by Imani King
"Oh," she says softly, her full lips framing the sound. I want to kiss her on the mouth, but instead I lean back again.
"See you Saturday," I murmur.
"See you tomorrow!” she says with a grin and a wink. "Don't forget that I work in your office."
I blush. "I almost did," I admit. "But I won't be in the rest of the week. I have a few things to do, so Saturday will be the first chance to see you again."
I’m floating on air.
She opens the car door and glides inside, and I drive away, to figure out how to make my house comfortable and presentable for Adisa and her brother and sister. I've got two days.
9
Adisa
I feel like I’m in a dream. I don't think I'm fooling myself when I see something in his eyes - something like love. Once I close the door though, the weight of the family descends again onto my shoulders. The house needs vacuuming, my father is nowhere to be seen, and the TV is blaring Spongebob Squarepants.
Squidward's voice: “Do you have to stand so close? You’re making me claustrophobic!”
Patrick: “What does claustrophobic mean?”
Spongebob: “I think it means he’s afraid of Santa Claus.”
Patrick: "Ho, ho, ho!”
And lastly, Spongebob: “Stop it, Patrick! You’re scaring him!”
Ha, ha. When I go into the TV room, there's nobody there. I turn the set off. "Darius, Chikae," I call. Nothing.
Then suddenly, Chikae, screaming. "Adisaaaa! Adisaaaa! Help, it’s daddy!" And then I'm running up the stairs, two by two.
* * *
Hospitals are always so cold. The greenish light, the hard surfaces glinting. Even the earnest and colorful drawings, cards and decorations around the nursing station are not enough to make you feel anywhere near happy or festive.
But to be fair, I've been here for almost ten hours, now. Chikae and Darius are at their friend's house. The next door neighbor heard the commotion, saw the ambulance, and ran over, thank heaven, and said she'd take them to school in the morning and make sure they got dinner tonight. My heart went out to them. After all the hospitals when mom passed, the last thing they needed was to hear sirens and see an ambulance pulling up outside the house. Poor little birds.
My father went into surgery not too long after arrival. They did some tests, figured out his arteries were blocked. He'd had a heart attack. Now they were doing angioplasty, and I just gave consent for whatever they thought best.
Myocardial infarction. It sounds so complicated for what it really was --at least in my humble opinion. My dad had a broken heart. He loved my mother so much, that he now wanted to join her in heaven, and couldn't take being away from her anymore.
The room begins to swim as my eyes filled with tears. Suddenly a figure in scrubs appeared before me.
"Hey honey," she says, as I wipe my eyes. "How are you doing?"
"Not great, but thanks for asking," I admit. "Any news on my father?"
"Nothing yet," she replies. "I just thought I would check on you, and see how you're holding up."
I don’t want to tell her that I am concerned that my dad might no longer have insurance. I don’t want to tell her that I am scared to be what feels like an orphan, if he doesn’t make it. So I tell her what I think she wants to hear.
"Just fine," I say. But inside, my own heart feels broken. "Thank you so much."
"Well I do remember you from when your mother was in not too long ago, so I thought you might be able to use a little company. And a cup of tea."
She hands me some hot steaming liquid, and the lemony scent from it is comforting, but my stomach feels too uneasy. I force the corners of my lips up and place it on the scratched table beside my chair.
“Thank you.”
Her kind eyes narrow in concern. “You’ll get through this Adisa,” she said. “You’re strong. I can see it in you, plain as day.”
“Thank you,” I say once again. “I do know, but sometimes it would be nice just to relax a bit and have someone else be strong for a change.”
She pats my arm. “It’ll happen. Keep the faith.” Smiling once more, she adds, “Don’t forget to get some sleep,” and then walks off. At that moment, she seems like an angel. I drop off a few minutes later, into a brief and rocky sleep, but it’s something.
All I can do other than that is wait.
