same way.”

“It’s not gonna be like that,” said Flynn. “Nothing’s going to happen to my son and he’s not going to kill anyone. Chris is tough and he’s got character. This is going to be over with today and it’s going to end right. Between all of us, we’re going to find him. Okay?”

“I want to believe you,” said Katherine.

“I promise you,” said Flynn. Hoping that the sick feeling inside him, the helplessness, was not showing on his face.

Chris saw the Cavalier, parked in the lot where Lawrence had said it would be. Chris put the van in a space alongside the Chevy. Chris had followed Lawrence’s directions to a community park in Colman Manor, but he was in an unfamiliar place and felt lucky to have found the vehicle. Atop the Cavalier were a couple of loose ropes that went inside the barely open windows. Lawrence had lashed something to the roof of the car.

Chris only knew that he was in Prince George’s County, somewhere near the District, having come through a tucked-in community that looked like a country town.

He locked the van, and, per Lawrence’s instructions, found a nearby bike path sided by trees. He walked it for what seemed like a long while. Partway in, he realized he had left his cell back in the Ford, but he had come too far to turn back. Eventually he emerged from the woods and found himself on a wide road along a body of water. There were houses and streets on his left. He idly wondered why Lawrence had not told him to park on those residential blocks, which were much closer to the meeting spot. Across the water he could see a large dock and recreation area, and the famous tan-and-brown Peace Cross, a place his father had spoken of, once home to country, rock, and biker nightlife. Now Chris had a better idea of his location. He was somewhere near Bladensburg Road and the old Route 1.

The bike path continued, veering off the road and down a dip, going under a bridge. There he saw Lawrence in the shadows. A bicycle leaned up against a three-pole rail that separated the path and a drop-off to the water. An old white man, not much larger than a boy, was standing there, too. On the ground nearby were several blankets and a cooler.

Chris walked under the bridge and nodded at Lawrence. The little white man, unshaven, drunk, wearing a sleeveless T-shirt, raised his fists over his head and flexed his muscles.

“I’m fifty-five,” said the little man, smiling, showing brown nubs that had once been teeth. “And I’ll do fifty-five push-ups.”

“Leave outta here, old-timer,” said Lawrence, not unkindly.

“This is my house,” said the little man.

Lawrence produced a roll of cash from his pocket and peeled off a twenty. “Go on, man. Get yourself some medicine. When you come back, we’ll be gone.”

The little man happily took the money and walked down the path in the direction of Bladensburg Road.

“Where are we?” said Chris.

“That’s the Anacostia right there,” said Lawrence, nodding at the river. “You know it flowed this far into Maryland?”

“I didn’t.”

“I’m tellin you, you can’t know this city till you get on a bicycle.”

“Where’d you get that one?”

“Bought it off some kid. It was stole, I reckon, so he made out all right.”

Chris shifted his feet. “Why are we meeting here, Lawrence?”

“It’s out the way.”

“Tell me about it. I could have parked right in that neighborhood over there, instead of in that park.”

“And now you gonna have to hike out a distance to get back to your car. Gives me time to put some space between us, what with me and my two wheels.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“ ’Cause you ain’t comin with me, man.”

Chris squinted. “I thought you bought me a gun.”

“I threw that cheap piece off the Douglass. It would have blown up in your face, anyhow. That is, if you had the steel to use it. I just don’t think you do.”

“You’re right,” said Chris. “I wouldn’t have used it. I’m not about to kill anyone.”

“So why are you here?”

“To try and stop you.”

“Try, then.”

Chris reached out to put a brotherly hand on Lawrence’s shoulder. Lawrence slapped Chris’s hand away and smiled.

“Don’t be touchin on me,” said Lawrence.

“There’s got to be another way to solve this.”

“Not for me.”

“Tell me where you’re meeting them. We’ll have them arrested.”

“You know I ain’t gonna do that.”

“We can talk about it, at least.”

“You wanna talk now?” said Lawrence. “What about all that time in the Ridge when you refused to talk to me? When you showed me your back. Callin me Bughouse and shit, when I had a real last name. You think I don’t know what y’all thought of me? All ’a y’all, except Ben. That boy had good in him, man. And I killed him.” Lawrence poked a finger roughly into his own chest. “ I did. This here got nothing to do with you. So go home, White Boy. Leave me to my thing.”

“Listen,” said Chris, taking a step forward.

Lawrence threw a right. It caught Chris square on the jaw, and he lost his balance. He went down on his side to the paved path. He rolled over and got up onto his knees. He had bitten his tongue and he spit out saliva and blood. He stood slowly and unsteadily. The landscape was tilted, and he tried to shake his head and make it straight but could not.

“That’s right,” said Lawrence. “Surprised you, didn’t I?”

“Wait,” said Chris.

“I’m about to clean you proper now.”

Lawrence planted his back foot. Chris tucked his elbows in and tried to cover up, but he was too slow. Lawrence jabbed through the protection with his left and his fist found Chris’s nose. The ring on his finger cut Chris, stung him, and blurred his vision. Chris dropped one arm and Lawrence grunted behind a right that had everything in it and Chris took the punch in the temple and was spun and knocked off his feet. He seemed to fall for a long time. His head hit the iron rail, and for a moment there was faint sensation and a downward float. He did not feel it when he hit the ground.

Lawrence stood over him. Blood flowed freely from Chris’s nose. He wasn’t moving. Lawrence crouched down and felt for a pulse. He did not find it and he began to panic and touched the artery standing out on Chris’s neck. Chris was unconscious, but he was alive. Lawrence folded one of the little man’s blankets into a small square and placed it behind Chris’s head. He had seen this done on television shows. He hoped that this was right, but he couldn’t stay.

Elated and horrified, he swung onto the saddle of the bike and pedaled furiously down the path in the direction of his car.