by Unknown
“Thank you.” David says with a tremble in his bottom lip. Michael places his hand on his shoulder, providing a small measure of comfort. “Thanks, man. Right now, I’m just trying to get my wife to rest. She won’t stop crying, so they’re going to give her something. But she’s like me, so I know she won’t take it. She keeps saying it’s her fault, but it wasn’t. The doctor called it PPH. He said it could happen to any woman, and up to twelve weeks after giving birth. I still can’t comprehend it all, but it took the life of our child and almost took my wife from me.”
“Is it all right if I go see her?” Michael asks as he stands up.
David slowly nods as his tears hit the bare white floor.
I want to reach out and hug David, but I’m not sure if that would be appropriate. Instead, I tell Michael, “I’ll stay with David.”
“Thank you. I’ll be back.”
David and I watch Michael go through the waiting room doors.
“Do you want to sit and maybe eat Michael’s sandwich?” I ask.
“I’ll sit, but I’m not very hungry.”
“I understand,” I say as I pick up Michael’s coffee and sandwich and take a seat.
David leans back in his chair and rests his head up against the wall. As he closes his eyes, I notice that he has a more mature look than Michael. There are a few wrinkles around his mouth and eyes, so I assume he’s older than Michael. His hair is neatly trimmed. I glance down at his shoes and notice how polished they are. His tailored black dress pants have a serious crease in them, and you can tell that at one point, his white collared dress shirt was perfectly starched. It barely moves. Michael also looks and dresses nicely, but David seems to take it to another level. The expensive gold watch on his left arm confirms that.
“Is that Michael’s coffee?” he asks as he slowly sits back up.
“It is. He hasn’t drunk out of it, if you want it,” I say, handing it to him.
“Thank you.” He takes a few sips. “I can’t believe this is happening. Last night, we were holding the baby and joking around about which of us he looks like. Today, he’s gone. Gone. How do you deal with something like that?”
“One minute at a time.”
“Justin Montgomery Myers. Do you know how long it took us to come up with that name?” He smiles faintly. “Michelle and I debated almost every day. It was fun because it was all done in love. Love for him. I had just bought him his first little football helmet. Now, he’s never going to get a chance to wear it. My mind still can’t accept—”
“David, come quick! It’s Michelle!” Michael shouts as he bursts through the waiting room doors.
David jumps to his feet, and within seconds, he and Michael disappear from view.
At one o’clock in the morning, as I sit in the waiting room and watch others sink into uncomfortable hospital chairs with tired eyes and worried hearts, Michelle’s blood pressure drops to dangerous levels.
At 1:15 p.m, her body goes into shock.
By 1:45 p.m., on a day that should have been filled with sunshine, David has lost both his son and his wife.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Michael and I sit on the sofa at David and Michelle’s house, exhausted. It’s taken us hours to get David to a place where he can think straight, but he finally listens to us and goes to his room to get some sleep.
“I can get a cab home,” I say after closing my eyes for a few minutes. “I know you don’t want to leave David alone.”
Michael takes my hand in his. “Why don’t you sleep here? You can stay in the guest room and I’ll sleep on the couch.” He looks into my eyes and I know he can see the hesitation written there. “Don’t worry. I’m old-fashioned, but you can still lock the bedroom door if that would make you feel better.”
I give him a wry smile as I allow his suggestion to roll around in my head for a second. “Are you sure David would be okay with that?” I finally say, still not quite comfortable with agreeing to stay in the home of a man I just met, someone who just lost everything that he lived and breathed for. But while Michael keeps staring into my eyes, I feel the anxiety that I’m having about all of this relax some.
“I am sure,” he says. “Besides, it’s too late for you to take a cab back downtown.”
I glance down at my watch and reluctantly agree. “I’ll stay.”
Jack is going to have a fit when he finds out.
His smile reaches his eyes. “Thank you,” Michael says, leaning back against the sofa. “Now I don’t have to worry about you being in a cab at midnight.”
“I can’t believe it’s that late,” I say as my body finally begins to settle down.
“Yeah, it’s been a long day,” he says as he looks at David’s closed door. “I’m glad he finally agreed to take the sleeping pill the doctor gave him. Tomorrow is going to be even harder for him.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think he took the pill. I think the weight of everything just finally got to him. But you’re right. Tomorrow will be even harder.”
Michael’s shoulders drop and his body sinks deeper into the sofa. “I know I said this earlier, but having you here means so much to me.”
“I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else,” I say, even though I’m still worried about the fact that Jack will have words with me about it tomorrow. But I know I’m where I need to be.
“I can’t believe we have to plan two funerals,” he says with a long sigh.
“I can’t believe it, either. I’ll help in any way that I can, and I know that Jack and Mary will want to help as well.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll fix breakfast in the morning. I hope he’ll eat something,” I say as I remove my shoes.
