by Miasha
“Calm down. You lost a lot of blood, honey. We wouldn’t want you have a seizure again.”
“Seizure? What do you mean, seizure?” I asked.
“You keep passing out. You wake up and get yourself all worked up and then you faint. Take deep breaths,” she said.
I followed her instructions. I took several deep breaths, but my head was racing and I couldn’t help it. I needed to know what was happening.
“All right, I’m calm. Now tell me what’s going on.”
“You were shot with a thirty-eight-caliber shotgun at close range. You are lucky to be alive,” she said bluntly.
“Where is Tina?” I asked, not the least bit concerned about myself.
“Is Tina the woman who was with you?”
“Yes, she was just right here. Where is she? I need to talk to her.”
“You can’t speak to her right now.”
“Then when can I speak to her? I need to see her. I need to talk to her. I need to make sure she’s all right.”
“When you’re feeling a little better, okay?”
“I’m feeling better now. I need to see Tina. Where is she?”
The nurse grabbed my hand and held it firmly. “Calm down. We don’t want you to pass out. Right now you need to calm down.”
“Then tell me where Tina is! I can’t calm down! I need to see Tina!”
The nurse swallowed and said, “Tina is not here.”
“Where is she? I need to talk to her!”
The nurse held my hand tighter. I felt my body beginning to tremble.
“Just tell me where she is!”
“Calm down, please, for your own good.”
My body started trembling. I couldn’t control it. My hands were shaking. My eyes were rolling in my head.
“She’s having another one, Doctor!” The nurse’s voice called out.
I was having a seizure.
The Aftermath
Four weeks after I was hospitalized, the seizures went away. I could sit up on my own. I could stand for more than six minutes without falling. I was ready to go home-to my new home.
My house was sold while I was recovering. I used the money to buy another one, a little smaller but in the same neighborhood. I sold my car and the condo that Tina and Derrek had bought for me, so I was sitting on a nice little stash. Plus I had money coming in from the duplex Tariq had bought for me. So my medical bills were paid and I had enough money to live off for a while before I would need to turn to disability.
“Hi, darling,” a familiar voice said.
I put my pudding cup down on the tray and turned toward the door of my hospital room.
“Der-rek,” I sang.
“Look at you sitting up,” Derrek said.
I opened my arms to accept his hug. He pulled away from me and looked me up and down.
“You’re looking a lot better these days,” he said with tears in his eyes. “How do you feel?”
“I should be asking you that,” I said.
Derrek wiped his eyes. “She’s at peace, that’s for sure,” he said, forcing a grin.
I sniffed to keep from crying and said, “I’m so sorry I missed the funeral.”
“I know that. But it wasn’t safe for you to go, not with your injuries. And Tina would never have wanted you to risk your life to see her in a coffin,” he assured me.
“Well, how was it? Tell me every detail,” I told him.
“Well, let’s see, I purchased the land where she and I got married, and buried her right there. It was a small funeral, smaller than the wedding. The minister said a few words and we all went up one at a time to view the body. The casket was beautiful. It was marble with solid gold trimming. Tina looked beautiful, too. They did her up real well. You would have been happy. She was dressed in her wedding gown with her veil covering her face. You know, to hide the wounds. Her hands were folded together, holding a bouquet of white roses,” Tears gathered in Derrek’s eyes.
“Forever was too short,” I said as I clutched against my chest the diamond choker she had given me to wear at her wedding. My heart was crushed. I broke down into tears. Derrek held me in his arms and we cried together. I could not believe that I would never see Tina again. Every time I thought about it, I prayed for Khalil’s death. And my prayers were answered.
I got a letter from the police, letting me know Khalil’s sentence. One of my neighbors called the cops right after he heard the first shot. See, Khalil thought he would get away with it because it was New Year’s Eve. He thought people wouldn’t call the cops when they heard the shots simply because that’s what people did on New Year’s Eve-they bust guns in the air. But he forgot he was in the suburbs. They don’t play that shit out there. So by the time he got into his car and sped off, the cops were already en route to my house. They caught up with him and attempted to pull him over, but he led them on a seventeen-minute chase that ended with Khalil crashing into a telephone pole. He was immediately charged with resisting arrest and violating his parole. They didn’t charge him with murder because he didn’t have any guns on him. But they found a gun a couple blocks from where the chase ended, and when they ran tests they found his fingerprints all over it. Ballistics tests proved it was the gun that had wounded me and killed Tina. He was later charged with premeditated murder, one count of attempted third-degree murder, aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, illegal use of a firearm, unlawful possession of a firearm, and the list went on. He was sentenced to life without parole for Tina, an added twenty-five years for what he did to me, and an additional six years for violating his parole and other charges. I was relieved.
I spent my days surrounded by doctors and nurses and Ms. Carol, my shrink, who all made frequent visits to my house for our sessions. I spent my nights watching reruns of I couldn’t sleep for more than three hours without nightmares reliving the night Tina and I were shot. And when I wasn’t having nightmares, I was having migraines.
