by Janae Keyes
“How do I tell Keaton I’ve moved on?” I asked aloud.
“That is all up to you, but I know you will be much happier in the end,” April was obviously smiling as she spoke, I heard it in her tone.
“Now I need to get Patrick to answer my calls and I need to go back to the hospital once my parents bring my car,” I was exhausted, but I was going to end the day in the arms of the man I loved, I knew it.
Chapter Twenty-One
Brielle
TONIGHT, I WAS going to be in Patrick’s arms. That was my plan and I was sticking to it. I’d taken a shower, changed into jeans and a comfortable sweater. Luckily, by the time I’d finished my shower, my parents had brought my car. I wasted no time driving back to the hospital. I had so much to tell Keaton. I needed closure just as much as he was going to need it.
I took a deep breath as I walked into the hospital. I’d thought exactly how I was to tell him. There was an entire outline formulated in my mind. I chuckled to myself in the elevator as I realized I was treating this like some business transaction, but in a weird way it was. I was severing ties with another entity.
On Keaton’s floor, I went straight to the room I’d left early this morning. Reaching the door, I opened it and looked inside. It was empty. The bed was made, but it was all empty. I grew frantic right away. Jerking my body around I faced the nurse’s station. Right away, a nurse I’d known for these past two years spotted me.
“Did nobody tell you?” she questioned right away. I shook my head. I was confused and lost. Keaton couldn’t possibly have been discharged yet. “They moved him. He is on the ninth floor now. Let me check.” I watched the woman with her fiery red pixie cut, look through some papers. “Room 954.”
“Thank you so much,” I acknowledged her quickly as I rushed back towards the elevators.
I tried to be patient, but as I stood at the elevators tapping my foot, anxiety spread through my system winding its way through my veins with an electric hum. I felt like an ass for what I was about to do.
The elevator doors opened and without any thinking, I rushed inside, jabbing my finger onto the button to take me to the ninth floor. The doors closed and away I went. I’d taken these elevators a million times, but today of course they felt slower than usual. The hum had centralized in my chest, making it hard to breathe or think of anything, but the task that lay before me. When the elevator finally opened on the correct floor I looked around with apprehension. For over two years I knew this place inside and out, but here I was in a new floor, this experience was now foreign to me.
Glancing at the numbers on each door, I finally came across Room 954. I gave the door a quick knock. I took a much needed breath as I waited.
“Come in!” Called Keaton’s voice.
My quivering hand went to the doorknob and turned. I walked inside a room that was made up very much like his old one. Keaton was sitting in a wheelchair and it was obvious he’d been watching TV. He gave me a grin. My heart softened at that grin, I knew it, it was familiar to me.
“I was wondering when you’d come back,” he commented. I smiled weakly before making my way to his bed and sitting on the edge. “I have news!”
“Do tell,” I said as I set my purse down next to me. Keaton’s caramel skin was nearly back to its healthier shade. He was looking more like himself with each passing hour it seemed.
“I’m getting some feeling in my legs,” he told me, his eyes beaming with delight. I couldn’t help, but smile. It was fantastic news to learn that he would most likely not be paralyzed.
“I can’t wait to get back out on the water,” he mentioned. Of course, Keaton was all about surfing. I looked over to the TV, Judge Judy was on. Keaton took a sip of a juice box he had on the table next to his bed. “Mom and dad were by when they moved me up here. They were telling me more about the accident. Apparently, the little punk ass kid who hit me died on impact.”
I wanted to roll my eyes. This was classic Keaton. You would think that someone in the medical profession would have more of a heart, but not Keaton. He seemed to have a heart made of ice sometimes.
“Don’t call him that. He was only a kid. Plus, his name was Damian,” I corrected as I reached into my purse and retrieved my wallet and pulling out a folded up paper. It was the program from Damian’s funeral. I unfolded the program and handed it to Keaton, who snorted loudly.
“Lil nigga deserved to die. I lost over two years of my life because of him,” Keaton spat. I closed my eyes for a moment. I hated that word, nigga, it was so nasty. Keaton and I were both black and I personally hated when anyone, of any color used that word or similar words, it was nasty and didn’t deserve to be on anyone’s lips. “I can’t believe you went to his funeral, dumb bitch.” I inhaled at his comment. I used to be accustomed to comments like these.
“I did. I felt like I needed to pay respects to his family. I kept the program to remind me that I could have lost you that day, but I didn’t and look, today you are alive and awake. I’d think you would be humbler to that fact,” I explained to Keaton, who shoved the program back at me. I folded it back with no words and stuck it into my purse. I remembered the service clearly, it was so heartbreaking seeing a kid get laid to rest no matter what he did. His family was so grateful that I came and apologized to me a million times over, but I’d forgiven him and them.
I shook my head. It seemed that Keaton hadn’t changed much. You’d think someone who awoke after over two years in a coma would be humble, contrite, and just plain different. He was exactly the same. It was funny, for years I put up with the way Keaton spoke to me, his name calling and cruel remarks, but now after over two years without him and being with a man who treated me like a queen. I was much more solid in my decision.
