Nathan
Talking to Marva’s first-grade class was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do in my life. Looking into the faces and bright eyes of fifteen six-year-olds, and telling them why their favorite teacher may or may not be returning to them, was pure torture.
“…and so, Mrs. Sullivan is very sick. Right now she’s sleeping, but we’re praying that she will wake up soon.” I swallowed hard as the words spilled out of my mouth. “But if she doesn’t…wake up…boys and girls…you must be very strong…and you must pray for her…”
Tears began to fill my eyes. I could feel them coming.
“Will Missus Sullivan go to Heaven?” The little redhead on the front row asked. “My mommy said that you have to be really good and say your prayers every night in order to get into Heaven.”
“Your mommy is right,” I said. “But let’s hope that Mrs. Sullivan comes back to us for a little while longer before making her way into Heaven.”
“Can we go see her?” the little dark boy with cornrows asked.
“We might be able to arrange for a visit,” I said, and looked at the substitute teacher, Miss Adams, for her approval.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” she said, smiling.
“Please,” a little girl with two thick ponytails and teeth missing in the front her mouth whined. “We miss her.”
“Yeah, and we want to see her.”
“We’ll be good.”
“Is she like a vegetable?” the chubby girl asked. “My uncle was in a coma once and my mama said he would be a vegetable for the rest of his life.”
“A vegetable? That’s silly,” Redhead said. “How can a person become a vegetable?”
“Not a real vegetable, stupid,” Chubby Girl explained. “It means that their brain turns into a vegetable and they just stare into space for the rest of their life.”
“That’s enough, you guys. Let’s thank Mr. Sullivan for coming by,” Miss Adams said.
“Thank you, Mr. Sullivan,” the children sang in unison.
“You’re very welcome,” I said. “I will tell Mrs. Sullivan that you all said hello.”
“Tell her to hurry back please.” The caramel-colored girl with braids spoke softly. “And tell her that we love her.”
“And that we promise to be good if she comes back,” Cornrows proclaimed.
“I promise. I will tell her.”
“Can you give her this?” The Asian boy handed me a picture he’d drawn on construction paper in red, green and black Crayola. I took it.
“What is it?” I had to ask.
“It’s an angel,” he explained, his front teeth missing. “She can hang it over her hospital bed and the angel will watch over her as she sleeps.”
Tears threatened my eyes again, and I knew I needed to escape. Miss Adams rescued me.
“Thank you for coming, Mr. Sullivan. It was very nice of you to take time out of your busy schedule to come and talk to the children, but I know you have other commitments.”
“Yes, I do.” My voice cracked a little.
I shook Miss Adams’ hand, waved goodbye to the kids and was out of there in record time. My back against the other side of the door, I cried. Felt like my chest would cave in as I stared at the colorful angel that would watch over Marva. Relieved that no one was roaming the hallways and had witnessed my breakdown, I pulled myself together.
I passed Janice Ayers, the assistant principal, in the hallway.
“Mr. Sullivan, how are you?”
“Miss Ayers.”
“How’s Marva?”
“She’s not doing well.”
“I was so devastated when I heard the news,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
“No apologies necessary.”
“If you need anything, anything at all, you just call.” Miss Ayers in her red business suit, her short sassy haircut, and mocha skin, smiled at me. “We’re very fond of her here.”
“I will keep you abreast of her progress,” I said, hoping she hadn’t noticed my bloodshot eyes.
“Please do, Mr. Sullivan.”
“Call me Nate,” I told her. I couldn’t understand how we’d suddenly become so formal when I still had fond memories of her and her husband Clyde visiting our home, breaking bread with us, and whipping us in multiple games of Bid Whiz.
“It was tough talking to those kids, huh?” she asked.
“Very,” I admitted.
“Thank you for taking time out of your schedule, Nate. I’m sure it meant a lot to them.”
I just nodded. Needed to keep moving before the tears came back. I barely said goodbye, but made a beeline for my truck that was parked just outside.
