Chapter 2

After spending one week in the hospital for hitting his head, after a fall from his ladder, Walt Whitman had finally returned home to a house that was spic-and spank, as if, he had hired, Maid per Day, to come in and cleaned the entire house for him. Maid per day was a cleaning company that he sometimes used when the work seemed overwhelming for him and he wanted to spend more time with his son Marx than cleaning the entire house by himself.

However, Walt was happy to be home, and was quite pleased how Eleanor had taken the time to make his trip home from the hospital very pleasant and welcoming. She had gone overboard with her decorations, organizing and preparing all kinds of foods and drink, as if, she was welcoming home, King Jesus from the hospital after he had been wounded in battle.

Nevertheless, Walt Whitman thanked Eleanor and told her how much he appreciated having her as his neighbor and for taking excellent care of his son while being hospitalized. And after they were all done eating and drinking, and the other neighbors from further down the street had stopped by Walt's house to pay their visit and then left. Walt then then turn to Eleanor and ask her, what was the damage – "How much money do I owe you?"

Trying to get pay for both labor and interest from the money she had removed from her account, Eleanor told Walt Whitman that he now owed her a nice sum of three thousand dollars; causing his eyes to pop wide open, as he asked forcefully. "For what?"

Eleanor tried explaining to him that she had spent money on this and that, but before she could continue listing her items and activities, Walt interjected and said, "Never mind, I'll let you have your payment tomorrow afternoon!" as he fluffed the pillow, put it to his head, and stretched out on his massive living room sofa chair.

He had enough money inside his safe he could have easily given to her, but, he didn't want to give her any inclination that he had that vast amount of cash sitting around somewhere in his house. Just in case her fingers would start hitching her later on, and she came searching his house to find out where he had hidden all his money.

It was only Walt Whitman, Marx and Eleanor who were now left inside house, and Eleanor took it upon herself to give the kitchen a thorough cleaning before leaving to her own house. Even though, Walt Whitman had told her not to touch anything else because she already had done enough for him and his boy. But, she insisted. Claiming that she would clean the kitchen including mopping the floors before returning to her place of dwelling.

"You must really love cleaning!"

Walt Whitman mumbled to himself.

And when she was done cleaning, she called Marx from his room, gave him a hug, and told him she was about ready to leave him now. And while Max ran back to his room, she then turned her attention to Walt Whitman who was still lying stretched out on the sofa chair. She now began leaning over his body to kiss him good night with her voluptuous breast practically dangling in his mouth; causing him to change his position and sit up straight on the sofa instead, while at the same time, bidding her good-bye.

Marx then returning to the living room just when his father was about to get up from the sofa and walk Eleanor to the front door, and insisted that he would walk her to the front door and then closed the door behind her. And soon, she was exiting the door with her medium size handbag clutched over her shoulders, filled with Walt Whitman's food that she had bought for his welcoming home party, packed into her hand bag.

Walt Whitman was no fool!

He knew that Eleanor was flirting with him the whole time!

He knew that she want him... wanted him to marry her!

And he also knew, she hadn't spent that amount of money and that her bag were packed with most of what she had bought with her own money and was expecting for him to reimburse her for.

But, she was definitely not his bowl of Ja-luff rice!

She was too white, too obvious, and without tact or reserve!

He loved his women tall, slender and jet-black, almost looking like a coral statue; just like Marx's mother who he use to often referred to as his black-berry juice!

Eleanor wasn't the only woman displaying their affections towards him and wanted him to forget about the love of his life lying in her stone cold grave; but he wasn't at that place as yet.

Furthermore, all who were throwing themselves at him didn't come close to the standard he had placed her. Because she was quite beautiful, very intelligent, and lit up every room or places that she went to; with her bubbly and friendly presences and personality. Always telling himself that she was the perfect accessory for him, because, she always made him looked much nicer than he really appeared to be.

Anyhow, Walt Whitman stayed home and rested in bed just like his doctors had suggested for him to do, and when the two weeks of resting were over and done with, he was up and about just like he was before his fall had happened landing him in the hospital. He began taking his son for rides, fishing trips, and hanging out with his buddies from his old neighborhood once again.