And wonder. And hope that his insurance is still good. I feel like my father hasn't been at work in a long time. Is there something that he's not telling me? Does he still have his job? And if not, what am I going to do? A hospital stay, surgery. Anesthesia. All these things cost a lot of money if you're not insured. I shiver a little, but it’s not due to it being cold.
It might be a pretty lean year (or even few years!) if I can't figure out how we are going to cover this kind of cost. But the most worrisome thing is that I know I am thinking about this because I don't want to consider the really scary part: the chance that daddy doesn't make it.
I breathe in slowly and pull my cardigan around my shoulders. I manage a sip of tea, and I focus on the steam and the fragrance of the liquid to try to keep me grounded.
10
Nicholas
That evening, I find myself singing, and realize that I’m feeling happier than I have been in a long time. Finally I am completely done with my marriage, which at best can only be described as ‘ill-advised.’ However, at the very least, I can feel good about the way I have treated my ex-wife through this ordeal, and can truly close the book on what happened with us. “Good endings make good beginnings,” I think, as Stephanie’s face fades from my thoughts, and Adisa’s swims into my consciousness. Her sparkling and rich brown eyes, glowing skin and full lips, all framed by those gorgeous curls; all of it fills me with excitement. My lips tingle as I remember the brief feeling of her soft skin against them. I wonder what it would be like to kiss those lips, to take my time, slowly and surely savoring her beauty, her kindness, her soul.
But I hope she feels the same way about me. I am tempted to text her, but I don't want to bother her. And besides, I am sure Rain will probably ask her a million questions about what is going on with us tomorrow - I would love to listen in. I don't want to fuel that fire by showing my face, or else those ladies might get nothing done. But I have to admit, I'd love to talk to her, make a little contact. Maybe I’ll just text. "Good night, sleeping beauty," it might say. Gah, I have it bad.
I arranged to have some specially decorated cookies delivered here, so that the kids will have something special to enjoy on Saturday. The baker was pretty confident that she would know the exact combination of teddy bears, superheroes, cartoon characters, animals and so on, that they'd be blown away, which is good because I’d be hopeless at that sort of thing.
I also ordered some skates in case they do want to take a few turns around the pond. I went a little overboard with that, I have to admit. But it's easier for us just to get them a bunch of sizes and have my assistant return the ones that don't fit, or just store them for guests, than it would be to spend our day in a crowded mall. Having a lot of money has some advantages - one being that I don’t have to deal with people if I don’t want to. Driving around a crowded parking lot is the last thing I want to do with an incredible woman.
While I don’t always love people so much, I sure would love to be around horses a bit more. I wonder if Adisa would let me take her on a trail ride sometime. I imagine her butt swaying on the saddle, her turning her head to smile at me, or us cantering through a field, her curls bouncing… Maybe a picnic after, with fine wine, some fancy cheese, grapes. Some chocolate cake. Whatever she’d like.
Ahh horses. I miss the ranch sometimes. Sure I could live like my brother Rowan, with his beautiful ranch, his non-profit, working on his life’s mission down there in Texas. But there's something that just draws me to the business life. But, there's nothing like riding across the open plain. I can feel my drawl coming back as I mentally transport myself to that scene. But th
en I think about him padding around the house in those crazy boot-slippers - what do they call them? Uggs? - and I know I need to be exactly where I am.
And, where I might want to raise kids. I can just see the little ones running around in the spring, playing catch and swimming in the summertime, starting school in the fall, and in their snow suits, little mittens wrapped around steaming mugs...snow angels in winter. I can imagine myself getting on the ground and making some snow angels too. We didn't have those in Texas, and there is still a boyish part of me that wants to fall down and spread my arms in the billowy white layer, just to see what it looks like when I am done. And if Adisa were laying down in the snow with me...
Well, I'm getting ahead of myself. Still, she the way she looked at me, the way she said my name. I know there's gotta be something real there. Real enough to explore.
I'm not imagining it, am I?
