Terminal

My nose started leaking blood again in the parking lot, and I daubed at it as we walked to John’s car.

“That was fun,” I snickered. “Good way to spend a Friday night.”

“Thanks for taking my back, guys,” John mumbled apologetically. “I wasn’t sure what I’d do if all seven of them jumped me.”

“Should have thought of that before you started bawling like a baby.”

“Fuck you, Sherm.”

“Fuck you, Carpet Dick.”

All three of us started laughing then, great bellyaching laughs that left us breathless after they’d passed. We climbed in the car, John behind the wheel, Sherm stretched out in the back, and me riding shotgun.

“Yo, let’s hit the diner,” John suggested. “I’m hungry.”

“That’s cool with me,” Sherm shrugged. “I could use some coffee.”

They looked at me for approval.

“Sure. Sounds good. We need to finish talking anyway.”

“Christ,” Sherm adjusted his Ford cap. “There’s more bad news?”

I shook my head. “No. But you guys asked me what I was going to do. I figured I’d tell you. I owe you that much.”

They were my best friends, and I loved them. I really did. But I didn’t trust them for this. I didn’t trust John because he was stupid and I didn’t trust Sherm because he was crazy. But I was going to tell them anyway. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or the fact that we’d just thrown down together, but right then, I decided to tell them everything.

John put the car in gear, and we pulled out of the parking lot.

“So what are you gonna do?” Sherm asked. “You’re not going to cap yourself or something like that, are you?”

“No, suicide is for pussies.”

“Well what then? What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to rob a bank.”

SIX

Get the fuck out of here, Tommy! Rob a bank. You really had me going for a second. Why you bullshitting us?”

When I didn’t reply, John gripped the steering wheel even harder while Sherm twitched in the backseat.

“Are you fucking crazy?” John continued. “That cancer’s ate away at your brain, dog! You ain’t robbing no bank!”

I smiled. “You heard what Sherm said back at the bar. Live like there’s no tomorrow. Life’s a bitch, then you die. Well, I intend to grab the bitch by the balls before I go.”

“Word.” Sherm agreed. “That’s how I’d do it.”

“But that’s crazy! What about Michelle and T. J.? Why would you do that to them?”

“I’m doing it for them, man! They deserve a better life, better than the one I can give them. What the hell do you think will happen to them when I’m gone? We sure as shit don’t have any life insurance. You think they can make it on what Michelle gets paid at the Minit-Mart?”

“The same thing happens if you go to jail, Tommy. How are you gonna support them behind bars? Do you want to go to jail? You know what happens in there? You ever watch Oz? The homeboys try to fuck you in the ass and make you their prison bitch, or else you end up with the skinheads just to stay alive!”

I put my hand on his shoulder.

“John, if they bust me and I go to jail, so what? What’s the worst thing they could give me? Life in prison? Big deal. I don’t have much of that left anyway. Life in prison is a maximum sentence of one month for me. Think about it. I’m fucking dying, man. Hell, I’d probably be dead before it even went to trial.”

Chewing his lip, John slowed down to turn into the diner.

“Keep going,” Sherm said.

“I thought you wanted coffee?”

“I do, but that was before Tommy dropped the robbery bomb on us. The middle of the diner isn’t the place to be talking about this shit. Use your head. ‘Hello, police? We heard about the bank robbery on the news tonight, and just last week, my husband and I were enjoying a piece of apple pie at the diner, and we overheard Tommy O’Brien and his two hoodlum friends talking about doing that very thing.’ See what I mean?”

“So where are we going?” John quit chewing his lip and began chewing the cuticle on his thumb instead.

“How about the lake?” I suggested.

“Works for me,” Sherm agreed, “but let’s stop first. I still need smokes and coffee. I’m jonesing bad, man.”

We stopped at a twenty-four-hour drugstore, the kind that sold nicotine patches right next to the cigarettes, and Sherm went inside. John was quiet, gripping the wheel and staring straight ahead while we waited.

Finally, I couldn’t stand his silence any longer.

“What, John? What’s wrong now?”

He continued staring ahead. His voice was nothing more than a whisper.

“I don’t want you to die, Tommy. I’m scared.”

“I don’t want to die, John. I’m scared too.”

He loosened a bit, sinking back into the seat and staring out the window. I got the impression that he was looking at something far away and out of sight.

“Remember when we used to ride our bikes out the old Bowman Road? We’d go swimming down in the creek, and afterward, we’d stop off at the newsstand and you’d buy comic books and I’d buy baseball cards.”

I nodded, smiling. “Wish I still had those G. I. Joe and Transformer comics, and the one where Spider-Man got his black costume. Those are worth a lot of money now. And even if I didn’t sell them, they’d be cool to pass on to T. J., you know?”