Dixon, Descending by Karen Outen

Author:Karen Outen [Outen, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2024-02-06T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

It was much later than normal when he visited Marcus the next evening, nearly at the end of visiting hours. He would have only ten or fifteen minutes with him. The day nurses who knew him were gone, and the evening nurse gave him the once-over. Dixon assured her, “I’d just like to say good night to him.”

Dixon walked the sterile corridor to Marcus’s room, glancing into the open doors along the hall. There were more visitors than in the afternoons. Tonight, the rooms were full of brothers who stood near hospital beds, hands thrust into their pockets, and daughters who leaned sideways across the beds as if they might crawl in beside their loved ones.

Marcus was lying unmoving and flat as usual, eyes open but unfocused. His breathing steady, his skin sallow in the artificial light.

Someone cleared his throat, and Dixon started. A man sat in a chair tucked into a corner between the armoire and the window. A large man, perched uncomfortably on a chair just too small, he sat forward. A familiar deep voice came upon Dixon slowly. “Hey, pardner.”

Dixon was so startled he reached out to the doorframe to steady himself.

“It’s just me, man,” Herbert said quietly.

“You waiting for me?” In his confusion, Dixon shook his head rapidly.

“Naw. Boy deserves visitors up in a place like this.” Herbert reached toward Marcus’s bed and placed his hand on top of the boy’s. The way Dixon usually did.

Dixon rubbed his forehead, an odd feeling of betrayal bubbling in him.

“Hate to see it, man, what happen to Marcus.” Herbert’s face dense, something Dixon could not read. “I understand the consequence.” He looked at Dixon. “Not just for him.”

The same nurse who had greeted him entered the room. “Gentlemen, we need to draw some blood.” They both backed up, Herbert to his corner, Dixon to the doorframe, and watched the claret-red blood slush into four different vials. “All right, it’s about time we get this one settled in for the night. You should say your goodbyes.”

Dixon approached Marcus’s bed. He kissed his forehead. “I’ll come see you tomorrow.” He imagined he held the boy’s gaze.

“A’ight, pardner,” Herbert said to Marcus. “Take it easy.”

The two men left the room silently and headed toward the elevator. A slow anger churning in Dixon, he blurted out, “What’s this about?”

Herbert retrieved a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and twirled it in his hand. “Thought about Marcus’s story. It’s in the papers, you read it? Thought about the boy Shiloh, too. He prob’ly thinking he ain’t do nothing so wrong. He figure, life woulda kicked that boy’s ass. Maybe he done him a favor getting it over with. That’s the kinda heart he got. I see somebody gone hafta take him in hand.” His voice trailed off. His footsteps heavy beside Dixon.

“But why are you here? What’s it got to do with you?”

“Yours ain’t the only Marcus that ever been.”

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