A little voice inside my mind asks me what I think I am doing, getting involved with another woman after everything that went down with Stephanie. Can I truly trust my heart? But did my heart really want to marry Stephanie in the first place? Of course I did love her. That part is certain. I rearranged my whole life for her. But when it comes down to it, the Stephanie she showed me was only but a small part of who she really was - a woman who valued superficial things more than she did family. And that was something I never knew about her because she hid it from me.
But I can't make that same mistake with Adisa. It’s impossible. Everything she is, everything she has and everything she does speaks to how much she values family. When I was with Stephanie, I listened to her words - what she said about her goals, her life's desires. But I missed her actions. I can't be making that same mistake this time, because you can't miss what Adisa is, and what she wants. She lives her values. Even if it makes things tough.
If I could only be part of that. Be the shoulder she needs. Be a soft place for her to land. That may be my life's wish.
I wonder what she's doing right now? I pick up my phone to send her a text.
"Adisa with an A," I write. "How are things going? I'm getting ready for your visit on Saturday... looking forward to seeing you and your brother and sister."
I see the notification that she's writing, little dots glowing on the screen. Then they stop, and there's nothing. I'm puzzled. It keeps happening - they start, then stop, then start and stop again.
Maybe it's that damnable flip phone thing that's causing this to happen. I am going to get her a new phone, this is silly.
As I wait for her notification, I quickly text my assistant to send her the latest phone, and set it up and deliver it today. I hope she doesn't mind - it's nothing for me to do something like this, but I don't want to offend her pride or anything like that.
Finally I hear the single chime of my phone that means she's finally sent something.
"About that," it reads. "I'm not sure I can. My father's at Mercy Hospital."
"Are you there too?" I quickly write back. I'm sure my face is ashen. My heart feels tight. After losing her mom, she must be freaked out. "Is it serious?"
This time the reply comes quickly. "Yes, it's pretty serious. I can't go into work right now, I'm sorry."
"Not to worry," I write. Would it be bad for me to just show up? Is it too early in our ‘thing?’ Will it freak her out? We haven't even really kissed yet, aside from the little one we shared, but I don't want her to feel everything is on her shoulders. Just the thought of those gentle shoulders makes me want to protect her from any pain. Is she alone? Maybe she has family there. I guess there's nothing wrong with asking. "Do you want company?"
"That's all right," she answers after a moment. "I'm ok for now."
"If you're sure," I answer. "I'm here if you need me, or need anything at all."
My heart sinks for her, and I wonder what I should do about the fact that we aren't going to meet on Saturday.
"Are your brother and sister with you?" I write.
"No they're with friends."
Oh Adisa, you're so brave. So lovely, and so strong. The cold feeling in my heart dissipates to be replaced by a warm glow as I think of how strong she is, how motherly, how capable. I hear Rowan's drawl in my head. "Nick, you've got it bad," he says.
"I know, Ro," I say aloud. He could always see through me, even more than my twin could sometimes.
Well, if I have it that damn bad, there's not much I can do but go with it.
11
Adisa
Despite the situation, my weary heart is glowing golden with happiness. Why did I say no, he shouldn't come? There’s nothing I’d like more than to lean on his shoulder just for a few moments, and rest my head. Breathe in his cologne. Feel the strong muscles of his arm as he puts it around me. Maybe it's because I caught my reflection in the glass of the turned-off television. I looked nice earlier on today, but I guess it’s the stress. My face looks gaunt, my hair an asymmetrical mess. In spite of all that, I have a feeling that he wouldn't care about those things at such a moment. But I can just imagine Rain saying, "Get some control over that hair, girl. It’s all over the place! Man's a billionaire, and only getting richer. Do you really want to show him this side of yourself?"
Still, who expects a beauty queen at the hospital?
No matter. I shouldn't get reliant on the man. Dependent. Look at my father, dying of a broken heart. That's where love leads you if you're not careful. I'll just make sure the little ones are ok and I'll come last. That's how mama lived her life and she was the strongest person I know.
