Love UnExpected (Love's Improbable Possibility)

by Love Belvin

  Shit!

  I panicked. My first thought was to call Michelle.

  Fuck!

  My best friend was no longer an option. The pain hit again. I couldn’t think of anyone else that I could call. I grabbed my purse, keys and towels and tottered my way in the car. I drove myself to the hospital in unbearable pain. I was bleeding and growing weak by the minute. Bringing the car to an abrupt halt, I illegally parked and floundered out of the car making my way into the emergency room and was seen immediately.

  I stayed overnight for two days. I’d miscarried my fetus. I felt so numb. It wasn’t because I was connected to and bonded with a six-week-old fetus, but because I had disconnected from my own body so much that I didn’t feel a loss.

  I felt lost.

  Michelle was gone. And consequently, so was Erin. Life lacked rhythm, I had no purpose to my days. Azmir had been in my corner as much as I would allow. Once again, we were in a weird space. I’d never informed him of Michelle’s passing or my miscarriage. He tried contacting me, but I wouldn’t take his calls or texts. I had no one to call but work to inform them of my need for sick days.

  I was under observation because of the blood loss, major dehydration and having a DNC performed to cleanse my uterus of what was once life inside of me. The nurses thought it was odd that I had no visitors and made no calls. Azmir had been calling frantically all week. He sent texts and emails.

  On the second day, he left a message saying that he went over to my house only to find that I wasn’t there. For all I knew he tried looking for me at work but I hadn’t been there in nearly a week since Michelle’s passing. I lay there in my hospital bed and cried on and off until I was discharged.

  The nurses asked how would I get home and explained that for liability reasons I could not drive myself. They placed me in a cab to go home when I was discharged only for me to catch a cab back to the hospital to pick up my car. I went to work the very next day as if nothing happened. I was a zombie.

  A week later found me at Katsuya having lunch with Britni and April. They asked to meet to—I’d guessed—grieve together. I wasn’t interested in group bereavement but would do anything to honor Michelle’s life and if that meant putting up with her friends for a couple of hours, I would do just that.

  “I just can’t believe she’s gone. This has been a fucked up week. Who’s going to replace her?” Britni moaned, her face was pale bringing full attention to her red nose. She looked to have been crying for days.

  She annoyed the hell out of me the most. Why would you think of replacing a friend? I know people don’t always know the right thing to say when death occurs but come on! I just played with the straw in my glass of unsweetened raspberry tea while staring down at the table.

  “That’s just it, Brit…no one could ever replace her. We just need to find a way to move on. She would want that.” That was provided by April. She seemed to have a little more sense than her bestie. I was being tortured during this tête-à-tête between them.

  We sat quietly for a few minutes. I had nothing to offer and wasn’t in the mood to improvise. April broke the ice by saying, “Rayna, I know this comes at a loss for us but I know you will be greatly affected by this. You two were like sisters.”

  After taking a few seconds to process what she said, I knew my time of silence had expired, I needed to contribute or be considered rude and insensitive to Michelle’s friend.

  I offered, “Ladies, it’s definitely going to be a rough period ahead but we have to muster the strength to get through. Michelle was a mighty force who left an imprint on all of our lives. We have memories of her that can last a lifetime. As long as those memories last, she will live on. I find peace in knowing that.” Yeah, a mouthful considering I didn’t have shit to offer.

  Britni’s eyes began to swell up and April went to console her with a hug. Britni struggled to say, “There are so many questions like who’s going to care for Erin and what’s going to happen to her house…” before her voice teetered off due to the enormity of emotions that rushed in.

  After a pause I attempted, “There are many things that we don’t know as of yet—” but I was interrupted.

  “Yes! There are lots of things we don’t know about the man we’re fucking. Like, let’s see…ahhhh—yeah! Like he’s a damn thug in Burberry business suits. Did you know that, sweetie? Or that everything you benefit from being with him is a result of my hard work and training!”

  It was that bitch, Tara. By the time she paused, several of her girlfriends had appeared, frantically trying to pull her away from our table. This made her get even louder. Seeing her was the last thing I needed at that moment, I’d been hanging on by a thread.

