Thank you for your continuous kind support. I appreciate it.
Standard disclaimer.
The following morning I slipped into my scrubs, to get ready for my shift.
I turned my phone back on and saw there were about a dozen more text messages from Marley.
My finger hovered above the delete button, just before I decided to just weed through them all.
Marley: If you're not going to pick up the phone and talk to me, I'll just text bomb you all night.
Marley: Damn it, Mercedes! What happened tonight between you and Sam, was bound to happen with any guy you got close to.
Marley: You have to tell him what happened to you. Please...tell him already!
Marley: He would stick around and work through it. I just know that..that boy has deep feelings for you.
Marley: And I think you might feel the same way. In fact...I KNOW you feel the same way.
Marley: And I know you don't want to...it scares you shitless, you feel out of control...but please, bitch...for the sake of all the fake players everywhere, take a chance on somebody.
Marley: You should have seen him last night. He tried to go after you, but Noah stopped him, to cool off. He looked miserable. Felt sick about what he'd said to you.
Marley: Don't worry, I told him nothing. Only that you'll talk when you're ready.
Marley: That boy is a damn good egg. Just like Adrian.
I let out my breath slowly and stared at myself in the mirror...at my puffy, swollen eyes.
There was a slight purplish mark on my jawline, from Sam's rough stubble last night.
He'd been sensual and passionate and fiery, but I felt more safer with him, than I'd ever felt with anyone else.
I knew he'd never hurt me on purpose, but his harsh words rocked my world.
I felt off-kilter, unglued and out of control.
The same feelings I'd successfully stamped down for years.
And did he seriously think I gave myself away so easily?
Was that what I was doing?
He was so damn frustrated with me. Just like I was frustrated with myself.
Adrian. Sam. Mr. Jackson. Maybe there were decent guys out there.
But I didn't let myself see it. I didn't want to see it. I didn't want to feel it.
I grabbed my purse and keys to head to work and heard a thump, as I swung open my apartment door.
A large package that had apparently been leaning against the doorjamb, had fallen over.
It was wrapped in shiny silver paper, with a note attached.
I went back inside, rested the package on my coffee table, and opened the note.
'Mercedes, I'm sorry.
Please believe that I never meant to hurt you. I'm so ashamed of myself.
But I heard you loud and clear.
You're not ready for this. For me. For us.
So I'll leave you alone...I'll walk away.
But if you decide you want to talk, you know where to find me.
I'd planned on giving this gift to you someday. I figure now, is as good a time as any.
Take good care, S.
P.S. Here's what I think of you in five words or less: Fierce, determined, scorchingHOT (yes, that's one word), incredible, beautiful.'
Fat tears rolled down my cheeks, as I ripped open the pretty wrapping.
I inhaled a lungful of air when I saw his gift.
It was my favorite drawing from the art show.
He never sold it. He saved it for me.
My fingers were trembling so badly, that I had to set it down, before it fell from my grasp and broke.
But now that I looked at it, the drawing looked different today.
Now, it seemed like, one figure was trying hard to reach across all the junk...in the spaces between...to the other side. But the other figure was so well hidden, he could barely find her.
And she didn't plan on coming out anytime soon.
I read Sam's letter three more times, dried my eyes, fixed my makeup, and left for work.
The rain had cleared and the air felt warm.
The walk would do me good.
My phone buzzed, while I was crossing Albert Street, and I saw my mom.
I so wasn't ready to talk to her...to anybody really...but because of recent events, I needed to.
"Hey, mom. On my way to work. Everything okay?"
She was silent, but I heard her breathing. Prepping herself for something she needed to say. I gripped the phone tighter.
"Just spill it, mom." Her voice was a hoarse whisper.
"What did Tom do to you?"
I stopped in my tracks, nearly tripping over my own two feet and causing a collision at the crosswalk. My voice was low and rough.
"You know what he did. I told you everything, hoping my own mother would believe me."
I heard her take a long drag on her cigarette.
I could picture her sitting at the kitchen table, chain smoking.
"Is that why he left us?"
What the fuck!
Is that what this was about?
She had some sick need to know, he didn't leave her because of something she hadn't done?
She was always so weak when it came to Tom.
"He left because of what I threatened him with." She let out a long breath, she obviously had been holding.
