by Tina Martin
Actually, she has no idea how much I care. She says it, but I doubt very seriously if she really knows. When I made Montgomery this perfect man in my head – a man who could do no wrong, a man who’d give his last for the sake of his family, a man who could love so hard, he rendered you breathless—I fell for that man. My made up version of him. The real Montgomery is nothing like that and after this, I imagine he’ll be much worse.
“What happened?” Paige says, bursting into the cafeteria, causing a scene with her bleach-blond hair in the wind behind her as she makes a mad dash to the table where Sylvia and I are sitting. I swear if she puts anymore dye in that hair it’ll be Casper-The-Friendly-Ghost white.
The color drains from Sylvia’s face. She rolls her eyes and says, “Lord have mercy. Who called that child?”
I’m amused, but at the same time, I’m curious about her working relationship with Paige and why Paige feels she’s an integral part of the family. Sylvia seems annoyed whenever she’s around.
“What happened to Monty, Sylvia?” Paige asks all wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
“From what I understand he lost control of the car. It flipped several times and—”
“No!” she says, placing a hand on her chest. “Is he alright? Please tell me he’s alright.”
“He’s out of surgery. We haven’t had a chance to see him yet.”
Paige looks at me and frowns. “And what are you doing here?”
I narrow my eyes at her. She has some nerve…
“I’m here for support—same reason you’re here, right?”
She flashes a fake smile. After all the theatrics when she entered the cafeteria, there isn’t a single tear in her eyes or on her face. She’s a phony. I never did like that girl.
“Ay...the doc says we can see him now,” Major announces, stepping into the cafeteria.
We – myself, Sylvia and Paige – all stand at the same time. Paige out walks us and keeps up with Major.
Sylvia takes my hand again. She needs emotional support.
We get to the room. The shift nurse informs us we should go in two at a time. Sylvia’s hand trembles in mine. She squeezes it tighter.
“I need to see him,” Paige says acting all antsy. “I need to make sure he’s okay.”
Major gives her a choking stare. Seems he doesn’t like the broad either. “Ma, why don’t you and Paige go in. Me and Cherish will wait out here in the hallway.”
Sylvia is still squeezing my hand. “It’s okay, Sylvia. Go see him.”
She lets go, enters with Paige. My heart breaks when I hear her break down as soon as she steps inside. She’s crying, trying to keep it down, but it’s hard. I want to yell at Paige for not doing anything to console her. Paige just doesn’t have a nurturing side. All she cares about is hair extensions and acrylic nails.
Sylvia cries. Cries for her son. Wails for him. My heart can’t take it. I look at Major. “I have to go in there with her,” I tell him.
“Please do. Send Paige out. I don’t know why she’s here, anyway.”
I push the door all the way open, walk in to see Sylvia crying over Montgomery. She’s a mess. She has every right to be. He’s now bruised and broken physically. His outside matches the inside – the broken things we can’t see.
Paige is standing on the opposite side of the bed just staring down at Montgomery like he’s an inanimate object. She sheds no tears. Just stands in shock, almost like she’s afraid of him.
I consider slapping her in the back of the head but instead, I say, “Paige, Major wants you in the hallway.”
She turns and walks out.
I go to Sylvia, wrap my arms around her and say, “He’s alive, Sylvia. He’s breathing. That’s what we need to be thankful for right now.”
“I know,” she snivels. More tears fall. A downpour of them. “But look at him, Cherish. Look at his face.”
I look at him. In my mind, I see the Montgomery I’m obsessed with – my version of him – because my mind won’t let me see the real version since he’s in such a delicate state. I look at his face. I swallow the hurt of seeing him this way. I know I have to keep my tears to myself. I’m here for Sylvia. She needs me. I have to be strong even though I feel like crying right along with her.
I find some inner strength to console her. I tell her he’s in good hands. That he’s resting and the body has an amazing way of healing itself. I tell her the scars are temporary. The stay in the hospital is also temporary. He’s going to make it through this. I haven’t seen anything this man can’t do. He’s strong. He’s determined. He’s a fighter. Even now.
She kisses him on the forehead and whispers, “I love you, Montgomery.”
Makes me think of the things we wish we would’ve told the people we lost before we lost them. She has a second chance to do this. Many people don’t get that opportunity.
“Let’s go get Major,” Sylvia says. “I know he wants to see his brother.”
We return to the hallway. Major pulls his mother into his arms. Tells her it’s going to be alright. Gives her a tender kiss on the forehead.
I look around for Paige. The heffa’s gone.
Sylvia releases Major and says, “Go on in and see him.”
Major enters the room while we wait in the hallway.
Sylvia looks at me and says, “Thank you so much for being here, Cherish.”
“You’re welcome, Sylvia.
Major doesn’t stay in the room long. I know him so I can sense his sadness. Can see it in his eyes. He’s doing the male thing and fighting his emotions. “The doctor says only one person can stay in the room overnight.”
“I’m staying,” Sylvia calls out.
I want to stay, too. Want to go back into the room and have my time to talk to him. To be alone with him. Since consoling Sylvia, I didn’t get a chance to do that.