I hopped inside and rested my head against the back of the seat. Tried to control my breathing, but it seemed almost impossible at the time.
Friday night and I was at home pacing the floor, wishing I had somewhere to go. Wishing I had something to take my mind off of Marva. The house was still, but reminded me of her; the delicate paint colors that she’d carefully chosen for every room, art that adorned our walls, the rugs that she’d caught on sale at Kohl’s last spring, the lamp in our bedroom that she’d picked up at a yard sale in Buckhead. I stared at the eccentric lamp that sat on my nightstand, and knew it was more valuable to her than anything she would’ve purchased at Macy’s or Rich’s.
I picked up the AJC that I’d purchased at the gas station that morning, and started flipping through it until I found my favorite column. “The Vent” is a column where Metro Atlanta readers contributed their sarcastic and humorous remarks about politics, the happenings in Atlanta, traffic and other things that got under their skin and made them want to vent.
I started laughing at some of the comments that I’d read, then I checked out the sports page.
I decided that I needed to get out of the house. Remembered the little jazz spot that I had visited occasionally in downtown Atlanta. I didn’t go out often, but when I did, I had remembered the place as being nice, with the best hot wings I’d had in my life. Didn’t want to go alone, and contemplated calling Lainey. Picked up the phone to dial her number, but then wondered what I was thinking. Friday night was my night to sleep over at the hospital. I had slept in the uncomfortable orange chair in the corner of the room every Friday night since Marva’s accident. My heart wanted me to continue the tradition, but another part of me wanted to get out and have some fun. In California, spending time with Lainey, I was reminded that I still had life in me.
I picked up the phone again. Dialed Lainey’s number.
“Are you up for some jazz?” I asked when she answered.
“That would be nice,” she said softly, and her voice smiled.
“I’ll meet you about nine,” I said after explaining to her how to get there, and my heart throbbed at the thought of seeing her again.
In the mirror, I shaved away my five-o’clock shadow and brushed my teeth, splattered shaving lotion on my face and rubbed my bald head. The sounds of Norman Brown rang through the house as I broke in his newest CD; set the tone for my evening. The house felt so empty and the music seemed to echo and bounce against the walls. There was no life here; just loneliness and heartache. No laughter, no voices, no television tuned to the Home Shopping Network, as it often was. No smell of Chinese take-out that had been ordered because my wife wasn’t the greatest cook.
No Marva.
I parked my truck at the Riverdale Marta station and hopped onto the train. An elderly woman with an armful of grocery bags and an unfriendly face stared at me. I smiled, but her face remained like stone.
“Hello,” I said. “How you doing?”
“Evenin’,” she said through tight lips.
At the next stop a gang of teenagers hopped on the train, their conversations filled with foul language and the word “nigga” more times than I could count. I wanted so badly to tell them how disrespectful they were being in front of the woman, who clutched her bags and purse tighter; wanted to tell them that their mothers wouldn’t approve of such language, but the way they used the explicit terms so loosely, I couldn’t be sure of what they were taught at home. I wanted to tell them that they should have more self-respect, not to mention respect for their elders. But I didn’t. Instead I remained silent and just prayed that my ride would end soon. It could’ve been worse; I could’ve run into Leroy the Wino, wreaking of alcohol and begging for money to finance his next high or wanting to carry on a full-fledged conversation as if we were old buddies.
Those were the characters I usually ran into. The ones that preferred conversations with themselves, or who held conversations with imaginary people on the other end of a cell phone that didn’t work. Then there were those who screamed that you were going to hell if you didn’t confess your sins and turn from your wicked ways.
“Is Jesus Christ your personal savior?” a bald woman asked me once. “If he’s not, you’re headed for the pit of hell, you demon-child of satan. Look at you, in your polished suit and Flo-shime shoes. You a pimp, ain’t you?”
“No, ma’am. I’m a schoolteacher.” I’d tried to convince her, but there had been no hope of it as she continued to rebuke me.