  “You may be into ballers so you probably don’t give a damn about any of that, but just in case you have a shred of decency in you, I thought you should know so that you can run the other way,” Tara continued in her tyranny.

  As she spewed this directly in my face, I just sat there looking at her in complete stoicism with incredulity. It was obvious that Tara didn’t know how to read my reaction and it pissed her off.

  She continued, “Oh, I get it! Dumb bimbos like you can’t even comprehend the help that I’m giving to make the right decision. Pitiful! All you broads know how to do is swing those legs up in the air and fall to your knees!”

  Although Tara disgorged street jargon, you could tell by her delivery that she was a valley girl. Her words weren’t threatening, but she was bold. Really audacious—each time I saw her.

  Her one associate yelled, “Tara, that’s enough! She doesn’t want any trouble. You’re acting very ghetto in here.”

  And another followed with, “Tara, you’re pregnant. He’s not worth it!”

  Simultaneously, April looked at me and asked, in the state of incredulity herself, “She called you a dumb bimbo?”

  I guess she, too, was caught off guard by the accusation. Clearly, Tara had no idea of my credentials. Shit—who was I to rain on her parade by explaining that the man she’s obviously obsessed with isn’t with a hood-rat that would make her feel superior?

  I had to get out of there. Though mad as hell, I decided to play along.

  I pulled out my wallet, dropped a crisp $100 bill on the table, stood to get square in Tara’s face—as close as her swollen belly would allow.

  “Ladies, that’s for the bill, courtesy of Divine. As for you, if it wasn’t for this belly I would mop this bitch with your fucking face. Do ya’self a favor, check my record before confronting me like this. I thought you should know that.”

  Just before I turned to walk away, I noticed staff members of the restaurant as well as other well dressed women charging towards our table.

  Tara sputtered, “She called him Divine! I knew she was a hood-rat!”

  I purposely referred to him by his street moniker to further her assumption of who I was. I could deduce she was having a baby shower because from my peripheral view I could see balloons and a few other women still sitting in an area adjacent to ours.

  That bitch had a good view of me and I had no idea she was in the room.

  I felt like it was all too much hitting me at once. I couldn’t take the extra drama. I think it was then that I subconsciously questioned my decision to work things out with Azmir. I’d planned on telling him about Michelle’s passing later that day. Those plans got derailed after my run in with Tara’s ass.

  After leaving the restaurant, I returned to my office. I had patients to see. Because of my absence for Michelle’s death and funeral and then my hospital stint we were backed up. Many of my patients declined to see my proxy while I was out and therefore I had extended my hours to catch up. I had nothing better to do.

  I felt like a huge part of me had gone with Michelle’s death and Erin’s departure from my life. Amber told me after the funeral in so many words to not call her about visiting Erin, she’d call me. I knew that meant I was locked out of her life. I feared this during Michelle’s last days but was t
oo afraid to stress her out with putting something together ensuring that I’d stay an intrinsic part of Erin’s life. I knew if I stood any chance at seeing Erin I’d have to hire an attorney. I’d just hoped that would work.

  All is fair in love and war, right? Right.

  I had become so depressed. It was such a contradicting cocktail of emotions. I wanted to be alone to deal with my loss yet at the same time the deceased would never approve of the method of my grieving. I eventually realized how in our final conversation, Michelle was pleading with me to open my heart to trust another individual other than her so that she could rest in peace. The enormity of my emotional handicap must have been extremely stressful for her. As much as I wanted to honor Michelle’s final wishes, the situation with Tara was pulling on me. I was in so much pain.

  In a rare act, I called back home to check on Chyna only to learn that my father had succumbed to a long bout with prostate cancer. I didn’t feel compelled to pay my last respects, only to be there to support my sister. Chyna sounded so choked up. She said she’d been trying to contact me for weeks to let me know he had taken a turn for the worse. I suddenly recalled how I’d been virtually living with Michelle since my birthday. I’d only shared my home number with my family. Was that really the last time I’d checked in with her? I told her that I’d be right out there.

  Two days later, I was checking into Embassy Suites not too far from the airport. I called to track down Chyna but got my grandmother instead.

