Needy Little Things(19)

Coffee. Insoles. Cigarette. Coffee. Pen. Contact solution.

I don’t have time to run in and out of hospital rooms fulfilling needs, and I don’t feel guilty about it. If something bad happens to someone here, there are people trained to help them who have real medical instruments and medicines. They won’t need my janky solutions.

We come up on a nursing station where a pretty woman with short cropped, bleach-blond coils types on a computer. She couldn’t deny that Jude’s her son if she wanted to. He stole her whole face, right down to the freckles across her nose.

“There’s my mom. Try that way first.” He points down the hall and I dip off in that direction.

“Got you guys those grits you love from the Ornery Omelet!” I hear him say. His mom and a few other people squeal in the distance.

I focus on the needs as I slip by each room, looking for a sign that Danny may be nearby.

807 Tennis ball.

808 Paintbrush.

809 Tweezers.

In the end, it’s not a need that clues me in. It’s a disposable coffee cup and chair outside room 817 that I can only assume had been occupied by a cop. One that may return any minute. I slip into the room without knocking.

A solidly built, salt-and-pepper-haired white man with a short beard looks up from a magazine. Danny. “Was wondering when you’d come see me.”

“You—you remember me?” I stay close to the door.

“Not from that night, if that’s what you’re thinking. But Philly said you’d put two and two together eventually. Said you were smart like that.” His voice is deep, with a strong southern drawl, so different from his brother’s high-pitched twang.

I scratch the crook of my arm nervously. “You wouldn’t say that if you saw my grades.”

“What’s grades got to do with smarts?” he asks seriously. But then he winks and waves me over. “I don’t bite.”

I keep my feet firmly planted where they are. “Why did you attack Ms. Jess?”

“Straight to the point, I see.” He adjusts himself in bed so he is sitting up straighter. “I think you know I didn’t attack her. You wouldn’t be here if you thought I did.”

“Then what happened?”

He takes a deep breath, like he’s preparing for a long story. “Philly’s rheumatism has been acting up. It’s been hard for him to get around. Been stuck in the house, mostly.”

That’d explain why I haven’t seen him in a few months.

“I been taking care of him. You know, grabbing groceries, picking up prescriptions and such. Well, a few weeks ago he starts carrying on about this psychic at the ice cream shop he used to go see. I thought he was bored and telling stories like he tends to do. But he got himself all worked up thinking if he could go see her, she’d give him exactly what he needed to get better.” He scoots himself a little higher up the bed and winces. “Pass me that water, will ya?”

My wariness is dumb. The man can barely keep himself upright. I give him his water and he guzzles it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he finishes.

“I told Philly I wasn’t hauling his ass out the house and into my truck to go talk to no ice cream psychic. Told him he didn’t need to make up such wild tales to get a scoop of Gelato Fun. But his birthday came around and being the thoughtful older brother I am, I stopped by Sweet Pea’s after work to pick him up something special.” He wags his finger at me. “I seen you straight away. You looked exactly like he described—lots of hair, big old headphones—only he ain’t say you were just a kid. My brother’s a kind soul. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Wouldn’t think a mean or wrong thing about nobody. But it makes him naive. He wouldn’t even fathom it. What some folks would think about him approaching you so often.”

He pauses when my phone dings.

Jude

Everything okay? You find him?

Me

Yeah. Room 817.



I return my attention to Danny. “Sorry about that.”

He bats his hand at me. “Anyway, Philly’s always watching this old sitcom about a teen psychic. Black girl, like you. I was standing there in line wondering if I needed to get the man some professional help. He done convinced himself the show was real!” He laughs, but it instantly turns into a painful coughing fit.

I pour him some more water.

He takes a minute to recover before continuing his story. “I thought my brother had finally taken a dive off the deep end, but then I saw you give a little boy a whistle with his ice cream. I stepped outside and not two minutes later, that little boy’s dog tugged free of his leash and darted out into the street. It was fixing to get run over, but the boy blew that whistle and it froze in place. Froze right as a car sped by in the other lane. I might have thought it was a coincidence or the hand of God himself if Philly hadn’t told me the things he did. That’s when I knew you could help him.”

“I’m not a psychic, Danny.”

He smiles and his eyes sparkle a bit. “I ain’t got no fancy degree or nothing like that, but I’m sure this is what they call ‘semantics.’” He winks. “It was busy at the shop that day, so I figured I’d come back during a slow evening when I could talk to you without holding up the line. But the night I came, y’all had closed up early. Philly’d had a bad day, and I didn’t want to put it off any longer, so I decided to wait in my truck until you came out. Plus, I swear I seen some weirdo creeping round back by the fence. Y’all need to replace the security light back there. Would do many people some good.” He touches the bandage on his neck. “Anyway, I’d had a hard day myself and ended up dozing off. Wasn’t until Ms. Jess pulled into the parking lot that I woke up. I figured that was my chance and hurried out the car to catch her before the door wound up shut in my face, but I frightened her. I frightened her real bad. Her shouting and carrying on—it made me nervous, you know. I just wanted her to settle down, but everything I tried worked her up more. In the confusion, she caught sight of my gun and well. You know what happened from there.”