6. Asaiah
"Go on and admit it. The sandwich was good." The twinkling merriment in Onesti's eyes causes a sly grin to slide into place.
The fact that Onesti not only shared her food with me but did so by feeding me is a testament to the type of woman she is. Her proximity while doing something selfless makes me want to taste more than the simple sandwich she made.
"It was. Although there really isn't anything special about turkey and chicken breast on wheat bread," I respond, downplaying how good the sandwich was.
"Oh wow. You do a kind gesture… you know what, give it back," Onesti demands with a bite in her tone that accompanies the tightness around her eyes.
"I don't think that's possible or sanitary," I say, smirking.
"I'm just saying, if it wasn't the best stomach filler in a pinch, give it back. I'll take it in chunks or installments."
Silence stretches between us for seconds before a smirk upturns Onesti's lips, and we start laughing.
"You're crazy, woman. On a serious note, I appreciate you. Your kindness isn't without merit or gratitude. You didn't have to share your lunch with me."
"You're welcome, Asaiah. Sharing is caring."
The lightness returns to her eyes, and warmth spreads across my chest, which prevents me from speaking while I take in the beauty within her warm brown skin. Onesti's beauty shines brighter than a diamond, causing me to ponder things I shouldn't consider.
“I appreciate the kind gesture and maybe one day I can repay your generosity,” I suggest.
“Maybe.”
* * *
"Lord, still thinking about Onesti after days and nearly two weeks is crazy work. Why am I still having flashbacks of that encounter? I have dated many women, and none of them have given me?—"
Brrnngg. Brrnngg.
The ringing of my phone ends my assessment of being unable to stop thinking about Onesti. Seeing Mom's name on the caller ID has my chest tightening because it's rare that she calls me unless she or Dad need something from me. Taking a couple of cleansing breaths, I answer the call while mentally preparing for the mess. "Hello."
"Asaiah! Asaiah! Your dad… your dad." Mom's frantic voice instantly puts me on high alert, causing me to sit up straight.
"What's going on, Mom?"
"He… he?—"
Wee-ooh. Wee-ooh.
The sound of a siren causes me to swallow the moisture gathering in the back of my throat, and my blood pressure spikes.
"Where are you, Mom?"
"O-on the way to the hospital. Yo-your dad…" Mom's words trail off, and her sobs penetrate my ear canal, causing me to stand swiftly, heading toward my front door.
"Which hospital are they taking him to?"
Mom and Dad are between Ribax Medical Center and Shadow Stew Memorial, so I need to make sure I'm going to the right place.
"Sh-Shadow," Mom utters through a brief pause in her crying.
"I'm on my way. I'll meet you there. Calm down, Mom. I'm coming."
Not waiting for her response, I disconnect the call, grab my keys from the hook beside the front door, and quickly exit, rushing through the process of securing my home.
My mind is reeling with what could be happening with Dad, and my shaking hands nearly make it impossible to start my vehicle a second later.
"Jesus. Lord, I don't know, but you do. Please go before me. Intervene as only you can."
* * *
Running into the emergency department of Shadow Stew Memorial, my heart feels like it's on the outside of my chest. Seeing the security checkpoint, I rush to it, out of breath, while searching the waiting room.
"My… my dad was brought in by the squad," I say breathlessly.
"Empty your pockets and come through the scanner. Then you can take a seat. Someone will assist you," the security guard directs without the presence of his eyes.
"Man, did you hear me? My dad?—"
"Did you hear me, though? Everybody is here for one reason or another. You still need to go through the security scanner like they all did." The security guard cuts me off with a bite in his tone that instantly contorts my face and increases the heat within my body.
My chest rises and falls with mounting tension, my nostrils flare, and my hands ball into fists, yet seeing Mom enter the waiting room and look around reminds me of why I'm here.
"Mom! Here I am." Quickly emptying my pockets into the bin, I rush through the metal detector while Mom rushes in my direction.
"Come on, Asaiah. Come on," Mom says frantically.
Mom's attire has my brows hiking and wrinkles dancing on my forehead from the slip and legs covering her body. The worn house slippers on her feet have my jaw clenching.
What the hell is going on that she came out of the house like this?
Swiftly grabbing my belongings from the bin, I rush behind Mom, whose legs move faster than I've ever seen.
"Come on, Son. We need you to help us. You want Mommy and Daddy to be happy, right?"
Nodding, I stare into Mom's withdrawn eyes, and my chest tightens at the thought of disappointing her. I want her to be happy, and I want to please her, so maybe she'll take me to the park to play basketball with my friends.
"Okay. Okay. Go in my room, take your clothes off, and do whatever Mommy's friend says. When this is over, I'll get you that game you asked for last year." Mom gives me a weak smile before rushing out the front door, leaving me to head toward her bedroom to do what I'm told.
"Your father overdosed, and we had to pump his stomach," Dr. Freeman reports, jolting me out of my thoughts.
Hearing the information a second time doesn't make it go down any easier for me because my gaze is on Dad lying still in the bed with Mom practically lying on top of him. This isn't the first time Dad has had a near-death experience with drugs.