  “Yeah, chawl, Chyna been runnin’ these streets like life ain’t got no limits!” my grandmother moaned. “I’m getting too old to be chasing afta’ her. Your grandfather been down since his stroke and I ain’t got no help.”

  “Okay, I’ll talk to her when I get there,” I offered.

  Chyna was a wild child because her parents abandoned her. I was no help because I no longer sent for her. For some reason, even calling home depressed me. I wanted no memories of home. Outside of Keeme, I disconnected myself from everything Jersey. I’d send Christmas and birthday gifts and even paid a visit when she graduated elementary school. But until recently, she was too young for me to relate to. I know it sounds cold but I couldn’t bring myself to take her on. I think until this trip I had no conscience of it. Maybe Michelle’s death opened my eyes to the fact that I had isolated my real family. I depended on her for so much that I’d substituted those relationships.

  These thoughts caused me to cry. I hated crying but those blue feelings overcame me so quickly. The mere thought of Michelle jolted my stomach. I felt that emptiness again.

  My phone ringing caused me to judder as it startled me while I sat on the hotel bed. I immediately thought it was Chyna, but when I grabbed the phone Azmir’s name popped up. I pushed the button on the top of the phone to ignore the call. I had realized at that moment that I hadn’t spoken to Azmir in nearly three weeks. Again, life began to happen so quickly. I had to admit it would be great to have someone by my side and Azmir would more than qualify. He had been so supportive in the past, but I felt like he’d been adding to my stress as of recently. It was almost as if he had another life and I felt like I couldn’t trust him. I’d rather nurse myself back to a better state of mind alone than deal with the unknown.

  After showering that rainy afternoon, I headed to my grandparents’ home. When Chyna opened the door she ran to me and jumped into my arms.

  “Oh my fucking gawd…Rayna! I can’t believe you really came!” she cried.

  To say I was taken aback by her reaction to my presence would be an understatement. I felt her petite frame descending off me and quickly thought reciprocating her embrace would prevent the fall. Chyna had grown into a gorgeous young lady. She was a lot skinnier than I was at that age and she’d always been lighter in skin tone than Akeem and me. She had red kinky twists in her hair and making a fashion statement with it. I noticed her gold heart shaped bamboo earrings with her name scripted on a plate running through them. She broke our embrace by stepping back and taking inventory of my being with the biggest and most enthused smile, “Damn, you pretty as hell!”

  Before I could thank her she screamed, “Grandma, look! She beautiful!” very hood’esque.

  My grandmother and grandfather came to the front portion of the three family home to greet me. My grandmother was just as round and plump as a snow-lady and Grandpa was tall and quite frail. I noticed his maimed arm and the left side of his face drooping from the stroke, I had assumed. It was pretty sad seeing him in that condition. The house smelled as it did when I was coming up. Many pictures on the wall were the same, the ones that were new to me were those of Chyna coming up. I was once again reminded of my neglect of her. It was crazy seeing her at various stages of her life—stages that I had missed.

  My grandmother offered me food to which I declined. I didn’t have much of an appetite as of late. Chyna brought me into her bedroom where she had Chris Brown, Soulja Boy, and Waka Flocka posters plastered on her walls. I saw pictures of her and some young guy who I had assumed was her boyfriend. There were poses of them kissing and embracing and some of him alone. Her music was blasting so loud that even she knew it was difficult to engage in a two-way conversation with it at that volume. Instead of turning it completely off, she turned it down to a moderate level.

  We sat on her bed and initially just stared at one another. Chyna was a cutie. She had features of both our mother and father. She had gotten one of those piercings between her cheek and top lip, marring her beauty. I guess that was the fad for the kids of her cohort. It took away from her natural splendor in my opinion, but who was I to say.

  I broke the ice by saying, “Chyna, you’ve blossomed into quite a beauty. Then again, you’ve always been gorgeous.”

  She giggled like a schoolgirl before saying, “Thanks,” in the shyest of tones.

  “I’m sure the boys are just loving you,” I continued my genuine doting.

  She continued to laugh nervously. I was immediately reminded of what a teenager was like. I have a few as patients but so far removed from entertaining one that I forgot the oddity involved. I tried a different way of starting up a conversation.

