by Lila Felix
“Yes, darlin’. Can you do me a favor? I know you will but…”
“Spit it out.”
“Just make sure Scout drinks plenty of water and wears sunscreen. Those freckles are highly flammable.”
I looked at him with pure confidence, “I already packed sunscreen and I froze some water bottles just for her, Daddy. I’ve got this.”
He smiled, a new smile, one that conveyed something prideful, “You sure do. I love you, Journey.”
“I know,” I gave him some lip and some hip and went to get dressed.
I came out, made do with just shimmering lip balm and brushed my hair up into a ponytail. It was hotter than the seventh level of Hell outside and any other make-up or hair product would melt away in no time.
Storey called and let me know that she was just outside but didn’t want to get Scout out of her car seat, so I grabbed my stuff and jumped into the passenger seat. I was looking forward to this trip—had been all week.
“Ms. Journey! We’re going to see the aminals! I mean animals!” She squealed.
“Hi Journey, there’s a wild monkey in my back seat, her name is Scout.”
“Honey!” It was funny to hear a three year old exasperated, “I am not a monkey, I am an orangutan!”
“Aren’t orangutan’s nocturnal, Storey?”
She winked at me—the girl was quick, “Why yes, they are.”
She counted off from five on her hands, five, four, three, two, “What’s nocturnal?”
I chimed in, “It means they sleep during the day.”
And that was the last we heard from Scout until we reached the zoo. But when we exited the car she was raring to go. Nellie and Reed met us there and after warm embraces all around, we went in. And the red haired girl that I loved almost as much as I loved Nixon, who could’ve had her pick of anyone’s hand in the bunch, took my hand and led me around the zoo.
“What’s a dik-dik?” Scout nearly screamed as we stopped at the attraction.
Nellie snorted, “I swear that kid is gold. You don’t have to give her jokes; she’s just a riot all by herself. We’ve passed forty three kinds of animals and she could’ve cared less and then she gets to this one and decides to blow the whistle. She’s fantastical!” Nellie exclaimed and the rest of us agreed and then paused, “Wait, why aren’t you making fun of my word?”
Reed seemed to know how to handle Nellie, so she answered, “What word?”
“Fantastical,” she said it in a ‘duh’ fashion.
Reed closed her eyes for a moment and then popped Nellie in the back of the head, she waited until Scout’s attention was otherwise occupied. “It is a word, you goon!”
“Really? Huh.”
I explained to Scout that Dik-Dik was a really small deer type creature and she was satisfied with my response. She took my hand and we finally got to the aquatic part of the zoo, where it was air conditioned. I thought we’d never pull Reed out of there, her hormones were already in a frenzy and the heat was a little much for her. We stopped for lunch around noon but Reed couldn’t eat. We decided to leave early but not before Scout made us stop in the gift shop.
She never let go of my hand the whole time. We perused the overpriced souvenirs which would probably be lost in a couple of days until she found a purple t-shirt with a zebra on it, a family of plastic, miniature elephants, and a hair clip that had absolutely nothing to do with the zoo. I’d found an envelope on top of my purse when I emerged from getting dressed that said, ‘For my girls’ and was filled with way too much cash for a zoo outing.
We also bought Nixon a brown t-shirt with a tiger on the front that I knew for a fact he would only wear because Scout bought it—because otherwise, it was God awful.
“Oh, Dear, what a beautiful daughter you have.” I turned to see an older woman with short hair, walking with a cane. Scout was too busy playing with her new elephants to notice.
“Um, thank you.”
I didn’t deny it. And didn’t that just make me a little fibber—maybe a big fibber.
We walked out to the parking lot, Storey, Scout and I. Storey now held Scout’s hand since I had bags to carry. Reed and Nellie had gone on without us, trying to get Reed cooled off as soon as possible. It didn’t seem like we’d parked this far away when we came, yet walking out to the car this time—it was miles and miles away.