It was a long time since Walt had driven over to the township of Irvington to visit his good old friend Mr. Buckley and spend some time hanging out with him and decided the he would pay him a visit today.

As he was backing out of his garage to go and see his friend, there came Eleanor racing through her gate waving her hand in the air and inquiring about where her neighbor was going. He wanted to lie to her about the facts, but with his almost near death experience, he refrain from doing so and told her the truth.

"May I come with you?"

Eleanor asked smilingly.

Seeing no harm in letting her tug along with them for the ride, Walt Whitman told her to hop on inside the vehicle after telling his son to go and be seated on the back seat of the car with his favorite stuff animal he called Moo-Moo. Situated in the back seat of the vehicle, Marx placed himself right between the two front seats so he could watch every move of his father's foot on the gas pedal, his hands on the gear-stick, and also the movement on the street as the car drove along on the road. It was something he was very excited about doing, and his father had a goodtime encouraging as he pointed out to him all the many houses he had designed or had helped build one time or the other.

Arriving in the community of Irvington, Walt Whitman pulled up in front the house of his friend, Chris Buckley and was quite very surprise to see the words "House for Sale" painted on his friend's house. While quite a number of persons were gathered around the dwelling as if they were inspecting the property, wanting to make a bid on it.

Getting out of his car, Walt looked up closer at the house as though it was a strange object and began scrutinizing the house as he wondered what could of gone wrong in his friend's life; causing him to want to sell his property which he swore he would never sell because he wanted it to pass down to the next generation in his family. This house was his pride and joy and he wanted to make sure that it stay in the family and they could remember him by it.

However, the house looked abandoned – very empty, and had some large smudges on the window panes at the upstairs of the house, and also graffiti at the front walls of the house.

Outraged to see his friend house looking like this, Walt grabbed one of the window cleaners with the very tall stick attached to it which was leaning against the side of the house. And angrily he began cleaning the windows while complaining that no one had the right to dirty the windows like that knowing that the house was up for sale.

He honestly believed that someone was being spiteful; purposefully trying to decrease the value of the property so they could bargain down the price to a much lower price than it should have been sold for.

Enraged, one of the men standing in front of Mr. Buckley's house who seemed to be interested in the bidding of the property, brought on the onslaught; attacking Walt Whitman and tried grabbing away the window cleaner away from his hands.

But, Walt Whitman wouldn't let it go and now they began to tussle and struggle until they were both down on the ground getting dirty and fighting for the window cleaner. While everyone stared at them pulling back and forth trying to take control of the window cleaner.

Unable to get the window cleaner stick away from Walt Whitman's hands, the strange reached inside his pocket, pulled out his pistol, trying to releasing a shot into Walt Whitman abdomen! Thankfully, his aim was off, causing the bullet to go straight for the front door of his friend's house, instead!

But, little did the attacker knew, Walt Whitman too was packing – armed with his thirty-eight revolver!

So Walt Whitman pulled his gun from his back pocket and fired back... shooting his attacker straight in the crouch and having him buckling over in pain as he held onto his private parts with one hand, and the pistol in the other hand, screaming repeatedly!

"This son of a bitch shot me... he shot off my balls!"

But, though in pain, he wasn't quite done yet! And so, the attacker released another shot from his pistol, hitting Walt Whitman in the belly; causing him to loosen his grip from the window cleaner and grabbed onto his side instead.

While the small crowd of people now began screaming and running for cover wherever they could find it, just in case other shots were fired and the bullets when a stray hitting them and causing them harm also, or even worst, their final moments on planet earth.

Holding his side, Walt Whitman try reaching his car and calling out for Eleanor to come and help him reach the pay-phone around the corner of the street so he or she he could call the police. Hastily, she leaped from the car and began helping Walt to reach the phone booth while he tried pushing his gun back into his pants pocket with one hand and gripping around her neck with the next hand.

There was very little blood coming from his wound, so he felt hopeful, but most of the bleeding was being done internally; and a lot of it was draining inside his body.

