by Kim Shaw
The singular thing that struck him, literally sucking the air right out of his lungs, was her smile. It had been ever so brief, but immensely potent. One of the nurses, an older woman who did a remarkable imitation of comedienne Adele Givens, said something that prompted the brief smile from Kennedy. Behind the expensive shades that covered one-third of her face, Kennedy smiled, her plump lips parting, revealing beautiful teeth and exposing a small dimple in her left cheek. Malik’s iron-man persona melted, causing him so much discomfort that he’d had to excuse himself to other duties just to get away from her before he became a staring, blundering idiot.
Twenty-four hours later, Malik had collected himself. He was confident that he would be able to handle his duties with professionalism and decorum with the light of a new day around him. Upon entering her room, he’d steeled himself against the potential of her physical beauty to stir his emotions. He was not a man for whom a woman’s physical appearance was enough to do more than cause a slight stir in his loins. What turned him on mentally and emotionally was a woman whose intellect and conversation were equally as attractive. If he couldn’t talk to a woman and share his ideas, hopes and dreams, he could not share his body with her, either. He had no way of knowing what rested inside of Kennedy Daniels, so to him she remained just another pretty woman—a client at that.
Kennedy reached her left hand out to the side, bumping it against the side of the nightstand clumsily. She moved her hand several inches up until she could feel her way along the surface of the table. When she came into contact with the object for which she had been searching, her shades, she snatched them up gratefully and moved slowly to her face, placing the shades over her eyes. Malik, having received no verbal response from her, took that as a sign that she was ready to go. He came farther into the room, pushing a wheelchair in front of him. He stopped next to her bed.
“I know movement is a little tough for you right now with that cast covering most of your leg, but we’ll help you learn how to navigate with it and trust me, as soon as you get used to it, it’ll be time to take it off,” Malik said.
He hadn’t expected a response, although he felt that at least a nod of the head would have been nice.
“I need you to try to turn your body sideways, swinging your broken leg toward me while letting the other one hang down toward the floor. I’m right here so don’t worry…I’ll catch you if you need me to.”
With Kennedy feeling less than trusting of Malik’s ability to safeguard her transfer, the transition from the bed to the wheelchair was thorny and awkward. She laced her arm around his neck, noting how strong a neck it was, but she gripped him so tightly that he had difficulty maneuvering. By the time he got her into the seat, his breath was ragged and little beads of sweat had popped up on his forehead.
“All right, Ms. Daisy, ma’am, shall we?” Malik joked as he began pushing the wheelchair of his silent new client.
The sun felt hot on Kennedy’s face. She tilted her face up toward it, allowing it’s warmth to massage her stony facade. Malik stood a few paces away from her, alternating between watching her and staring at the lagoon. This was his favorite place on the Stillwater grounds for several reasons. For starters, not many people came down here as it was quite a trek from the structure. The tranquility he found here on his daily breaks was rarely broken by chatter. He appreciated alone time, since it was something that was a rarity, especially since he’d allowed his brother to move in with him earlier in the year. At the apartment, with its small two bedrooms, a kitchen that opened to the combined living room and dining area and claustrophobic bathroom, there was rarely an opportunity to find solitude. His brother, Malcolm, who was seasonally unemployed, often had the company of some female, and no matter who the pick of the week was, they all had the same annoying giggles and the same exaggerated moans, which could be heard in every corner of the tiny place.
Here on the lagoon, Malik would sit and stare at the ducks, contemplating his life. He often felt that just like those ducks, all he was doing was floating on the same body of water, day in and day out, with no progress and without change. At thirty years old, Malik had become restless and dissatisfied. By other people’s accounts, including his parents, he had a good stable job with benefits and a pension that he’d only have to work thirty years to receive. All he needed to do was find a good woman, start a family and his life would be perfect. For Malik, however, there was so much more to the puzzle of his existence. The only problem was that even though he knew he wanted more for himself, he had no idea what else there was in store for him. Furthermore, he had even less of an idea of how to go about getting it.
A noise that came from Kennedy pulled him from his thoughts. From his vantage point behind her, he could not see her face, but the heave of her back and shoulders told him unmistakably that she was crying. He hesitated, unsure of whether he should leave her alone and let her cry uninterrupted or not. He knew all too well that sometimes a person just needed a good cry. His grandmother used to say that crying was like giving your spirit a bath. Still, something pulled him to her, awaking a need in him to comfort her, even though she was a complete stranger to him.
“Ms. Daniels, are you okay?” he asked as he moved in front of her.
She’d removed her shades and they lay on her lap. When he spoke, she moved her hands up to her face, covering her eyes. Her body trembled.
“Ms. Daniels, are you in pain? Would you like me to call for one of the doctors?”
She shook her head vehemently from side to side.
“No, I don’t want anyone,” she said.
Finally, a complete sentence from her. The sound of her voice, even though it was choked with emotion, surprised him. He hadn’t expected it to sound so strong. Even though she was obviously upset, her voice held a quality of vigor that was undisturbed by her current distress. With a right hand that trembled, she slowly reached up and wiped at the tears on both sides of her face. She lowered her left hand, fingering the shades that lay in her lap. Her eyelids blinked rapidly for several seconds before fluttering to a standstill. She stared out in front of her, seeing nothing.
