“I’m tired.” Shelia Bell
Hezekiah had been in an uproar most of the morning. He demanded that he be released from the rehab facility and allowed to go home. If Fancy still had a stick up her…well if Fancy was still parading around like she was a victim when he was the one who had suffered a debilitating stroke, then he would just go to his downtown condo. He was fed up with being kept away like he was a common criminal. Being at the rehab slash nursing home reminded him of the six years that he spent behind bars. He felt just like prisoner number HM370972. He still remembered his prison number and he hated that feeling more than anything else in the world.
“Mr. McCoy, you still have a long way to go before you’re able to even think of living on your own,” the social worker who was called explained. “You are making some improvements, but let’s not rush it. You have to be able to take care of yourself and you still require around the clock care.”
Hezekiah had been taught over the past few weeks how to use an app called Verbally on an iPad to help him communicate since his speech still had not improved to any greater extent. Like text messaging, he was able to use his one good hand to choose the words he wanted to say. “I don’t care, I want out.”
“You must understand that if you are released from this facility that you will be leaving totally against doctor’s orders.”
“Don’t want to spend another day here,” he chose the words and letters with less difficulty than trying to actually pronounce them orally. “Do you understand me?” he said followed by several question marks and then guttural tones rising from his throat. Before using the app it had been difficult to know the exact words he tried to say, but now that he was adapting to the technology, it was far easier to decipher his words. They both took a step backward as if taking a precautionary step away from the angry man.
True, he had been at the facility going on a hundred days and he was more than mentally tired and drained. His wife and rarely anyone else came to see him. It was primarily his choice that no one visited him because he had made it clear and in no uncertain terms that he no longer wanted visitors and that he wanted to exercise his right to privacy.
After Hezekiah continued to act out, the nurse administered a mild sedative injection, which Hezekiah didn’t like one bit. After several minutes, he drifted off to sleep.
“Mrs. McCoy,” this is James Burlington from Primacy Parkway Nursing Home and Rehabilitation Center. I’m calling about your husband, Hezekiah McCoy. You and I have met on a couple of occasions when you came to our facility.”
“Yes, I remember you, Mr. Burlington. How is my husband?” she asked. “He still refuses to see me. Have things changed?”
“I’m afraid not. And that’s why I’m calling. Your husband has been very belligerent lately. Today he was determined to leave our facility. He says he wants to be on his own. He became so upset that it was necessary to administer a mild sedative. And as you know, he refused to see anyone. Several people from I believe his church have tried to visit him and call him but he’s shut himself off.”
“Tell me about it. You know he won’t see me so I’m not surprised that he won’t see anyone else. Mr. Burlington,”
“Please, call me James,” the man offered.
“Well, James, as I was saying. My husband doesn’t want to see me either so I haven’t been there in weeks. But like you said, he is totally incapable of doing anything on his own so coming back here or going God only knows where else, is impossible. He can’t transport himself, can’t get in and out of the bed to his chair on his own, has the limited use of only one arm and hand, has a catheter and he wears a grown up diaper, and he thinks he can go home! That stroke has affected him mentally.”
“Uhhh,” James Burlington cleared his throat, somewhat surprised at Fancy McCoy’s explicit details of her husband’s condition. “You are his wife, which is why I wanted to let you know that if he insists on leaving it will be totally against medical advice.”
“He’s not going anywhere. Thank you for letting me know what’s going on, Mr. Burlington; I mean James. I’ll handle things from here.”
They ended the call and Fancy’s phone rang again immediately after.
“Ma, have you read the contract Daddy had with the church?” asked Khalil.
“It’s been a while. I mean, I haven’t read it since Hezekiah became senior pastor. Why? What’s going on?”
“A lot. Some good and some not so good. Xavier’s here too. He’s found out more information about Dad’s financial obligations and funds. You might want to come to Holy Rock so we can sit down and talk.”
“Khalil, I really don’t feel up to it,” Fancy replied grudgingly. “I’m tired mentally and emotionally. And on top of everything else I’ve been going through I just got a call from the nursing home. Your father is showing his behind up there, talking about he’s leaving against the doctor’s orders. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” Fancy got up and started nervously pacing back and forth. She went downstairs to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and pulled out some leftover caramel cheesecake that Xavier had brought her yesterday from the Cheesecake Factory. She walked over to one of the cabinets, applying light pressure on it and it opened effortlessly and automatically. She reached inside for a fork, repeated her previous action and the cabinet drawer closed. “Can we do it some other time? Maybe later in the week, say Wednesday or Thursday?” She took a big forkful of the cheesecake and stuffed it inside her mouth as she waited on Khalil’s response.
“Ma, are you going to be all right?”
“I told you…I’m sick and tired. This past year has been, well let’s just say, I pray that something changes with the quickness. And as if your father acting a fool wasn’t enough, I find out that he may not have to put pressure on them about leaving the nursing home because I just received a statement in the mail from them. There’s an outstanding balance of seventy five hundred dollars that the insurance is not going to pay!”
“That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about.”
“You knew about it?” Fancy felt it hard to suppress her growing anger at Khalil knowing that he knew about the nursing home bill.
“I’m just learning a lot of things so don’t get upset, Ma. I can hear it in your voice. Xavier’s discovered a couple of things about Dad’s finances and his medical insurance. I read over his contract with Holy Rock and things don’t look so bright for the old guy,” Khalil stated. “Look, why don’t you chill out for now, Ma. I’ll get with Zay and let him know the plan and I’ll come over tonight. I’ll even bring dinner with me and the three of us will sit down and work everything out. How ‘bout it?”
