Chapter 4 Part 4

Kruz

On Wednesday, Kruz was just finishing up with an oil change when Joseph slapped the newspaper down on the counter. On the front page was a candid photo of Kruz standing with the ball in his hand, getting ready to throw it. The headline read — Kruz Hastings takes Raiders all the way. The article described him as a small town quarterback with a golden arm, mentioning their journey from underdogs to champions. They described his homelife as being raised by a single mother and mentioned her by name.

Kruz grinned as he read through it. “They could’ve used a team picture.”

Joseph laughed and shook his head. “The article’s about you, not the team. You worked your ass off for that championship. Enjoy this because you deserve the acknowledgement.”

“Maybe, but the team as a whole won that championship, not just me,” Kruz said.

“This is why you’ll go far, kid. Always stay humble, now sign that damn newspaper so I can have your signature framed before you’re drafted to the NFL.”

Kruz’s laugh was loud, but he signed the newspaper. “A lot can happen in two years, Joseph, but I really doubt I’ll end up in the NFL.”

Joseph waved him off as he took the newspaper. “Go home early, go celebrate with your mother. I’m sure she’s proud of you.”

Kruz finished up, washed his hands, and greeted Joseph before he got in his truck and headed home. He was proud of his accomplishments, but he also knew it wouldn’t take him anywhere, even if he got a football scholarship to go to college, he wouldn’t be able to take it.

Kruz closed the front door behind him just as something crashed in the kitchen. He ran toward the sound and found his mother huddled on the floor, her back against the cupboard and wall, making herself small in the corner of the kitchen.

He surveyed the damage. Broken plates and glass littered the floor and he sighed when he spotted the drops of blood. He could feel her eyes on him, burning into him. He took another deep breath and looked at her. Her eyes were wild and accusing.

“It’s okay, Mom. I’ll clean this up. Don’t move from the corner. I don’t want you to cut yourself more.”

She held a butter knife in her hand, wielding it like a weapon as he started sweeping the shards together. Once the kitchen floor was clean, he padded over to her and slowly took the butter knife from her. She lowered her head and he knew the uncontrollable crying would start.

“Did you cut your feet?” She nodded her head and Kruz sighed again. “I’m going to pick you up, Mom, and carry you upstairs so I can check, okay?”

She didn’t respond, not even a shake of the head. Kruz scooped her up in his arms and carried her upstairs to her bathroom. He placed her on the counter and went to his own bathroom to get the first aid kit.

He pulled a sliver of glass from beneath her big toe and cleaned the wound. “What happened, Mom?”

“The finches… they always come back… blood… pecking at blood… the finches want blood.”

He gave her a smile. “You did a good job of chasing them away. I didn’t see any finches, so I think they left.”

She looked around the bathroom. “Peck, peck, peck. They always peck.”

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly on her forehead. “I’ll be right back. You’ll feel better once you’ve taken your pills.”

Her pills were stowed in the top cupboard, one she couldn’t reach. His mother was a small woman, short at 5’2”. The dangerous chemicals like bleach and the rat poison were all stowed in the top cupboards or in the shed, something he could lock.

He handed her the handful of pills with a glass of water, watching closely to make sure she swallowed them down. He took clothes from the closet and placed them on the bed. “Mom,you need to get dressed, brush your teeth, and comb your hair. Wash your face too, you’ll feel better.”

“You brought them back,” she whispered. She shook her head and tears gathered in her eyes.

“Mom?”

“They’ll find you. You told them exactly where we are. The finches will find you, they’ll find me. All that blood.”

Kruz lowered his head, sadness spreading throughout his soul. “I love you, Mom.”

She nodded her head, took the clothes he’d put on her bed and headed into the bathroom. Kruz closed her bedroom door behind him and sat down on the edge of his bed. She was getting worse and he felt helpless. There were days when he struggled to get her to calm down, and her episodes were more frequent now. He knew at some point he would have to have her committed. He didn’t want to do that to her. When she had a good day, she was herself, cheery and smiling. She’d bake and cook, tell him stories of her childhood, she’d listen to jazz and dance in the living room.

He closed his eyes as the coppery scent reached his nostrils and the itching in his gums returned with full force. On his shirt was a smear of blood and he recoiled in horror when he realized that he’d brought it up to his nose and was inhaling the scent. His vision tunneled and he clenched his eyes shut, swallowing the liquid pooling in his mouth.

The itch was back, growing deeper than he’d ever felt it before. His jaw ached, the intensity so extreme that the pain was bone deep. The nerves beneath his fingernails burned, his muscles coiled tightly, the itch beneath his skin driving him into a frenzied madness. He wanted to peel his skin off, scratch at his veins and pull his teeth from his gums. He had to escape, had to get away from the scent of blood that was calling to him.

He cracked his mother’s door open and found her sitting on her bed with a book in her hands. He exhaled with relief and rushed down the stairs. He felt a moment’s guilt at leaving her alone, not caring if she had a meltdown or needed his help. She seemed calm enough now, but he was afraid that if he stayed, he might do something, he wasn’t sure what. The feelings scared him, made him afraid of his own shadow. He got into his truck and sped down the street with no idea of where he was going, he just knew he couldn’t stay there.