“I know, Ma. I’m going to go get your bag out of the car. As a matter of fact, why don’t you take a walk with me so we can talk,” he tells her. “Cherish, can you wait with Monty until we get back?” he asks. He winks like he’s telling me he’s giving me time to see Montgomery. Alone.
“Of course.”
As they walk away, I go back inside the room and look at him. I walk closer to the bed. He’s beneath white sheets. There’s an IV in his hand. I can see probes on his chest and bandages. I stare at his face. He has stitches above his right eye. Scars are all over his face.
His beautiful face…
I gently trace every scar with my fingertip, even the bruise on his lip. I use the words I told Sylvia moments ago to console myself. I’m grateful he has breath. He’s alive. He’s got a second chance at life.
I take his hand. Hold it. I look at his face again. Tears come to my eyes. “Why’d you have to get in that car? Why, Montgomery? Why do you have to be so mad all the time? Why can’t you just be happy?” I say, in full tears, leaning down to rest my head near his shoulder. “You have everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Everything. Why did you have to get in that car?” I ask. My tears have gotten the best of me. I know I’m a mess, but I can’t help it. It’s hard to watch someone throw everything away. Sylvia’s right. Somebody needs to get through to him.
“Cherish?”
I jump, startled that Major’s back so quickly. I turn around to look at him using both hands to smear tears away from my face. I sniffle. Try to compose myself though I’m still shaken. Still producing tears that I try to blink away.
“It’s not your fault,” he says. “You know that right?”
“It sure feels like my fault,” I tell him. “Where’s your mom?”
“She’s out in the hallway on the phone.”
“Okay. I’m going to say bye to her and go home. Would it be okay if I come back in the morning?”
“Fine by me. I mean, you are his personal assistant, right?”
I flash a pitiful, half-smile. “Right.”
Major embraces me. Tells me to try to get some sleep. I tell him the same.
“Yes. I don’t live far…took me about ten minutes to get here. I’ll be back early tomorrow morning. Probably around six or so.”
“Okay, Cherish. Thank you so much for coming.”
“No problem, and if anything changes with him tonight, will you let me know?”
“Of course.” She hugs me tight – one of those meaningful, appreciative hugs.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” I tell her when we part.
“Okay.”
I walk away, seeking the exit but I feel like I need to stay. Like I can feel Montgomery’s energy pulling me back with every step I take forward.
Chapter Twelve
Monty
(Subconscious Thoughts)
More insight runs through my mind while I’m out of it but there’s a question that keeps reverberating throughout the cloudiness of my thoughts: Who are those people who would be there for you if you found yourself tubed up and near death on a hospital bed?
If I’m answering this in general, it would be the people closest to you. Your family. Close friends. Maybe even a workmate or two. If I’m answering it specifically for myself, I’d say no one, not because I truly believe that. It’s because it’s what I deserve.
I know my mother’s here. I can feel her presence.
I know my brother’s here. He’s blood. He has no choice but to love me.
In and out of consciousness, I heard a couple of other voices besides theirs. Maybe the nurses and doctors. Not sure. What I am sure of is, there’s no reason why anyone else would step a foot in here to see me.
I can’t say I blame them.
I’m not a nice person. Never tried to be. I don’t like that about myself. If I’m to be punished for my wrongs, then I deserved to die. Lying here, it has crossed my mind. If I’d died on the highway, I’d be out of my misery and so would everyone else who had to cross my path. There would be no more worries. No more chasing money. No more running a business for a man who didn’t love me enough to adopt me as his own. No more of me disappointing people. I’d cease to exist with no memory of all the bad I’ve done. I’d just be gone.
A voice steers the direction of my subconscious mind. It’s my mother. She’s here again. I can make out some of what she saying:
“We love you…come home. We’re a family and…stick together. I wish…done better…for you and Major. You two are all I have…if I lost you…”
I imagine she’s crying. If I could wake up, I’d tell her to stop. There’s no need to waste tears over me. I’ve caused her enough grief already.
Chapter Thirteen
Cherish
I didn’t get one full hour of sleep last night. Every time I made an attempt, I saw Montgomery’s scarred face. His accident made me realize how fleeting and precious life is. Just the day before, he was so well put together and had the world at his fingertips. Now, he’s laid up in a hospital bed, fighting for his life.
This is heavy on my mind this morning – life, and how we take it for granted. Tomorrow isn’t promised to no one, yet, I haven’t spoken to my mother in so long, I don’t even feel connected to her. I called the other day, she didn’t answer, so I make it a point to call her now since it’s early. She’s not at work yet. Probably getting ready for work.
The phone rings, and rings, and rings and then…
“Hello?”
“Hey,” I say.
“Who’s this?”
“It’s your daughter, Ma,” I try to say without a hint of derision in my voice but I know I failed.
“Oh.” She chuckles. “I ain’t heard from you in so long, I done forgot the sound of your voice. Ain’t that a shame? You should call your mama more often, girl.”