I heard the squealing of tires. I saw the look on Storey’s face and a faint scream leave her mouth. When people wake up from incidents, they always say everything happened so fast. I wished for that fate. Because at that very moment I could see every detail. And there was no choice. Everyone says they made a choice. I had none—there was none. I gathered every bit of strength I’d ever possessed and pushed Storey and Scout out of the way, one hand on each of their backs. And the last thing I saw was the front of a truck, the horns of a ram, and the face of the driver.
Chapter 21
Nixon
All I wanted was my girls all in one place.
We intended to go all day, full on testosterone fueled fun fest. But we quickly realized that we weren’t seventeen anymore and we just couldn’t hack it. Plus, that narcoleptic kid of Owen’s was out by eleven—wuss.
I went home and picked up the keys for the house. I wanted to make a list of things to be done. I needed to move on.
I opened the door to the apartment and there was someone there—a girl—and as she turned—Brandy. “Scout’s not here.” She fidgeted with her hands. She looked horrid, circles beneath her eyes, hair dyed jet black, and not a hot jet black, just ugly. And she lacked the curves I remembered, she was emaciated.
“I know,” she answered, “Your dad said she’d be out today with your cousins. Is she happy?”
How dare she ask about my kid-my kid.
“Scout? Scout’s life is full. She has three aunts and uncles who dote on her hand and foot. She’s got their parents who treat her like one of their own grandchildren. She’s so smart she’s already enrolled in Kindergarten. She’s funny as hell. She’s sarcastic. She’s brilliant. So, in short, yes, she’s happy.”
She sighed and looked around a minute, “Your dad gave me money to go away. And after hearing that, I’m just gonna cash the check and leave you alone. I thought having her would help straighten me out.”
“Just like that?”
“Yeah, I didn’t really want a kid. My parents just hounded me until I filed the papers. Can—can you just send me pictures or something? I won’t bother you again, I swear. I just want to know—for me.”
“Sure. I can do that.”
“Thanks.” And with that, she walked away, hopefully forever.
“Hey!” I shouted after her and then went down to meet her, “I’m just curious. How much did he give you?”
She showed me a check, the date read the Friday before for fifty thousand dollars.
“Chump change,” I looked at her sternly, everything had sunk in at that point.
“What?”
“The difference between you and me is that amount couldn’t buy a day away from my little girl and yet you took it to stay out of her life forever. Thank God she didn’t end up with you.”
With that, my Brandy saga was over and I finally let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I also needed to call and thank my father. I couldn’t believe that days and days or worry had boiled down to a ten minute confrontation and a check.
I got to the house and took the tour. Everything reminded me of my mother. She’d been the best mother she could’ve been for someone who was fighting herself from the inside out. I knew that.
First order of business, I needed to have a crew come in and clean it top to bottom before we moved in. Second, I would ask Owen, Falcon, Mad and Rex to help me rearrange some furniture. And I wanted a garden tub put in the master bath—that was for Journey, who didn’t have a bathtub at her place.
I heard a noise downstairs and went to the top of the stairs to scope it out. It was Owen, looking for somethi
ng.
“What’s up, Owen?”
“Where’s your phone,” he asked. I patted myself down, searching. “I must’ve left it at home. Is something wrong?”
“Get in the car, Nixon. We need to get to the hospital.”
“What happened? Scout?” I yelled back at him as I leapt down the stairs two at a time.
“No, not Scout. She’s fine. Move your ass, Black.”
We drove to the hospital but Owen said he wouldn’t tell me what was going on until we got there. He didn’t want me coming unglued while he was driving and get us killed. He drove us into the u-shaped lane in front of the emergency room and looked at me, “Nixon, it’s Journey. She was hit by a car, it’s pretty bad. She’s in surgery. I’m so sorry.” There were tears in his eyes as he told me.
I bolted from the car, so many images, scraping their way through the channels in my mind. I racketed them away one by one, but each left its mark. I crashed into the front desk and told the woman her name. She pointed to the waiting room where my people were, and Journey’s parents. Scout ran to me and I grabbed her up, my solace, safe and sound. I ignored her parents and went straight to Falcon.
