Chapter 19: Chapter 19

Chapter 19 Acceptance Or Decline~

Brian had his face down in his palms when the police and Mr. Biscuit came. The police searched around for the hoodlums before Brian told them they had escaped through the tunnel. They were also told that the hoodlums made away with his cash – Brian not aware his neighborhood identity card was also stolen. The police sympathized with him and promise to run to his aid whenever he was in anguish. They advised Brian against keeping gangsters because of gross gun violence that was the order of the day.

When they left the scene Brian ran to his inner mirror and beheld his swollen cheek and black eyes he got from his oppressors. Mr. Biscuit, who had been panting at the back seat, inched to the front seat and started licking Brian’s disfigured face and black eyes. Fear walked through his face as he realized some minutes ago he had his back against the wall.

“You saved my life, Mister,” groaned Brian, stroking its fluffy body, “You were unnerved that I was going to die right. Mr. Biscuit focused on its duty – after licking his face, it tossed its forelimbs across Brain’s neck and in a prankish way, rubbed its face against Brian’s face - drying Brian’s face which it had wet with its tongue. Brian patted its back as an appreciation before he demanded, “One more thing Mister, grandma must not know about this- she must not know about the hoodlums and what they did to me, OK,” he emphasized, and stroked his head, “Be a good boy,” he said yet further and Mr. Biscuit squealed. “Come on you don’t need to cry over spilled milk.”

Mr. Biscuit stared at him briefly and wagged its tail in agreement.

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After three weeks, Tony was admitted at the hospital immediately he was diagnosed of pneumonia. Kate stood by his side, gawking at his dried wrinkled face while he took drip in his sick bed. The doctor said Tony would have lost his breath if he had stayed longer in the freezer because of having history of pneumonia; and to think of the fact that he was naked for more than forty five minutes in an iced freezer in winter was the apex of risk any sane person would take. When she consulted the doctor later in the day she was told Tony would be fine with time and medication. Later in the day she made it to the grocery to buy him get-well-soon cards. Considerably, it struck in her head she hadn’t bought Tony a special gift before. On her way to the aisle for gifts she made a definite change of mind to draw him a cute tattoo when he got on his feet again; tattoo would be the nicest of gifts. Seeing the tattoo every day on him would create the aura of a recall that he defeated death. Tony would have died in the freezer - the freezer would have electrocuted the Tony out of his life and with his naked damp body- he would have resembled a frozen human chicken, and nobody knew what would have become of her. Every day she stopped by to present cards and flowers at his sick bed and kissed him on the forehead. He was always deep in slumber whenever she came around and when awake he rarely spoke fluently rather he groaned and rolled his indolent eyes at her.

“Get well soon baby Adam, my body and soul need you. In your absence my night has stilled like the root of a tree in the soil, my heart has suddenly become the assembly ground for loneliness. Let your energy be as the sun that rises in the east so you can recover like immortality,” Kate declared, stared at him and remained aloof for a moment when his eyes rolled from slumber. She wanted to drop a kiss on his lips but waited for him to be fully conscious before doing it. His lips moved leisurely after she kissed him and she perceived he was conveying a message. The doctor had told her the pneumonia impaired his brain cells but with tactical treatment he might recover soon.

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When Brian advanced home he tried as much as possible not to announce his arrival in a clangorous way as he always did - hooting a horn, screeching his tyres. But this time as a cat, Brian parked his car, opened the door chilly for Mr. Biscuit and made his way upstairs into his room. Straight up, his black eyes and weal swollen face appeared in the mirror. As he peered into the mirror, his thought turned on; the boys were out to do away with him and blackmail was something he couldn’t do with. What would he tell grandma he was going to need the twenty thousand dollars for? His anxiety wasn’t about the blackmailers telling grandma he raped Kate- granny would take it with a grain of salt - he knew granny would never believe them - but for their reactions in the end if their intention didn’t pay off; they could run him over and take his life, grandma and Mr. Biscuit could also be set aside for distress and war. Those gangsters could make life miserable for anyone related to him. He was just going to get the twenty thousand dollars by hook or by crook and settle his foes. Something struck in his head, and it was about him getting a gun. He shook his head in disapproval. He had been championing the crusade against gun violence and neighborhood insecurity, getting a gun was like chopping of his pound of flesh and expecting not to bleed – if he got a gun, he would go after those gangsters and take their lives one after the other – the blackmail would be put to an end, yes he would have a breath of good vibe and enthusiasm but then a hypocrite would be better than him; he wouldn’t want to disappoint his family; likewise Kate; yes he wasn’t in love with her anymore, but then he would want to keep up with the first impression she had about him; he wouldn’t want to shoot himself in the foot.

He snapped out of his thought like a TV being turned off. He could overhear an uproarious move at earshot and then he hastened into his bed and buried his face into it. If it were possible for him to wave the magic wand and his face would heal instantly he would have done it just to avert grandma’s eyes from seeing his face. The uproarious move surged closer and his heart thumped like England’s bass drum. His door creaked open and there was a squeal by his side. Mr. Biscuit smacked a note in his mouth, when he turned his face.

“What do you have for me this time, Biscuit?” he queried as he collected the paper from its mouth, opened and read. His face was dilated with smiles in a moment as he paced to the window to see if she was anywhere around the street. He kept smiling at the note; Meyer had written him to join her in skating the next day – with love effect. Was he going to decline her soft spot or take it with his full chest – thus he wondered through the night. Either of the two was going to happen; acceptance or decline.