Fancy exhaled, closed her eyes, and then answered her son. “You’ve always had a way of putting me at ease, even when you were a little boy. I love you, son.”
“Love you, too, Ma. So, we’re on for tonight, say around seven?”
“Seven is good. I think I’ll go shopping and treat myself to a mani/pedi.”
“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about. See you tonight, Ma.”
“See ya, Khalil.” Fancy ended the call with a smile on her face. She was so thankful that she had two sons who looked out for her and who were more than capable enough of running a massive conglomerate like Holy Rock, no matter if it was a church.
She rushed upstairs, changed clothes, and then hurried back downstairs to go treat herself to some well-deserved Fancy time.
Detria walked into the building like she owned the place. She could tell that all eyes were on her as she strolled confidently through the double glass doors, up the hallway, and to the front counter where a white woman with long braided weave going down her back looked up at her and smirked.
“May I help you,” the woman asked.
Detria eyed her up and down, rolled her eyes, and then said, “Yes, I’m here to see Hezekiah McCoy.”
The girl rolled her eyes back at Detria, looked down at her computer sitting in front of her, and then back at Detria. He’s on the third floor, room 336.”
Detria mumbled a low “Thank you,” and flippantly strolled off toward the elevator. This would be her first time seeing Hezekiah since he had his stroke almost a year ago. She was a little nervous because of that and she didn’t know the reason that he had someone to call and tell her that he wanted to see her. She thought about the times they spent together in his private downtown getaway. She blushed as she stepped on the elevator. Memories flooded her mind and she smiled when she thought about their hot, steamy lovemaking. She didn’t know who was better….him or his son. She surmised that Hezekiah’s experience didn’t have nothing on young Khalil McCoy’s stamina mixed with his smooth conversation. She leaned against the elevator wall and the thoughts saturated her mind to the point she felt her body awakening. The elevator door opening brought her back to reality and two people stepped onto the elevator as she stepped off.
She looked at the signs for the room numbers and followed the arrow until she arrived in front of the closed door that said Room 336 – H. McCoy. She tapped lightly on the door with the back of her fisted hand.
When she didn’t hear anyone respond, she tapped again, but a little harder, then lifted up on the handle of the door and pushed it open slightly. She stuck her head in and saw the open space that looked like a nice-sized efficiency apartment.
“Hezekiah?”
She ventured inside the space slowly and quietly. To the left was a small kitchenette, to the right an open door which she saw was a handicap accessible bathroom. Ahead of her was an open space and to the left and in the far end of the corner was a queen-sized bed. Across from the queen sized bed and on the right was a small sofa, a simple looking cloth covered chair and a table with a lamp on it. No sign of Hezekiah.
She turned around to leave. When she walked outside of the room and back out into the hall, she saw another nurses’ station on the far end of the corridor on the right of her. She headed in that direction but just as she was about to go seek more information about Hezekiah’s whereabouts, he drove up in his electric wheelchair.
“Are you here to see Mr. McCoy?” the woman walking beside him asked Detria.
“Yes.” She looked at Hezekiah. “Hello, Pastor McCoy,” she said, uncertain as to how familiar she should act considering she had no idea who the woman was that was with him.
Hezekiah’s eyes appeared to bulge. He looked pleasantly surprised to see her. Not only did she look good, she smelled good. He imagined briefly that she was here to satisfy his sexual desire. She, after all, was a tigress in the bedroom and did things Fancy never dreamed of doing.
“Hi, D….D..Detreee,” he managed to say.
“We were just returning from therapy,” the woman explained with a smile plastered across her high yellow acned face.
“Are you good, Hezekiah? Can you manage from here?”
“Yea…m…good,” he said and slowly steered his wheelchair past Detria and up to the front of his door.
Detria stepped in front of the door as Hezekiah came to a stop. She leaned in and used her good arm to pull the latch up on the door and pushed it slightly open.
Hezekiah pushed the button on his wheelchair and it moved forward, pushing the door all the way open. He went inside and then turned the wheelchair around to face Detria.
“Come in,” he said and then turned back around and went all the way into his studio space.
“Uhh, this is nice,” Detria told him.
“Sit down,” he said.
Dee went over to the couch that she’d seen when she entered his room earlier. She didn’t bother to tell him that she had been inside. Instead she sat down and watched him try to remove something from one of the side pouches that hung from his wheelchair.
“Need some help?” she asked him as he seemed to struggle to get whatever it was out of the pouch. She eased up off the couch but stopped when she heard him speak.
“No,” he practically yelled.
She immediately sat back down and hid her frustration as she watched him struggle to retrieve what she finally saw was a tablet. Once he was able to pull it from the pouch, he drove the wheelchair over toward his bed and laid the tablet on top of the bed. He then began to touch different words on the tablet which gave him a strange voice, and enabled him to talk to her with less of a struggle.
At first it was weird hearing the voice talk for him because the voice coming from the tablet sounded so robotic. She soon got used to it and at the end of their hour or so long visit, Detria understood the true reason Hezekiah wanted to see her.
“So, you want me to get in touch with George? The man has caused all of sorts of drama from what I’ve heard and yet you want to see him?”
Hezekiah shook his head up and down. “Get him.”