I jumped off and then walked the block and a half to the jazz spot where I would meet Lainey. As I walked into the smoke-filled room, the bald brother on stage, wearing a black suit, was busy making love to his saxophone. I spotted Lainey when she raised her finger in the air from a corner booth. Her smile was wide and inviting, and she looked beautiful in her low-cut sexy black top. Her hair was pulled back into an updo and her red lipstick was a change from her usual earth tones. A nice change.
“Hey.” She stood and the black skirt she wore hugged her hips and revealed her smooth, sexy legs.
“You look beautiful,” I said, and kissed her cheek.
“Thank you. And you look very handsome yourself.” She smiled.
I’d chosen black jeans and a tangerine-colored silk shirt that buttoned down the front. Before I could sit good, a waitress appeared, pad in hand, to take my drink order.
“Bring me a Heineken,” I told her, and she disappeared just as quickly.
“This is a nice place,” Lainey said. “You come here often?”
“Every now and then,” I told her. “I don’t get out much.”
“Well, I’m glad you invited me. I’m enjoying the band, and the ambience.”
“I’m glad,” I said. “How was your day?”
“Not bad, I just relaxed a bit. Had planned on just kicking back in front of the television all night…that is, until you called.”
“I needed to get out,” I said. “I visited Marva’s first-grade class today to explain where she was and why she’s not there with them anymore. They had so many questions, and…whew…”
“Tough, huh?”
“I cried like a baby when I left there. Had to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
“Your wife would be so proud of you.”
“I don’t know. Not the way I was crying.”
“She would still be proud.” Lainey smiled.
“Those kids love her to death!” I said. “It was horrible to look into their little faces and know in my heart that she might not ever see them again. That tore me apart.”
Lainey grabbed my hand and held on to it. She bounced her head to the music.
“You wanna dance?” I asked her.
“Yeah,” she said, and stood. “Let’s dance.”
On the dance floor, I wrapped my arms around her waist as we moved to the rhythm of an old Luther tune that the jazz band played. She stared up into my eyes and momentarily our noses touched. I wanted to kiss those lips; the lips that I hadn’t been able to get out of my head since our trip to California. The same lips that had proclaimed her love for me, and had me scared to return the sentiment. She moved in closer and I hugged tighter. Before long, we’d danced to three love songs.
We sat in the dark corner booth for hours laughing and talking like old friends. Being with her was so familiar, so comfortable. I shared my inner thoughts with her, and she didn’t judge me.
“Nate!” I heard the familiar voice and flinched. “Nate is that you?”
My sister-in-law stumbled over to our table and pushed her way into the booth; forced me to slide over.
“Dar, what are you doing here?”
Lainey eyeballed Darlene and then me. With raised eyebrows, she wanted to say something, but remained silent.
“I think the question is, what are you doing here? And who’s your little friend here?”
“Dar, this is Lainey. Lainey this is Darlene, Marva’s sister.”
“Nice to meet you, Darlene,” Lainey said.
“She knows Marva?” Darlene asked me, her breath potent enough to light a candle.
“In a roundabout sort of way.”
“Does she know that Marva’s your wife?” Darlene shook her neck from side to side.
“She knows that, Dar.”
“Then why is she all up in this dark corner with you, huh? All huddled up like y’all in love or something.”
“Dar, we’re just enjoying some music together. That’s it.”
“Okay, I guess that’s cool.” She pulled a Salem out of its package. Lit it and smiled. “I’m enjoying the music, too. Shoot, that’s my song right there.”
“Can you put that out, Dar? Neither one of us smokes.”
“Whatever, Nate. Since when did you become all self-righteous and stuff?” She put the cigarette out in the ashtray on our table. “Hey, waitress! Get over here and take my drink order.”
The waitress gave her a look that said, I don’t know who you think you talkin’ to.
“I know she ain’t looking at me like I’m crazy. She better bring her fat tail over here and take my drink order!” she said, loud enough for the waitress to hear. “Nate, you’ll buy me a drink?”