The first time I had sex was the first time my mom and dad had taken in more than they should have, which led my dad to the hospital. Ironically, unlike this time, Mom left me with the person who had their way with my body not even an hour before the incident. Like back then, Dad looks helpless while lying unconscious in the hospital bed. His face is a mask of hardness, even while sleeping, while the wear and tear of his choices is showing. Dad's hair is unkempt. His beard is graying fast, and he needs a barber. The dark hues under his lids let me know that this present rest period is necessary, even if it's only temporary.
"We're going to keep Mr. Harrison for a few days to monitor him for any potential risks from the naloxone administered by the EMTs. Once we're sure there aren't any repercussions, we'll have him moved to the floor for the staff who handle this kind of thing," Dr. Freeman adds.
"Wh-when will he wake up?" Mom asks, lifting to look at the doctor.
"Whenever he's ready. Please let us know if there's anything you need in the meantime," Dr. Freeman says.
"Thank you, doctor," I interject before Mom can say anything else when she opens her mouth to say something.
Nodding, Dr. Freeman exits the room, leaving Mom and me alone while the monitor's lowly beep with Dad's vitals.
"I thought I lost him this time, Asaiah. His breathing was slow and shallow before his body went limp. That didn't happen the first time, so I thought he died on me." Mom's voice is low, and her eyes are focusing on Dad.
"I ain't leaving you, Val," Dad mumbles in a groggy voice, shifting our attention and conversation to him.
Dad's eyes are at half-mast, and he looks worn out, yet his hand slowly runs up and down Mom's back when her cries return. Needing a minute, I stand and head toward the door to catch my breath.
"I'm gonna step out for a second," I lowly inform them.
The lump in the back of my throat prevents me from saying any more or waiting for a response, so I increase my steps to exit the room. Once the door is shut, I bend over, place my hands on my knees, and inhale large gulps of air. My eyes sting from my inability to release the water burning my cornea, begging for escape.
God, please. This burden is heavy, and my shoulders are starting to sag from the weight I struggle to carry. Give me Your strength to walk through this dark valley. I can't bear it alone or without You.
Annn.
The sound of the door opening does little to shift my position or posture, nor does the caress of a familiar hand on my back.
"Thank you for being here, Asaiah," Mom quietly expresses.
Licking my drying lips, I stand to my full height and stare into Mom's weary and watery eyes. The storm clouds within her eyes have me pulling her feeble body into mine and wrapping my arms around her. When her shoulders bounce from the silent tears she's shedding, I lightly rock her back and forth. "Shh. He's still here. He-he'll be okay," I assure her, forcing out the last line I'm unsure of the validity of, but speaking anyway.
"I know I haven't been the best mother to you, Asaiah, but I love you for never turning your back on your father and me," Mom whispers.
This is why I can't leave Mom or Dad hanging because every now and then, I get a glimmer of hope that things will get better. This moment reminds me of another time when hope peaked its head.
"Why are you crying, baby?" Mom asks, wiping my face of the water seeping from my tear ducts.
Coming in the house from school to see the living room clean, a heavenly aroma coming from the kitchen, and Mom wearing clean clothes with a bright face had me falling apart in her arms. Knowing that Mom is in a space to console me is the welcome home I needed today.
"A boy in my class kept teasing me at recess for having a druggie mom. He said you did something with his big brother in their backyard, and your lips were crusty," I relay through my heavy tears.
"Hm. Well, you tell his little ass that his mammy licks his dog's dick before kissing him good night," Mom says sassily.
"I can't say that. It's not nice."
"Fuck being nice, Asaiah. His little ass wants to tease you, so when they go low, you take them to Hell. Your mom might be addicted to drugs, but she isn't without love for her baby boy. Now make sure you repeat my words just like I said them."
"I know we can be a lot, and it's why Annalise wants nothing to do with us, but I appreciate you hanging in here. This addiction has such a tight hold on us that I'm scared it's gonna kill us," Mom admits, returning me to the present, and a pain in my chest has me tightening my hold on her small back.
"It doesn't have to be like this, though. Please consider rehab, Mom. I don't want to lose either of you. Please do it for me," I say, pleading.
When I hear humming in the hall, I see Onesti pushing an empty wheelchair out of a room not far from where I am. Not wanting to be seen, I quickly close my eyes while praying Onesti doesn't see or recognize me.
My life is way too complicated to allow myself to consider adding Onesti to it. A woman like Onesti, whose ability to care and selflessly give of herself, shouldn't be saddled with a man with more burdens than available time. Nope, I need to let Onesti live her carefree life without my burdens.
"I love you, baby. I'll talk to your father about us getting ourselves together," Mom replies, reminding me of her presence in my embrace.
Slowly peeling my eyes open, I lean forward, looking left and right before exhaling when I no longer see Onesti in the hall.
"I love you too, Mom," I say while ignoring the tightness in my chest, which does not come from the situation with my parents.
God, how much longer will I have to shoulder this weight? I'm not sure if I made the right decision a minute ago.