thirty-one

Mallen and Gato walked quickly down the dock, heading for Gato’s car. Mallen felt a sense of relief inside, now that he knew that he and Gato were going to ride this case to the end, just like they’d done the others. They only stopped long enough to let Gregor in on what had gone down with Gwen. Mallen told Gregor, “Just keep the copy as safe as if it were your granddaughter’s virginity, yeah?”

Gregor laughed, “Then I should paste it up on a billboard, but okay … I get your meanin’, soldier.”

The two men then left, running for Gato’s car. The drive over the bridge was done in silence, each man lost in his own thoughts. Mallen wondered just what Gato would ask when the time came. Not that it mattered: he’d help any way he could. Gwen. Gwen had been on the inside all this time? Undercover? Fuck man, crazier things had happened.

His friend wouldn’t come in when they arrived at S.F. General. He pulled the car into a nearby handicapped spot and put up the handicapped placard. Mallen gave him a look, then left. “It comes with the car, vato!” Gato said after him.

He went in through the main doors and to the front desk. Asked for Trina’s room. She was still in emergency, but they gave him a pass and let him inside. He walked through the double doors and past the rows of curtained-off cubicles. He’d spent so much fucking time in emergency rooms ever since he got clean, way more than he did when he was shooting gold honey into his veins, that again he wondered at the “why” of it all. Was life supposed to be this ironic? He was on the right road, though, and he knew it. Life wasn’t about shoving your head under a rock and pretending that the world didn’t matter. It was about taking that rock and throwing it at the people that did wrong in this world. Maybe that was extreme, sure, but he had to admit that he’d seen some extreme crap since that day Oberon had taken him to the drunk tank downtown to clean out. Well, all he could do was keep on going. And going. And going. He’d go until someone stopped him. And at that moment, as he walked down the aisle of emergency room cases, he knew he’d make it truly fucking painful and hard for someone to stop him.

He reached the bay where Trina was, the curtain closed. He pulled it aside and walked in. Her eyes were closed and she looked even thinner than the last time he’d seen her. If she didn’t turn it around, and soon, she wouldn’t make it. A nurse came in at that moment. Looked at him. Said, “Are you family?”

“No. Just a friend. Heard she was here. Thought she might need somebody.”

The nurse turned to her, saying, “She does.”

“How much did she take?”

“Thankfully not all that was on her.”

“On her? How much was on her? Do you know?”

“The paramedic’s report said there were three grams in a baggie near her hand.”

Three more grams? That was impossible: she didn’t have that kind of money. “Is that in the police report? The grams?”

The nurse nodded abstractly as she wrote something down in Trina’s folder.

“Can I stay here for a while? Just be with her?” he said quietly.

The nurse thought for a moment. “Of course. If she comes to, please make sure she drinks some water.”

The nurse then left him to be alone with Trina. He stared down at her thin, emaciated face. She’d gone out and bought that smack. But where did she get the money for it? As far as he could tell, this woman was dirt broke. Checked her track marks. No, nothing there. She’d shot herself up. No doubt. Nobody had done this to her but herself. But how did she get the money?

A whimper came from her lips. He thought she might’ve called out for Jessie.

“Trina,” he said quietly as he put his hand over hers, “It’s Mark. Mark Mallen.”

Took a moment but then she opened her eyes. There was no light there. None. Her body may go on living for a while, but it seemed her soul had already called it a life and left. “Mark … I … .”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything right now. Just … just try to get well. I’m getting closer to finding your Jesse. I promised you I would, and I meant it.”

It took a moment but then her gaze met his. Locked onto it. “You won’t.” Broke down crying. “God!” she yelled at the ceiling. “What happened? What made me an addict? Why? Why? Why did I do it?”

“Trina, I know day-by-day is hard. I know that for a fact, but­­—”

“Don’t even bother with the speech, Mallen.”

“Trina, Jessie will come back to you. You have to be here when that happens. She will be back. You’ll need to be here, to hold her … to love her again.”

New tears. Then it was unstoppable and she couldn’t catch her breath and she was gasping and the nurse came back and then there was a sedative. Her eyelids fluttered, then closed as she fell into a drugged slumber. But even in sleep, her soul still raged. Her hands flexed like claws, jaw clenched. Even under the influence of whatever it was they’d given her, she still murmured and slurred out Jessie’s name.

As he stood there, it seemed like she was aging right before his eyes. He had to find Jessie. And soon. Had to, or this woman for sure wouldn’t make it. Fuck man … she might not make it anyway. The inevitable question then reared up at him, hissing and spitting poison: and if he did bring Jessie back? What was he bringing her back to? If … no, when he found Jessie, wouldn’t it better to just bring her to Social Services? Until Trina got off the junk? And what if she never did get off the junk? Too many children continued the downward spiral because they didn’t know anyway else but down. Our kids were supposed to have better lives than their parents, right? That’s the way it was supposed to work.

Mallen hated these kind of arguments. These were thoughts and perspectives that could be argued until Hell froze over and defrosted again. Well, first things fucking first, as the saying went, and worry about the “after,” after. He took Trina’s hand in his. Held it firmly. Whispered to her, “Just try to hold on, okay? Don’t give up yet. Give me some more time. Okay? Just a little more time.”

Trina’s lids fluttered, and she seemed to relax a little. He pushed a lock of her dark hair away from her closed eyes, then left.

Gato met him just outside the emergency room doors, and together the two men walked back to the car and got in. The sun had come up over the eastern hills while he’d been with Trina. Mallen was actually surprised the sun came up. Seemed lately like the sun would never come up again. His phone rang then. Jesus, someone else calling before the cock crowed? And to top it all off, it was another number he didn’t recognize. “Hello?”

A pause. “I figured you’d be sleeping and that I could just leave a message. Chris told me you’d answer. I really didn’t think you would.”

“Daniel?” he said. “What’s wrong? Is something wrong with Chris? Anna? Why are you calling me?”

“No, no … ” came the answer. “Nothing like that. I was just hoping that … well … that we could meet?”

Gato looked at him. Mallen nodded that everything was okay, and his friend started up the car and rolled it toward the parking garage exit. “You mean now? This morning?”

“Yes. Yes, I do. Breakfast?”

“Why?”

He heard Daniel’s soft chuckle through the phone. Two dogs in a junkyard. No, he didn’t want it like that. Chris wouldn’t want this. She’d want it peaceful as possible. And as long as Mallen could be a part of their lives, that’s how it would be. He’d always known there was the possibility that this moment, a boyfriend entering the equation, would happen. Of course it fuckin’ would, yeah? “You have a favorite place for breakfast?” Mallen asked.

“I do,” came the answer. “Judy’s Cafe. That all right?”

“Sure. When?”

“I can be there in thirty.”

“I might be ten later than you. See you.” He hung up.

Gato looked at him. “What’s up?”

He took a deep breath. “Seems my ex-wife’s new sleep-over boyfriend has invited me to breakfast right in the middle of all the shit raining down.”

“Oh,” Gato said as the traffic light turned green, “glad it’s not anything serious this time.”