“Tell me,” I demanded.
He spoke in a solid, firm tone. “It was Simon. He was going after Storey and Journey pushed her and Scout out of the way and he hit her. She’s got a broken leg, two broken ribs, and they think she had some internal bleeding. They are fixing that now in surgery along with setting her leg in a cast. She’s bruised and battered, lots of cuts and scrapes. She’s gonna need physical therapy and—she had some trouble remembering her name when they brought her in, but that’s probably just temporary.”
Scout had left me by then and I barely made it into a chair.
“When can I see her? How long is the surgery?”
A snot-laced voice put in her two cents, “It will be two to three hours and you can’t.”
“What?”
“The last time I checked, you were not immediate family. So when she gets out, her father and I will go see her if we can. We will come out and update you—if time allows.”
“We can’t see Ms. Journey,” Scout innocently asked.
“No, you can’t,” Mrs. Holt, pointedly told my daughter and I grew fierce but Aunt Sylvia was already bowed up and ready.
“Mrs. Holt, she’s a child. She doesn’t understand. Journey is very important to Scout.”
Scout did a little shoulder shimmy, proud of her Grammy for taking up for her, “Ms. Journey is gonna be my mommy one day. I love her.” Her hands propped on her tiny hips, driving her point home.
“No, she won’t.” Journey’s mom mumbled and then Nellie got in it.
“She’s three. Grow up, lady.”
Mrs. Holt didn’t mutter another word after that. But I really didn’t care. My heartbeat, my best friend was behind those doors, unconscious, broken, hurt and I was here, in one piece. It wasn’t right. Three hours later Aunt Sylvia took Cyrus and Scout home with her, after making us promise to call her as soon as we knew something.
I looked at my family, “You guys can go. I can call you when I know something.”
Falcon chuckled a little, “Come on bro, you know we don’t work like that. It happens to one of us, it happens to all of us.”
“Ok,” I didn’t have the strength to argue.
Silver came in a bit later and I gave her the run down, apparently she didn’t have any fans in the Holt household either.
A little after six in the evening, a scrub clad doctor pushed the doors open and Journey’s parents scrambled to meet him. They spoke and Mr. Holt turned to us coldly, “She’s out of surgery and awake.”
That was it. That’s all they said.
“I was hoping I didn’t have to do this, but I’m desperate,” Silver muttered.
She got on the phone and asked for Dr. Moreau, who took her call quicker than I’ve ever seen a doctor take a call. “Hi, Sam, it’s Silver. You don’t happen to be working today, are you?” She continued after a pause, “Well, I need to call in a favor. You see my best friend just got out of surgery and her parents have a real stick up their ass and won’t let us see her.” She ‘Mmm’ed and ‘Oked’ for a few minutes before hanging up.
“Dr. Moreau is one of my models. He owes me big time. He’s gonna go check her records, check her status and as soon as Mr. and Mrs. Dickwad leave, he’s gonna let us see her.”
“And what if they don’t leave,” I asked. My naysayer had come out full throttle.
“Trust me, they will. Even when Journey called them from North Carolina and asked them to come get her, they told her they had a lunch the next day that couldn’t be cancelled. They don’t let anyone inconvenience them—no matter who it is. Speak of the devil.”
And just like she predicted they exited the doors, no tears or a hint they’d ever cried in their perfect lives.
“She will be fine. We will be back in the morning.”
“You know the old me would be tempted to give that man a fat lip,” Owen said.
Nellie rolled her eyes, “Dude, old Owen can make a comeback. They’re still in the parking lot.”
Another doctor, in scrubs and a white jacket came through the doors next. I swore every time those doors opened, my heart clamored against my sternum.
Silver got up and hugged the man. Hell, if this was the man who was gonna get us in, I wanted to hug him. Silver motioned for me to join her.
“Ok, you two, you’re the sister and you’re the husband. Got it?”
“Yes,” we both agreed and followed him through halls and up elevators to her room. I held onto the wall for strength. She was battered almost beyond recognition. There was one bandage around her head. Her face was mottled with scrapes and cuts. Plugs, needles, and tubes protruded from her. Her left leg was encased in a cast. My love was broken.
