Catch Up
Brandon has decided to win back Jackie by paying her more attention after learning that she had sex with House. Meanwhile, House is trying to blackmail Wilson into saying he saw Felipe on the bus making out with a guy.
Wilson
Sunday, August 27, 1989
Everyone knew something wasn’t right, but everyone went along with it anyway. Last night, we were informed of a change in plans. We were suddenly going to see a movie at the Penn Square Mall.
The number of irregularities was stunning.
First, the group home had rented a video for the night, Lean on Me, a movie with both a Black lead actor and a message for wayward teens. The multipurpose room was set up for movie night. Popcorn was popping. If the Soviets bombed the Oklahoma State Capitol down the street, it wouldn’t have preempted Lean on Me. Plus, Penn Square’s theater shows first run movies and is the nicest whitest shopping center in the city and one where I have supposedly been banned for life. Occasionally, the Catch takes us out to a movie, but always for three-dollar, second-run movies on rainy weekend afternoons.
There was so much insisting – right now, right now, let’s go – that, on pure instinct, some people resisted. Trey was in his room, saying, “Ain’t going. Nope. Ain’t going.” And then suddenly, Duane was in Trey’s room. Duane doesn’t even work weekends, but Duane was in Trey’s room kneeling by his bedside begging Trey to go, saying he would find a way to make it up to him if he would just go.
Then, once we were at the movies, boy residents were allowed to sit with girl residents. In the dark. It was like the staff had forgotten the rules. I should’ve been fretting about this compilation of oddities, but all I could focus on was how quickly Brandon found his way to Jackie and managed to sit with her one row behind staff and two rows behind me, where none of us could monitor their activities. I looked for LaTonya, hoping to sit with her, but a new boy from the other boys’ cottage, seeing all the girls pairing up with a guy, dragged her willingly away at the last minute, leaving me with . . . Trey.
Given all this last night, we weren’t surprised when our breakfast was interrupted. Duane was here once again on a shift he wasn’t working to announce there was an all-community meeting in the multipurpose room in five minutes. When we got there, all three cottages converging at once, the room had been transformed. I’d seen this setup with a dais set up in front of the room only once, for the Christmas pageant. The Catch’s three therapists stood together at the front of the room, heads down.
Even Trey, sitting next to me, picked up that something was wrong. Then, the door to the administrative building opened and Mrs. Doubek led a procession of staff into the room, the whole staff, including the overnight workers. Ellen, the cook, found me with her eyes. I raised my eyebrows to ask, “What happened?” Her eyebrows didn’t answer back.
My thoughts were, “They’re closing the Catch” and “I’m homeless.” My heart raced. But then I realized it was Sunday, and no one closes down a group home on a Sunday. That’s Monday through Friday business.
Mrs. Doubek headed to the front of the room and stood in front of three metal folding chairs facing the residents and staff. The next to last person to enter was a tall thin man I didn’t know, short dark hair, handsome, but who look liked he hadn’t slept much. He took the chair to the left. The final person to enter was Davey. He took the seat to the right, a lowly cottage counselor sitting next to the director. That didn’t seem right.
By that point, every resident with a brain knew someone was dead, and I already had the visitor pegged as a cop. I noticed all of that before I saw that Jackie and Brandon were once again sitting together. Mrs. Doubek took a step forward. Brandon took Jackie’s hand. Mrs. Doubek didn’t hesitate. “I am sorry to inform you that your friend, and our resident, Kurtis, has passed away.”
There was a small gasp.
“House,” Kent quickly said from the side of the room. “You all knew Kurtis as House. It’s House that’s dead.” Then he looked a little embarrassed, knowing he had spoken out of turn. “It’s House that has passed away.”
There were more gasps and now a general rumbling. Jackie and Brandon turned to each other, eyes wide, mouths open. I looked for Barry. He looked stricken. This was going to be bad for him. Duane was sitting next to him. That had been intentional, I realized. Duane put his arm around Barry. Trey squirmed to get my attention. He looked up at me with wide eyes. I didn’t have a comforting gesture for him.
Mrs. Doubek continued: “Kurtis was found unresponsive last evening in the woods past the basketball court. He had likely been there for some time. The police were summoned, and Detective Barrows here of the Oklahoma City Police Department is leading an investigation.” She pointed to the tall, thin man, who slightly nodded before turning back to the residents.
“I am sorry for your loss,” she said. “Kurtis was a fine young man, and a good friend to many of you. I’ve asked our skilled psychotherapists to meet with you in your respective cottages this morning. Please avail yourselves of their counsel. I’ve invited David Williams to lead us in prayer, seeking God’s comfort in this time of upset and sorrow.” She remained standing.
