Thursday, Miles came into town. He was excited for me because I had a car. He was a day early and had no plans so we went to the driver’s license bureau. I came running out of the building shouting that I passed. I had everything I wanted. A car, job, and my brother was finally going to meet Rico. I called around looking for him all day. It got somewhat late so I went to work. At nine o’clock someone called my job asking for me. They told my manager that they were my uncle and that Rico had been shot in the head. When they told me, I burst out crying. I ran to the phone to ask mom if anyone called there saying that. She told me not to worry because my uncle was there but he hadn’t used the phone. I asked her who would play a joke on me like that but she didn’t know. The rest of the night at work I couldn’t function. My manager told me to go home.
When I got home mom and Miles were gone. I didn’t think much of it until dad came out of his room and reached to hug me. Now, we already know that dad didn’t care for me very much. This is the same guy who would tell me things like, “I wasn’t shit” or “wasn’t going to be shit”. The same man who would tell me that I was just like my mother; sneaky and cunning. What had I done for him to hate me so much? Therefore, for dad to want to embrace me, the situation had to be very bad. I figured it must be true that Rico had been shot. As he got closer, my whole body got weak. I must have passed out because I don’t remember what happened next. I’ll never forget the look in my father’s eyes. It seemed at that moment that he really cared. The pain was too much for all of us. Even he couldn’t let me handle it alone.
I sat in the window sill inside the house waiting for mom to return. Dad was sitting on the couch trying his best to share his kindest words. It was too late for him to make amends. I couldn’t and wouldn’t accept any sympathy from him. I could see him from out of the corner of my eye, watching me. I guess even he wanted Rico to make it. I asked God to please spare Rico because I couldn’t and wouldn’t go on without him. Who could have done such a thing to him? What could he have done to make someone try to take his life? I began to lose my mind. I remember pulling my hair out of my head. I started screaming and going berserk. I ran outside in the rain, ready to jump in my car and ride until the pain went away. I felt like I was dying. Dad came after me and picked me up off the ground. I came in the house and sat in the window again. I was waiting for God to tell me that Rico would live. I must have passed out again because mom and Miles were trying to wake me up this time.
We went down to the hospital to see Rico. The whole way there all I could say was, “Why?” I had cried so much that my head, heart and soul were all aching. When we got there I really went crazy. He was lying in the bed swollen from head to toe. The only way I knew it was him was because he had a tattoo on his foot. It said “Always Tess and Rico”. Someone had beaten him, shot him and left him for dead. You can’t imagine the thoughts or the pain rushing through me. I felt as though my life was now meaningless. I wanted to hold him and tell him that it was okay. I wished that I could have taken his place.
There he lay with tears rushing down his face. It was the sign I asked God for. I knew that he would make it because I couldn’t bear for it to be any other way. We stayed there in the hospital until the doctors told us there wasn’t anything we could do. When we got home I stayed by the phone to see if the doctors were going to call with news about him. So many times I was scared out of my mind when the phone rang. I just knew it was someone calling me to tell me he was gone. I felt lifeless as I just lay there. I had no feeling of worth. God, the pain was unbearable. I wouldn’t’ have wished that pain on my worst enemy.
The doctors wanted to unplug Rico’s life support but mom and Miles fought and fought. They finally agreed to give him longer to come out of the coma. They were certain that his chances of surviving were slim to none. A zero percent chance is what they gave him. Meanwhile, the police put guards at the door. He was referred to as a John Doe. We were scared that someone might try to kill him again. Mom visited him everyday. She was there to help him fight for his life, even if he couldn’t. I would come a lot of times after school. I would hold his hand just wishing for some type of response. A grin, movement of one finger or a tear, anything would’ve been sufficient. Day after day there was no response. I kept talking to him and rubbing him. I had to keep the faith even though he just laid there seemingly lifeless. He would have to wake up soon because he had my heart and soul with him.
Early one Saturday morning I was awakened by the phone. Mom came running through the house screaming Rico…
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