by K. S. Adkins
Sleep could wait, this couldn’t.
Dumping every letter I ever wrote to her on the floor, I started arranging them. Her shoe box with the letters she wrote to me sat on my kitchen table and I wasn’t in a strong enough place to read them yet. But I could start here, with the letters I wrote.
The process took hours because there were hundreds. Reading them again was a sucker punch, that’s for damn sure. The problem was I wasn’t smart enough to date them so I had to go by memory of where I was in my head at that time. One letter in particular had me sobbing. The one where I asked her for forgiveness, having no idea she already had given it.
Because that was Kandace, always forgiving me.
Staring at the clock knowing I couldn’t hit her dads’ place this early, I grabbed a pen and paper and wrote another letter. This went on for several hours and before I knew it, it was almost ten am and my letter was close to nine pages long. Eight of those pages were memories I’d had of us, of her.
Boxing it up, I drive over hoping someone was home.
Knocking on the door the box started to feel heavy to me. It wasn’t, but what the box implied was. Dick answered and literally pulled me inside. Before I could speak, he shoved me into a chair and I saw Peter with red eyes holding a box of tissue.
“Have you watched the news?” he asks me with a voice that sounded like he ate sandpaper.
“No,” I tell him looking over at the television.
“Any response?” he asks Dick.
“Not yet,” he says coming to his side.
“Remember the time difference,” Dick says.
“She’ll contact us, honey.”
Alarms went off in my head. Moving closer to the TV I watch the ticker move across the bottom and the news guy talk about a virus called Ebola that’s devastating the villages of Sierra Leone. Dropping the box and gripping the chairs arms, he went on about the American doctors that were infected then it went to commercial.
“Is she---“ I start but was unable to finish.
“We don’t know,” says Peter. “We spoke to her on the phone last week and that was when she was finally cleared to tell us about it. Now she can only correspond via email and we haven’t heard from her in two days.”
“They’ll just send her home right? If she’s sick they can treat her here.”
“No,” Dick grates out. “They can’t send her home if she’s infected, Rome. This is spreading too quickly to be contained. They cannot risk more exposure.”
“They can treat her there then?”
“Their resources are very limited,” says Peter wiping his eyes. “If she does contract the virus… We just don’t know.”
Just then Dick heads into his office and Peter and I just sit there, numb. Several minutes later, he comes back out and says, “She’s symptom-free as of today,” he says with relief in his voice. “She’s checking her temperature hourly and she says she feels good. Kandace said the death count in her village is at eighty one.”
Sagging into the chair, I watch them hold each other in comfort. Fuck, I missed her and now I was terrified and needing comfort too.
“Come here, son,” says Dick making room.
Without a thought, I joined them and accepted their comfort. “Kandy Girl will be fine,” says Peter.
“Of course she will,” says Dick. “She has to be.”
“Can you send things to her over there?” I ask quietly.
“Yes,” says Peter. “Although it takes time getting there especially now, with this virus. We have a care package going out tomorrow, did you want to add something?”
Pointing at the box, I tell him “That box needs to get to her. I’ll pay whatever the cost is to send it, but it needs to get there.”
“What’s in the box, son?” Dick asks.
“My heart.”
When they both smile and nod, I make my way out and before I closed the door Peter says, “I’m proud of you.”
Closing my eyes was all I could manage. He was proud of me. Once she had been proud of me too. One day I wanted to be proud of myself.
The rest of the day was spent in front of my TV. No way could I walk away from it in case there was news. When the five o’clock news came on a doctor on site gave a video interview and explained two American doctors had been infected but didn’t give names.
Blindly reaching for my phone, I hit Bishop’s number and wait. “Yo,” he says on the third ring.
“Need a friend, man,” I tell him. “Appreciate it if you could come by my place right now.”
“On it,” he says disconnecting.
True to his word he showed. About five minutes after that so did Jules. I broke down directly after. As a group, we watched the horror unfold with limited information. Jules was on the computer researching the virus and even tried calling in a few favors with no luck. I needed to know if she was sick. Not knowing was torture.
This was my fault. She hadn’t planned on going until I gave her no other choice. “What you’re doing right now,” Bishop says tapping my temple. “Stop it.”
“My fault,” I tell him.
“The Doc chose to go, she knew the risks. Women like her think of others before thinking of themselves. Ain’t no way she’s not taking every precaution she can so you need to have faith, Rome.”
“Faith?” I laugh miserably. “In what?”
“In Kandace,” says Jules from behind the computer. “Bishop, let’s have story time. Rome, you want a blanket for this?”
“No, I don’t want a fucking blanket!” I yell over at her.
“Did I ever tell you how I met the Doc?” Bishop asks.
“You said she fixed you up,” I answer wanting him to shut up. But I couldn’t very well tell him that so I stayed quiet.
“Boss over there pissed off the DPD, she has a knack for shit like that. Picture it, a back alley with Boss and me talking shit, loving life. Well I was, she wasn’t. At that point, Max was fucking things up royally…”
“The point,” Jules orders. “Get to it.”