“Darlene, chill out. This is not the place for that ghetto-fabulous behavior.” I ignored her drink request, thinking that she’d reached her limit already. “How did you get here anyway?”
“See that white dude over there?” She smiled and pointed toward the bar, at the only white guy in the place. “He picked me up just outside of Birmingham. I was walking because Sheryl had the nerve to put me out of her car. The stank heifer. Said I was flirting with her boyfriend. You know me, Nate. I flirt with everybody. It wasn’t nothing serious. And if you saw Sheryl’s boyfriend, man…”
“So you just got in the car with a total stranger?”
“He’s not a stranger anymore.” She laughed. “He’s cool, Nate. Bought me something to eat and everything. He brought me to this club. I wouldn’t of fell up in a place like this on my own.”
“Dar, you can’t just be hopping in the car with any Tom, Dick and Harry like that.”
“His name is not Tom, Dick or Harry. It’s Arnold, for your information.” She grinned, thinking her little joke was funny.
“I don’t care what his name is. You don’t know him like that!”
“See how much my big brother loves me?” she asked Lainey, and placed her head on my shoulder; filled my nostrils with whatever alcohol she’d been drinking all night. Smiled at Lainey. “He loves my sister like that, too, you know? And she would not appreciate you all up in his face like this.”
“That’s enough, Dar,” I said. “Come on, I’m taking you home.”
“I don’t need you to take me home, Nate. I have a ride.”
“Not with that dude over there, you don’t,” I said, and pushed Darlene out of the booth.
She was barely able to stand on her own, and I stood and grabbed her waist to balance her.
“At least let me go tell him goodbye.”
“You do that,” I said, and she wobbled over to the bar. “I’m sorry to have to cut our evening short, Lainey, but I need to get her home,” I explained. “I can’t let her leave with that guy. I would never forgive myself if something happened to her.”
“I understand,” Lainey said. “I could drive you if you want. I know you took the Marta over here, and she’s not in any shape to be on the train tonight. That would be an ordeal within itself.”
“You’re right about that. It would be nice if you could drive us, but then that would make your drive home that much longer.”
“I don’t mind, Nate.”
“I would worry about you the whole time.”
“You worry a lot, don’t you?”
“Only about people I care about.”
“You have this strong desire to take care of people. You’re a nurturer.” She smiled.
“Sorry, it’s just my nature.”
“Don’t apologize. I think it’s sweet.” She smiled. “No need to worry about me, Nate. I’ll be fine. Besides, I insist on driving you home.”
“Well, if you insist, then I guess I have to accept.”
“Yes, you do.” Lainey stood and pulled her car keys out of her purse.
I helped Darlene into the back seat of Lainey’s Suburban. She fell over after I was unsuccessful at snapping her seat belt; and she didn’t offer much help. I hopped into the front passenger’s seat as Lainey maneuvered out of the parking lot. As we slowed at the second light, snores from the back seat drowned the music. I glanced at my sister-in-law, her mouth wide open, her hair a thick mountain on her head.
“Does she always drink like that?”
“More often than not,” I said, almost embarrassed.
As Lainey pulled into my driveway, I glanced into the back seat at Darlene who hadn’t moved a muscle, mouth wide and still snoring.
“Dar?” I called, and she didn’t budge. Her mascara ran down her cheeks.
I stepped out of the car and opened the back door. Called her again. Louder.
“Dar?”
I pulled Darlene out and swung her over my shoulder. Carried her into the house. Lainey followed behind me, carrying Darlene’s purse. I carried her to our guest bedroom, slid her stilettos from her feet and spread a blanket over her fully-clothed, drunken body. I kissed her forehead and turned off the light as I left the room. Lainey was still standing in the foyer, Darlene’s purse in her hand.
“Here, I’ll take that,” I said, grabbed the purse and placed it on the sofa in the living room. “Want some coffee?”
“Sounds good.”
“Just one cup, and then I want you on the road before it gets too late.”
“Protective, aren’t you?” she asked, then followed me to the kitchen.