“He probably won’t. You know how it is.”
“I do.” I say as I tuck my legs underneath me.
“I’ve never had your cooking,” Michael says.
“I hate that it’s under these circumstances.”
“Me, too.”
“Mary will want to prepare a few meals. Are you going to stay here for a couple of days?”
He nods slowly. “I think I should. I’ll clear my schedule for the next week. My clients will understand.”
“You don’t have any closings?”
“No, thankfully.” Michael allows his eyes to close as silence falls over us. His jaw clenches and I take in the grief upon his face as he sits, clearly deep in thought. I reach over and take his hand in my own. “They say that losing a child is the worst kind of pain. David’s heart is not just broken from losing his son; it’s shattered into so many pieces from also losing his wife. I can’t walk in David’s shoes, but I understand the size and the weight of them. I think I told you that I had to bury my brother right after burying my mother.”
“I remember, and that’s why I’m so glad that he has a friend like you in his life.”
“We’re like brothers, you know. I need to be strong for him, help him get through this, but I don’t know if I can.”
I reach over and hug him. “We’ll both help him.”
He places his hand on the back of my neck and then lightly kisses me. His tears fall on my own cheek. “You got the part, didn’t you?”
“I did,” I say as I wipe his tears away.
“That’s my girl.”
Stretching out on the sofa, he places his head on my lap and closes his eyes again. I feel the pain inside of him like it’s my own as he tries to rest.
When someone you love hurts, you hurt, too. Mary’s words linger in my mind as I close my eyes.
Chapter Thirty
The sun warms my skin as I slowly open my eyes. I look over and see David sound asleep in a chair across from us, his legs and feet propped up on the coffee table.
He didn’t want to be alone.
I ease my way off the sofa, gently lay Michae
l’s head on a cushion, and then head off to find the kitchen, desperate for a cup of coffee.
The kitchen, with its white walls, high-end stainless steel appliances, and beautiful black floor tile, is the cleanest and most organized kitchen I have ever seen. Even the black and white kitchen towels are neatly folded next to the faucet. I quietly open a few of the white cabinets and find everything I need to start a coffee pot and fix a couple of omelets, bacon, toast, and a small pot of oatmeal. While I wait for the water to boil, I use the phone on the kitchen wall to call Jack and Mary and let them know where I am. I’m not surprised when Mary tells me that she’s already started to prepare a few meals for David, but I am surprised when Jack doesn’t say anything about me not going home last night.
Fifteen minutes later, I have the oatmeal, toast, and a couple of omelets done. The bacon is just about ready for me to pull out of the oven when David walks into the kitchen. He sits down at the table and rubs at his bloodshot eyes.
“You want a cup of coffee?” I ask, feeling weird about being in their kitchen, cooking in their pots and pans, all while knowing that the woman who usually does this sort of thing for him is gone.
“Please,” David says.
I pour him a cup and wait for him to ask why I’m in his wife’s kitchen, touching all the things that she probably touched just a day or so ago.
“You know, Michelle didn’t know how to cook. In fact, she never came in here unless it was to sit at this table and wait for me to bring her breakfast—whenever we had a chance to eat together, that is.” He looks over at me. “Poor thing couldn’t even boil water.”
I can’t help but laugh, and it’s good to hear him join in.
Michael walks in, rubbing his eyes as well. “David’s right. I remember that time when I tried to show Michelle how to cook for their anniversary. She threw her hands up after only a few minutes and said, ‘I’ll order something and David will love it even more.’”
“I remember that. Michelle tried to act like she had slaved in the kitchen all day. She even had on an apron when I got home to make it look authentic.”
“She loved you so much, man,” Michael says, sitting down at the table across from David.
“Yes, she did. I’m going to miss her so much, Michael.”
“But you will never forget her. Those memories will always be in your heart, and they will help you get through this. So will I.”
“Thank you, man.”
Michael looks up at me and smiles as I place full plates down in front of him and David.
“I can’t believe I’m starving,” Michael says, but I know he’s just saying it to encourage David to try and eat something.
We both watch David pick up a piece of toast and take a few bites. Both of us smile when he eats a small portion of his omelet and a spoonful of oatmeal.
After we finish eating, I clear the dishes, wash them, and carefully put them back where I found them while Michael and David sit at the table drinking coffee and sharing stories about Michelle. It’s interesting to see this side of Michael. As I watch him comfort his friend with so much sincerity and patience, it makes me realize something. I could marry this man.
“I’m going to go take a shower,” David says an hour later. “I also need to call Michelle’s parents and her sister.” He can barely haul himself out of his chair and my heart breaks again as I watch Michael help him up.
After David leaves the room, Michael walks over to me and wraps me up in his arms. He holds me tightly. “Thank you for the breakfast.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I can run you home now, if you want.”
