You can never win.

How can one attain absolution for a previous life full of sins if you don’t know what you’ve done. Every other morning I wake up with no recollection of falling asleep. I remember staring down the barrel of a shot glass. I look to my left or right for the flavor of the day. I remember cigarette tinged kisses and whiskey laden breath. My job gets harder everyday and this helps, I guess. They tell me I’ll get desensitized eventually. That the pain from the grim reality of the job will lessen over time. It's been four years and I cry like a child every time. I look into their eyes and can see their internal clocks counting down. 

I walk into the hospital room to find Tony on his bed. He is hardwired to life. His mother is reading a book while he watches something on his tablet. I’d rather she be reading to him but hell, I’m not a parent nor will I ever be so, what the fuck do I know? Tony is eleven years old and just had his birthday yesterday. They held a gathering in this room. His movement capable friends ran around hazardously and made ungodly sounds. I hate kids as much as I hate their parents. Kids are walking reflections of their upbringing and to a lesser extent their parents. So why these kids ran around, poked and prodded everything in the room is no surprise. The adults keep to themselves and the TV babysits. Tony sat upright and watched the tweenage riot. I had been visiting him for a couple of days and it hurt to know that he wanted nothing more than to be out of that bed. Then there were these little shits flaunting life in front of a young man walking the green mile. I don’t remember if I held a humble bone during my youth but seeing the lack of compassion was enraging. Maybe I was wrong about the whole thing. Maybe Tony was living vicariously.

“Hey handsome”, I told Tony.

“Charlie!”

“What ya watching?”

“Oh, watching someone play a game”

There it was that vicarious living. Poor little guy was watching someone playing a video game.

“You can play video games, why ain’t you playing one bud?’

“I can’t never win!”

If this kid only knew that I envied his all inclusive ticket to “the hell outta here” and here he was watching someone else play a game that he could very well be playing.

“Well bud that’s why I’m here, I can give you the chance to win at any game you want. It may take a couple of tries but we can knock ‘em out”

“You can help me beat anything?” Tony asked.

“That’s right bud, anything.”

“Anything?”

“That’s right Tony bologna”.

“Can you help me beat this?” He was rubbing his bald head.

FUCK you Tony! Fuck you and the hole you came out of. Fuck the day you were born. Fuck your cancer, you’re not special. You’ll move on to a better life and only mommy and daddy will ever care that you were here. Fuck you for asking me that!

“We can try our darndest”, I said.

“Well my wish is to get the new Playstation and play Fortnight and win”.

This bastard had me dialed in. That’s the one game I never win.

“Oh yeah well when’s your next day out?”

“Next week, I have that chemo thing again tomorrow”.

“Alrighty, Imma go home and practice and then I’ll come back next week. I’ll take you to the game store, we’ll pick up that console and we’ll kick some ass”.

His mom picked her head up from Fifty Shades of Gray. I winked, she smiled.

I went to the bar that night. His pale skin and sluggish demeanor was insufferable. He was new to life but somehow, lifeless. Or maybe I had it wrong. Who the fuck knows. I sit there and pretend that everything is alright.

“Charlie, you always have that smile!” or,

“You have this way about you’. The patrons would say.

I smile and join in on pointless conversations, shallow, irrelevant.

“My wife left me”, 

“I got a DUI”. They would go on and on.

Man these people were less alive than Tony. Tony had aspirations, had visions of grandeur and here these melting faces were worried about problems that did not mean life or death. I stared death in the face everyday. I met two to three kids every couple of months and saw them through until they rode the ferry. I walked through the bar door and these people were dead on my arrival. I found a lifeless barfly, took her home, felt alive and woke up alone.