“I can be.” I smiled. “You got a problem with that?”
“No. I think it’s one of your best qualities.”
“And what are my other qualities?”
“You’re very handsome, thoughtful and kind.”
“I’m handsome?” I asked teasingly, instinctively pressing my body against Lainey’s.
“Very,” she said, and placed her hands on my chest. “You have a beautiful home.”
Changing the subject, she moved from my embrace.
“Thank you,” I said, and started a pot of coffee. “Of course, I can’t take any credit for the decorating.”
I pulled two colorful mugs from the shelf, placed them on the countertop.
“Cream and sugar, right?”
“Yes,” she said, and walked over to the back door. Glanced out at the deck, where my manly gas grill was stored. She looked around at our well-groomed backyard; manicured flower beds. “Nice yard.”
“That, I can take credit for.” I chuckled, pressed against her from behind. My lips brushed lightly across the back of her neck.
She seemed to relax from my touch, and then turned to face me.
I moved a loose strand of hair from her face. My lips found hers and I kissed her with the same passion that I had kissed her with in my dreams. Her arms wrapped around my neck, I pushed her toward the kitchen counter; lifted her and placed on top. I positioned myself in between her legs and began to caress her breasts with the palms of my hands. I slid my hand beneath her skirt and rubbed her thigh. Made my way to the sweetness between her thighs and she moaned. My fingertips moved about in her wetness. She began to loosen my belt buckle and her hand toyed with the bulge in my pants.
“Nathan, I have to tell you…” Her breathing became rapid, and so did mine. “I’m falling in love with you.”
“I’m falling in love with you, too,” I said, unable to hold back.
“How long have you known this?” she asked, her eyes meeting mine.
“Since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
She smiled. I lifted her blouse over her head and began to loosen the snaps on her bra. My fingertips danced up and down her spine, and she trembled. No words were spoken, just moans. My cell phone began to play a tune, but I ignored it. What I had going on was too good to end so abruptly. I continued to press my lips against Lainey’s, but my cell phone wouldn’t give. It rang again, begging for an answer.
“I have to get this,” I whispered, pulling the phone out of my pocket and recognizing the number. “Excuse me.”
I let go of Lainey, as she hopped down from the countertop. Guilt rushed through me as I looked at the half-nakedness of another woman in my wife’s kitchen. What was I doing? Why hadn’t I exercised control? Sex had never been a thing that moved me; even as a hormonal teenager, I knew how to exercise control. This isn’t sexual, I thought as I fastened my belt buckle.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Sullivan, this is Amy, your wife’s nurse.” The soft voice said, “I think you should get over here as soon as possible. She’s exhibiting signs of awareness. She’s responding to movement, and actually tried to speak.”
Joy flooded my soul. Amy’s words rang in my head over and over again, She’s exhibiting signs of awareness…actually tried to speak. Could it be that this nightmare was finally over?
“Thank you, Amy,” I said, numb and staring into space. Barely hung up the phone, but wanted to go outside, wake up the entire neighborhood and dance in the street.
“What is it?” Lainey asked.
“That was Marva’s nurse,” I said. “She said that Marva’s exhibiting signs of awareness. Said she even tried to speak.”
“Wow. That’s good news, Nate.” She forced a smile. “It’s what you’ve been waiting for.”
“Yes, it is.”
“You should get over there right away,” she said. “I should be going anyway. It’s getting late.”
“Will you be okay driving home?” I didn’t want to rush her, but knew I had to get to the hospital just to witness the events for myself.
“I’ll be fine,” she said.
“Can you leave me a message on my cell phone just to let me know that you made it home safely?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “I had a good time tonight. And I’ll see you later.”
Lainey rushed toward the door and I struggled to keep up.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” She said. “Go see your wife.”
But the way she bolted out the door told me she wasn’t okay.
I suddenly remembered that I’d left my car at the Marta station. I called a taxi, my heart pounding as I waited for it to arrive.
“She even tried to speak,” I whispered to myself, and smiled.