by Tina Martin
“You did?” she said, feeling herself become emotional. Her eyes watered a bit and her throat was so dry all of a sudden, she had to sip more juice.
“Yeah, I did…left it there actually, but it’s no big deal. I’m not even sure why you brought it up.”
Carter watched her as she sat there, probably pondering over what he’d done for her, or trying to remember the exact moment he lifted her head and allowed her to rest on his jacket. She’d in fact been ungrateful as Carter had mentioned to her before. It’s not everyday a stranger takes such a strong initiative to help anyone. She should’ve been thankful.
“So…let’s hear it,” Carter told her, biting his sandwich again and sitting up straight in his chair for this pivotal moment.
“I’m not telling.”
“Oh…come on. I held up my end of the deal. You can’t renig.”
“I know,” she said softly.
“So…”
The woman sighed. “Okay. My name is Shayla.” She watched Carter’s beaming face transform to a look of repressed shock. “Is something wrong?”
“What’s your last name?”
“It’s Kline.”
Carter rubbed his face, seemingly perplexed, then he looked at her again. “Your name is Shayla Kline?” he asked to confirm with heavy anticipation, brows raised.
“Yeah,” she said slowly. “Is something wrong?”
He frowned more then wiped his mouth. Standing, he said, “I’ll be right back.”
He left the rest of his fries on the countertop and once he stepped out into the hallway, he pulled her door shut and leaned against the wall, clenching himself, trying to ease the knots in his stomach. He could not believe it was her – Shayla Kline – his deceased brother’s fiancée. He and his brother weren’t on speaking terms, but he remembered her name from searching for her in the weeks following Jacob’s death. Now she was there, front and center.
Shayla Kline.
Outside now, Carter smiled awkwardly at a few people walking by while rubbing his hands together. A cloud of guilt encompassed him as he thought about how Jacob (via a suicide note) had asked him to take care of Shayla. And in his defense, he did search for her for a full week, but gave up after he hit roadblock after roadblock in his search efforts.
With a little more effort, he could’ve easily located her. He had the money to hire someone to do it for him if he wanted to, but he was so wrapped up in his career, his carefree lifestyle – the money, women and power that came with men who were immersed in high powered professions – that he didn’t have time for much else. And because of his own selfishness, it almost cost another life, not only his brother’s.
Carter took his cell from his pocket, wanting to dial his best friend, Terrance. He needed to offload this news – to tell somebody he’d found Shayla but he hesitated. It was only fair he had a talk with her first. She had a right to know exactly who he was and how he and Jacob were connected – how they were brothers. Carter even thought about letting her read the suicide note Jacob had written to him. But first things first – just telling her who he was at this point would probably be a tough pill to swallow, but it had to be done.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, give or take, Carter stepped back in the room with Shayla, quietly closing the door so as not to startle her. He looked flushed, his face a shade redder than it was before he left. His eyes were as glassy as the patches of ice that glistened on the sidewalk out front. He was happy he found Shayla, but seeing her in such a bad state had him feeling contrite. After all, he could’ve made her life ten times better had he taken the time to find her.
He walked over to the chair, took his half-hour old French fries and trashed them asking, “What are you doing on the streets, Shayla Kline?” He sat down, stared at her and sniveled.
Shayla was drained. She wanted to rest, not talk. Her eyes begged for sleep. Actually, her body needed rest more than anything. It would help her to get over the pneumonia faster, help her focus more. Get back to normal. When she heard Carter ask her the question, she let it go in one ear and clean out the other one.
“Answer me, Shayla,” Carter said bluntly.
Behind her eyelids, Shayla thought about his question – What are you doing on the streets? From her perspective, the answer was obvious, one that could possibly answer itself. She was amazed at how people who were in a financially stable position, intelligent people, couldn’t really read between the lines like normal everyday folk, probably because they’ve grown accustomed to somebody else doing it for them.
She opened her eyes just barely to see Carter’s face, noticing he appeared to be distressed. She coughed a few times, told him she didn’t feel up to talking then closed her eyes tight, thinking how Carter, a stranger, was somehow interested in her welfare. For that, she was thankful. At least someone cared, especially after the horrible months she’d been through. She closed her eyes, resuming the replay of her last conversation with Jacob:
“Why’d you say that? That you’d love me even if something were to happen to you?” she asked him.
Instead of answering immediately, he held her close, squeezing her snug against his chest. “Er’thang cool,” he said. “I just want you to know that I love you. People should tell each other that every day, you know…just in case. We never know what will happen in life from one day to the next. Actually, we don’t know what will happen from one minute to the next. Life is unpredictable that way.”
His answer didn’t do a thing to satisfy Shayla. Instead, she grew even more worried than before, her heart racing as she stood in the kitchen, facing the man who was soon to be her husband.
Something wasn’t right.
Call it women’s intuition or plain common sense…something was wrong with Jacob, and while he stood before her in denial she could see right through him.
Jacob walked away, jogged upstairs with his briefcase, sat on the bed and rubbed his eyes, fighting back tears. Unbeknownst to Shayla, he’d been secretly going back and forth to a therapist and taking medication for anxiety and depression. But what was there to be depressed about? Besides losing his job, he had a beautiful woman who was soon to be his wife, a nice condo – what else was there? He was bound to get a new job sooner or later.
