3. Zurmani
What do you do to overcome the pain in your heart from a loss you didn't foresee? This is the question I have been asking myself since speaking with Zion when he challenged me to do something to push through my grief. I had repeatedly spoken this question to myself with no answer before getting curious enough to ask Google. Hell, the search engine seems to be the tool many use for every other inquiry, so I was intrigued to see what answer I would find. I'm not sure if I felt better or worse after reading the answer.
It's crucial to allow yourself to grieve fully, seek support from loved ones, practice self-care, acknowledge the reality of the situation, and give yourself time to heal.
I'm sure whoever came up with the information believes the response is simple, timely, or helpful, but it only causes me frustration. Giving myself time to heal does nothing for the thoughts of embracing motherhood and adjusting to welcoming a baby into my life, or the lack I feel since neither of those things will be happening. The idea had been staggering and snatching my breath because I didn't even know I wanted a baby until the opportunity had been taken from me. Battling my emotions has pushed me to go to work and nothing else, but I'm now bored and desperate for something to occupy my mind. I have no clue what led me back to this hospital, but it's too late for me to turn around, so here goes nothing.
"Hi. Um, I would like to become a volunteer. Is that possible?" I ask the man sitting at the reception desk.
"Of course, it is, and you're in luck because a new group is about to go through orientation. Head up to the third floor and tell the person at the desk what you need," he instructs, smiling while pointing to the bank of elevators not far from where I am.
Nodding, I follow his instructions with my heart pounding in my chest and my pulse racing with every step I take. Pushing the button to call the elevator, I weakly smile at the couple exiting the shaft when the doors open a minute later.
What are you doing, Zurmani? You have a full-time job. How are you going to volunteer at this hospital? How do you think this is gonna help your current disposition?
My mind swirls with questions when the doors close and the elevator ascends to my destination. I'm out of my element, but something has led me to this place, so I might as well see it through. I exhale upon reaching my floor walking to the brunette with a bright smile sitting behind the desk, who somehow eases the mounting tightness in my back.
"I-I'm here to volunteer," I explain.
"Oh great. Mrs. Jonathon is with a group of people now. The conference is two doors to your right. Hurry, so you don't miss anything," the woman replies, pointing toward the direction of the room.
Nodding, I walk off quickly, adrenaline and nerves competing for time in the spotlight.
"Let me start by saying, tha— oh, hello. I'm assuming you're here to volunteer. Come on in," an older black woman with a pleasant smile greets me when I push through the door a few minutes later.
Nodding wordlessly, I fully entered the room, taking the first available seat at the rectangular table, allowing the woman to continue with whatever she had been saying.
"Thank you all for deciding to volunteer here at Shadow Stew Memorial. I don't take it lightly because I understand how fleeting time can be. My name is Vatina Jonathon, and I'm the volunteer coordinator for the hospital. The first thing we'll do today is tour the different areas of the hospital in need of volunteers. While doing so, I will provide details on what you could be doing. Once the tour is over, we'll come back here, where you can either decide whether to commit to a particular wing of the hospital or change your mind altogether. There is no pressure either way."
My gaze roams around the table at the various groups of people sitting, noting that there is?—
Whoa. I wonder why his fine ass is here to volunteer. He doesn't look like the type to moonlight in a hospital for kicks and giggles.
My thoughts spiral when my eyes land on a beautiful man with cinnamon brown flawless skin. His light brown eyes stare intently at me, filling my body with warmth that staggers my heart. His ruggedly handsome face is kindled with a passionate beauty I instantly admire. His neat yet free dreads are haphazardly hanging on his right side. None of my exes have had dreads, but this man has me wondering if I may need to consider letting him become my first.
I wonder how he feels about women pulling his hair while in the throes of passion.
I'm in a trance while categorizing every feature on his finely crafted face. The mustache above his thin top lip makes way for a beard professionally aligned and cut to precision. His full bottom lip has an image entering my mind without my permission. He's sucking my pearl with skill and hunger, which has me slightly squirming in my seat. His lips part in a dazzling display of straight, white teeth, giving me a glimpse of his expert dental hygiene.
Wait, does he have neck t ? —
"All right, if no one has questions, we'll get the tour moving."
Hearing the scraping of several chairs, my eyes blink, snapping out of the trance this man has unconsciously thrust me into. Get your shit together, Zurmani. You need to focus on volunteering, not what's hiding beneath that man's shirt.
An Undetermined Time Later
Staring in the window, my chest tightens when my gaze bounces around the room at all the newborns, either sleeping or screaming at the tops of their lungs. Sudden heaviness within my extremities collides with my aching heart, causing my body to shift from side to side.
"All right, let's move to the unit seeking people to provide kangaroo care to the littles needing extra attention," Mrs. Jonathon softly states, pulling my attention from the display window.
I immediately note the man from earlier standing about a hair's breadth away with his rapt eyes on me.
"You good?" he asks.
Fighting not to fall apart or succumb to the emotion begging for permission to escape, I nod before sauntering away.
"I got a shoulder if you need it," the man offers, falling into step with me and bringing a weak smile to my lips.
"Thanks, but it would be inappropriate for me to use it with us being strangers and all," I decline.
"Those are semantics, but let's fix that. Jawaan Young," he introduces, halting our stride and extending his hand with those tantalizing light brown eyes, inviting me to connect our palms.
"Zurmani Coates." My eyes balloon when I place my hand in his, and a zing of something unfamiliar dances up my arm. Shit, what is this?
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Zurmani. Let's catch up with the group, shall we?" Jawaan insists before resuming his stride without releasing my hand and forcing me to follow.
