Finding Momentum

Justin hands me a photo a few weeks ago. Can you get this blown up? Mike wants it.
I go see Mike. What do you want it to say?
He thinks.
“Rest in peace, God­fa­ther. From your brother, Spicy Mike.”

Sun­day, I get a call from Mike. “Hey Drew, lis­ten I gotta talk to you man,” he starts. But this time, his voice is dif­fer­ent: wea­rier, on eggshells. “I’m at Alta Bates right now. My brother Wayne’s in the hos­pi­tal. He’s on his way out.”
“Oh, my God. What hap­pened?”
“He’s got an infec­tion, and it’s been bad Drew, […]

The police come knock­ing one day on Belinda’s father’s door, look­ing for Mike. “I get a call from Belinda’s daddy, say­ing, ‘hey Mike, the police out here look­ing for you. You bet­ter get your­self over there and explain your­self.’ I say, ‘I didn’t do noth­ing!’”
Mike and I are stand­ing in front of the food court […]

“Lis­ten, Drew” Mike tells me, “They cut off my gen­eral assis­tance a long time ago. I got no money to pay the phone bill.” We’re stand­ing in front of the ghetto again, and Mike’s pac­ing back in forth in front of his milk crate. He rat­tles off a long list of errands he’s got to […]

Mike calls me as I drive into Berke­ley this morn­ing.
“Hey, Andrew, it’s Mike, I’m at High­land [hos­pi­tal]. My heart give out last night, my arm start hurtin’ and I had to go to the ER. They wanna admit me for a few days, but I’ll get out though. They treat me like I’m dying or […]

I’m back at school for less than a week when I get a call from Mike–“Hey Drew, I’m in front of the food court. Come see me.”
I’ve col­lected our gifts for him–gloves, a scarf, AC Tran­sit ride tick­ets, a Sony boom­box, and a 12-pack of D batteries–into a cor­ner of my apart­ment (thank you, all 9 […]

Lana Choi was at Suit­case Clinic and snapped this photo of Mike. Psst, she’s also an amaz­ing wed­ding pho­tog­ra­pher!
Today is Mike’s birth­day. I last got a glimpse at his hos­pi­tal records a month ago. If my mem­ory serves me cor­rectly, I spot­ted “12/23/1953″ under the “DOB” field on the tat­tered Alta Bates release form. […]

“Drew, they denied me Social Secu­rity for the sec­ond time,” Mike told me the last time I saw him over finals week at the Asian Ghetto. He’s hold­ing a new card­board sign with a hand-scrawled “GOOD LUCK ON FINALS” in Sharpie. “But that’s okay, me and my lawyer, we’ll appeal. That third time, that’s […]

I dream I am walk­ing through any generic city street, crowded with cou­ples and skaters and the din of din­ers. Mike’s sud­denly next to me grab­bing my arm. I eas­ily shake him off, main­tain a steely gaze and walk faster.

Mike’s breath sports the sour edge of alco­hol. “Had some wine at my sister’s anniver­sary tonight,” he tells me. He’s had plenty tonight, the fumes tell me over the din of Tupac’s All Eyez On Me.
He’s look­ing pretty disheveled in a sec­ond­hand jacket and a Jamaica-themed beanie. Stand­ing still, hold­ing up his sign above his […]