“Jacob,” Shayla said, walking in their bedroom.
Jacob instantly removed the sad look from his face and turned on his charm, as he did many times before, transforming from a depressed state to being happy and jolly, full of life in mere seconds. It was all a charade.
“Sweetie, if something was wrong, you would tell me, wouldn’t you?”
Jacob comforted her with the touch of his hand, rubbing her back in circular movements. “Nothing’s wrong, Shay. Don’t worry about me. I hate it when you worry.”
“Look at me,” she told him. He did as she asked. “Sometimes, I think you keep so much from me. I get this feeling that you want to tell me things, and you resist…afraid of what I might think of you. But I want you to know that I love you, just as much as you love me and it hurts me to think that there could be something wrong, but you don’t trust me enough to confide in me. We’re going to be married soon, Jacob. If you can’t communicate with me now, then—”
“Shayla, I told you I’m fine!”
“Then why are you yelling at me?”
“Because you keep trying to make something out of nothing. I’m fine and I don’t want to hear any more of it, okay?” Jacob stood, headed for the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt.
Shayla remained sitting on the bed, tears dropping from her eyes. In her heart, she knew he wasn’t fine. But she had no idea of the horror that awaited…
Chapter 4
Shayla slowly awakened to a dark room. Besides the red and green lights emanating from the medical equipment, along with the outside fluorescent pole lights peeping through the standard white blinds hanging against the window, it was pretty dark. Her neck was a little stiff so she slowly turned to the right to see if
Carter was there. He was, lounged in the recliner next to her bed sleeping, using his left hand as a kickstand for his head. She studied him a bit further. He had a head full of silky brown hair, his inch-long strands flowed in ‘S’ and ‘C’ shapes. Shayla noticed earlier in the day how his hair color complemented his eyes and added a little extra something to his overall appearance. He didn’t have a mustache, something common amongst white collar workers as if it was written somewhere in the company manual that executives couldn’t rock goatees or mustaches. Still, he looked good without facial hair…made him look young, trendy and mysterious.
His sleeping position appeared to be very uncomfortable, she noticed, but was nothing compared to the discomfort she had to endure on the streets. Still, she wondered what he was doing there with her. He obviously didn’t have a family, a wife to go home to, because wifey certainly wouldn’t stand for this sort of nonsense. But what about his life, his home, his bed that was no doubt way more relaxing than a beat-up hospital recliner.
Shayla sat up, tired of lying in the same position for so long. As she tried to adjust her body (her left leg felt numb and tingly like it went to sleep and she had a cramp the right one) Carter stirred a little. His eyes opened. He stretched and yawned simultaneously and asked, “Are you okay?” then finished the yawn.
Shayla nodded and reached for a Styrofoam cup.
Carter grabbed it, handed it to her and said, “You sure?”
“Yeah,” Shayla said to settle him. He was so eager to provide any assistance he thought she might need. And with his enthusiasm came her sudden urge to ask him why he was there with her, as if his presence was owed to her somehow. So after she took a sip of water, she looked at him and said, “What are you doing here?”
He looked her dead in the eyes and asked, “What are you doing here…Shayla?” and for the first time in over a year, Shayla, the homeless woman, had a good, solid chuckle.
“Wow. She laughs,” Carter said with his elbows on his knees, fingers threaded, his chin resting on them. “So there is life in there somewhere.”
Shayla closed her eyes, appreciating this small piece of joy, even if it only lasted for a few seconds.
“So you don’t have any family, huh?” Carter probed.
“Why you say that?”
“Because I assume if you had family, you wouldn’t be homeless. Right?”
“Well, yeah. You’re right,” Shayla replied with her eyes closed. “It’s just me.” After the comment, she felt tears well up in her eyes thinking about Jacob. She kept her eyes closed so the sadness wouldn’t spill out.
“Well, it’s not just you anymore. I’m gonna stay with you, okay?” Carter clasped her hand. She didn’t snatch it away this time, he noticed, though he could feel the nervous energy flowing through her skin to his like electric current through a wire.
Shayla felt a level of comfort as he held her hand, assuring her that he would stay, but she also wondered what his motivation was for this – for unselfishly giving her something no one can get back – time. People say time is more valuable than money, but then again (as in Carter’s case) if you’re fortunate to have both, what’s a few days kickin’ it with a homeless girl in the hospital?
Still she was left bewildered. What was in this for him, and who was he exactly? Was he someone that knew her? Or was he indeed a perfect stranger in all aspects of the phrase – with extra emphasis on perfect. The man was fine – amazingly attractive with a nice, athletic build. He was the kind of guy that could stop traffic, cause accidents and make women drool with a single glance. The fact that he was a stranger made him even more appealing to her. But what did he have up his sleeve?
Chapter 5
“Gooood morning,” a young, enthusiastic woman from food service said as she left food on the bedside tray. Shayla had been lying there, trying to acclimate her eyes to the burst of sunlight peering through the blinds.
Who opened the freaking blinds?