"Is that why his arm was bandaged up, the night he walked out the door?"
I'd been proud of that moment.
Proud of myself.
I had seen the fear in his eyes.
Had that sharp utensil slipped just an inch the other way, I would have gouged his heart.
"Yes."
We were silent for a long minute, just listening to each other's breaths.
Would this woman ever tell me she was sorry?
Or that she was proud of me?
Or...something, that showed me she was a mother?
"That's why he beat me up."
"What?" My heart raced a thousand miles a minute. "Damn it, Mom. Tell me what the hell happened the other night."
"We got into an argument..." I heard the tears coming. "About you."
"What about me?" I saw the nursing home in the distance, so I slowed my steps. No way could I head into work, without knowing what went down.
"He'd been asking questions about you, every time I saw him lately. Things like, when had you moved out. If you were ever coming back. What you looked like now."
She started sniffling and coughing, getting all worked up.
"I got the impression, he was either afraid of you, or had some kind of sick desire to see you again."
She caught her breath for a moment, while I let all of that sink in.
My stomach churned, just thinking about the low timbre of Tom's voice.
"So I pressed him about that night. I needed to know," mom went on. Shit! This is where her story was about to get ugly.
"What did you say?"
"I asked him if, what you accused him of, was true." I suddenly had trouble swallowing.
"And?" I prompted.
"He denied it up and down, of course," she said. Now her words were rigid and hate-filled. "But this time, I wasn't buying it."
Was this finally mom's light bulb moment?
I knew my mother would never apologize for betraying me.
She didn't have it in her.
And I'd gotten to a place in my life, that I didn't need it. Not anymore.
Besides, this was as close to an apology, as I would get.
"Were you alone somewhere with him?" I asked.
I could picture this going down.
Tom getting more manipulative, more irate. Switching from his soft and soothing words, to his harsh and threatening tone.
"We were in the parking lot outside the bar." One, two, three puffs of her cigarette. "So I warned him, people would see us inside his car and call the cops."
"God, it could have been so much worse, mom."
"I told him if he stayed away, I wouldn't go to the police," she said. "I don't think he'll come around again. He doesn't have buddies on the police force like he once did."
"What else, Mom? I know there's something you're holding back."
"So...I don't think this restraining order is necessary." And there it was. She was still protecting him.
"It'll only draw more attention to the situation and mess up his other family," she went on.
"You assume his other family isn't already messed up." A cynical laughed escaped my lips. "How many times will Tom get away with stuff, huh? He got away with it years ago and now you're letting him off again."
"I'm not saying, I won't go through with it," she said. Yes, she absolutely was saying that. "I just...I'll think about it."
"Geez, Mom, do you realize how fucked-up your relationships with men are?"
There was a long, drawn-out silence before she replied.
"Is that why yours are, too?"
I checked in at the front desk, ten minutes late.
Thankfully, my supervisor was in a staff meeting down the hall.
"I'm so sorry, Libby," I said to the nurse, I was replacing on the floor.
"Uh-huh. Thought someone forgot to tell me you called in sick or something."
"Won't happen again," I said. "Shift change report?"
Libby grabbed her purse from the drawer beneath the desk and then handed me the notes.
"Mr. Brady in room 105, is waiting on an EKG, and Mrs. Jackson in 108, needs another vitals check in an hour." My stomach churned.
"What are her symptoms?"
"Some blurred vision, slurred speech, and weakness in her limbs. Doc wonders, if she had another small stroke last night. Scheduled her for a CAT scan."
I loaded the med trays, trying not to get choked up about Mrs. Jackson.
The logical side of me said, I worked in a nursing home and patients didn't stay here forever. They either recovered or died.
Which led to my emotional side.
I wanted to pull away from her, stop talking to her so damn much, so that it would be less painful when she left. But that would only hurt her.
Just like I was hurting Sam.
I immediately shook that thought away and refocused on my favorite patient.
When I entered her room, she was resting on her side.
Her normally dark complexion looked a bit paler.
I ran my fingertips over her forehead to wake her up.
"Med time." Her breaths were short, and she squinted at me through slits.
"H...Hey, sunshine." I noticed how the words broke from her lips, in a lazy, sluggish pattern.
She blinked the sleep away, and I positioned her pillows, to help her sit up.
