"You doing alright man?"
Deke looked up at JB. They hadn't seen each other for a long time, but JB still looked just like he always did, ready for trouble and on the run from the police and several fathers. Deke couldn't help but smile a little, he had missed the shrimp. Their reunion was not built around the situation he would have ever wanted, but in his heart, he had always thought it would be the situation he would have to face when he came back home. In the hospital with one of them, in a prison visiting room, or at a graveyard. He and his friends hadn't been the most careful or law-abiding citizens in their younger days.
"Yea man I guess. Other than I come home, see a friend, go to get something I left at his apartment, and he's being shot. Other than that yea, I'm doing good."
JB stared at Deke, and even Deke could notice how his eyes were hard with suspicion and anger on the former friend.
"It's a little odd Deacon, you coming back into town all the sudden, and magically being there when Otis is getting shot by some punk. We trusted you a long time ago, but that was then, and this is now. A now were my best friend got shot and you showed up after a few years, and a lot less years than you said you'd be gone to the army."
Deke looked at JB for a minute. So that was the score? AS far as JB was concerned he was a suspect? Fuck that shit. Deke jumped up from the chair, forgetting that he still hadn't fixed his prosthetic leg right. The leg crumpled, and Deke started to fall, only to be caught by JB. Sitting back down, Deke started cursing under his breath as he began to roll his pants leg up.
"Goddamn fucking piece of shit fucking fake ass motherfucking leg."
JB just kind of stared. That would definitely explain why Deacon had come home a lot earlier than his original five years. Fuck, from the look of it, he didn't have much leg below his knee. Maybe 3 inches, but not much more than that. His fake leg was one of the fancier deals, the kind that would support running and walking. He knew he was about to ask a stupid question, but he had to ask it anyways.
"How did that happen?"
Deke couldn't help himself.
"We decided we'd rather stay friends so my lower leg moved back in with its parents."
"You fucking smartass."
Deke smiled a little. He was still pretty stung over what JB had said, but it was something he would have to get over.
"IED's man. A little four door car on the side of the road that decided to explode next to my door on the hummer did it for me. My second tour was ended the moment I woke up and they said my leg was gone. The nerve and bone damage was just too much for the leg to ever recover from, so they had to take it. I got this shiny piece of shit, a plane ticket, a purple heart for being wounded and sent home. Now I'm here, sitting in this hospital as another person I consider a friend is possibly dying from being shot."
"I'm sorry for saying that man. I'm just freaking out."
"Nah it's ok man. It would seem fucked up to me to, so I know where you are coming from. Still hurts though you know?"
Jb and Deke sat in the room in semi-comfortable silence. JB had questions for Deke, but he wasn't going to ask them. He didn't know how he would feel about the answers, or if he could handle any stories Deke may tell. JB didn't really want to have to try and match up what was possibly an Army killer to his goofy friend who listened to Muck Sticky when they were growing up. The two sat in semi-comfortable silence for a few minutes.
Deke looked over to see why the line of questioning had stopped from JB, and almost laughed. JB's head was cranked back; mouth opened and was starting to make a slight snoring sound. They had all been having a rough time, so sleep was something JB needed apparently. Deke knew what he was in need of, and walked off from the waiting room looking for the Hospital Chapel.
As he entered the chapel, he nodded to another person sitting in one of the pews and went to another and sat. Deke had always liked to see where he was and try to commit it to memory for some reason, so he looked around the chapel, at the dim lighting, the heavily stained and varnished oaken pews, and the silver and gold cross. Reaching inside his shirt, Deke removed the simple wood and pewter crucifix that he had carried since he was 13 years old, and began to pray.
Deacon had been raised in a strongly non-caring family. Sure, if you had asked his father, they had believed in God and Jesus, especially around the time that the churches were giving away free food or clothes for Deke or his three brothers. Deke's mother had been die-hard Catholic until she was killed in a car wreck along with Deke's two younger brothers when Deacon was 12. Roman, the oldest of the boys, had decided the best way to make money was to sell drugs to support his brother and now alcoholic father. Roman made the mistake of trying to sell crack to a man who wasn't a junkie, he was an undercover police officer. At that point all that was left anymore were Deacon and his father, who wasn't a father at all. There was only one place left for him to turn in his mind, and Deacon turned to God, following in his mother's religious footsteps.
Meeting Otis and JB hadn't derailed him from his path, even though they had done a lot of sinning as teenagers, and he had regretted it. When Roman had been released from jail only to be busted on a parole violation when Deke was 17, he decided he was going to get away from that life. Signing up for the United States Army was his chosen way to get out. His faith got him through his time in the sandbox, and it got him through losing his leg. He knew he wasn't the same, but he also knew that his faith in Jesus could get him through anything.
As he went to rise, the man who had been sitting in the other pew sat beside him and grabbed his arm. Deke looked at the man coolly, wondering how this was going to go down. He didn't want to have to walk away from a fanatic, nor did he really want this guy to attempt to mug him in the Chapel. Looking at the man, he seemed to be in his late 80's, white hair, pale complexion, and wasted away l8ke a cancer patient, which being where they were at, might not be too far from the truth. His eyes were what threw off any guess to his age. Where his face looked late 80's, his eyes looked timeless but young. They were filled with a great compassion and a great hunger for life.
"Easy there soldier. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to talk."
Deke looked at the man. Soldier was a pretty good guess, but there were signs that pointed to it. Deke still had a crew cut, was wearing an ARMY shirt, and he still wore his tags, which were hanging on the outside of his shirt.
"Then talk, but first, let go of my arm. I don't like people grabbing me."
The man chuckled and released his arm. Stretching back, he surveyed Deke like someone he intended to buy. Deke tensed up, he wasn't really enjoying all of this attention and he wanted the man to say his piece then get the hell away from him.
"I've seen the look in your eyes a thousand times kid. Have faith in the Almighty, and have faith in yourself. That will be all you will ever need in life. That faith will save you at your worst times."
The old man stood with those words and walked away, leaving the chapel. Deacon bowed his head once more and talked to God, thanking him for the gentle reminder that he needed to keep his faith strong. Standing, he began to leave the Chapel, stepping out into the bright fluorescent lights of the hallway and immediately bumping into someone. Still dazed by the lights, he helped them off the floor and apologized profusely.
