THE BIG INHALE

Three days ago I stopped breathing.

But, hey man, I was desperate, you know? This damn covid thing meant I was out of a job, and my girlfriend kept hounding me to get something else. That wasn't happening so I decided to go back to my old way of making money. Sure I was rusty, but I figured it was like riding a bike. Besides, it would only be for a while. That’s what I kept telling myself.

Funny thing about being a pickpocket, you gotta time everything just right. Have a light touch. I parked around the corner from the convenience store I sometimes went to. Figured I could start small and practice. I stood on the corner hoping for some courage. I inhaled deep. It didn’t help much. It was now or never.

I saw him leave the store. He was a big guy. Looked like just another black brother probably into hoops, judging on his size. For a moment I almost chickened out. But instead I lowered my head and shoulder, and ‘bumped’ into him good enough to startle him. I muttered ‘sorry man,’ as I reached into his pocket and grabbed his wallet. He answered ‘all good bro' as I continued to walk on. He never had a clue. I walked faster around the corner of the building and kept going further up to the alley. I waited a bit but no one was coming for me. I did it! Yes!

I pulled that wallet out to check on my take. It wasn’t a wallet, but a black notebook. A freakin’ notebook. What the hell?

I mean, who carries a notebook with them? This was bullshit! I turned it over in my hand. I had to admit it was a pretty nice one. So instead of chuckin’ the damn thing, I figured there had to be a bill or two in it. Maybe even a Benjamin. Please God just one Benjamin.

I opened it up. Nothin’ but some crap that meant nothing to me. Even a to- do list. I turned another page. Well someone likes tic-tac-to. Seriously dude?

After a few more pages, I found a picture of some little kid stuffed in between. Cute little girl. I turned it over. Her name was on the back, along with an address in Texas. OK so this guys a dad. Left the baby mama and the kid conveniently back in another state. I thought about Zoey up north. She’d be, like, two now. I pushed the image of my ex with our kid out of my mind. Concentrate on the present Brandon. Hell, they were better off without me anyway.

There was something poking out from the back pages. It was a scratch off lottery ticket. Tic, Tac Toe. Go figure. Dude likes tic-tac-toe. I chuckled. I took a quarter out of my pocket and kissed it for luck. If it wasn’t for bad luck I usually had no luck at all. But as I started to scratch, I had to admit there might be a chance. Seems the only time I could ever win was on someone else’s ticket. Go freakin’ figure.

It was looking promising. Sweet! I wasn’t sure how much it was worth, but it definitely was a winner. At least be enough for a pack of smokes. I checked the bottom of the ticket. It won top prize. And top prize was twenty large. Holy crap. Did I just win twenty grand? I did a double take. There was no doubt. Twenty big ones were all mine. Man, I didn’t lose my touch, and I damn sure know how to pick ‘em. Now that’s what I call a payday. I tucked that baby right back into that notebook and shoved it deep into my pocket. I was punching out for the day. Hell for the next month.

I started heading back towards the street. I heard a whole bunch of people yelling. Somethin’ was goin’ on alright. Then I heard him.

“I can’t breath.”

As I rounded the corner, that guy I just ripped off was laying in the street. A white cop was kneeling on him. Man, I’d seen that cop around. He looked like a bad ass to me. Someone I didn't want to mess with. The big guy kept telling the cops he couldn’t breath. The crowd kept yelling at the cops and recording them on their phones. Three other Police Officers stood between the crowd and the head cop doing the kneeling, looking all smug with himself.

Now I am not a racist or anything. In fact I grew up poor. Had a drunk for a dad. A mom that didn’t think she was worth a better life. Hell, the trailer house I grew up in was broken down. There was a hole in the floor that even a chunk of two by four didn't want to fix. In the winter, the old crank-out windows didn’t seal tight. Shrink wrap was all that kept the cold wind out...sort of. People called us trash, and sometimes the names got way worse than that. So I thought I could relate.

I’m even living with my girlfriend, who is one strong, black woman. Don’t tell her I told you, but she can scare me sometimes. She’s always telling me how unfair it is for her people. Even when others put me down, I still have no idea what it really means to be black. To fear the police. I mean for real. To get life’s double standard shit shoved up the butt. And up until this moment, I thought I knew. Man I was wrong.

As I watched him die, I had no goddamn clue. My chest got real heavy. Now I couldn’t breath either. I planned to get the hell outta there but instead I was stuck to that spot like a mouse to the sticky trap I put under the fridge. So I screamed at those cops to let him go. And then I watched that ambulance drive away. I felt like I was gonna puke my guts out. Instead I turned and went home. That stupid black note book was burning against my thigh. As soon as I unlocked the door I headed to the bedroom looking for a place to stash the stupid thing. I shoved it under my side of the mattress. Later, when my girlfriend came home, I was still sitting on the sofa staring at a TV that wasn’t on. I felt hollow, like a chocolate bunny at Easter.

She rushed into the room, loudly talking on her cell. “They killed another one! Brother mindin’ his own business, and they killed ‘im.” She motioned for me to turn on the news. It came blaring in with all the details. That’s when day and night turned into the same thing for me. My girlfriend and her friends took to the streets to protest. Me? I was stuck. Like there was a monster truck that parked itself on my chest the other day. And as far as I could tell it wasn’t going anywhere.

By the third day, she was pissed off with me. “Why don’t you come with us? You claim you know how it is to be in our shoes so prove it Brandon, grab a sign and come with us!” But when I shook my head, she huffed her way out, slamming the door behind her.

I once saw this TV show about this old abandoned mining town out west. People claim it’s haunted. Story goes if you take anything from this place, and I mean even a rock, you get cursed. Bad shit starts happening to you. The only way to make it stop is to return the thing you ripped off in the first place. I went into the bedroom and fished that notebook out from under the mattress. As I sat on the floor, I looked at his daughter’s picture again. I know he loved her. He came to the city to make things better for her. I’ll bet he bought that ticket for her. That’s probably why it wasn’t scratched.

I drove my old rust bucket over to the main post office. Got one of those small postage boxes they had, copied over her address, and put that notebook inside. I sealed it up and got in line to mail it. It didn’t matter what it cost me, I was gonna get this notebook to her if I did nothing else. I even sprung for overnight postage. I exhaled when clerk put it in the pile of outgoing packages. When I got outside, I leaned against my car for a minute, inhaling deep. I could finally breath again.