She studied me with concerned eyes.
"Nah, I take that back. I'd say someone got rained on instead." She couldn't be more closer to the truth, if she tried.
"It did rain a lot last night," I said, trying to keep my voice light.
"You could say that again," she said, and then narrowed her eyes. "But I wasn't speaking literally."
"I know," I said, my voice strained and quiet. She grabbed for my hand.
"S...something happened with that gorgeous man, who's chasing after you?"
I didn't want Mrs. Jackson to know, I was in fact worried about her today, so this time I relented on her questions about Sam.
"Maybe."
"He's getting too close, isn't he?" She raised her eyebrows. "And you...you're pulling away." This lady needed an award for mind reading.
"Why do you always think it's me causing trouble?" I asked, my hand on my hip. "Maybe he did something wrong."
"If he did something wrong, it was only out of fear," she said, downing her pills and water. "And fear is the flip side of love."
"Huh?" I massaged her weak and trembling fingers.
"Honey, I know there are things you haven't shared with me." She squeezed my hand with the little strength she had. "Painful things."
Wow, this lady is good. Damn good. I didn't deny it, or try to make light of what she saying.
"Your whole life can't be defined, by that one single moment. Or even a series of awful moments."
She held my gaze, and it was difficult not to want to look away.
"You are strong and courageous. But it doesn't mean you can't lean on others sometimes."
My eyes felt glassy and full.
I blinked, to keep the tears at bay.
I was overwhelmed with emotions today.
About Sam, my mom and Mrs. Jackson.
"Especially very handsome others." She winked. "Take a chance on him, girl."
Man, people were dishing out advice left and right today.
Maybe the universe was conspiring against me.
"Let me get the circulation going in those feet," I said, to change the subject.
I pulled back the covers, to reveal her swollen legs.
Water retention made the skin bloat and stretch, giving it a shiny and fake look, almost like plastic.
As soon as I began rubbing her ankles, her forehead relaxed, her back slumped in relief, and she became more animated.
"I want to hear about your grandmother today," she said, her voice still a bit rough. "You've only mentioned her a couple of times."
How had she known, I'd been thinking a lot about my grandmother lately?
I couldn't help wondering, if Grandma had been alive when mom dated Tom, if she would have believed me, and held me those nights I lay shivering and crying.
I knew, without a doubt, she would.
Mom had a blind spot, when it came to handsome, charming men, and Grandma always called her on it.
Constantly asking her, where she'd ever gone wrong, for her to want to rely on a man so completely.
I'd asked myself the same question a thousand times.
Wondered if there was something in mom's past, that I didn't know about...or would never know about.
Something that made her cling so recklessly, to any string of false security.
Was it the death of her father at an early age?
Or seeing how Grandma had worked two jobs, to support them?
Did my mom hope, that by getting pregnant with me, she'd snag the guy who knocked her up?
It didn't work the first time...or the second time, either, for that matter.
I heard Mrs. Jackson let out a whimper, at a certain sensitive spot around her ankle, and that snapped me out of my thoughts.
"My grandma was a lot like you. Feisty, compassionate, and wise." I massaged her calf muscles and up to the back of her knee. "A pain in the ass, too."
That got a grin out of her.
"No wonder you like me so much," she sassed.
I returned the smile, as I started on her other leg.
After a few long moments, Mrs. Jackson closed her eyes and let out a sigh.
"What happened to her?"
"She died of cancer when I was twelve."
I remembered the day we got the call, how it brought me to my knees.
I'd never prayed before in my life, but that day, I prayed and begged and pleaded, that the news wasn't real.
That she'd come waltzing through the door and scoop me into her lap once again.
"Well, isn't that a damn shame," Mrs. Jackson said, looking at me now, her eyes soft around the edges. "I'll bet she taught you a lot and had a hand, in making you the woman you are today."
"Absolutely. I learned to be independent and go after what I wanted."
And if I was being honest, my own mother had pushed me to become the person I was, too...by forcing me to take up for myself. Lord knows she never did.
Mrs. Jackson's cheeks lifted.
"If she was still around, I bet she'd agree with me."
"About what?"
"About giving Pretty Boy a chance." I shook my head and laughed.
"See, I told you...a pain in the ass."
Stay safe! Much love to you.