“Is she gonna be ok,” I asked no one in particular.
“She has to be. I won’t put up with anything else,” Silver answered.
I approached her bedside, afraid to touch anything and hurt her. She stirred and I stepped back—I didn’t know if I woke her or not.
“Nixon?” She asked, sounding hoarse.
“I’m here, darlin’. What do you need?”
She lifted a hand and I took it. Silver was in the corner, talking to the model/doctor. I slid a stool I’d spotted underneath me and focused on her heartbeat in the form of a pulse in her delicate wrist.
I used to be someone who never prayed. Never even thought about praying. But Scout changed all that. I prayed that Brandy wouldn’t change her mind every single day. I prayed that Scout was healthy. I prayed that I’d be a decent father. And here, being tortured by the needling beep of the monitoring machines, I bowed my head, letting my forehead rub against the freckles on her hand.
The simple option would’ve been for me to ask for her to get better, for her bones to mend and to see the blush in her cheeks again. To pray for her to forgive me for ever doubting her love for me or her dedication to Scout even though I never told her. But my prayer was completely selfish.
“Let her be ok for me. Let her be ok for Scout, please. I can’t do this without her anymore. Scout needs a mother. How am I gonna look Scout in the face and tell her if she’s not ok? I just can’t.”
Silver stayed for a while, assuring me that Dr. Model said she’d be fine and then she left. I called Falcon from the room and told him she was ok and that I was staying. I couldn’t leave her now—her parents be damned.
She woke several times in the night and would smile at me or mumble something incoherent. I swore some things to myself that night, holding her hand, visually assessing the damage done to her. First, she was coming home with me. I wasn’t letting her out of my sight until she was well. Number two, one way or the other, she wasn’t leaving here without being my wife. I’d drag a preacher right up out of a hellfire and brimstone sermon if I had to. Number three, I would spend every penny I had making sure that Simon was put away
for a long time.
The next morning, her parents came in but were so loud in asking me to leave they actually woke up Journey and she promptly, almost drunkenly and woozy, but quickly told them that I could stay as long as I wanted to. They didn’t like it one bit and stomped out without a goodbye.
I took breaks here and there to visit with Scout. But I didn’t want her seeing Journey like that. And her leg was so badly damaged that one reconstructive surgeon told us that she may not ever walk without a limp again. But I doubted she registered it, as much pain meds as she was on.
And my brothers, that’s what I was calling them now, they were all fixing up the house, cleaning it and getting everything ready for Journey to come home. My sisters were taking care of Scout, probably better than I did.
“Nixon,” she called me.
“I’m here,” and I was, right next to her. They’d been tapering off her IV pain medications for the last three days and she was staying lucent more and more.
“I’m sorry,” She choked out. The beginnings of tears began in the corners of her eyes.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. What in the hell are you talking about?”
One tear broke free, “I didn’t correct her.”
“I don’t understand, Journey, you didn’t correct who,” I asked. Certainly she was still in a fog and not seriously trying to apologize for something three days out of being hit by a truck.
“The lady at the gift shop,” I could see she was struggling but determined to tell me whatever business about some lady or girl, “There was an older lady at the zoo gift shop. They called it the Safari shop or something. She said my daughter was beautiful and I just took the compliment, stole it. I should’ve told her she wasn’t mine. I can’t believe I did that.”
“Scout told your mother that you were gonna be her mommy someday. I think both my girls are on the same page. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
She strained to get into a different position, “Nixon, it’s almost time for my pain meds again and I know they’ll knock me out. I’m gonna say this once and I don’t want you to answer me right now. I’m not gonna be the same—I just know it. My leg will be riddled with scars and I probably won’t ever walk normally again. So,” The nurse came in and announced that it was time for her medicine, “I’m giving you an out, Black. You’re either all in or you’re all out.” And as the clear liquid was pushed into her IV she looked at me and whispered, “Let me know.”
