Soul Caress

by Kim Shaw

  Women like Kennedy Daniels did not fall in love with men like him and even if they did, there was no way that their lifestyles could coexist. She was from the part of town where his people only ventured to clean up or provide other services. Malik reminded himself of that fact every time he caught his mind lingering on her for too long. He would continue to be her friend while she was a client at Stillwater, helping her along the road of recovery. When she was well, he would say goodbye and wish her good luck. Period. This was the promise he made to himself even as his body language shouted a different story. That story was picked up on by a few members of the staff, including Nona Torres.

  “What’s up with you, Malik? Haven’t seen you around much lately,” Nona said one day as he was headed up to Kennedy’s room to say good night. It was the end of his shift and he had already changed into his street clothes. He slung his travel bag over his shoulder as he stopped walking. Nona was blocking his path to the elevator bank.

  “I’ve been around,” he answered cautiously.

  He had seen her number on his cell-phone caller identification at home a few times over the past couple of months, but had never picked up her call. Right after their date, he’d told her that he wasn’t interested in dating at present. He’d explained that he just had too much going on. That seemed to have gone in one of Nona’s ears and out the other because she’d simply smiled and said, “We’ll see about that.”

  “You’ve been around? Humph, yeah, I guess I have seen you around a little bit…your clients have been keeping you pretty busy, huh?”

  “No, not any more than usual,” Malik answered cautiously, wondering what Nona was getting at.

  “Hmm, what’s up with that rich chick on seven? What’s her story?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Malik answered.

  “I’m saying, no one ever visits her. She’s probably one of these rich, black girls who thinks she’s too good for regular folks, right?” Nona asked, as she reached out and traced the collar of Malik’s polo shirt.

  “Look, Nona, I really don’t have time to gossip. It’s been a long day, and I really need to get going.”

  “Oh, so you don’t have a minute to spend with a friend? That’s cold.”

  “Don’t take it like that. I’m just tired, that’s all. I’ll catch up with you some other time.”

  “Yeah, all right, Malik, I’m going to hold you to that,” she said. “By the way, Malik, the exit’s that way,” she said, pointing in the opposite direction of where Malik was walking.

  He bit his tongue without responding and continued walking. Her insinuations were obvious, and he knew that if she had noticed the amount of time he was spending with Kennedy, so had the others. The last thing he wanted was for people to start gossiping about Kennedy and hinting that anything improper was going on between them.

  If there was one thing Malik disliked about his job, it was the way some of his coworkers talked about the clients that came through Stillwater. It was true that many of them were wealthy. A person would have to be in order to afford what Stillwater charged. Most major medical insurances only covered between one-half and three-quarters of the costs and many of their clients underwent rehabilitation for as many as three months. What bothered Malik, however, was the fact that some of the staff held an automatic prejudice against the clients as though they were not real people with real problems. While the clients were treated with respect and irreproachable care, the conversations in the faculty lounges always rolled around to how nasty this client was or what a slut that one was.

  Malik never got involved in those conversations and steered clear of the usual suspects who participated in them. He abhorred being judged by external things such as money and occupation himself, so there was no way he would stoop so low as to judge someone else by those same inconsequential measurements. Had he not felt that way, there was no way that he would have taken the time to get to know Kennedy, and Malik truly believed that that would have been his tragic loss.

  Chapter 9

  On the day that the fiberglass cast and the half a dozen metal pins that held her shattered kneecap together while it healed were removed, Kennedy felt like she was finally getting a piece of her life back. The smell of skin now uncovered by the cast was very unpleasant and she shuddered to think what it looked like. Nurse Crosby felt the need to fill her in.

  “Oh, we’re going to have to treat your skin…get it back to that pretty complexion you’ve got. Right now, it’s all wrinkled and drawn from the middle of your thigh, right down to your foot. Looks skinny, too, but that’s just because it was cooped up in that tight cast for so long. Don’t worry, dear, it’ll soon be as good as new.”

