Eric
We were all together in the hospital waiting room for family and friends of the patients. Mama and Hollywood were seated next to one another. Hollywood was quieter than usual, rubbing Mama’s shoulder, occasionally whispering in her ear. All the negative thoughts I had regarding him disappeared. I’d never look down my nose at him again. He was calm, caring, everything I ever hoped for in a man for my mama. Everything I hoped for in a father for myself. Sometimes it takes tragedy to bring out the best in people. When Hollywood spotted me watching him, he nodded, pursed his lips in a smile. I nodded in return. But I didn’t smile.
Mama had finally stopped crying. She sat in a daze, though. I’m not sure she was even aware of anyone in the room besides Hollywood. And that’s only because he was so close to her, was in physical contact. He couldn’t be denied.
I couldn’t sit myself. I’d burned a hole in the carpet, walked from one end of the room to the next. I was glad no one had told me to sit down. I was glad for a lot.
Lark, Kenya’s best friend in this entire world, had a Peoplemagazine in her lap. It was open to a story about Janet Jackson’s weight loss, but Lark hadn’t read a single word. She kept glancing down at the page, then looking away. She bounced her knee nervously. Her nerves made my nerves even worse than they were.
Endia had sent me a text message: Thinking of you.
Benny had, too: I prayed for her, E.
Endia’s text was chicken soup for my soul.
I had someone in my corner.
Benny’s text almost made my eyes water.
I’d prayed for her, too.
Begged God, and made Him promises I was prepared to keep.
Lark’s leg stopped bouncing. She sat bolt upright in her chair, and her eyes fixed on something across the room.
I turned.
A green-eyed white woman, with freckled skin and reddish hair, wearing the warmest of smiles, was standing in the doorway of the waiting room.
“She’s awake,” she said. “She wants to see you all.”
No one moved.
Then someone did.
Hollywood.
He stood up, took Mama’s hand, then turned to me and Lark, offered us an outstretched hand.
The three of us let him guide us to Kenya’s room.
All of us paused at the threshold, even Hollywood.
We weren’t sure what awaited us inside.
I prayed yet again.
Swollen.
Kenya’s beautiful face was so swollen. Her eyes were tight; it was obvious she was in incredible pain. Wires and tubes were everywhere. I noticed one tube in particular. It was fed from her armpit. Mama took the hardest breath I’d ever heard. Lark started to cry. Hollywood stood over Kenya’s bed, breathing heavily himself. I stood off in the distance, my emotions in check.
“Come give your sister some love, Eric,” Kenya said.
Her mouth was swollen like everything else.
Words came out muffled. Her words were understandable, but muffled.
I moved to the bed. My lip trembled. I had a hard time catching my breath.
I didn’t want Kenya to notice.
Of course, she did.
“Breathe, dawg, breathe,” she said.
Dialogue from Training Day. A Denzel Washington movie. We’d watched it together.
I smiled.
“I know,” Kenya said.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say that. You didn’t do anything.”
She was right. I hadn’t done anything. That was the problem.
“All right, no more crying up in here. Everybody get yourselves together.”
Mama.
There was a sudden strength to her voice.
I wiped my eyes. My fingers came back wet. I hadn’t even known I’d shed tears.
Lark did, too.
Hollywood cleared something from his throat.
“God is good,” Mama said. “And this family is strong.” Hollywood’s hand hadn’t left from around her waist since we’d entered the room. “We’re gonna get through this.”
“I didn’t do this to get out of driving Eric around, I swear,” Kenya said.
More tears.
Laughter.
We would get through this.
A woman in tan khaki pants and a sophisticated white blouse came in sometime later, interrupted us, asked Mama to step outside with her into the hall. Mama followed her outside. I looked at Hollywood. Lines were formed in his forehead, and his eyes followed Mama’s every move. I recognized that look in his eyes. Love.
Mama wasn’t outside in the hall for long. She came back in the room, an angry set to her jaw.
“Everything okay, Mama?”
“The Devil is a liar.”
“What?”
“Nothing?” She waved it off.
Later, I’d find out the woman who’d pulled Mama outside was with hospital administration. Apparently, Mama’s insurance was somewhat lacking.
My sister’s care would pose a financial strain.
I was assigned a very uncomfortable task.
I was down in the hospital lobby, exchanging text messages with Benny and Endia, while I waited.
I saw him as soon as he pulled up.
I took a deep breath as I watched him rushing toward the hospital’s entrance.
He came in the door like a gust of wind, saw me and almost crumpled.
“Eric?”
“She’s okay.”
His shoulders eased. “I got here as soon as I could. Thanks for calling me, man.”
“No problem, Donnell.”
I hated this.
“So she’s okay?”
“Broken ribs, lacerated liver, collapsed lung.” Recited what the doctor had recited to us.
Donnell frowned. “That’s okay?”
“She’s gonna live,” I said.
He nodded. “Let’s get up there.”
I hated this.
He made a move. I didn’t.
He saw I hadn’t moved. “Eric?”
“Don’t even know how to tell you this.”
That’s all I said.
He narrowed his eyes. Stood silent. “She doesn’t want to see me?”
I shook my head. “No. She doesn’t.”