delirium (sequel to apathy)

11

        11

I had completely no control over what was going on around me. 

My father was in the hospital, there was some guy sending my mother notes, and I wasn't sure what was going on between my mother, and her friend. I didn't want to accuse her of what I thought she was doing, but I felt like if I had asked, I wouldn't be surprised if she gave me the answer I was expecting. I knew Mom was way better than, but she was still a human being, and needed affection, as well. Brandon was truly over staying his welcome, and I found it suspicious how as soon as he arrived, shit started to hit the fan. I didn't know what, but he was doing something. 

He had to be. 

I didn't want to slander his name like that, but something about him was just..off. He was far too nice to me, and Mom, and whenever I had came back from Grandpa's, he asked me how the plan was going. I never responded, but still. It was far too suspicious. He could just be trying to make conversation, but the gleam I saw in his eye earlier when Mom told him about how Dad was doing in the hospital..it was filled with envy, and lust. 

I was hoping that he wouldn't be a culprit in this, really. I was worried how Mom would take it. I mean, this man is really the only friend she's trusted like this, besides Dad. 

It was a shame that Terrell didn't have any other information on Marten. All he knew was that Marten was Martin's true twin brother, and that he had been sent to live with their aunt, and then their mother had adopted Jose. Marten might be what brings this whole case to a close, really. 

Everything was going entirely too fast for me, and it was taking a toll on me. I found myself sleeping more than usual, and I had these nasty bags under my eyes. Fortunately, I didn't have to go to school. I was happy that Charles was teaching me, he took his time with things, and I was grateful for that, since I was a little..slow in some areas. 

Peeling my attention away from the television, there was a knock on the door. The person started to open my door slightly, revealing it to be Mom. A smile made it way onto her face as she walked in, closing my door gently behind her. 

"Cariño.."

I totally forgot that she knew Spanish. She had told me that Dad had taught her, years ago. Mom had taught me too, when I was six, but since I didn't speak it all the time, I used She didn't speak it all the time, unlike Dad. It was his first language, as he was born in Spain. I sat up fully as she walked towards me, sitting on the edge of my bed. 

"Sí, mamá?" I responded to her, making her crack a smile. 

"I just wanted to talk to you, baby."

"About?" 

"Well..lately, you seem a little distant..I was just wondering if it was because of Brandon being here.."

I shook my head, moving towards her. Placing my head on her shoulder, she kissed my forehead, rubbing my arm. For a while, I didn't say anything, trying to think of what to say to her. I'll admit, it does feel like I've been distant from her for a while, but it was because of everything that had been going on. "Can I ask you something?" I asked her. She nodded, and I bit my lip. I wasn't sure how to go about asking her this, but I was her son..I deserved to know, right? 

"Mamá, ¿estás embar-"

Just as I was asking her, the door opened, Brandon standing there. He was holding a package in his hand, staring as her. "Monae, I'm just going to be right back. I'm just going to run this to the post office," he smiled. Mom nodded, and Brandon and I locked eyes. I looked away quickly from him, planting my eyes elsewhere. I heard my door close, and Mom returned her attention to me. 

"What were you saying before, honey?" she asked, rubbing my back. I shook my head, placing my head back on her shoulder. The moment for asking her my question was ruined, and as She rubbed my back again, placing her hand against my forehead. "Oh, King, you feel kind of hot, you feeling good?" I shrugged my shoulders at her, not really sure. 

"Well, sometimes I can't sleep, and when I do get some sleep, I sleep for so long.." I started to mumble, watching her eyes grow wider and wider with each passing word. I rubbed my eyes, and Mom made me look at her, fully. She felt my forehead once more, my cheeks, and then under my jaw. 

"Ahora te metes en la cama y no te levantas a menos que tenga que ir al baño."

I cooperated with her as she told me to get in bed, speaking so fast that I could barely understand her. It seemed like she was mixing English and Spanish together, speaking so fluently that I didn't even bother to ask her what she was saying. She was going into one of those modes again, which was whenever she thought I was sick. She wouldn't let me do anything for myself, except use the bathroom on my own. I remember one time, when I was in the grade, she kept me out of school for almost two weeks. Dad snuck me to school occasionally when she went to work, but a social worker was still called. 

Mom didn't quite like it when the social worker showed up at our house, saying that she needed to inspect our home, claiming that the only reason she was keeping me out of school was because she was abusing me. Mom didn't quite appreciate that. 

That was the only time I had seen her get that mad, and it was quite funny, because Dad had to hold her back because she getting a bit too rowdy. 

Mom tucked me in, kissing my cheek - several times. 

"Momma please!" I groaned. She was always doing that, jeez. 

"Oh hush boy. Now you stay in bed, and I don't want to catch you getting up. I'm going to the store to get you some medicine, alright?" 

I nodded, turning over in bed. She stroked my hair, and patted my back before she left my room. I could hear her as she got ready, hearing her walk past my door, her keys jingling. I heard the garage being opened, and her car pull out. Soon enough, it was all quiet. I was now alone. No Mom, no Brandon, just me. I laid there for a while, watching tv, until I heard the doorbell rang. At first I ignored it, but the doorbell kept ringing. 

Pushing the covers aside, I mumbling, cursing at whoever had the nerve to ring the doorbell, disturbing me. Making my way out of my room and down the hall, whoever was at the door continued to ring the bell, making me roll my eyes. The ringing soon stopped though, and I assumed whoever it was had gotten the message that I wasn't in a rush to answer the door, and had left. 

I sighed, grabbing the key for the front door and unlocking the door. 

No one was standing on the doorstep, but there was a package, right in the middle of the doormat. I started to pick it up, but as I did, I heard a car speed right past the house. My head shot up, watching the car as it drove past, the wheels creating a screeching sound. It was a black car, unlike any other car I had seen before. It didn't look like a car that was released to the public..it looked like one of Grandpa's fancy ass cars that he never drives. The car didn't have a license plate, and suddenly, I thought twice about picking up this mysterious package. I simply kicked it inside with my foot, closing the door. 

It was addressed to Mom.

Just like all the other notes and other things..

I couldn't stand just staring at it anymore, so I decided to go ahead and open it. Pulling out a pair of scissors from the drawer, I cut through the tape on the package. It was like any regular shipped package, but I couldn't fight the feeling that I wasn't going to like what was in here. I placed the scissors down, being able to get through the rest of the package with my hands. I pulled back the flaps, nearly having a heart attack. 

"Holy shit!"

I swatted the box off the counter, the contents falling onto the floor. 

A severed hand.

A fucking hand!

The door opened, my attention landing on Mom.

"Amir, what did I say about-" 

"Mom, why the fuck would someone send you a hand!"