  Kennedy’s happiness at her newfound freedom from bondage was not in the least dampened by the fact that her muscles had become so stiff that she could barely lift her leg. She knew that it would take time before she could move about freely and quickly, but having the cast off at long last was the first step. As Malik wheeled her for what she hoped would be the last time from the examination room to the physical therapy ward, she was giddy with excitement.

  “Don’t be trying to go out and run marathons just yet, Kennedy,” Malik joked.

  “Oh, but I am. You don’t know how hard it was being trapped in all that plaster and stuff. I can’t wait to get this leg working again,” Kennedy replied.

  Malik stayed inside during Kennedy’s session, although it hurt him to watch the pain and agony that contorted her pretty face as she attempted to stand with her weight on both legs. Sweat broke out on her forehead and stained the material of her sweater under her armpits as she fought to ignore the pain and make strides toward her recovery. He fought the urge to spring from his seat and help her as she clutched the handrails and inched up the walkway. He knew that she had to do it alone, and he had the utmost confidence that she would persevere. All the same, he wanted to help her and shield her from any hurt.

  The sudden realization that Kennedy had come to mean a great deal to him scared Malik. He was also afraid that people would begin to notice how devoted he’d become to her. He also worried that she would soon realize the feelings he had for her, as well.

  He comforted himself with the thought that soon she would be leaving Stillwater and that would bring an end to what had been brewing between them. He considered that perhaps distancing himself from her sooner was the best course of action. Before he could act, however, he ended up having a heated argument with Jessica Nelson, one of the seventh-floor nurses who just so happened to be a close friend of Nona’s. Jessica was part of the gossip mill, and it was nothing for her to drop insinuations about the clients. She crossed the line with Malik one day, however, and he lost it.

  “So, Malik, I see you’ve got yourself a little side hustle these days,” Jessica said, cornering him as he filled out a tag to have a wheelchair repaired and stored it in a supply closet near the nurses’ station.

  “What are you talking about, Jessica?” Malik asked.

  “Well, I mean, everybody knows you’ve been spending a lot of time with Miss Daniels…room seven west? We’re just all wondering how much money you’ve tapped her for. These society chicks that come through here pay well for a certain type of company, if you know what I mean.”

  Malik spun on his heels to face Jessica. The nasty sneer that curled her otherwise attractive face made her look every bit as devilish on the outside as she was inside. Blind fury sent scorching heat from his brain to his toes. He took two large menacing steps toward her and her expression changed in a flash to fear.

  “You spiteful bitch…you’d better watch your dirty little mouth. Don’t let appearances fool you. You don’t know me like that to step in my face talking trash,” he growled.

  Jessica took a step backward, moving out of the confines of the closet into the well-lit corridor.

  “Whoa, you’d better back up, Malik. All I said was—”

  “I heard what you said, and I hope you heard me. Watch what
comes out of your mouth before you get yourself hurt.”

  “Hurt? By who? Certainly not by you. I don’t appreciate you threatening me, either,” Jessica screeched.

  “No, baby doll, that wasn’t a threat. That was a promise.”

  “Don’t threaten me, Malik.”

  “And don’t you mess with me, Jessica.”

  “Whatever. I don’t know who you think you are, and I damned sure don’t know what Nona sees in your tired behind,” Jessica said.

  It was all Malik could do not to take his hand and wipe the smugness off of her face. Instead, he clutched his fists against the side of his pants legs and moved past her, away from the stares of the people at the nurses’ station. He felt Jessica’s hateful eyes boring into his back, but he continued walking without looking back until he had turned the corner and was out of sight. His pager vibrated at his side at precisely that moment and he looked down to find room number seven west displayed on the screen. Kennedy.

  He toyed with the idea of not responding to her call. He was too upset, and he didn’t want her to see him in such a sour mood. She didn’t deserve to have her sunny days dampened by vile innuendos. After a moment or two of contemplation, he realized that her sweet disposition would be the best medicine for his current agitation. He made a beeline for Kennedy’s room.