Eleanor dial the police number three times but because of the constant interruption of Walt Whitman falling from her hands to the ground, she was unable to speak to the 911 operator to get the assistance that was urgently needed at the moment. Finally, she let him fall to the pavement while she redial the emergency number. But this time around, as soon as she dialed the 911 number, the companion of Walt Whitman's attacker came by the phone booth and pressed the telephone leaver, preventing the call from going through to the emergency operator while her friend and neighbor Walt, laid on the pavement past out and bleeding to death.

The female companion of the man who had attack Walt Whitman, was still mischievously pressing on the telephone leaver, and began arguing with Eleanor about her spouse injuries, how was she going to take care of their children, and most importantly, what was going to happen when she wanted her man to service or satisfy her sexual needs at nights?

These were questions Eleanor couldn't possible answer her, and so she began explaining to the robust and intimidating figure standing in front her, ready to pick a fight with her, that Walt Whitman was a complete stranger to her whom she had ask to give her a ride to the supermarket and he claimed that he was just stopping by one of his friend's house first before doing so for her.

"What you think, I'm stupid? Who ask a complete stranger to take them food shopping?"

The robust woman asked with curled up lips, clinched fist, and eyes ready for war.

Not wanting to be indulge in a cat fight, Eleanor tried explaining to her confronter, nervously.

"Okay... okay, we live in the same community, but, I'm not his wife, his sweetheart, or anything like that! He is only my neighbor from across the street!"

Soon, little Marx came running from the car, and seeing his father lying on the dirty concrete, he began screaming; "Papa!! Papa!!! What's wrong with my Papa?" as he knelt over his father lifeless body and hugged him tightly while floods of tears began dripping from his eyes like an intravenous machine.

Pausing from his tears for a moment, Marx turned his attention to the robust female standing over Eleanor and his father, and asked. "What have you done to my Papa?"

The robust woman was now in a complete state of shocked. She was dumbstruck out of her wits when she had seen the little boy with the char-coal black skin, grazing blue eyes and teeth as white as snow staring up at her in tears. She swore she was staring into the eyes of a ghost. And immediately, she remove her fingers from the telephone leaver and began slowly backing away from the scene. While periodically staring into the eyes of Marx, anticipating that he was going to suddenly do something magical to hurt her or made her suddenly disappear from reality.

Once again, Eleanor dialed the 911 operator and had finally gotten a chance to speak with someone about the emergency situation that had just taken place in Irvington, in front of Mr. Buckley's house at the corner of Madison Avenue and Stuyvesant Avenue.

Minutes later, the police and the ambulance showed up blazing annoying sounds in the air indicating that something serious and catastrophic was taking place in the community. And just like she was waving her hands three weeks ago on Hillcrest Drive indicating to the police and paramedic that she was the one who had called, because her neighbor was acting a little wacky, she was waving her hands once again and shouting...

"Officers!!! Officers!!! Mr. Whitman is over her bleeding to death! Please, sent the paramedics over here to get him to the hospital right away because he has been shot and passed out on the ground!"

Walt Whitman was unconscious and barely breathing; and not a second was speared to bundle him up and rush him off to the hospital to save his life.

Just three weeks ago, he was in the psychiatry ward mending the damages to his brain after falling off the ladder and hitting his head and now, he was in the operating theater mending in his belly and fighting for his life so he could get back to raising his son.

Unfortunately, for his attacker, he was already dead when the paramedics arrived on the scene and examined his body and they realized that he was no longer here on the planet with them. And later, it was found out that it wasn't the actual single shot from Walt Whitman's gun that had actually killed him, but it was the solution encapsulating the bullets that he had a dreadful allergic reaction to that had actually done him in.

Eleanor, still shaking, jumped into Walt's car and began pressing on the gas, following the ambulance all the way to the hospital while she anxiously complained to Marx about his father not wanting to give her a chance and put a ring on her finger. Especially, since she was always rescuing him from one thing or the other.

After reaching the hospital and learning that Walt Whitman was still undergoing surgery in the operating room, Eleanor and Marx decided to bounce it on the hospital chairs until the doctors were done operating on him. And for hours, they stayed in the hospital waiting room, anxiously waiting and rushing up to every gurney being pushed in the corridors of the hospital for one reason or another while they nervously and repeatedly asked.