After a moment of silence, I cleared my throat. Keaton looked to me. I knew it was time to tell him about Patrick and be firm in my decision.
“Keaton… we need to talk about the last two years and most importantly, the last six months,” I confessed.
“There is someone else?” he questioned. I nodded in response. “The guy you ran after this morning.” Once again I was nodding.
“His name is Patrick,” I noted. “I waited for you, for exactly two years. I had faith in you waking up, but then my faith started to grow faint and everyone around me was telling me it was time to let you go. I tried to hold on, but then I met Patrick. I’ve never felt as loved or as happy as I am with him. He revived my soul. My soul had been damaged for a long time, even before your accident. He was the puzzle piece I needed to complete my picture. I love you and will always love you. I’m here for you no matter what, but my heart and hand belongs to Patrick.” I felt good to say it all out loud. The look on Keaton’s face was the opposite of what I felt, but I expected it.
“Wait, you’ve been fucking another dude in my bed?” He growled out at me. I laughed out loud at his insinuation.
“First, you seemed to have forgotten, that house and all the furniture in it, belongs to me. I bought it and I was just letting you sleep in it. Second, you have no ground to stand on after you were creeping around with Angela behind my back, for God knows how long,” I spat. I couldn’t believe that he was making it seem as if I was unfaithful to him and he couldn’t bring that back around when he was the one who cheated.
“How’d you find out it was Angela?”
“It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.”
“I should have left your ass like I planned to that night,” he scoffed.
“Excuse me?” I questioned, wondering what he was talking about.
“The night before my accident. We got in a fight.” I nodded in response. “I started that on purpose. Angela and I decided I was going to leave you. That night I was supposed to start an argument and break-up with you, but I got soft. I should have done it. I should have left your slut ass that night.”
My heart was racing. I felt tears at the brim of my eyes, but I blinked them away. I wasn’t going to allow him to m
ake me cry anymore. I’d cried because of him too many times since I was 16. I really thought what I had with him was love, it was nothing, emptiness.
I stood from my spot. I wasn’t going to allow him to speak to me like that anymore. I’d spent six months with a man who treated me like a human being. He treated me with respect and care and now I finally knew what it meant to have someone love me for me and not what I could give.
“Are you going somewhere?” he asked, his voice laced with spite.
“I’m leaving. You can call Angela and tell her you’re single, because this Stanford educated woman that you just lost, is off to be with her man.” I couldn’t help, but smile to myself before I left him alone in his hospital room, mouth hanging wide open.
In those moments I knew it could have been nothing, but fate that brought me to Patrick. It all worked out how it was supposed to. It was fate. Fate never sleeps. It lies awake sleepless waiting to take us away into its planned journey. It was a sleepless fate and nothing else.
I PUSHED MY BMW to its limit. I was speeding across the Golden Gate Bridge. I needed to get to Patrick as fast as possible. The craving I had for his arms to be wrapped around me, to smell his cinnamon fragrance, and to feel his kisses, was strong. I swerved as I took the exit to Sausalito and zoomed through the streets down towards the water.
Pulling my car into his driveway, I was relieved at seeing both cars parked in their spots. Patrick was home. My heart pounded with pure exhilaration. From this moment I could be all his. I rang the doorbell multiple times. I itched with anticipation. The door flew open, there she was.
Nose stuck in the air and hand on her belly, it was Veronika. She gave me a mischievous smirk as she saw me. A feeling that I didn’t care for seemed to rush over me. Right away, I shook that feeling away. I was here for my man, the man who made me happy, the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
“What do you want?” she spat in her thick German accent.
“I’m here to see Patrick, can you get him?” I was trying to be nice to the woman who didn’t give a fuck about Patrick or his happiness. Veronika just wanted Patrick’s money and the lifestyle it could give her.
“Patrick, my love. That girl is here,” she huffed as she waddled away from the door.
It only took a moment for Patrick to arrive at the door and that feeling I felt before had returned. I tried to shake it, but it hung over me like the thick San Francisco fog. I gave him a soft smile, but he didn’t seem to smile back. Even the look in his honey eyes had changed. Sweat began to form in my palms and my heart pounded like a million drums.
“Here to celebrate?” he questioned plainly.
“Celebrate what?” I asked right away.
“Veronika and I are engaged,” there was no irony in his voice, he sounded completely serious.
“You’re joking,” I laughed out. He was being silly, he had to be.
“No jokes here. It is the right thing to do. She is having my child and we should get married. We’ve picked New Year’s Eve to do it in Las Vegas.” I knew he didn’t want to do that. He seriously didn’t want to marry her. I could tell by the emptiness in his eyes, the lack of emotion in his voice.
“Patrick, I’m here because I picked you. I told Keaton all about us. Patrick you make me happy and if I’m going to spend the rest of my life with someone, it is going to be you,” I was pleading with him. He couldn’t pick Veronika over me.
“Too late, keep your ring. Think of it as a parting gift.” My brain was trying to process his words. This wasn’t reality, this was an alternate universe. Patrick would never marry her, not in a million years.
“No, this is insane. Patrick. I love you. I…” I didn’t know what else to say to him. He was punishing me, I knew it, but why?
