You could run like god for a long time, but you're always one bad beat away from losing everything. That's the b*tch of it all.
Students are our future. That's what adults always said at Joey's high school and he agreed. That's why he sat in the back of his calculus class doing math problems like a responsible adult while humming at low volume.
"Joey Fiore!" the male teacher called his name.
Joey looked up to find the entire class of students staring at him. "What?"
"The answer to the problem…what is it?" The teacher asked.
Joey glanced at his math work in front of him to search for the answer. His eyes flashed when he found it and announced it to the class in confidence. "11.8%!"
"…What's that?" the teacher asked with an uncertain tone.
"The chance of flopping three of a kind when holding a pocket pair! 7.5 to 1!"
…
Joey sensed something was off when everyone was silent. He assumed he read the wrong answer so he went back to his notes and found the correct one. "Excuse me, I meant to say 31.5%! Those are the odds of completing an open-ended straight draw by the river. It's a bit less than a flush draw since there are 8 instead of 9 outs." He felt the pride of an honor student that knew all the answers.
…
'Why is everyone still so quiet?' Now, Joey wasn't sure what was happening. He double-checked his work and was certain the numbers were right.
"Joey!" the teacher's brows coiled together like snakes ready to strike.
"Yes?" Joey asked.
"This is calculus! Not poker math class! Detention!"
Joey was so caught up in his poker studies, he forgot where he was. Even so, he felt wronged. He tried his best to be a studious young man, but this education system kept the population ignorant of the topics that mattered most: poker tells, player psychology, best methods of face slapping and needling people... 'Christopher Columbus didn't discover the Americas! It was the Vikings, damn it!' It was like 1984!
At that moment, a female faculty member from the administration knocked on the door and walked inside, whispering a few words to the teacher. He glanced at Joey again, but this time his face lost all traces of anger and became sympathetic. "Joey, the school received a phone call for you, you're excused from class…"
Joey didn't know why, but it felt like a meteor crashed into his heart. Without saying a word, he picked up his things and followed the faculty member into the hallway. "What's the matter?"
The woman's eyes were remorseful. "We received a call…it's about your mother."
…
Joey was panting. As soon as he got the news, he sprinted out of the school to Mount Sinai Hospital. It wasn't too far, but every inch was like a mile for Joey's frantic mind. He swerved between cars and pedestrians before reaching the hospital building, not braking until he was at the front desk. *Pant* *Pant* "Caroline Fiore…she fainted at work…I need to find my mother!"
An ambulance retrieved her at one of her workplaces. It was lucky that one of her coworkers knew where Joey attended school and called to notify him.
"Are you a friend or family member?" The desk nurse asked.
"I'm her son! Her only family! Please, I need to see her!"
Joey's fear and anxiety were palpable, so the nurse didn't give him much trouble, informing him of the room number after several simple procedures. "Please, don't run!" she yelled as Joey sprinted for the elevators.
"319…319." Joey's head swiveled through the snow colored hallways as he searched for the room. His heart iced over with every uncertain second. "319!" As soon as he saw it, he bolted for the door.
As sudden as his launch, his stop was even more severe. Frozen at the entrance, He watched his mother lying unconscious in a hospital bed.
Even worse, bad news never came without a guest. A man stood over her under a large black coat…Joey could only view his back, but he had a terrible premonition about his identity. It might as well have been the grim reaper.
His mother's bed had gray handles for safety, but there were no handles or bars that could protect her, not from that man. That would be the last person Joey would want to see here, or ever see for that matter. "What are you doing here…"
The man turned. "Just payin' my respects."
When Joey recognized his face, his body which was at peak tension...relaxed. It was Angelo. Even so, Joey knitted his brows. "How'd you get here before me?"
Angelo sighed. "They had me as an emergency contact…I was gonna call you but they said someone already did." He looked back at Caroline with a complicated expression for several seconds, before walking towards Joey at the door. When near, Angelo tried to console Joey by putting his hand on Joey's shoulder, but Joey flinched away. Angelo dropped his hand and showed a helpless smile. "Call me if you need anything…" Then he walked out.
Joey glanced at his mother's bed and braced himself. He took slow steps towards it. Every step closer was like approaching the scorching sun, defrosting his worry but incinerating his hope. He had to see her, but he couldn't bear to watch. Her face was pale. Her hair a mess. Her arm connected to a tube with machines beeping in the background. Reduced into this specter of sickness, this was his beautiful mother. She'd overworked herself trying to support him, and he knew it was all his fault.
'If only I wasn't greedy and gave her money earlier.'
'If only I made money faster.'
'If only I didn't exist.'
…
'If only I…' Every thought of his reduced to this format. Yet, the second half of the sentence didn't matter anymore when his guilt became larger than the world itself. Humans didn't only need oxygen to breathe, otherwise, how could he feel so suffocated?
At some point, Joey lost his voice, the one in his head from shouting himself hoarse. He sat by his mother's side holding her hand in a thoughtless trance, no less comatose than she was.
It was the closest thing to peace he would find, because that's when the doctor entered.
