“We faced the enemy, we lost friends, we saw shit nobody should ever see… We expected to come home as heroes. Do you know what I heard first when I got off the plane?” he told me.
I shook my head.
“Hey, hey, LBJ, how many kids did you kill today? That was what those goddamn draft dodgers chanted. A whole group of ’em, just waiting for us to arrive so they could spit at us and call us murderers. That’s what it was really like back then.”
When I was struggling to get out from under the shadow of my past and find my own place in the world, I was surprised when he suggested I follow in his shoes and enlist.
“It’s a different world now. You’re smarter than me, so they won’t put you in the trenches. They’ll test you and let you pick a job before you sign up, so play to your strengths. I have an old buddy whose grandson just enlisted as a carpentry and masonry specialist. Sounds right up your alley. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not easy and you might not survive. You’ll probably lose a friend or two, but you’ll get out from under your mom’s skirt and come out a goddamn man.”
At eighteen, I thought I was already a man, but I had limited options, even less money, and I was desperate for a taste of freedom from my family. I needed to figure out what to do with my life before I got swept up in my father’s dream for good. So, I took his advice and signed up to serve. When I got out, Uncle Jaime was waiting at the airport with a sign that read, “Welcome back, soldier. How the fuck does it feel to be a man?”
He was poking fun at me, but he understood my struggle all too well. The crotchety old bastard knew how to put shit into perspective and keep me from taking myself too seriously. He never married or fathered any children, but he was always there for me. After the service, he worked as a long-haul truck driver, spending his life roaming the country. He stopped in to see us every time he was in Seattle. He taught me how to fish, how to drive, and how to tie a tie. Most importantly, he taught me how to win at Spades, which turned out to be my saving grace in the military.
Two years ago, at the ripe old age of seventy-five, Uncle Jaime finally settled down in Portland. My family wanted him closer to Seattle, but he insisted that he was close enough for us to visit, and far enough away that we wouldn’t feel obligated to come bug him every day.
He’d always been one hard, independent old bastard, but he was concerned enough about his health to call me now for help. That worried the fuck out of me and kept me riding the throttle down I5.
The drive to Portland should have taken me almost three hours, but I made it in a little over two. Pulling up to Uncle Jaime’s apartment building, I killed the engine and used my code to slip inside the secure door before heading up to the third floor. Since I had a key, I let myself in.
The first thing to hit me was the stench. His apartment always smelled like old man, but today, there was more. It reeked like gym clothes, stale food, and ass. Closing the door behind me, I looked around, shocked to find such a mess. Dishes were piled high in the kitchen sink, stacks of laundry filled the hallway leading to the bedroom and the bathroom, and it looked like a bomb of magazines and books had gone off in the living room.
“Tio?” I asked.
“In here,” came his weak reply.
I followed his voice to find him on the recliner in the living room, doubled over and holding his belly. His complexion was pale and sweat beaded around his hairline.
“You don’t look too good.”
He snorted.
“What the hell happened in here? You piss off your cleaning lady?”
He grunted.
My uncle was known for his quick wit and snappy comebacks, and his lack of verbal response had me worried as hell. I hurried over to stand beside his chair, trying to figure out the best way to help him up without causing him more pain. He wasn’t a big man, but he wasn’t exactly small, either. At about five-eight and close to two-hundred pounds, it was going to take some effort to get him down the stairs.
Grunting and grabbing at his stomach, he leaned heavily on me as he stood. Draping one of his arms over my shoulders, I wrapped my arm around his waist. His head rolled to the side and landed against my shoulder. The heat of his fever burned through my T-shirt, feeling like a damn furnace. Knowing I had to get his ass to the hospital, I took on more of his weight, practically carrying him out of the apartment.
With each step, he gritted his teeth against the pain. His body was flimsy, almost boneless, and keeping him upright was a challenge. Limping and weaving, we passed the stairwell, opting instead for the elevator down the hall. By the time we reached it, we were both sweating and out of breath. Uncle Jaime looked like he was knocking on death’s door, making it clear time was of the essence.
I propped him against the wall of the elevator, hit the button for the ground floor, and pulled out my phone to schedule an uber. Thankfully, we got to the parking lot only seconds ahead of our ride. I somehow managed to get both of us in the back seat before he passed out.
“He’s not dead, is he?” the driver asked, watching Uncle Jaime in his rearview mirror.
“No. He’s gonna be fine.” Part of me didn’t believe it, but I was willing it to be true. “Just get us to the hospital as soon as you can.”
“Sure you shouldn’t call an ambulance?”
I buckled my uncle’s seatbelt and gave the driver a hard glare. “Get us to the fucking hospital. Please.”
The scrawny little punk swallowed and put the car into drive, peeling out as he exited the parking lot.
We pulled up to the emergency entrance, and the driver ran in to get help while I started dragging Uncle Jaime out of the car. I don’t know what the driver told the hospital staff, but nurses swarmed us. They loaded my uncle onto a stretcher and wheeled him inside as the admittance nurse thrust a clipboard of paperwork into my chest and guided me toward a seat in the waiting room. Surrounded by coughing patients and crying babies, I filled in the medical information as best I could before calling my parents to fill them in and get help.
“Will he be okay?” Mom asked, sounding worried.
“I don’t know. I’m waiting to hear from the doctor.”