"Is this Mr. Whitman?"

Tired of hearing the word no, time and time again, Eleanor and Marx would return to their seats and curled up on the chairs hoping and praying that they would finally hear the words.

"Yes, this is Mr. Walt Whitman, and he is going to recover just fine!"

But those words wouldn't come until Saturday night, around midnight when most patients were asleep and the nurses began doing their rounds.

"Put him in room 205; there is an available bed in there ready for him!"

Where the sounding words which had waken Eleanor and Marx from their restless sleep and had them jumping to their feet as they inquired from the nurse if that was Walt Whitman they were now wheeling inside the hospital room, and if, they could actually see and speak with him now.

They were given the okay to see him, but were warned no talking with him for now because he was still heavily sedated and wouldn't understand much of what they were saying to him. But tomorrow was another day that they could all return to the hospital and visit with him when he would be feeling much better and the sedation had worn off out of his body.

Like a special and sacred commodity, Eleanor rubbed his hands and soon, Marx began doing the same as he gazed upon the face of his father and wondered when he would ever come home to be with him again. But, with the nurse experience, they were advised that he wouldn't be returning home until around four weeks from now, because his recovery process involved lots of hours of physical training and occupational therapy to bring him back into good shape.

Especially, since he had just undergone a major surgery cutting into his body and removing parts of his organs that had been shattered by the bullet.

Calling the nurse away from Marx hearing, Eleanor sternly and curiously asked.

"Please nurse, tell me the truth, if he is going to make it or not?"

"Well, once no complication arises, he will make it out of here just fine!"

The optimistic nurses replied.

"I just want to make sure that he will be up and running once again like his good old self!"

Eleanor expressed anxiously.

Desperately, she wanted him up and running again like a brand new steel machine, because Walt Whitman owed her money, and a very handsome amount at that, she wanted to make sure that he was going to be sticking around so she could collect it from him before there was an alarm for him to be placed inside the fridge. Or else, she would have to take some of his valuable possessions from the house to compensate her for the money he was owing to her. Which was something she did not want to do, knowing that they were all his son's possessions after he was gone six feet under.

And he being a child, wouldn't quite understand that she was only taking his possession because his father owed her plenty money. And she also wanted him around because she hoped that he would fall for her and eventually put a ring on her wedding finger.

Seeing that Walt Whitman was laid up in the hospital bed and there was nothing more she could actually do for him, Eleanor gentle pulled Marx around the neck like he was her own son, and led him towards the hospital elevator door while they both silently waved their hands to him, good-bye.

Just as Eleanor was about to step through the hospital door, the rain began pouring down like crazy... it was raining cats and dog, and Eleanor wondered if she should risk it by driving in the rain. Knowing that her eyes were tired at the moment and the sound of the rain drops usually made her feel sleepy, Eleanor wanted to stay over at the hospital and bounce it on the hospital chairs until it was daybreak, and then get herself a little more sleep before touching the roads. But, her decision to cuddle up on the hospital chairs and sleep until the break of dawn was pretty much short lived; because the rain stopped falling suddenly, encouraging her to make her way home.

With droopy eyes, Eleanor gradually made it home to Hillcrest Drive, and eventually parked Walt Whitman's car inside his garage where he was accustom to keeping it.

Entering the house she encouraged Marx to go and have his shower while she went to Walt Whitman's bedroom where she stripped down naked. And soon she was soaking in his jetted tub with the warm bubbling water gentle crashing against her skin until she had fallen asleep in the tub with the television still playing.

She was just too tired to keep her eyes open and stay awake!

And soon, she began dreaming that she was in the ocean and was being attacked by massive sharks while little dolphins swam around her trying to protect her from the shark bites. Seconds later, her body began slipping deeper and deeper under the bottom of the tub as water began seeping through her nostrils. Minutes later, her eyes pop opened and she was jolted back into reality, as though, someone had used a defibrillator machine and quicken her senses back into her body.

She was now fully awaken and found herself grasping for air while reaching for the side of the bath tub, pulling herself from under the gushing grip of the water which had her feeling quite relax and at the same time, had her gasping for air while trying desperately to regulate her breathing pattern.