She squinted more until her eyes were fully focused. She rubbed them, looked around the room again. Carter wasn’t there. Neither was his briefcase.
She thanked the woman for bringing the food while scanning the tray of fresh fruit, grits, eggs and toast. Of course she was hungry. But she couldn’t eat. Carter’s absence this morning had her mystified. Was he in the bathroom? Did he make a run to the cafeteria for breakfast? Or did he finally go home?
“G’mornin’ Ms. Kline,” the day shift nurse told Shayla – Shayla in turn amazed she recognized the nurse’s deep Carolina accent more so than her face. The nurse looked wired, like she’d had way too much caffeine already. “You tried any of that food yet, shug?”
“No. The medicine has me a little queasy.”
“Well drink a little water then go for it honey,” she responded, strapping a blood pressure cuff on Shayla’s upper left arm. “That toast has your name all over it.” The nurse sounded enthused, like she wanted the toast for herself. “And if you eat, you’ll feel better. I promise.”
“Okay,” Shayla told her as the cuff tightened around her arm. “I guess I’ll try it.”
The nurse went on to tell Shayla that her blood pressure was still low, but not low enough to raise concern. Shayla watched her record the notes in her chart, but honestly, she could care less about her blood pressure for the moment. She just wanted to know where Carter was and if he’d left for good.
“Hey, by any chance did you see the man that was here with me?”
“You mean that tall, handsome feller?”
“Yeah. Carter Williams.”
“Yup. He left ‘bout three hours ago.”
Shayla glanced at the clock – a quarter past eight. She sighed. Carter’s leaving was a punch to the gut. Even though he had no obligation to her and had every right to leave her there, she felt deserted – all over again. She wanted to cry, but like her grandma used to say before she passed – there’s no use in crying over spilled milk. And compared to the atrocity of losing her fiancé to suicide, living on the streets and begging for money to buy food, Carter leaving her at the hospital was indeed something minor. Spilled milk.
Still, Shayla felt a certain level of security with Carter around. In such a short period of time she’d formed an emotional bond with him as he held her hand, occasionally asked if she was okay and slept next to her in an uncomfortable chair, his body twisted like a pretzel. Now her Good Samaritan, her perfect stranger, her flawless friend was gone.
“We’re gonna start you on breathing treatments too, Ms. Kline, to help counteract the bronchitis. Have you had bronchitis before?”
“I used to get it as a child,” Shayla said throaty, her voice still raspy as she tried her hardest not to cry. Grandma’s orders.
“Well, you have it again, shug. I’m gonna give you the first treatment after breakfast. Also, do you feel well enough to walk to the bathroom and get in the shower?”
“Um…yeah. I think so.”
“Okay, well, if you want to I can go ahead and help you bathe? Would you rather do that right now?”
“Yes. I know I smell horrible.” Maybe that’s why Carter left, Shayla pondered.
“Well, we’re gonna fix you right on up,” the nurse responded. “I’ll be right back.”
While the nurse stepped out of the room to get materials she needed to prepare for the bath, Shayla stared down at the food in disgust. Her appetite was gone. She was weak, betrayed and the worst feeling of all – alone. She’d been this way for an eternity it seemed, since she first noticed the changes in Jacob:
Shayla sat on the bed with her face buried in her hands, listening to the rushing shower water emanating from the bathroom. It had been subtle changes she saw in Jacob over the past few months, but now she could clearly see that he was stressed-out and overwhelmed, like his mind was in a million places. He would sit on the couch and watch TV for hours – not for entertainment, but just to pass time. If the TV was turned off, he would probably still sit there, staring at the blank screen. O
n several occasions, Shayla begged him to go out with her – to dinner, to a movie or shopping – but he just sat there as firmly as the sofa he rested on.
Strange.
He used to be the one who loved to go out. He lived for the social scene, for the weekend, for Charlotte festivals – Blues, Brews & Barbecue, A Taste of Charlotte and other events. Now, his enthusiasm for life was sucked out of him, replaced by excessive TV viewing and sleeping. He’d become a couch potato.
Finally done with his shower, he stepped out of the bathroom with a thick cotton towel wrapped around his waist and tucked at his side, a little water dripping to the carpet from his legs. He looked at Shayla sitting on the bed, his future wife, surrounded by a force field of worry and anxiety.
“Shay,” he said, taking a few steps to her, dropping to his knees. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, baby. I hate it when you worry about me.”
Shayla searched for truth in his eyes, looking for some level of sincerity. A woman can always tell when her man is lying and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was lying. There was no truth in his eyes, and even the tonality of his voice was different. Something was wrong…
Chapter 6
No one wants to be alone and for Shayla, Carter was her temporary end to the overwhelming feeling of being the only person in the universe who had no one to turn to. She had him, but now he was gone. Freshly bathed now, she considered eating some food but hadn’t made a move for anything on the tray.
“If you don’t like any of the food, sugar,” the nurse said, “I can get you something else.”
“No, I’m fine,” Shayla said, tears sliding down her face before she even realized she was crying. She always found it somewhat contorted how even in this condition – being without a home, friends, family and a job – she could still say she was fine; the same way Jacob told her everything was fine when in her heart, she knew otherwise.