“Yeah yeah,” he says rolling his eyes. “Three bullets tore through this gorgeous brown skin before the dickbag beat me half to death with a fucking crowbar, right? But I had to keep Boss safe. I ended up in the hospital bleeding like a stuck pig when this really hot number comes in, takes my hand and says, it’s your lucky day. I was like how the fuck do you figure? I’m full of holes and my ribs are floating around inside of…”
“Bishop, fuck,” Jules moans. “Wrap it up.”
“She said, I’m the best. A solider like you deserves the best and that’s me. Now let’s get you naked.”
“Oh she did not!” argues Jules.
“Oh yes she fucking did!” he argues back. “What Boss doesn’t know is that the Doc knew I was scared. It’s hardly believable but it’s true, I was. I’ve been to war, nasty ops that don’t bear repeating but seeing your shit filled with holes ain’t easy and she knew I was close to shutting down. The Doc broke through to me with humor and after that I was able to deal. Hours she worked on me, hours, bro. When I woke up, she was there still cracking jokes. She even told me I looked better with clothes on, which we all know is bullshit, I mean hello.” He says gesturing to himself.
“She saved me too,” Jules says quietly. “I shouldn’t have pulled through, Rome. But it wasn’t my time yet. Kandace never left me or my husband. She railed on me for not following her orders, which was sweet, but no one gives me orders, right?”
“Except Max,” Bishop offers. “And me, of course.”
“Keep dreaming, partner. She kept in touch once I was discharged and has been a trusted friend ever since. She comes to Lush if we need her and then we found out she could sing. Holy shit was that wild!” she laughs. “But she kept coming back to the club to see you, Rome. The point is, Kandace isn’t your typical quack. She falls in love with every one of her patients and based on the looks she was giving you when she was singing, she fell in love with you long before that.”
“I fell for her in college,” I tell them. “She was my tutor and the only one that gave a fuck. She was at every game but never knew I played for her. I always knew she was there though. She sat at every hearing and stayed for my sentencing. She has my number tattooed on her wrist.”
“That’s love, bro.” Bishop says quietly.
“How do I get that love back?” Tossing me a blanket, Jules takes a seat next to me, crosses both legs to get comfortable and says, “Now it’s time for my story.”
One hour and several are you fucking kidding me’s later, I knew that if Max and Jules could find their way back, we could too. But I needed Kandace healthy and home for that to happen. The following weeks made me wonder if I’d ever see her again. My life was in slow motion. News of the virus had everyone, myself included, wondering if this was the end of days and some thought a government ploy to make more money.
I didn’t have an opinion. I just knew that she was checking in with her dads once a day and that they feared the worst too. They knew, like I did, that she was sparing them details to contain their worry. I don’t ask them to mention that I’m a fixture over there when I can’t bear to be alone. I didn’t want that on her shoulders. But the three of us have formed a bond when I needed it most.
Between Peter and Dick, plus Jules and Bishop I had a solid support system but it wasn’t enough.
I still didn’t have her.
In college he surrounded me. He was always everywhere. He’s been in prison for almost four years now and I still miss him as much as I did the day he left. I’d never get to find out if our friendship could have been more. I would never get to kiss him or claim him but would always compare every man I met to him. Roman Peterson wasn’t the one who got away. He was the one that was put away and he would forever be out of my reach.
To this day, I wait for a man who probably forgot I existed.
For the first time in my life I was suffering from depression.
Not just a sigh here and there, no. Full on I can’t do this anymore, depression. Normally I’m a rock, unbreakable but these last few weeks have chipped away at me. Never as long as I live will I be able to erase the images of burial teams preparing shallow graves feet from my as they lay dying. Part of me wonders if one of those holes was meant for me. I worried that should I contract the virus and pass on that I wouldn’t be sent back to the States to be buried there. These morbid thoughts plagued me constantly. My mortality was staring me in the face, I could not escape it.
Calling home today after radio silence for close to a month, I woke Peter up but he didn’t mind, he was just glad to hear my voice and know that I was safe. My decision to come here was noble but what was happening here was affecting my family back home too. Dick was at work, but both my dads wanted me to know that they and my brother were immensely proud of me.
Breaking down into tears, knowing I didn’t have long to stay on the line, I told him how much I loved and missed him. I assured him that I was still symptom-free and that day by day we still fought to save as many as we could. Just before hanging up he asks me, “Did you receive the care package we sent yet, Kandy Girl?”
“Not yet,” I tell him wiping my eyes. “We have a delivery scheduled today though, I’m looking forward to it, dad.”
“This one is extra special,” he says clearing his throat. “Talk to you soon, Kandy Girl.” Telling him again that I loved him, I hung up and curled into a ball. Peter always called me Kandy Girl because he had a thing for New Edition. More specifically, Ralph Tresvant.
Needing something to look forward to, I hoped my package came today, no scratch that, I prayed that it did because I was losing hope.
Tomorrow will be three months that I’ve been here. With the current state of affairs, it feels like three years. After the afternoon’s rotation, I went over to the main tent to check for my package. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out why I was nervous about it. My dad’s voice did it, the way he said extra special had me afraid to move the flap to enter. Shaking my head I power through and ask the attendant if anything came for me. Lighting up like a Christmas tree, she skips over (no bullshit, she did) to the bin by the locker and hands me the entire thing. “This is all mine?”