First thing, I went to the bathroom and took the yellowest piss ever. Went to the freezer for some whiskey (judge me) sucked it down and turned on my console. Man, I tell you, I hate this game. But if it meant one more moment in the spotlight for Tony, who was suffering from something more than a shitty game, I was willing to tolerate it. What’s chemo  compared to a shitty video game? I had to suffer through some shitty rounds and Tony was at this very moment undergoing that. I was living while he was trying to live. Hours had passed and I never won, not even close. Every time I died, I felt my buddy die just a little more. I needed a fucking miracle.

Tony was asleep when I walked in the next day. His mother  was still reading that stupid book, bedside. She looked up at me.

“Hey mama”. I said. She smiled. Tony’s mom was always alone, reading cheesy romance novels. I don’t recall if I ever saw his dad, her husband.

“He’s been throwing up all day, poor guy, he’s tired”. She said

“Me too”, I replied.

“Tired huh?”

“Sure”.

“I think he’s out for the day, you don’t have to stay”.

“No I don’t, you’re right, how are you feeling though? I asked.

“Well aside from knowing he only has a couple of weeks, well, I could not feel worse than he does”.

“It’s a morbid solace knowing he’ll be at peace soon”. 

She began to cry. I guess I was more desensitized than I thought. I knew he was suffering, and some blissful sleep was too far away. I lived a cancer of a life, meaningless and I lived up to it by saying those few words.

“I’m so sorry, please don’t cry. I’m such a piece of shit, I'm sorry mama”. I tried consoling her. I hugged her and she squeezed me back. She looked up at me while embracing my torso.

“You’re not a piece of shit, his dad never visits and when I go home he’s never there, he’s the piece of shit. Charlie, you show up everyday, tell him he’s handsome and give him something to look forward to” Her eyes were swollen with tears. “Tony has seen you more than he sees his father”.

“It’s my job”

Fuck if I said it. I immediately regretted those words. I was honest and to a fault. She looked up and released me. I then felt her hand land across my face. Her lips were white and her eyes wide open. 

“Fuck you, Tony is not a job”

“It’s not what I meant”. I reached out and attempted to hug her, she swatted my arms and stood up. Her face was contorted with a sadness only a mother with a dying child could know. She grabbed my arm and led me toward the door.

“I’m so sorry”. I had a tear running down my cheek. She turned around, hugged me and kissed me on the lips. Tony’s mom was a beautiful woman and  in this state of passion, aroused the monster in me. I kissed her back furiously. She pushed me into the bathroom and she sat on the sink, all the while gripping my back and digging her nails into me. It hurt in such a beautiful way. I pulled her skirt off and she was not wearing any panties. She grabbed at my groin and at that moment someone knocked on the bedroom door. I tried to pull away but like an insect in a carnivorous plant, the more I struggled the stronger she gripped. We could hear someone open the door and close it shortly after. I entered her and covered her mouth as she began to moan. I stared into those pain ridden eyes and saw them turn to passion. She gripped my back as she finished. Tony’s mom laid her head on my shoulder as I finished, never letting go. I laid my head on her shoulder. It was dead quiet and then I could hear her sobbing. I felt her tears running down my neck. Tony would soon be at peace but this woman would live with this pain for the remainder of her life. I lifted her head and kissed her forehead. I held her until she calmed down and headed to the bar.

I woke up the next day not remembering ever going to bed. I leaned over to look at the clock and noticed someone laying there. God she was beautiful. She had felt me stir and turned around. It was Tony’s mom.

“Good morning Charlie”.

“Good morning”. I hesitated. She slapped me again but playfully.

“You don’t know my name!”

“I don’t like to learn everybody's name, It’s hard enough losing a child every couple of months, I can’t afford to get attached to everyone involved”.

“Fair enough, well you’re in too deep now Chuck, I’m Mandi, now we ain’t strangers”. She said the last in a terrible Forrest Gump impression.

“Fuck don’t call me that, Chuck, that’s a terrible name”.

“Tough luck, Chuck”.

“Fuck you”

“Hmmm please do”. She said in a sultry voice.

