19. Alex
Alex
Idon’t know if I’m supposed to follow her, but I rush into the hospital right on her heels. Questions buzz in my brain like an oncoming headache, pushing against my temple. I can’t focus on any of them as I watch her tear-stained face looking for someone to help her.
“I’m here for Jamal Jones.” She rushes the words out, her voice pitching at the end.
The clicking of the keyboard is so loud in the waiting silence as the nurse behind the desk looks him up.
“He is in surgery, but I can buzz you into the waiting area.” She advises us where to go, and soon we are moving again.
Before we reach the place, Chanice stops in the hallway and takes three big breaths.
She presses the back of her hand to her mouth to try to quiet the sobs.
I step toward her to grab her into my arms, but she starts walking again, a determination in her stride.
Pulling her shoulders back, she steadies her breathing just as we get to the room.
When we walk in, two girls rush up to Chanice, their faces matching her own. The smallest one launches herself into her arms, while the teenager babbles apologies in between cries. That calmness she started to gather slides into place, letting her take control.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Chanice keeps saying to the oldest while rubbing her head.
She holds the youngest in her arms, rocking her.
They look so identical that it’s obvious they are related, but they are much too old to be her kids.
Still, she takes on a motherly role with them, stepping into the responsibility of being the one to keep it together.
“Do you know what’s going on?” She puts the girl down despite her protests, freeing her arms to hug the other one.
“They didn’t say much; they just took him. We have only been here for thirty minutes, and they said they would update once they got a better look. I told them you were on your way.”
As if remembering how she got here, Chanice turns and looks at me. Her lips pull tight, and her eyes widen a little before she nods once in a thank you.
“You don’t have to stay,” she says.
I don’t know much about what is going on here, or what she has to do with any of this, but I do know I will not leave her to deal with it on her own. If it’s her job to take care of them, then it’s my job to take care of her.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Her shoulders relax a little, and she looks back at the girls.
“I’m going to see if I can get some information.” She walks back into the hallway, and the oldest sinks into a seat, her head falling into her hands.
I’m about to go over to her to try and say something when the other one walks up to me, her arms wrapped around herself, big amber eyes looking up.
“Who are you?”
Technically, I can’t say that I’m anyone to Chanice at this point, at least not anything you can explain to a child. But I have to tell her something.
“I’m Alex. I’m a friend.”
Satisfied with that answer, she wipes her nose and smiles a little gap-toothed one like Chanice’s.
“I’m Gabriella, and I’m hungry.”
Finally, something I can do. I pull out my phone, happy to have a way to help. “We can order whatever you want.”
“Gabby,” the oldest reprimands, pulling her onto her lap. “You don’t have to do that.” She looks at me, her lips puckered.
“I want to do it.”
They both seem to perk up at this, and Gabby starts to name off things from a fast-food shop. My fingers tap along with her words, ordering the food as she goes.
“What do you want, Imani?” Gabby asks.
Imani gives me her order, finishing just as Chanice walks back in.
“We just have to wait,” Chanice says, sliding into the seat next to the girls.
We just got here, and already she looks so tired. I can see her trying to retain control, so she pulls them into her arms and becomes the backbone to hold them up. It’s clear this isn’t the first time she has had to step up for them.
“We are ordering food.” I try to hand her the phone, but she waves it off.
“Always trying to feed someone, huh?” She smiles, and the slight relief at a moment of reprieve lights up her face.
“It’s fast food, so it’s really what they wanted.”
As she looks at the two of them, I can see her whole world reflected there.
It’s clear these kids mean everything to her, including whoever is in surgery right now.
The questions return, and I slide into the seat next to them to stop them from coming out.
Instead, I just watch as they interact with each other.
I recognize the ease and comfort with which they communicate.
The non-verbal ways they show their love.
Their bond is deep. They have to at least be siblings.
I see in them what I have with Olivia. Except the way they are depending on Chanice bypasses the normal depths of this relationship.
They need her. Which might have something to do with the fact that no one else has shown up yet. She might be all they have.
While we wait for the food, we are quiet. It continues while they eat, and the whole time, I just observe them. It’s not until Gabby comes to sit beside me that I stop.
In the inquisitive way that kids are, she starts to ask me questions.
Every once in a while, she gets distracted and goes on a tangent about a show, a story from school, or something that she loves, happy to have someone new to talk to.