“Mary prepared a few meals for David, so I hope it’s okay that I told them that they can bring them over before heading to the Braves game. They’re also going to bring me Mary’s car.”
“That’s very nice of them.”
“They want to help any way they can.”
“I wish you could stay here tonight as well.”
I give him a kiss. “I need to get home, shower, and get ready to head back to work. Unfortunately, no matter what a person is going through, the bills don’t stop or care.”
“That’s so true,” he says, disappointed.
“I will call you later this evening. Okay?”
“Okay, but I think I need a longer kiss if I’m not going to see you for a couple of days.”
“If that will help.”
“It so will.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Monday morning brings mixed emotions with it. I walk into Jack’s with the strangest desire to call Francine and tell her that I can’t do the musical. I haven’t even opened the envelope that contains the script. Michael and I spent last night on the phone, so now my eyes are straining to stay open as I sit at the table and stare at a plate of food I have no desire to eat. To make matters worse, one of the cooks casually mentions that we’re going to be shorthanded today for lunch, so I know that in less than five minutes, Jack will ask me to do both shifts.
As if on cue, he walks into the back and takes a seat.
Right on time.
“I can tell you’re tired, kid, but I need you today.”
“I heard.”
He reaches over, pats my hand, and then heads into the refrigerator to pull out the bacon.
As I pour my coffee, I can’t help but think about Michael and David. I know my not getting any sleep doesn’t come close to what they’re going through by making the funeral arrangements today. So I force a smile on my face as I put on my apron and name tag.
Jack taps me on the shoulder as I sit at the table, resting my eyes for a second or two before the lunch rush begins.
“You look exhausted, kid, but thanks for doing a double. I know you would rather be at home.”
“I’ll be okay. I will probably sleep like a log tonight.”
He grins. “No, you won’t. You’ll be up all night on the phone with Michael.”
“You’re probably right,” I say with a sigh.
“Come out back for a second. Mary and I have something that we want to show you.”
I can barely get my body to move as I follow him out the back door, looking around for something different or new, but all I see is Mary standing by her little blue Honda.
Jack hands me the keys. “It’s your car now.”
I stare at them in disbelief. “Are you serious?”
“We are. You’ll have to pay the insurance, of course, but I figured with the gig you got, you can use that money to pay the first six months up front. By then, you should have something else coming in. I’m sure the insurance payments won’t be much since it’s old and paid for.”
Mary walks over to him and crosses her arms. “Are you referring to the car or me?”
Jack winks at me. “I’ve learned never to answer questions like that and expect to live—or eat, for that matter.”
“What’s Mary going to drive?”
“I don’t need to drive. Besides, Jack and I are always together, so we really only need one car. We should have done this before now.”
I hug them both. “You guys are amazing. I love you both so much. Please know that.”
“We do know—that you love us and how amazing we are,” Mary says as she starts to walk back inside the restaurant.
“Now you can get home, even when it’s late,” Jack says with a pointed grin.
“I slept on the couch.”
“I know. Michael made a point to mention it when we dropped off the meals for David.” He places his hand on my shoulder. “I know you’re grown, that you’re twenty-seven, but I can’t help that I’m just old-fashioned that way.”
“So is Michael.”
“I knew there was a reason why I liked that young man.”
There’s a ton of reasons why I like—no, love—that man.
I hug him again. “Thank you for the car, Jack.”
“Anything for you, kid. Absolutely anything.”
Chapter Thirty-two
The week flies by quickly as Michael continues to help David get things ready for the funeral.
I sit at my kitchen table listening to Nina Simone while eating a grilled cheese sandwich that I brought home from the restaurant. My open window allows a gentle Friday night breeze to come in. I find myself missing Michael something fierce. We talk on the phone every night, but it isn’t the same as feeling his arms around me or just being near him.
It’s funny, really—or sad, if you dwell on it—but for four years, I’ve spent my Friday nights alone and thought nothing of it. However, now everything is different.
I’m different.
I’m—dare I say it out loud?—in love.
Four weeks ago, you couldn’t have convinced me that I, Mýa Denise Day, would be cruising down Love Lane and hoping that there aren’t any detour signs or potholes along the way.
Jack says I have it bad, and I can’t disagree with him. The only thing that seemed to be getting me through the week is going over my lines. They keep my mind busy, for the most part.
However, I’ll admit that two nights ago, I almost purchased one of those bridal magazines.
It was a very close call.
I never thought memorizing songs would be so hard, as I go over each of the songs that I’m to perform in the musical. When my phone rings, I’m grateful for a break from going over each of the songs that I’m to perform in the musical. I hope that it’s Michael calling to give me the final funeral details.
“Mýa, it’s Francine. Sorry to call so late.”
“It’s fine. Everything okay?” I ask, placing my script on the table.
“No, it’s not. The stage manager was going to call you, but I wanted to tell you myself.”
My knees start to tremble. “Tell me what?”