Finally, she was out of the bath tub, bent over and coughing up water that had already seeped into her nostrils and inside her lungs while fumbling for the towel rock to grab the super large bath towel and wrapped it around her body.

Wrapped in the comfort of the bath towel, Eleanor seated herself on the gray suede chair Walt had in his bathroom and began pondering on how she could have just lose her life in the bath tub of Walt Whitman's house.

The circumstances were quite frightening to her and for a good forty-five minutes she just sat there dazed and in awe, agonizing about her near death experience.

But soon, she would have snapped out of it, thank the gods for keeping her alive, and when she did, she first got herself dressed and then went to check on Marx to see if he had gotten out of his bath tub and had already gotten dress for bed. And she was amazed to see that he was already in his pajamas and sleeping comfortably under his bed covers.

Still on the edge about her almost drowning experience in shallow waters, Eleanor then went to Walt Whitman's liquor cabinet and grabbed herself a bottle of red wine. Soon she was chasing it with a can of pineapple juice Walt had in his refrigerator as she propped her back against the massive handle of the sofa chair with a pillow for more comforting support, and began drinking herself away until she was fully wasted and dosed off into a sleep.

Waking late Sunday afternoon to find herself intoxicated on Walt Whitman's living room sofa chair, she felt quite ashamed of herself and decided to get rid of her wine glass and the wine bottle which had less than three-quarters of a cup of wine left inside of it. Because she didn't want little Marx to come from his bedroom and see her in an intoxicating state and having it be part of his memory of her; being a drunk stretched out on his father sofa chair while he was in her care.

Rushing to the kitchen, Eleanor began stuffing her mouth with cheese, milk and bread to eliminate some of the alcohol from her bloodstream and have her thinking and acting rationally or normal again. And before any normalcy could appear in her brain or her movement, she felt the urge to fall asleep once more. And now she was hurrying her way to Walt Whitman's bedroom where she just tumbled on his bed and went of sleeping until the phone rang.

It was Marx who had answered the phone call and began talking with his father on the other end of the line. And in their conversing, his father asked for Eleanor which Marx had no idea of where she was at the time.

However, he had presumed that she was in his father's bedroom still asleep. Entering his father's bedroom like his father had suggested to him, Marx notice that Ms. Eleanor was sprawl out on his father's bed still fast asleep. And just like his father had commanded him to wake her up, Marx continued shaking her until she was eventually awake and began asking; what was the matter in a gawky voice.

Stretching the phone to her, Marx replied.

"Papa is on the phone and he would like to speak with you!"

Thankfully, the alcohol in her system had subsided and now she was speaking with some clarity and with some normalcy.

"Hi, Walt! How are you holding up in there?"

Eleanor asked.

"Alright, I guess! I'm in a lot of pain and these pain pills they are giving me here, are only making my head spin and making me feel like I'm one step away for the crack house!"

Walt replied.

"Have you asked the nurse to change the pain pills for you since they are making you dizzy?"

Eleanor asked with some concerns in her voice.

"Yes, I did! But she has to get the approval from the doctors before any changes can be made with my medications!"

Walt explained.

But before Eleanor could ask another question or make any more suggestions, Walt spoke.

"Well enough about me! How is my son doing? Have you fed him as yet? Did he sleep well last night?"

"I wouldn't say he slept well last night! I would say he probably slept well this morning! Because we didn't leave the hospital until around two o'clock this morning after the doctors had wheeled you out of the operating theater and when we arrived here at the house, it was well after three in the morning! And by the time we had our showers and had gotten into bed, daybreak had already started showing its face, telling us that the sun will soon be up; that's when we went to bed... this morning!"

Eleanor responded.

"But, we are going to fix ourselves something to eat right after I'm done talking with you, and probably drop by the hospital to come and see you!"

Eleanor informed Walt.

"Please, Eleanor, you don't have to come and see me! Please, get some more rest, eat some food; there is plenty of that at the house! And tomorrow, you and Marx can come and see me; alright! You have been more than wonderful to me and my son, and I thank you for everything that you have been doing for us!"

Walt Whitman expressed kindly.