We made it again, she got dressed and headed back to the hospital to be with Tony. I laid there for a couple of minutes, I could still taste Mandi on my lips. I eventually made my way to the console and proceeded to practice. I was in a good mood until I continued to lose every fucking match. I only had a couple of days before I had to take him on a trip to the game store, buy the console and play with him. I told him I could help him win when I couldn’t win myself. Working for Miracle Makers was always a taxing job but Tony's miracle was looking impossible. After a couple of hours I threw my controller across the room and headed for the bar. I sat alone this time and didn’t smile. I was about to fail this child. It’s not as though you can pawn off your miracle child. Can you imagine telling a dying kid that has grown to love you, that you can’t help him and that you recommend someone else? I was in over my head and I would go on to time travel that night.

I woke up to my phone ringing, it was Mandi.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Tony is up and about and feeling extra well, can we make that day trip today?” She said, my heart was racing and I became anxious. My head started spinning, I leaned over the side of the bed and began throwing up. Oh god I had spent the night wallowing and never got around to practicing. In my line of work you don’t make a habit of saying no, well, you can’t say no. That’s the whole point of Miracle Makers, whatever they want, they get. 

“Oh my, were you drinking again last night? Mandi asked “Are you OK? You don’t have to if you can’t, I know today wasn’t scheduled.”

“No no, I’ll be there in about an hour, mama. Tell Tony to warm up them digits, we are about to kick some ass”. Mandi laughed. It was good to hear her laugh. It was few and far between when I heard that laugh. We hung up and I threw up again.

I arrived a little after an hour and Tony ran up and hugged me.

“Charlie!” he yelled as he embraced me.

“Buddy! You are looking good today. You ready to win this match?

“Yes I am, you’re good luck Chuck, that’s what my mom says”. I glared at Mandi.

“Oh, I loved being called Chuck”, I said, staring into her eyes.

The guy at the game store was a short, pudgy man with a ponytail. He walked us around the store and picked out everything we needed and some extras. He looked insecure as he offered items, I guess he was surprised at the bottomless wallet I was holding. Money makes miracles happen.

“And the last thing you’ll need is an online subscription to the gaming service, how much time do you want? Three months, six months, a year?” He asked unsurely. Poor bastard knew why I was there. Tony was on borrowed time and he damn well wouldn’t need a year and this unlucky salesman was tasked with doing his job despite the morbid nature of this particular question.

“A year is the most we can get? Well let’s do that for now and we’ll come back for the next one, won’t we Tony?”

“Good luck Chuck!” He smiled

We walked out of that store with a bounty enviable by any kid not on death-row. Only Tony truly appreciated it. He held my hand and Mandi’s as we made off with the miracle. If he only knew the terror I felt as I was about to disappoint him. I couldn't win a match to save my life.

“Mom, I feel tired.” Tony said as we neared the car. His grip weakened and he stumbled to the ground.

“Oh baby!” Mandi picked him up off the asphalt. He had scraped his knees and was bleeding. His hat had fallen off exposing his bald little head. We rushed him back to the hospital where they would put him into top priority. I sat next to Mandi holding her hand as the doctors examined Tony. His vitals were erratic and alarming. Poor little bastard. God take me, I pleaded. I wanted to die but I was a coward, Tony was a hero, a fighter, a dreamer. I tried on a nightly basis to die by alcohol and Tony wanted nothing more than to win. Guess what Tony you can’t win, I’ve been trying my whole fucking life. Now, all I ever do is lose, lose kids like you. 

Mandi jumped up to the sound of the flatline. She hugged him and though he was gone she was calm, crying,  yet calm. The doctors consoled her and walked her away as they pushed the stretcher out of the room. Mandi had been preparing for this ever since the diagnosis. Tony’s dad checked out a long time ago. Mandi sat next to me and I grabbed her hand, she laid her head on my chest. She was sobbing.

“Did you win?”. She looked up at me.

“Every time, mama, every time”.

We sat there for hours. I stared into the fluorescent lights.