Oh God! Oh God! Does he know that he's still holding my hand? Shi—shoot, yes, he knows. Lord, this man got me out of sorts.
"There is always a need for volunteers in here. Babies are constantly coming and going but not all of them have loving families available to give the kangaroo care sometimes necessary for them to thrive," a nurse is saying to the group when Jawaan and I enter the NICU.
This is why you're here today. This is where you're needed.
I hear, causing me to look around at all the cribs filling the room with machines that serve as background music in the space. Several new mothers are sitting or standing at a few of the beds, but I also notice a few with only nurses or no one. A gentle squeeze of my hand causes me to look beside me where Jawaan is standing.
"How crazy would I look if I chose this place to devote my volunteer hours?" Jawaan asks.
Baby, the last thing you'll look is crazy. In fact, I'd love to bear witness to you cradling one of these babies shirtless.
"No shit? I'm open to matching shifts if you are," Jawaan challenges, causing me to blink while furrowing my brows. "I bet your pretty ass doesn't realize you said that shit out loud, huh?"
Oh God!
My mouth opens and closes a couple of times while praying for the floor to open and swallow me up. I definitely didn't realize that my thoughts weren't in my head.
"I-I-um," I stutter, trying to find something to say to get me out of this very uncomfortable position.
"Don't even try to weasel your way out of it. I heard you, and trust me, it ain't the big deal you want to make it out to be," Jawaan says, lifting my hand still resting in his, placing a light kiss on it that instantly causes my middle to thump.
Lord, I've gotta get away from this man.
"All right. Let's move on, group," Mrs. Jonathon announces, and I quickly disconnect my hand from Jawaan to put some space between us.
However, I don't get but a few paces away when something, or should I say someone, has my eyes zooming on a lone crib, redirecting my steps to where a nurse is locking the bed in place.
"Hello," the nurse greets, smiling.
"H-hi," I say with my eyes assessing the little body in the incubator, pulling at the chambers of my heart. "H-how—um, when was this little one born?" I ask, stumbling over my words, trying to settle on an appropriate question.
The heat coming from my back has me looking over my shoulder to see Jawaan directly behind me as if shielding me from an unknown entity. His eyes aren't on me or the nurse. Instead, he focuses on the little person lying in the tiny bed.
"About ten minutes ago," the nurse replies, shifting my focus from Jawaan to her smiling face.
"How much do they weigh?" Jawaan probes in almost a whisper as if he's afraid of being heard or doesn't want to disturb the child.
" They is actually a he, and he weighs just over three pounds. With full term falling between thirty and forty-two weeks, he's five weeks early since his mother only made it to thirty-two weeks," the nurse answers.
"I thought I lost you two. Looks like I know where you'll be committing your time. I hate to pull you away, but we have a few more stops to make on the tour before we need to get back," Mrs. Jonathon says again, shifting my focus to the little boy who has only recently come into the world.
I'll be back very soon, pooh.
"All right, if we can't come at the same time, we need to work out a visiting schedule for him because he's ours," Jawaan insists, reconnecting our hands before following behind Mrs. Jonathon while exiting the NICU.
Why does this man keep holding my hand? We're definitely coming on opposite schedules because I can't afford this rapid uptick in my blood pressure.
That Evening
Fuck Nigga:
This breakup is killing me, baby. Please give me another chance. I promise I won't cheat on you again. A nigga is struggling to breathe without you, so I know I won't fuck up if you give me another chance. You provide me with fresh air. You make me better. You make me think I can do marriage. You make me a good man. Please take me back, Zurmani. You've proved your point, and a nigga is tired of living without you. Even my mom has noticed how bad off I am without you, and she told me to beg you to take me back. Please, baby. I'm sorry.
"This nigga." Rolling my eyes, I deleted Aldis' text without responding before blocking his number like I should have when I ended our relationship.
It's funny how Aldis can be on my phone begging me for another chance when his actions over the last four years prove I would be a fool to believe anything he's allowed his fingers to type. The fact that I had to find something to focus my attention on to cope with the loss of a child Aldis is both responsible for creating and terminating makes his pleas even more baseless. If nothing else, Aldis has the audacity the size of California, and I'm over him and the mess that comes with entertaining him. Aldis has yet to understand that the phone call breaking up with him was the last time he'll have the courtesy of my voice.
Closing my eyes, I immediately pop them back open when an image of a smiling Jawaan enters my mind.
"Nope. Thanks to Aldis and his bullshit, I'll be avoiding Mr. Jawaan Young and every sexy detail threatening to shake me to my core. I don't need those problems. Single is my portion until and unless God confirms He sent the man for me."
Chile, it's gonna be hard moving around Jawaan with the two of you volunteering at the hospital, pledging to watch over the same little person. Yet, I digress, sis.
Ignoring my conscience, I pick up my glass of iced tea, taking a drink to soothe my dry throat when my doorbell sounds.
Ding. Dong.
Unlocking my phone, I pull up my camera to see who's at my door while preparing to ignore Aldis if he's bold enough to grace my doorstep again. My face brightens, joining the smile racing to my lips at the familiar figure staring into my camera expectantly. Dropping my phone, I jump up from the couch and run to the front door, and my hands shake when I work to turn the lock, pulling it open.
"Well, aren't you a sight for these tired eyes? Hey... whoa. Well, hello to you too, Nae Boogie," Zion greets me, laughing when I throw my body into his with tears sliding down my face.
"Hi, brudder. I missed you," I express before Zion's arms wrap around my body, rocking us from side to side.
"Mhm. You were my first stop before heading home. I promised you this hug."
This moment and embrace from Zion somehow comforts me while strengthening me after an emotional yet fulfilling day.