Malik looked at her face, for the first time seeing it in its entirety without the distraction of eyewear. His heart literally stopped beating for a moment, his breath caught in his throat. He knew that she was beautiful. He had recognized that the moment he’d rolled her out of the transport vehicle. What caught him by surprise now, touching a part of him that he had not even acknowledged in years, was the fact that despite her tears and current distress, there was a harmony of spirit that possessed her. He had never laid eyes on a woman in his entire life that made him feel like he never wanted to look at another woman—until now.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I just…can I have a minute alone?”
“Sure,” Malik said, continuing to stare at her.
It took all the strength within for him to disengage from her face and move away from her. He walked a few feet along the lagoon and sat down on one of the large boulders that lined the edge. Occasionally, he dared to sneak a quick glance in her direction. She held her head erect, her face pointed toward the water. She didn’t move nor did he. He glanced at his watch, knowing that it was past the lunch hour and that he should have her back in her room already. Yet he was unwilling to interrupt her solitude.
Although he had other duties that he was currently neglecting, he had no intentions of rushing her. He couldn’t very well leave her by herself as she was a long way from the point in her rehabilitation where she could be left on the grounds to take care of herself. He knew that there was no clear prognosis as to whether her vision loss was temporary or permanent, but that the goal was to teach her how to live as a visually impaired person just in case. That would take weeks of work with the specialists and it would also have to wait until she had the use of both of her legs again. Until then, she was dependent on him and, try as he might, Malik couldn’t help but like the sound of that.
Chapt
er 6
“Thank you for…for today,” Kennedy said as Malik rolled her back to her room.
It was after eight o’clock in the evening and Kennedy had just finished an hour-long lesson in Braille reading for the blind. She was exhausted, having been kept on the go all day long. After her walk with Malik, she’d returned to her room for a quick bite to eat and then, because she was running late, had been rushed to physical therapy. There she’d spent thirty minutes learning how to pull her body upright from a reclining to a sitting position. Next was a trip to the weight room where she stretched and lifted weights for another thirty minutes. Dr. Pitcher, the ophthalmologist, came in to see her later on, where he performed a brief examination of her eyes. This was followed by dinner, another walk, or ride, depending on how one looked at it, around the grounds and finally the brail lesson, her last activity of the night.
Malik knew that Kennedy was referring to her breakdown at the lagoon that morning and while he didn’t feel like he had done anything special, he appreciated her gratitude.
“Don’t mention it,” he said as they arrived at her room.
He opened the door and rolled her chair inside. There was a chill in the air and he moved toward the wall that held the thermostat for the central heating and cooling system.
“Should I turn up the heat a little bit for you?” he asked.
“Umm, no. I like it this way. I was a winter baby,” Kennedy answered.
“Uh, oh. Don’t tell me you’re one of those T-shirt and flip-flop wearing, beach buffs in November kind of people. Girl, don’t you know that black people are from the tropics—we ain’t built for the cold weather.” Malik laughed.
It happened. For the first time since she’d arrived at Stillwater the day before, or at least while she had been in his presence, Kennedy laughed out loud and directly from that place inside where people are free and unpretentious. For Malik the sound was like the ringing bells of a winning slot machine. He watched her, the way her head tilted back and her mouth opened wide. It warmed him, filling him with the happiness that comes from seeing someone else’s spirit brightened, especially when that someone was special.
Malik lifted Kennedy from the wheelchair that had become an extension of her and carried her to the beige two-seater in the sitting area of the modest room. Although it was time for his shift to officially end, he did not want to leave her and he fished for excuses to hang around even if only for a few minutes more. He moved the wheelchair closer so that it was within her reach and started explaining the different mechanisms. A less than complicated piece of equipment, it was quite a task for him to stretch out his explanation, but he gave it a shot. Kneeling by her feet, he guided her hand to the wheels, across the breaks and the footrests. He let his fingers linger a second on top of hers, tantalized by the softness of her digits. A sudden knock at the door interrupted what had to be the highlight of his entire week, perhaps even month.
Jessica Hubbard, the night shift client assistant, entered. She took over where he left off, covering the clients he’d been in charge of all day. While there was much less activity at night than during the day, Jessica’s job was to help the female clients shower and get settled in for the night. She was still around when many of them awakened in the morning and for those who preferred to bathe in the morning and needed assistance, she took care of them. By the time Malik arrived at eight o’clock in the morning, Jessica would have seen to it that the clients were dressed, fed and ready for whatever activities were lined up for them for the day. Together, they handled a caseload of between five to seven clients at a time and both of them felt as though they had lucked out in being paired to the same team.
“Hey, Malik, Marci told me you were still around. Running late tonight?” Jessica asked as she entered.
“A little bit. I was just trying to get our new client settled in. Kennedy Daniels, I’d like you to meet Jessica Hubbard. She’s on call nights.”
“Hello, Ms. Daniels. It’s nice to meet you,” Jessica said.