"Are you sure you don't want us to come by and see you in the hospital?"

Eleanor asked persistently.

"Yes Eleanor, I'm quite sure! I don't need the both of us inside here... who will take care of Marx if you should be in an accident on your way here or on your way back home? Furthermore, there is not much you can do for me here, but talk! Whatever it is that I need, is already here, the nurses and doctors here can provide it to me which is mainly pain pills that I'm in need of every other hour! Even though, the nurses informed me that the doctors ordered for me to have them every five to six hours! So I'll see you and Marx tomorrow! Okay my dear!"

Walt Whitman expressed.

"Okay, Walt, if you insist! Tomorrow Marx and I will be there at the hospital and see you then!"

Eleanor informed him before sharing their good-byes and disconnecting from their conversation.

Deep within her conscience, Eleanor knew that Walt was right! But she only wanted to be at the hospital to show him that she really cared for him, and for him to also realize that she wanted him to know that she would always be there for him and his son, no matter what the occurrences or the situation they was facing.

However, she knew that Walt loved his women dark as midnight and she was the opposite; bright as daylight, and she even thought about getting the entire skin of her body tattooed in a black ink, just so she could meet his requirements for a mate. But little did she know, she needed to have more than the black ink tattooed on her skin for him to be mad over heels about her. She needed the black pigmentation in her skin along with the history, the struggles and the culture that came along with it.

And just after she and Marx had digested a lovely bowl of chef salad and spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, Eleanor when on the computer searching and researching for dark color tattoos that she thought would look beautiful on her. She was even drawing little Marx attention into her research; constantly asking him, if he thought this dark color or that dark color would looked great on her skin. But totally confused, Marx shook his head to every dark color that she had suggested and told her he didn't; that none of them would look good on her skin and that he liked her skin color just the way it is now.

Even though, Eleanor knew that he wouldn't understand because he was just a child. Furthermore, he wasn't the one she was actually trying to impress or convince that she would be the right woman for him; but his father. So she took her decision to the streets and began searching out tattoo shops to get their expertise opinion and their ideas on what she intended on doing to her skin.

But, there was one more very important person that she needed to run her idea and her intentions by before she followed through with them; and that was no other person than Walt Whitman himself. And upon visiting him in the hospital Monday afternoon, Eleanor took the risk of telling Walt that she wanted to have her entire body tattooed in black ink.

Looking up at her, as if, he had actually lost his marbles, Walt Whitman frowningly asked.

"And why would you want to do that to yourself; don't you think, you are beautiful just the way you are?"

Reaching for his hands, Eleanor asked.

"Walt, do you really think I'm beautiful? And if you think so, why haven't you taken any such interest in showing me?"

Walt, wanted to tell her that now wasn't the right time or the right place to discuss such an issue, but since he was not sharing his hospital room with any other patient and their family members at the time. Walt tried explaining to her that even though, there were plenty of different brands of tea bags on the supermarket shelves, each person entering the supermarket to buy tea bags would never just buy different brands randomly.

Because every person would have a particular brand that they love drinking and would make a decision to purchase that brand when they enter the supermarket for their shopping. And if that brand wasn't available to them, they then would go out searching for it at some other store or wait until their regular supermarket got that brand back in stock or on the shelves before going back there to purchase it. And that's how it was for him.

He liked her and thought she was very beautiful, but she just wasn't the person he saw himself dating or wrapping up on his sofa with and sharing his precious time with or his massive king size bed with.

Walt further went on to tell her that she shouldn't try being with him because he was available but because he had shown her that he had that same interest in her that she had in him. Because if he was still living there with Marx mother, she would be searching for a partner or a man to be in her life somewhere else.

These were not the words that Eleanor wanted to hear, but she appreciated his honesty, and came to realize that forcing herself on him for him to be with her was only setting her up for some serious altercation and heartbreak later down the road.

And before ending her visit with Walt Whitman at the hospital that Monday evening, Walt reached out his hands, touching Eleanor's fingers, and in a soft voice he spoke, telling her not to try too hard searching for a man because she was indeed a very beautiful woman who the right man will appreciate having in his life, someday.