  “Are you decent?” Malik asked as he stuck his head in the doorway after knocking three short raps on the wood.

  “Get in here, you.” Kennedy laughed. “Look. I just got these in the mail,” she continued.

  Malik stepped farther into the room and joined Kennedy on the two-seater. He took the package she held out in front of her.

  “Books on tape,” he read from the label.

  “Yep. I ordered Brother Odd and The Husband by Dean Koontz and Stephen King’s latest. Isn’t that great?”

  “Oh, yeah, it’s cool, but I told you that I’d read them all to you,” Malik said.

  His brows knotted with concern as he suspected that perhaps he had overstayed his welcome with Kennedy. He worried that she might be trying to tell him that she wanted some space. They had discovered a mutual interest in science fiction and mystery novels and Malik had brought in his collection of Dean Koontz thrillers. After Kennedy selected a title that she had never read before, they would sit shoulder to shoulder, Malik reading and Kennedy clutching his wrist during the scary parts.

  “I know and you’ve been great, but I also know that you’ve got to be getting tired of reading out loud. This way…we can listen together,” she said.

  Malik’s sigh of relief was audible. He spent the rest of that evening seated by Kennedy’s side listening to a twisted tale of a man who enlists the help of an antiaddiction group to help him kick his smoking habit, only to find that there’s a high price for anyone who strays from the program, including electric shock and body mutilation.

  Malik dared to drape his arm around Kennedy’s shoulders and when she nestled against him, his heart felt full to bursting. They fell asleep in the middle of chapter four and Malik felt like he had the most peaceful sleep of his life. When he awakened, it was after three o’clock in the morning. He brushed his lips gently against Kennedy’s forehead and slid his arm from beneath her. He slipped out of her room, taking the back elevator out of the building to avoid being noticed.

  When his supervisor called him into his office the next morning, Malik instinctively knew that it wouldn’t be good. His suspicions were confirmed when Dennis Grayson informed him that it had been brought to his attention that Malik had been slacking on his duties of late, due to the extra time and attention he was paying one client in particular. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know who had brought the situation to Grayson’s attention, considering the fact that the man rarely came out of his office and could barely put his staff’s names and faces together.

  Malik didn’t attempt to dispute Grayson’s allegation. He remained silent while he was reminded of Stillwater’s policies and procedures, warned about future infractions and told that he was being reassigned to the fifth-floor clients. The fifth-floor day shift client assistant, Rodney Singh, would take over care for Kennedy and the rest of Malik’s seventh-floor clients.

  Malik didn’t have an opportunity to tell Kennedy himself. She paged him twice during the day, but he waited until his shift had ended and he had signed out for the day before he signed into the building as a visitor and went to see her.

  “Malik, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble. Maybe I can talk to your boss and try to smooth things over for you,” Kennedy suggested.

  “No, no, trust me, it’s not even worth it. Just as long as Rodney’s taking good care of you,” Malik answered.

  “Oh, he was fine…doesn’t talk much, but he was okay.”

  Despite the change in Malik’s responsibilities, there were no restrictions on his personal time, which he chose to spend with Kennedy. He joined her during his lunch hour out near the lagoon and stopped in to see her every evening before he left for the night. Often a quick good night ended up stretching deliciously into an hour or two that neither of them were willing to tear themselves away from.

  It wasn’t until Malik had to take a few days off to travel out of town to attend a funeral that Kennedy realized how much she had grown to depend on his company. While she expressed sincere condolences at the loss of his uncle, she felt a nagging sensation of abandonment. Although she’d never share that sentiment with him, she could not stop herself from feeling it.

  With perfect timing, Skyy surprised her with a visit two days after Malik left town. Her unexpected arrival was just in time to stave off the loneliness that had begun to scratch at the edges of Kennedy’s spirit.