“Likewise. So you’re the one I’m supposed to bug in the middle of the night if I need a drink of water or if I have to potty?”
“Yep. Feel free to bug away. Sorry I wasn’t around when you got in yesterday…I had a minor family emergency. Are you about ready to call it a night? If not, I can come back in a little bit.”
“Thank you, Jessica. I’m pretty beat, so, yes, I’m ready.”
“Well, then. All right, I guess I’ll head out now so you ladies can do your thing. Kennedy, I’ll see you in the morning,” Malik said reluctantly, aware that his time with Kennedy had finally come to an end.
“Fine,” she answered, acutely aware of the fact that at some point during the course of their day together, she had gone from being Ms. Daniels to Kennedy.
Later that night, surrounded by a darkness that she believed she would never become accustomed to, Kennedy’s thoughts drifted to Malik Crawford. She wondered what he looked like and whether his smile came from his eyes. Did his stature match the deep timbre of his voice? What about his hair? His nose….
Chapter 7
Blindness, whether temporary or permanent, was not a condition to which Kennedy found herself able to snap her fingers and adjust to. Waking up, after twenty-eight years of living a full and functional life, to darkness, had sent Kennedy into depression. She oscillated between fighting the feelings of despair and giving in to them completely. All the time she questioned why this had happened to her. Was her current situation a result of something she’d done or some offense against nature she’d unwittingly committed?
She found herself only going through the motions of the rehabilitation regimen the doctors and physical therapists had set out for her. Essentially, she had given up on ever having anything that resembled the satisfying life she used to lead.
The team of professionals who were working to reconstruct her life included a psychologist, Dr. Goodhall. Dr. Goodhall was warm and engaging yet she asked tough questions. Questions that forced Kennedy to think about things she preferred not to dwell on. Kennedy didn’t want to probe into the innermost regions of her sentiments, especially because she was struggling to hold the fragile pieces of her feelings together.
Dr. Goodhall suggested that she allow people to be her comfort and source of strength while she dealt with the difficult transitions that lay ahead. This was a suggestion to which Kennedy objected vehemently. As far as Kennedy was concerned, not her parents, other family members nor anyone could pacify her. Furthermore, she could not take one second of her mother’s theatrical hysteria nor anyone’s pity. She had hit an emotional rock bottom and contrary to popular belief, her misery did not want any company.
Unfortunately, being a resident at Stillwater did not afford her much solitude. There was a steady stream of staff members with whom she had to interact, countless appointments and therapy sessions and then there was Malik.
He arrived knocking at her door every morning at eight o’clock sharp and even when she reported that she did not feel like going out, he quietly insisted that she join him. He talked as if they were going out on a date instead of out for a walk around the grounds of a facility for people with disabilities. In spite of herself, it was his subtle charm that coaxed her out of her room every day without fail.
“Malik, what do you do when you’re not playing caddy to damaged invalids like me?” Kennedy asked one afternoon after Malik had parked her wheelchair off the path that led into the gardens.
“Damaged invalids?” He laughed. “I don’t see any damaged invalids around here.”
“You know what I mean. Let’s face it, this place isn’t exactly crawling with healthy people. So you do this all day long…it’s got to be depressing as hell.”
“Not at all. Actually, I kinda like spending time here. I mean, in this place you’ve got all kinds of people facing some of the most difficult challenges of their lives and many of them do it without complaint. Now take folks who have their health and the use of all t
heir faculties out there. They curse and grumble about everything from their Starbucks not having enough sugar to a traffic light that takes too long to turn green.”
Kennedy thought about what he’d said, wondering if she had been one of those people before her accident. While she didn’t think that was an accurate description of herself, she did realize how much in her life she had taken for granted. She could not remember the last sunset she’d seen, having spent the past few months and years locked inside of Morgan Stanley’s offices until long after dusk every night working away like any good corporate soldier.
“That didn’t really answer your question, did it?” Malik grinned. “All right, well, basically I’m not a partying type of guy. So when I’m not working here, I spend time at bookstores, getting my workout on at the gym…watching a good flick on television. That’s pretty much it.”
“Oh, I doubt that’s it. What about dating? Don’t tell me you’re a monk or something?”
Malik laughed.
“No, I’m not a monk. I just don’t date a lot. Bad breakup a while back, so I guess you could say that I’m just being cautious. There’s a lot of nutballs running around out there disguised as Miss America, you know. What about you? I know there’s got to a whole bunch of guys chasing after you like groupies.”
“Groupies?” Kennedy laughed. “Hardly. It’s just me, my job and, oh, can’t forget about my goldfish…Lucy and Ricardo.”
Malik studied Kennedy’s face for a moment, noting the tension that rested there and in her neck and shoulders. In the days that he’d spent caring for her, he’d come to realize that one of her greatest flaws was also her greatest asset. She was incredibly strong and resilient, yet she had no idea how much of those qualities she possessed. She thought that she’d crumbled beneath the weight of her personal tragedy and yet all he could see was a woman who was incredibly determined to hold on to her life. Kennedy’s only problem was that she believed that she could do it alone.