But she's dead, comes the thought of its own accord.
She's dead.
And soon my father might be too. And then it happens -- the tears fall down my cheeks, and don't abate until I find myself waking up the next morning, having cried myself to sleep. Sometimes life is just too much. I wonder if I made a mistake, if I’ve made Nicholas lose interest by telling him not to come. I hope not. He’s the first thing I think of when I wake up. That means something. Doesn’t it? I used to think of Jamal but never with this kind of hope and happiness. More like despair. Mostly I was just hoping he would change.
But people don’t change.
I struggle out of the uncomfortable chair, and stretch my arms over my head, before making my way to the hospital bathroom. I pass door after door, some open, some shut. In each there's someone who needs help, someone who wishes they had a visitor, or even someone who's getting ready to leave. Someone who will never walk out of their own accord, like my mother. Hospitals can be such a place of pain, and I need to feel some hope right now.
Splashing some water on my face in the bathroom I try to get rid of the bleariness. Luckily I keep some supplies in my purse from waitressing - some mouthwash, eyeliner, face wipes. When I finally swipe my lipstick across my full lips, I begin to look human again. It's called "Champagne Dreams." Hardly lives up to its promise this morning. More like coffee fantasies. I find a hair tie in my purse and arrange my curls into some semblance of a hairstyle, and head back out to face the waiting room for a little longer. Waiting again. Waiting for news.
When I get back to the waiting room, I see him, and I audibly gasp. He's turned away from me, but those shoulders, that dark hair, and that flawless butt - that kind of perfection can be only one person. Nicholas. Suddenly I am grateful for Champagne Dreams. At least I don't look a complete mess. He turns around, his eyes soft.
"Adisa," he says. "I hope I’m not imposing. I brought you coffee. I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I got a few choices. This is a cappuccino, this is a mocha, and this is just a plain dark roast. Go ahead, pick one."
“Oh thanks so much, but…Which one would you like?" I ask, trying not to immediately fly into his arms and bury my face in his strong shoulder.
"Don't matter me none," he smiles. I can hear the Texas in his voice right now, and his voice is usually so modulated, so carefully anything but regional. "I like 'em all.”
I reach for the cappuccino and sip it gratefully. "How
did you know I was still here?" I ask.
"I called. I said, is there a gorgeous woman in the waiting room? And they said, yes."
I can't help but smile. "Could have been anyone."
"Yeah, I told them your name, and then they confirmed it was the right beautiful woman." His voice is light, and his eyes warm as they look at me. "Again, I hope I'm not intruding, Adisa with an A."
"No," I sigh, knowing it's true. It's just so nice to have someone taking care of me for a change. After being responsible for my brother and sister, and now my father - I want to lean on his broad shoulder, have him kiss me on the forehead with those lovely rose-colored lips.
"How about a bagel?" he asks. "Or a pastry?" He holds up a brown bag with the name of a fancy bakery tastefully printed on it.
"You've really got it all," I smile at him. But as I reach for it, the voice of the doctor breaks our conversation.
"Miss Jones?"
"That's me," I barely choke out. "Is there news about my father?"
His face is kindly, a little stern. Weathered, certainly. "Your father is doing well." I breathe again, not realizing I had stopped. "He's made it through surgery and he is resting comfortably."
Nicholas' hand is on the small of my back now, and I want to fall into his arms in relief. It means so much to me that he is here, that he was thinking of my comfort, my happiness, when I spend my time thinking of everyone else’s. Not that I mind - I want to, but it touches me to be cared for, to be fed, to be offered an arm and a shoulder. Especially now as I finally get the news of dad.
"Can I...can I see him?" I ask.
"I'm afraid not yet," says the doctor as he flips through the chart. "What you need to do is go home and get some rest. You can come back and see him this evening."
"Thank you doctor," I mumble. He's fine! He's actually fine. I feel like running and singing. Well, no. I'm exhausted. I feel like having a long bath.