“Someone sure loves you,” she says happily. “If there’s chocolate in there I expect you to share!”
“No promises!” I call out as I practically run back to my own tent. Knowing my dads they probably sent me every wrapped snack cake from the Little Debbie collection and I hoped for some Better Made barbecue chips too. Setting it down on my cot, I walk past the small mirror hanging from the tarp and just stare. Sliding my hands over my breasts, down my stomach and around to my ass, I realize that I’ve probably dropped thirty five pounds since I got here and my curves have vanished. Frankly, I looked like shit.
Opening it up, I let out a moan at the boxes of pure sugar shock waiting for me. The excitement crept up replacing my sadness as I moved the items around and came to a box at the bottom. I didn’t remember my dads ever buying Kraft mac n cheese in bulk but at that moment it sounded delicious to me. Ripping it open, my eyes went wide and my hands started shaking when I saw the box wasn’t filled with processed food, but with letters.
Hundreds of letters.
Opening the first and bringing up to the light I let out a wail when I see my name. I tried reading them slowly but couldn’t manage it. Promising myself that I’d start over again, it was several hours, six ho hos and two ruined sleeves later when I reached the last one.
Dear Kandace,
I couldn’t find you. I went to your place, the club and your dads’ but you weren’t there. When they told me you were gone I died in their living room. Ten years we waited, you said so yourself. I can’t do this shit without you. Let me tell you I’m sorry in person. Let me show you I’m sorry by giving me another chance. A man can change, I’m proof. You didn’t give up then, please don’t give up now. You left because of me, come back because of me too.
I don’t hate you Doc, not possible.
You love me like I love you.
#29
“Doctor Kane,” I hear from a distance.
“Yes?” I squeak out.
“Are you alright?”
“He loves me,” I whisper clutching the paper like a life line.
“I’m sorry?” she says.
“Yes,” I say folding it up. “I’ll be out shortly.”
That night after my shift, I came back and read next to my lantern. His letters began when he was a cocky nineteen year old baller adjusting to prison but letter by letter, I watched him grow into a man with his words. Not a single day went by that I wasn’t thought of, worried about or missed. I read each of them three times, memorizing as much as I could. By the time I reached his last letter again, I was emotionally drained. The last letter also had an additional eight pages filled with quotes from many of my favorite books, reasons why he loved me and memories of us. The good memories, a lot of good memories that, I had buried.
Not only had he heard me when I mentioned my favorite books, but he’d spent ten years reading them too. Rome was able to remember the good times, maybe it was time I did too.
Flipping the top of the box over, I look at the post mark. Three weeks it took to reach me. Depression was replaced with determination and running from my tent back to the administration tent, I tell the doctor in charge simply, “I’m ready to go home.”
I’d find out the next morning I wasn’t going anywhere.
“You know the game,” I tell her while she fills her tray with food.
“My family is big on football,” she says trying to move away.
“Most chicks don’t give a fuck about the game,” I point out.
Turning and stopping she sets her tray down putting a hand on her gorgeous hip. “I’m not most chicks,” she snaps. “I had hoped you’d have figured that out by now, but alas…” she says rolling her eyes.
“Okay, smart ass,” I say getting
in her space. “If you could apply any football lingo to me what would it be? Come on, Teach, I’m giving you a free pass here.”
“You don’t want me to do this, Roman,” she says backing up. “You won’t like it. I mean, I will, but you don’t handle my jokes well.”
“Because they’re always at my expense,” I point out.
“True,” she smiles. “But you set yourself up by pushing me past my point of giving a shit.”
Taking her tray, I steer her to an empty table in the corner and cross my arms over my chest. “Give it to me,” I tell her. “I can take it.”
“When I see you lumbering around with your crew acting a fool I think, too many men in the huddle. Seriously, can any of you think apart from the pack?” she says with her hands. “When I hear you hitting on girls and then see they actually buy your brand of shit, I think, ineligible man down field because you suck at flirting. When you fuck with me I call taunting. When you hurt me purposefully to save your image I think unsportsmanlike conduct. When you back me into corners, you’re roughing the passer. Then there’s times where I feel like we’ve got something no one else could possibly understand and some slut walks by and I want to scream pass interference.” Then she gets quiet and lowers her eyes. “Then when it’s just us and our heads are close together, I think helmet to helmet. But then a flag is thrown and I realize I was playing a game I’d never win. Let’s face it Roman, football is your game, not mine.”
From that day on, I never asked her about football again. Turns out she was wrong, I didn’t know shit about the game.
My grandma swore life handed you opportunities just as easily as it took them away. When I was playing ball, I didn’t pay it much mind but right now as I was sitting behind my own desk, I sure as hell did. Losing it all wasn’t easy, guilty or not guilty, doesn’t matter. Losing anything fucking sucks. I lost ten years of my life, my freedom and any shot I had at playing pro ball over a jealous bitch. I remember Michelle begging for my cock, reducing herself to a whore to get it. I also remember telling her she would never be the one I wanted and to get even with me she cried rape.
