“A heart attack?! That’s impossible! Saint is fit as a fiddle! He works out religiously. He eats right, well, most of the time…and he takes vitamins. He never gets tired! You all have seen ’im! He is just as hyper as our sons! This doesn’t make any sense. Where is he? Take me to him!” Xenia felt like saying more, for the words to not only be true to her, but to the entire world. If she kept talking and protesting, then everything she said would be true and it would have to come to be.
Just then, another doctor entered the room, along with Lawrence. Xenia took a look at her husband’s friend, his forehead etched with worry lines and his hair soaking wet, as if he’d been out in the rain.
“Mrs. Aknaten, your husband is on the fifth floor in our cardiology department. You should be able to see him as soon as—”
“Hell, no!” Xenia grabbed at something and pulled it, causing a machine to race and blink, blaring frantically.
“Xenia!” Porsche called out, trying once again to restrain her sister.
“Take me to him, now! Wheel me up there, carry me on your back, I don’t care! I demand to see my husband this second!”
~***~
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jagger looked at Shianne one last time before leaving. He hated that he felt this way. Because she was a woman, he couldn’t bring himself to strike her. But oh, how he wanted to. The urge was so deep within him, but every time he got ready to, he saw his mother’s face, and it crippled him.
“You know what, Shianne?” he said before he walked out of the bedroom. “You had a fucked up childhood, right?” He looked over his shoulder, his hand gripping the doorknob, and eyed her her like the piece of scum that she was. “Yeah…so did I.” He turned back around around, facing her. “That gave you no right to grow up and be a messed up adult who fucks other people over. I want to kill you, and I can’t promise you that I won’t come back later and do just that,” He said, glaring at her. “Because of you, a good man’s life has been turned upside down. Shit, he might even be dead already but instead, I’m here playing handyman and clean-up crew to make sure that when you call the police, they won’t be able to find anything.” He pointed to a black garbage bag filled with debris and a toolbox.
“You’ve affected so many lives tonight. So many people depend on that man; he’s like a brother to me!” He looked at her pitiful from, curled up in a ball on her bed, and felt nothing but disgust.
“He had something people like you could never even imagine. People just write books about it, direct movies, and it’s all fantasy!” He flicked his fingers in the air, as if there was glitter fluttering about. “This isn’t make believe! This is real! This is who we are, it’s our lives! You think people like us are myths, and you come into our worlds and mess things up.” He knew he was rambling. The woman didn’t understand anything he was talking about. He didn’t care; he just needed to get it out. “You destroy our ecosystems with your lies, your greed, and your thirst for power. I hate that I have to help people like you!” His voice shook with rage. “You aren’t worthy! You have no idea what I’m talking about right now, but one day…one day, Shianne, you will. Lawrence and I left you a little parting gift. More than likely, you will try to hightail it out of here. You’ll get ready to call the police and then you’ll decide against it because the story sounds preposterous.” He shrugged. “You’ll think you are safe, but you won’t be, Shianne. You will never be safe, ever again…”
He walked out of the bedroom, grabbed the bag and rushed to the hospital as fast as he could…
~***~
The soft, full lips caressed his. He knew those lips…he knew that scent, he knew the feathery touch of untamed curls against his face. He tried to smile, but his lips wouldn’t cooperate.
Xenia…
That was okay; he smiled on the inside.
“Saint…” her familiar raspy voice gave him a hard on. Although smiling was impossible, he could feel his dick stiffen. Damn, he wanted to laugh so badly. Of all the times to get wood…
“It’s Xenia, Saint…your wife,” she said gently.
He tried to open his eyes, take a look at her…see those big, pretty dark brown eyes that he adored. But he couldn’t—he was a prisoner within his body.
“May I see him please?” he heard someone say in the far distance. Saint’s hearing was even more acute. This was the second time he’d experienced this. He’d never had bionic hearing before, yet he could hear conversations down the hall, some even from outside of the building. That voice belonged to Lawrence. “I’d like to see him, please!” the man said, worry in every word.
“Sir, only immediate family is allowed and he isn’t supposed to have visitors of any kind right now. We made an exception for his wife, considering the circumstances.”
I’ve got to wake up! I’ve got to speak.
Saint struggled, feeling the strain, as though he were trying to lift a thousand pound boulder.
“Huhhhh…” he grunted.
“Saint?” He felt her tiny hands on his chest. “He’s talking!” Xenia yelled out.
Saint heard a flood of footsteps. It was like déjà vu. He remembered when he was in the hospital getting a bullet removed from his back years ago. He loathed hospitals…
“Heee…” He gritted his teeth, and slowly but surely, opened his eyes. He looked to his right, then his left. “Heeeey, baby.” He smiled.
Xenia laughed and grabbed him around the neck, burrowing her face into his shoulder.
“Can I see him, now?! He is clearly awake!” Lawrence asked in annoyance from just outside the door.
“Puh…” Saint sat up as a nurse helped him. “Please let…that man…in. He’s my…brother.”
Without any further hesitation, Lawrence pushed through, his expression vexed.