Davey rose to stand next to her and nodded in her direction. This was a big moment for him, I could tell, being asked to perform a religious role for the home. It was recognition of his value to the Catch as a religious man. But he, too, looked shaken, tentative. He started softly, using all the words that come easily to a man who frequently prays aloud: “Almighty,” “everlasting,” “merciful God.” Gradually he stepped into the cadence we knew from him blessing our supper five evenings a week. He asked the Lord to protect the group home residents in our sorrow, to nourish us with patience, to comfort us with a sense of His goodness, to help us find peace. Then his voice cracked as he turned his face upward but kept his eyes closed and said, “Please, Lord, please, we beseech you to have mercy on House’s soul. We on Earth, at this home you have created as refuge, know the good and the bad of him, the careful and the careless of him, the planful and the impetuous of him. We have broken bread with him and studied with him and played basketball and dominoes with him. I have worshiped beside him at my own church. We know House and we know him to be more good than trouble, more godly than godless. Please, oh Lord, have mercy on this young man’s soul. Give our friend a path into the heavenly afterlife with you, Lord. Please, oh Lord, Our Father, Our Savior, hear our prayers now, hear us now. Show us your love and mercy, and we will show our love for you.”
I could tell Davey believed that he really had a chance to save House’s soul if he said the right words, with the right attitude, with enough love for both God and House.
“And please, Dear Lord,” he went on, “please be gentle with the Catch’s residents in their time of grief.” Tears rolled down his cheeks. “They have already endured too much. Please help them find your love.” He sobbed openly, without shame. “Please don’t give them more to bear. Please, Dear God, let them know your warm and comforting presence. Please help them through these next few days. We need your help, Dear Lord. We need your help. We need your help. We really, really need your help.” Tears covered his face. He slowly lowered his head, opened his red eyes, and looked out at us, the residents, the staff, the therapists, back at the homicide detective and at Mrs. Doubek. It was clearly not the impersonal prayer she had planned on, but even she saw Davey’s sincerity in the moment. He struggled to get the last word out. “Amen,”
“Amen,” we said back to him.
There was a lot going on in my head. I should have been thinking about House, of course. But I was thinking about this place, the Catch, where tragedy and humanity kept knocking against each other. This is the place where a staff member I often ridicule prays with all his might for the souls of the residents. I’m a believer. I pray, but I pray for my pitiful self mostly. I had never prayed for House. I had never prayed for Davey. I hadn’t even prayed for Brandon or Jennings or Ellen or Duane or LaTonya. But Davey, I could see now, prayed for all of us. Maybe Davey even prayed for me, prayed for my soul, prayed for me to find peace. Who else had I underestimated?
Kent was looking at his feet, not sure what to do with himself. Mrs. Coleman was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. She leaned into Wilkerson, who was crying too. I wondered if they were friends outside of work. I wondered if they might even be lovers. How had I never considered that before. Ellen again caught my attention, and I found myself thinking about how much I would like to be engulfed by her warmth. I needed a hug.
Barry leaned into Duane, who held him stiffly. There was something about Duane’s expression that I couldn’t read at first. It was like he was running through the emotions before settling on one I knew well. Duane was pissed. Even as Barry pressed into him, Duane was angry.
Brandon clasped Jackie’s hand and looked at her, but she was doing what I had just done. She was scanning the room for familiar faces, for help in knowing how to react. Her gaze stuck at one place. I looked in that direction. It was the detective. Jackie stared at him. The detective stared at her. Jackie started to struggle to free her hand from Brandon’s. Then Brandon turned as well, to see where she was looking. And the detective changed the angle of his gaze ever slightly to take in Brandon and Jackie together.
That was all the information we got. Found. Unresponsive. Been there for some time.
Back in the cottage, the group pestered Kent with questions. Did House kill himself? Did someone kill House? Was he shot? Was there blood? Kent knew more, we suspected, but he wasn’t saying. He repeated the director’s words. Found. Unresponsive. Been there for some time. Kent asked us to talk about House.
What do you say about the death of a person who was so sad he was mean, who wasn’t smart but wanted to be, and so alone that he would annoy you just to start some interaction? I wanted to talk about how he flicked the caps off people as they walked by him, kicked you under the table if you sat across from him, and ate off your plate if you sat next to him. I wanted to talk about how awkward it is to be asked to mourn a person who threatened to dunk you in a toilet bowl filled with your own excrement to prevent you from ratting him out for stealing pudding cups.
But that is not what people talked about. Barry called him his best friend of all time. Felipe said he was a force to be reckoned with. Trey, who had experienced nothing but taunts from House, said he was like a big brother to him. That was tragic. Mrs. Coleman said House had a big heart but was afraid to show it. Davey said House was a spiritual young man who had sought his counsel. Wilkerson said he often saw himself in House, which was probably the truest thing anyone said. Brandon’s eyes never left the floor.
I remembered aloud that House loved the movie Coming to America. We rented it earlier this year and watched it five times before it had to be returned. In the movie, Eddie Murphy is a prince from some African country, and the movie opens with him in a bath. Soon, a woman appears from under the water and says, “The royal penis is clean now, Your Highness.” House loved that line. He repeated it hundreds of times. “The royal penis is clean now.” People laughed remembering how funny House found that line.
Duane entered the cottage and joined our circle in the common area. He looked ten years older. He offered no thoughts about House but came with another announcement. Detective Barrows would be staying the day, talking with residents and staff members in Duane’s office. Duane, the other cottage managers, and Mrs. Doubek had been calling our county caseworkers, notifying them we were going to be interviewed by the police. Each resident could take a staff member with him into the police interview. Everyone was to proceed to their rooms until called. All doors were to be kept open.
“Brandon,” Duane said, “You need to stay in the living room with me until Detective Barrows gets here.”
Wow!!!! I didn’t see that coming.