  “Girl, you are looking good. Ten times better than the last time I saw you. Give me some love,” Skyy beamed.

  “Thank you, thank you. I wish I could say the same, but, you know…” Kennedy joked.

  For the first time, the sheer humor in her statement outweighed the bitterness at the source of her remark. For her it was a sign that perhaps she would eventually get used to her loss of sight.

  “You don’t need to see me to know that I’m looking fabulous, as usual. That’s what I do!” Skyy quipped.

  Laden with packages, Skyy dropped all kinds of goodies onto Kennedy’s bed. They spent the remainder of the day sampling brioche, the sweet pastries Skyy had brought directly from southern Italy that melted in your mouth like cotton candy. They sprayed on designer perfumes from famous Italian industry notables and tried on handmade shirts and sweaters from the rural mountain areas of the North. Skyy’s enthusiasm and love for the place she was temporarily calling home was infectious and Kennedy hoped to one day get to see the country in every sense of the word.

  Kennedy took Skyy on a tour of the facility and they lingered at what had now become her favorite place—the lagoon.

  “I spend a lot of time down here. It’s so peaceful,” Kennedy informed.

  “Yeah, it’s really beautiful. Romantic. A woman could get caught up down here, with the right guy. Shimmering water, fragrant flowers…you’d better watch out or one of these old geezers who just got a new hip might try to put the moves on you,” Skyy joked. “And, since I happen to know that you have been out of circulation for a minute, you just might be open to hooking up with a geriatric Jack.”

  Kennedy didn’t respond, her thoughts having wandered away to Malik. She wondered what he was doing and if he’d missed their midday meal by the water as much as she had that day.

  “Okay, if I’d wanted to be ignored, I would have gone to visit my folks. What’s up with you?”

  “Huh? I’m sorry. I was just thinking,” Kennedy said.

  “Yeah, that much is obvious. What’s up with that big Kool-Aid grin on your face? What are you just thinking about? Or should I ask who?”

  “Nothing…I mean, nobody. Just a friend.” Kennedy blushed.

  “Spill,” Skyy commanded, dropping down to the grass and
pulling Kennedy down beside her.

  She stretched her legs out front of her, leaned back on the palms of her hands and waited.

  “Really, Skyy, he’s just a friend. He’s…he was one of the client assistants who was assigned to me, but they switched him to another floor a couple of days ago. Anyway, he’s just been really nice to me since I’ve been here…you know, taking really good care of me. He’s a nice guy.”

  Skyy eyed her friend’s expressionless look with skepticism.

  “Uh huh, so what are you leaving out?”

  “What? Nothing, I swear. He’s a nice guy and, you know, it’s pretty boring here and he helps me pass the time. That’s all there is to it.”

  Kennedy’s last statement was adamant, but Skyy was far from being convinced. She knew that there had to be a reason why Kennedy was being evasive about a potential relationship, although she had no idea what that reason could be. She waited until later in the evening before broaching the subject again.

  “How about I wash your hair for you? I’ve got some homemade shampoo that’s to die for. This little old Sicilian woman named Rosalia mixes the stuff in her kitchen and sells it out of empty baby food jars. Come on.”

  While Skyy lathered Kennedy’s hair and massaged her scalp under the warm water, Kennedy relaxed and inhaled the deliciously fruity fragrance. Lost in thoughts that transported her mind to another time and another place, she felt a heady anticipation inside. She knew that feeling only came from one source and despite how hard she tried to deny it, that source was love.

  “So, when do I get to meet this nice guy who’s nobody?” Skyy asked as she toweled Kennedy’s hair dry.

  Kennedy smiled, knowing that she had been even less successful at fooling Skyy than she had been at misleading herself.

  “He’s out of town…at a funeral.”

  “Too bad. Well, maybe next time. I’ve got to go spend some time with the folks down in North Cakallaky. My dad’s prostate is acting up again and you know my mom isn’t good in crises.”