“I tried to call you yesterday, or the day before—I don’t remember. You didn’t answer. I figured you were at work. I know how you don’t like to answer your phone at work.”
“Well, I can’t. Everybody be breathing down my back enough as it is when I’m on the phone, but when they take personal calls, it’s not a problem.”
“That’s the way it is, I guess,” I say pretending to be interested in her work drama. I’m not by any means, but if this is how we break the ice to discuss other issues, then so be it.
“So, how’s work going?” she asks me.
“It’s fine.”
“You still working as a maid for them rich folk?”
“I’m not a maid. I’m a personal assistant.”
“Potato, potahto…same difference.”
“Whatever you say, Ma, but yes. I’m still there. It pays the bills.”
“Speaking of paying the bills, your stepfather—”
“Don’t call him that,” I say interrupting. “He’s not my stepfather! He’s no kind of father to me.”
“As I was saying—he’s retiring soon. I may not have to work much longer.”
“Yippee, good for you,” I say as drab and uninterested as I can while my eyes do a full three-sixty.
She sighs. “I understand you don’t like him.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“But life goes on, Cherish. Do you think I wanted your father to die? And what was I supposed to do? Stay single forever?”
“No, but you could’ve at least waited to marry a decent man.”
She sneers. “Unbelievable. Why is it that every time I’m on the phone with you, you have to say something demeaning about your stepfather?”
“He’s not my stepfather!”
“He took care of you.”
“Yeah, he sure did, didn’t he? That’s why I left home and moved with Aunt Jo when I was sixteen, right? Because he took real good care of me.”
“You know what—I’m not gon’ listen to this nonsense.”
And then the phone goes silent. She hangs up. That’s how our phone conversations go – it always ends with one of us hanging up on the other. But I tried, right? I take my ‘E’ for effort and go on about my day.
* * *
At the hospital, I get up to Montgomery’s room only to find that Sylvia’s not there. I see her bag, but not her. She probably went to the cafeteria to get some breakfast. I take advantage of the alone time with Montgomery to look him over. Nothing’s changed since yesterday not that I expected it to. I look at the monitor. His blood pressure is a little elevated, but not enough to set off any alarms. I’m not sure what the other numbers are.
I take his hand into mine again, same as I did last night. I’m feeling his energy. It tells me he’s going to be okay. Gosh, I can feel his energy so well, like he’s temporarily become a part of me.
“Good morning, Mr. St. Claire,” I say, talking to him normally. Maybe he needs this sort of interaction to wake up and shake the pain meds. Most likely, he can’t hear me, but I don’t care. I want him to know that somebody’s here. That somebody cares, and he’s not alone.
“It’s sunny today,” I continue. “The high is supposed to be eighty-seven degrees.”
I look at his hand. It’s big enough to palm my head. Big enough to secure both my wrists.
“I know you’re going to make it through this. You’re a fighter. You don’t give up. I know you’re a good man beneath it all, Montgomery, but you fight so hard not to show it. That’s what people need the most from you—your kindness. They need to know that behind the suit, there’s a human.”
I take a breath and keep my tears at bay.
“Good morning,” Major says, stepping inside the room wearing a black suit.
“Good morning, Major,” I respond, looking at him before returning my attention to Montgomery. “Did you stay with him last night?” I ask.
“No. Mom stayed.”
“Oh. Right. She must’ve gone down to the cafeteria to get some breakfast, huh?”
“Probably.”
Major takes a few more steps over to the bed, on the opposite side as me.
I’m still holding Montgomery’s hand. I can’t take my eyes off of his face. The scars are there but I don’t see them. I just see him.
“Cherish.”
I look up at Major when he says my name. “Yes?”
“How long have you been in love with my brother?” he asks.
I hold his gaze as if I’d been caught, then I try to backtrack my way out of what I’ve already told him with my eyes and say, “Um…I’m not.”
He smiles. “We both know that’s not true,” he says, glancing at his brother’s hand in mine.
I still won’t let it go. “Okay,” I begin. “I’m not in love with him. I just—I—I love the person he could be. Someone who doesn’t hold on to anger and resentment. Someone who helps others. Who has a good relationship with his mother.”
“Oh, so you’re in love with me.”
I laugh.
He grins.
Major is all of those things. But my soul doesn’t pull me to Major the same way it steers me to Montgomery.
He says, “If you really care about him, help him.”
“You know, your mother told me the same thing, Major, but how am I supposed to do that? I’m twenty-six—I hardly have my own life together and I’m supposed to somehow work magic to whip Montgomery into shape?”
“You care about him, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—” I take my attention away from Major to look at Montgomery’s face again. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to go through this process with him. As a matter of fact, I was thinking about quitting.”
As soon as I finish the statement, I feel Montgomery’s hand squeeze mine tight – so tight it makes me cower to withstand it. He has a death grip on me.
“What’s wrong with you?” Major asks, frowning.
“Oww. Montgomery’s squeezing my hand. Ouch!”
“What?”
“Montgomery’s squeezing my hand! Oh my gosh, it’s getting tighter.”