I didn’t understand why he would do this. I knew he loved me too. He wanted us, he fought for us. Those days he pursued me, he wanted to be with me. I’d rejected him and now he seemed to be rejecting me. My heart hurt. He wanted to break my heart. He was doing this on purpose, at this realization anger rose up in me.
“This is what you want then?” I asked him.
“It is what I want. I want to marry the mother of my son,” he stated.
There were no more words that I could find. If Patrick had made his decision, I couldn’t change his mind. I slipped my ring from my finger. I was furious at that moment. My heart was broken and there was so much anger. I threw my ring in his direction before turning on my heels and going straight to my car. I got inside and shoved my key into the ignition before zooming out of his driveway as fast as I could.
I only made it about a block or so from his place before I pulled over. Turning off the car, my face was soaked with tears. We were over and done. He was going to marry that witch and I was now alone at the end of it.
Leaning my head onto the steering wheel I cried. I cried hard, Patrick the one person I knew could love me through anything had broken my heart. I wanted to crawl back into the hole he pulled me out of six months ago.
This wasn’t the outcome I’d expected. I just knew he was going to wrap his arms around me and hold me tight. He was going to plant kisses all over me, he was going to love every bit of me, but no. A pain like no other shot through me. This was the end and it hurt beyond anything I’d ever felt before.
Patrick
I LOOKED OUT of the window of the plane. I took a deep breath. I was headed to Vegas to marry the mother of my son. I was getting married, but I felt like shit. This wasn’t how I should have felt on my wedding day, but it was because I didn’t love the woman I was marrying. I’d made a split second decision, possibly a wrong split decision.
“Mr. Bailey, you have a phone call,” announced the flight attendant on board today, Tara.
“Um, Thanks Tara,” I thanked the sweet young woman and took the phone from her hands.
“This is Patrick Bailey,” I answered as I always did. I glanced across from me to see a sleeping Veronika, the woman who would be my wife later today. Her large belly stuck out, my son was in there. I was doing what real men did. I was dedicating my life to this woman and the child she carried.
“Patrick, it’s me, your mother. You are making a mistake.” My mom was clearly distressed about all of this. When I told her that I was going to marry Veronika she flipped out completely. She told me how she could never consider Veronika a part of my family and that Veronika was using me. I needed to do this, at least I felt I needed to, for my son.
“Mom, I told you. I need to do this. Getting married and making my family complete is the right thing to do. For myself, Veronika, and Junior.” I glanced over to the other side of the plane where Veronika’s mother was sitting. Her eyes met mine, she gave a nod. My heart was pounding, I hated making my own mother upset, but I felt that she should have been proud of me. I was doing what my own father didn’t have the balls to do.
“If you should marry anyone, it should be Brielle. I don’t think I’ve seen a love like the one you shared with her. I talked to her mother yesterday, Brielle is barely eating and is an emotional wreck. She needs you like you need her. You can’t tell me you don’t need her.” I swallowed. My mom was right, I needed Brielle. I needed her to survive, but I also needed to do what was right. “Not marrying Veronika doesn’t make you any less of a man. You are the strongest man I know. Loving the woman of your dreams is what a man does.”
I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment. I hated knowing I was causing Brielle so much pain, knowing that the woman I loved was enduring such heartbreak was breaking me.
“Mom, I’ve made my decision. You can support me or not. That’s your choice. Bye.” I ended the call. I didn’t need anymore voices in my ear.
By the end of the day, I would be a married man. I was going to be the man that didn’t take my responsibilities for granted. I was taking care of mine and at that moment that was what mattered to me. Though I was so afraid that I was making the wrong decision, it couldn’t be wrong, could it?
Brielle
THERE WAS A good chance I hadn’t moved from this spot in days. I hadn’t showered and I barely ate. I only ate because my mom had forced me to. She literally stood over me and shoved spoons of food into my mouth. I had curled myself into a ball, trying in some way to protect myself from the outside world. I’d broken cue and stepped outside my comfort zone. I had taken a chance on being happy and now I wondered if I could ever feel that way again. I’d stared at this same wall for days. I was surprised my stares had not burned a hole straight through to the stucco.
A knock came at my bedroom door. It was likely my mom with food. I groaned and sat up. The door opened, but it wasn’t mom. It was the other constant face I saw, April.
I watched her walk inside of my room and without warning open my curtains. The sunlight burned my sensitive eyes after days of not seeing it. I let out a moan as I closed my eyelids tightly. This was torture. I just wanted to be left alone in my hole of despair.
“Close them!” I shouted angrily at my best friend.
“No!” she shouted back. I pulled my blanket over my head. They couldn’t just leave me alone and allow me to rot? I wanted to rot. “Get out of this fucking bed,” she growled, as I felt her yank my blanket. I opened my eyes and looked at my best friend who stood there with her hands on her hips.
“Can’t you just leave me alone?”
“No, you are going to shower and get dressed. We are going to enjoy the night. It is New Year’s Eve and you need to get out of this funk.” I shook my head and that is when her words hit me. Patrick was getting married tonight. Tonight, he was going to say vows to that Jezebel. The pain hit me as I began to weep. April’s arms wrapped around me.