  “So, what’s going on with you?” I asked hoping that would get her to talk.

  “Ummmmm…nothing, I guess. Just school,” she said taking the bait. Whew!

  “Well, how is school? You should be preparing to graduate soon, right?”

  “Yeah…I’m a junior. I think I wanna go ta’ college. I don’t know. I might do hair.”

  “Okay. Well, give it some thought and I’m sure you’ll make the best decision for yourself.” I decided that quickly to end the torture.

  “You went ta’ college, right?”

  I nodded in agreement.

  “Did you like it?” Chyna was finally trying to engage me in conversation.

  “I went and I think it was one of the best things I could have done. I hope you can find what you like to do and make it happen, too. If it’s not college, it’s okay, but do something that can help you become independent. Grandma and Grandpa won’t always be around, you know,” I softly admonished, keeping in mind my grandmother’s woes with Chyna.

  “Ummmm…okay. I will,” Chyna said and then followed up with, “Mommy be asking ‘bout you a lot.”

  That comment hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d even thought about my mother. I hadn’t seen her since I left for college. My grandmother would mention her when I called back home, but she generally never said much other than what related to Chyna.

  All I could muster was, “Oh, yeah?” which was not a question although it sounded as such.

  “Yeah. They transferred her from Straight & Narrow to St. Joe’s. She still on dialysis. I told her ‘bout smoking ‘dat shit knowing she sick but she don’t be hearing nobody. She gone’ end up just like my daddy…watch.” Chyna started to tear up.

  I didn’t know what to say. This news was all foreign to me. My mother was on dialysis? For what?
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br />   “I’m sorry to hear that.” I didn’t have anything else.

  We chatted for about a half hour more before I rose to leave. Exhaustion hovered over me. I hadn’t been sleeping for weeks, and the flight out here probably pushed me over the edge. Chyna’s lack of maturity and etiquette didn’t allow her to offer to walk me out.

  I stood in the kitchen and spoke briefly to my grandmother who sat at her kitchen table with the Bible out to her right, clipped coupons to her left and knitting a blanket in her lap. The conversation was short-lived likely because whenever I do call and check in, it’s her that I speak with. I gave half-hearted promises to stop by before I left the following day to return home. That was me, in and out. I’d seen all my soul could bear. I kissed her and headed out.

  On my way to the door, I heard my grandfather wheeze, “You look just like yo’ momma when she was yo’ age…just as beautiful as the sunrise. Heehee!”

  Startled, I stopped to give him my full attention. “Only difference is you selfish like nobody’s business. Yo’ momma was the most generous and selfless woman I knew. That’s how the drugs caught up ta’ her, you know. She was a people pleaser. So much that she forgot about herself. I don’t know what she saw in my son. Heehee!” He tapped his chair in mirth. “He was like you; when some’in ain’t go his way or life wasn’t rosy, he hit the road runnin’. That’ why he left you girls, your brother and yo’ momma, you know. He never even looked back. Heehee!” He paused looking off into the distance as he faced the stained wall that boasted pictures of smiling faces from decades ago.

  He continued, “Yo’ baby sister ended up here because nobody wanted her. Akeem…we all know his story: them streets swallowed him up. Yo’ momma runnin’ ‘round here after a crack pipe with two dead kidneys from that new disease—heap…hepa…tites or something.”

  That’s why she’s on dialysis! My mother has hepatitis. Damn.

  “She still down there in them projects even though she ‘pose to be in rehab. She was there one day and ran off. And you…well, let’s just say that maybe you had half a mind to leave this ugly life of yours behind ya for greener pastures but you left even the people who did you no harm. You know what dat tells me?” My grandfather now shifted his gaze to meet mine. “Dat right there tells me that you ain’t no better off where you at because you ain’t yet make sense of the trouble inside ya. The pain is all inside ya. Not here wit’ me or yo’ grandmother or Chyna…the people who ain’t hurt ya. It’s within you, honey. Until you free ya’self of them troubles you gone’ keep running like that daddy of yours. May even die a lonely death.” He paused for a few seconds.