We pass the time this way, just talking and learning about each other.
The whole time Chanice and Imani sit silently. Sometimes I feel their eyes on me, watching how I am with her.
At some point, tiredness kicks in, and Gabby starts to fall asleep leaning on my arm.
I can’t look away from her, honored that she likes me enough to sleep next to me.
She opens an ache inside of me that I didn’t previously have.
I never thought of kids outside of the context of needing to have them out of obligation.
But for once, I ask myself if I might want them for my own reasons.
Chanice is about to walk over and come get her when a doctor walks into the room.
He calls out for the family of Jamal Jones, and she pops up.
He takes her into the hallway, and I can see Imani fighting with herself not to follow.
I want to go too and see if there is anything I can do to help.
They stay out for a few minutes before they walk back in.
“I would recommend him having a skin graft in the next few days,” the doctor says.
“Another surgery? Really?” Her voice quivers on the last word.
“He doesn’t have to have one, but it will just take longer to heal, and it might not heal right. But it can still heal without it.”
Imani starts crying again, and Chanice’s breath sounds shallow.
“You have a few days to think about it, but you can see him now.” With that, he walks away, leaving her with a choice.
Imani and Chanice are about to leave when she turns back and comes and grabs up Gabby. All three of them go, and I’m left sitting there with a pit in my stomach.
It’s 8 a.m. and I’m supposed to be at work, but I can’t imagine leaving at this point. Not until I know she is okay.
An hour later, she walks back into the room with the girls and Jessie by her side. Gabby is still sleeping in Chanice’s arms, and I wonder if I should offer to take them back to my place. I don’t, because I’m a man that she barely knows.
“Do you want me to wait here for news while you guys go get some sleep?” I suggest instead.
“Jessie is going to take the girls home.”
Jessie gives me a thumbs up and points at Chanice, clearly indicating what I should focus on.
Passing Gabby to Jessie, Chanice gives Imani a hug before sending them on their way. When they are out of sight, her shoulders finally curve in, the weight of everything pushing on them. No longer needing to put on a brave face, she lets herself crumple, her eyes shining.
I shoot up from my seat and walk up to her, pulling her into my arms the way I’ve been wanting to since we showed up. The tight grasp of her gripping onto me shows how much she needed this. She silently shakes as she cries, pressing her face into my chest.
I don’t have words that will make this better. I don’t even fully know what is going on. All I can do is hold her until I feel her breathing even out again.
“I’m sorry.” She pulls back and wipes her sleeve across her eyes.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I just fell apart in your arms, and you barely even owed me a ride. This is so much more than what we agreed on.” The fact that she can’t see that all of this is common decency is mind-boggling.
Giving her a ride, a hug, a sliver of support is the least I can do as a man asking for continued access to her body. Strings or no strings, she has to know someone would owe her more than indifference in a situation like this.
“I’m not doing anything special by giving you a hug.”
She still looks at me like I am, and I have to wonder, again, what her life has been up to this point to make her feel this way.
“What do you need?” I rub a hand up and down her back, still trying to soothe away any lingering tears.
“I’m going to go sit in his room until he wakes up. There is nothing you can do right now.”
“Are you sure?” I want to stay by her side until this is resolved, but I don’t want to impose.
“Yes, thank you. I really appreciate you being here.” Her arms linger around me, and I can tell she wants another hug, so I pull her in again. This one lasts even longer, and she seems reluctant when she steps back.
“Please call me if you need anything, I mean anything at all.” I hold her far enough away that I can look into her eyes. Trying to relay how serious I am.
She nods, and I can see something cross her mind before she shakes her head.
“If you’re worried about taking the time off—”
“I’m not.” She cuts me off, her mouth twisting into a frown.
“If you are, please let me help.”
“We’ll be okay.” She says it with such surety and confidence, like no matter what, she is going to find a way to make this happen.
I finally drop my hands from her arms, stepping back to give her the space she asked for.
“I’ll let you get back to him.”
“Thank you again.” She starts to walk away, stopping to look back once over her shoulder.
The wave she gives makes me feel like she thinks this is the last time she will see me.
Is it? With so many questions unanswered and so much to unpack, at the very least we should have a conversation before I make any decisions.
After all, if we are just friends with benefits, then none of this matters.
But I know with my true intentions it does.
I look around once more, like I can find everything I need to know in this room, then I turn and leave.