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 […]
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 […]
“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 […]
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 […]
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 when […]
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 […]