My doctor prescribed morphine, but I could only get dosages whenever he or my nurse came to my house. He said he didn’t feel comfortable leaving that strong a medicine with me until I was more emotionally stable. My life was so different. My living room looked like a hospital room. I had a hospital bed in there and everything, and a doctor or a nurse came by at least four days a week. I opted for house visits because at the time I didn’t have anyone to drive me to my doctors’ appointments-well, at least that’s what I told Ms. Carol. The real reason was that I didn’t want to be seen in public with my face wrapped up like some mummy. And even now, after my doctor removed the bandages, I still don’t want to be seen. I haven’t looked at my face yet, but from what the doctors said about reconstructive surgery, I know it has to be bad. Shit, he was talking about cutting places I didn’t even know existed on my face. I’ve been thinking about it and I really want to get it done because God knows I can’t live the rest of my life with a disfigured face. I’d die first. The only thing is, I’m heavily contemplating whether or not I’ll go back to living as Celess or give that up, because that decision weighs heavily on what types of surgeries I will get on my face. Ms. Carol said if I decide to live as a woman I might as well let the doctors give me feminine traits while they’re reconstructing my face, like go in and raise my eyebrows and stuff. Of course, she said the only way she would allow me to do that was if I planned to get the complete sex change. I either had to be a woman or a man. It was too risky being both. She said she was all for me being happy but not if it would cost me my life, like it almost did.
I swear, I’d only known that lady for a short time but it felt like I’d know her all my life. She was like a mother version of Tina. She treated me like family and always gave me advice, but in a way that a mother would. At first, I wasn’t feelin’ her. I just knew she was goin’ walk her glasses-and-suit-wearin’ ass in here and start judgin’ me, but she didn’t. She actually started our first meeting off with a story about a friend of hers she went to college with, who went through similar situati
ons as me. Not taking it as far as me and Tina, but he was a transvestite and often went back and forth about telling men that he used to be a man himself. He died of brain cancer, though, several years after completing his sex change. One thing had nothing to do with the other, but it was ironic that he was diagnosed with the cancer after all his surgeries. He was only thirty-six. Ms. Carol told me she understood me and could relate to my desire to be a woman. She said her desire to have children was just as strong if not stronger and if she had the opportunity to pretend she had any, she would jump at it, so she understood my taking the opportunity to be a woman. At the same time, though, she let me know that when it came down to hurting other people, that’s when it should have stopped. She used herself as an example. She said as bad as she wanted children, she knew it wasn’t an option for her to kidnap someone else’s. It took me a little while, but I came to respect her point of view. Everything she told me was right. I just wish I didn’t have to find out this way. I wish my mom was as capable of communicating with me as Ms. Carol was. Maybe then things would have played out differently for me. But then again, maybe it wasn’t all my mom’s fault. Maybe I could have been a better listener.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
Hello, you have reached me at a bad time. Please leave a message and I’ll call you back at my earliest convenience. God bless. Beep.
“Hello, Mom, it’s me, your son,” I began.
“It’s been a while, I know, but now is the time. Mom, a lot has happened since I last heard your voice, and none of it good. Mom, I can’t change who I am and what my sexual preference is, but I can be honest in my appearance. And I wish it wouldn’t have taken a tragedy to get me to realize that, but it has. I wish I had been fair and considerate of people’s feelings, starting with yours. I’m sorry, Mom. I love you. And despite what I’ve said in the past, I want to hear from you.”
I had taken Tina’s advice. I tried to make amends with my mom. Even though she apparently wasn’t going to call me back, I felt better. I did my part, and that was all Tina asked. I wasn’t bitter about my mom’s decision to ignore the message I left on her phone. She would have that to deal with later on down the line. I had too much to concentrate on as it was. I had to worry about reconstructing my life. Besides, God worked in mysterious ways, and people who were without parents were usually brought together, in one way or another, with people who were without children.
Ding-dong! Ding-dong!
“I’m coming,” I said as I walked slowly to my front door.
“Somebody has put on some pounds,” Ms. Carol said as soon as I opened the door.
I rolled my eyes bashfully and let her into my house. It was a sunny June day. The kind of day I used to say I would die for. The kind of day that Tina and me would have pulled up to a basketball game in a hot car, dressed fly as shit, and preyed on niggas.
“I left the office a little early,” Ms. Carol said, smiling, holding a DVD in her hand. “Sit down, I’ll put it in. It’s Hilarious movie. You’ll like it,” she said as she placed the disc in the DVD player.
I took a seat on the couch. After getting us both a glass of juice and paper plates full of sour cream and onion chips, Ms. Carol joined me. We watched the movie until the credits rolled. Ms. Carol said a few uplifting words and left me with some poetry. Poetry became one of my coping mechanisms. I had even started writing it. I wrote a poem for Tina that I had recited to her at least once every day. I looked at her in the painting of us she gave me for my birthday and read:
I used to wonder why it rained.
But flowers have to grow.
And why in the winter when trees go bare, flowers have to go.
I learned how to keep myself from missing them, for I knew they’d be back in the spring.
And all summer long I could play in their gardens and embrace all the warmth they would bring.
But then in the fall, I’d prepare my good-byes as winter was setting in.
And long for the days of spring to return so I could see my flowers again.
Ms. Carol gave me a big hug and I saw her to the door. I went back to my well-worn spot on the couch where I planned to channel-surf until the wee hours of the morning.
There were a lot of bumps in the road to recovery. I had to start over from scratch. I had to find other interests. I had to get used to staying in the house and often alone. I had to release my old ways. I was like a person suddenly losing sight. It was a whole new world for me. I couldn’t pick up the phone and call up a guy and have him come over and spend time with me. I couldn’t go out to a club and dance and drink and flirt. I couldn’t have money thrown at me from different directions. I couldn’t take any more flights out to L.A. and wile out with Tina. I was lost. I was through. Just about ready to give up on life.
Ring! Ring!
I answered reluctantly.
“Celess?” the voice responded.
“Yes?” I was not believing the voice I heard on the other end of the phone.
“I heard about what happened with you and Tina. I…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
A tear slid down my cheek before I responded, “Michael, you don’t know how good it is to hear your voice.”
Miasha
***
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