Chapter 47
A Fist Full of Understanding
“I’m just saying I don’t understand why you are even going.
The boy has a fight in your classroom.
You don’t know what all he’s involved with or how your drug lord will take you being there.”
So, he’s my drug lord now?
“I told Marcus I would be there.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to be there.
Just don’t show up.”
“I’m going. I can’t not go.”
How do I explain self-sacrifice?
Caring?
Love?
There’s not enough time.
“It’s not like I’m expecting you to be there.”
That was a dare. Come on. Pick up on it.
Wait…
“Unless there’s something going on at JAG.
Is there something that I need to know about?
Do they know how his baby died?”
I still gave him credit for knowing things I couldn’t see.
He wouldn’t tell me if he knew.
Having knowledge others didn’t is a form of power.
“I don’t know any more than you do.
Things just seem less complicated if you stay out of it.”
And there it is.
“He’s a boy that’s got a man’s problem. I’m going.”
“Revenge at funerals is a pretty big drug theme.”
“He gave his word.
I’m safe. Maybe nothing will happen because I’m there.”
“What is the word of a drug lord worth?”
“What do you think a vow is worth?”
That question is sitting between us like a brick.
No proof.
I go with what I know.
Unless there’s something he knows that I don’t…
I’m going.
On my dresser was a wooden box where I kept coins I had collected.
I had all twelve Apollo coins.
The General’s coin.
Two-unit coins.
Various coins I had brought back from Germany.
I saw one that was appropriate.
I picked a coin up from my dresser.
On it was stamped the image of an angel.
There weren’t more than a dozen people at the church.
Marcus was wearing a new suit.
His girlfriend was at his side.
He stood at the door, his feet doing all they could just to support him.
His girlfriend leaning on him was almost more than he could handle.
When I was close enough, he worked to place his arm around my waist in a hug.
“Thank you for coming,” he whispered the broken words in my ear.
I took his hand—I placed the angel coin into his palm.
He tightened his fist around it.
“That will give you something to hold on to when the memories start to feel like a dream.”
He smiled his thanks.
He slipped his hand into his pocket, opened his fist, and let it go.
I went inside.
I sat.
Alone.
I thought of my children.
Daniel's Den 