He knows something…
“Hello, Saint. You have no idea how worried I’ve been about you.” He leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, much to Saint’s surprise.
“Oh.” Saint laughed weakly, a bit of huskiness in his voice. “I think… I… do. I had—” and then he stopped himself as he recalled they were in mixed company.
Dreams… Lawrence finished his sentence telepathically.
Saint nodded and grinned. He looked down at his chest and hands. Tubes were all over the place, just like with Xenia. He turned back toward her and couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Damn, baby…”
She smiled proudly. “Yeah, I know. It’s a miracle. I feel much better but they still want me to stay.”
“No, damn, baby, what…what… the hell… happened to… your hair?!” he teased, causing her to lightly flick him on the shoulder with her nail. “No, seriously… you look… beautiful…” he said weakly, his head falling back onto the pillow. He felt sleepy, but he fought it. He wanted to look at her just a while longer. He glanced at the doctor and nurses mulling about.
“Is it okay if…” He swallowed and paused, trying to catch his breath. “I speak to them alone for like, three minutes?” he pleaded.
The staff looked at each other. “Yes, but first we need to ask you some questions and then, we will allow just three minutes, Dr. Aknaten. We need to run more tests,” the doctor said in a thick Indian accent.
Saint nodded in understanding. The doctor stepped closer to him. “These questions may be of a private nature. They concern your lifestyle and overall health. I believe—”
“No.” Saint shook his head. “Whatever you… have to ask me, it is… fine in front of them.”
“Very well. Please tell me if the following information is correct.”
Saint slowly opened his eyes and watched the doctor read from a piece of paper.
“We have you as six foot three and a half inches to be exact. Is this correct?”
“I believe so…” Saint answered sleepily and closed his eyes again.
“You have an irregular heartbeat, a heart murmur. Are you aware of that?”
“Yes…I was born with it.”
“Yes, five to six times a week, religiously…”
The doctor paused and wrote things down.
“What type of exercises?”
“Elliptical, weight lifting, running, swimming and basketball mostly.”
“Are you sexually active?”
“Very!”
He heard a couple chuckles.
“Is your occupation stressful?”
“I would think so.”
“What is your occupation?”
“Speaker, author, bank owner, therapist…”
“Yes, you are married,” the doctor mumbled. “We can skip that one, too… Okay, have you had any chest pains in the last three months?”
Saint knew what this was about. They were coming up empty handed. They had no idea why he seemed to be having a heart attack but the tests were showing nothing out of the ordinary. Yet, everyone had seen him and when he was first brought to the room, his heart rate was going crazy. It was obvious something was malfunctioning, and now, there was nothing—not a trace of it. He was an enigma. Yes, he’d had chest pains and stomach pains and all sorts of pains, but they had been due to his father’s health condition. He was going to lie his ass off, and be proud of it, too.
“Nope.” He stifled a smile.
The questions continued until finally, the doctor and nurses left and it was just Xenia and Lawrence standing before him.
He waited until he heard the door click.
“Lawrence, lay it on me. What do… you know?” He coughed.
Lawrence shot Xenia a glance as the woman sat in her wheelchair, obviously bewildered.
“Yeah,” Saint said. “Do it with my… wife sitting here. She needs to hear… whatever it is you… have to say.”
“Jagger has a bit more information than I do, he should be on his way any moment now, but uh, shit…” Lawrence rubbed his forehead.
“Say it,” Saint angrily demanded.
“Shianne cut Xenia’s brake lines.”
“What?!” Xenia said in shock.
Saint’s eyes went from golden to red in a nano-second.
“I fuckin’ knew it!” He flung the covers off himself and winced as pain dashed across his chest.
“Where do you think you’re going? Lean back and stay in bed. You’re recovering, Saint. You can’t go anywhere right now. Even after you’re discharged, you have to take it easy for a while. You have Xenia’s pain inside of you now, and your body is trying to mend itself. That was a major healing.”
“Healing?” Xenia’s eyes brimmed with tears. She turned away but he heard her crying anyhow.
Seconds ticked by in heavy silence.
“Get yourself calmed down, your eyes are bright red,” Lawrence warned as Saint heard footsteps approaching the door. Saint quickly closed his eyes and tried to drift into tranquility…
In a large white room, he saw his two boys, playing ball. Isis was dressed like a ballerina, twirling around, laughing. Xenia was by their daughter’s side, gliding right along with her. And Saint stood off to the side, watching the entire show play out. Yes, this was peace. This was home. Self-soothe…relax…self-soothe…relax…release…cool down…become one.
He opened his eyes and looked at Lawrence. The man smirked and gave him two thumbs up. The doctor burst into the room.
“Dr. Aknaten, your ECG showed no evidence of a heart attack and the blood levels for your troponins and CK-MB are not elevated. We ran other tests as well and are not able to diagnose you with any heart failure whatsoever,” the doctor barked, though he knew the man didn’t mean it; it was simply how he naturally sounded.
Additionally, Saint understood that the staff was rather confused. He’d been admitted after his chest pain and by initial diagnosis, his heart rate was off the charts and everything was pointing in that direction.
“You may have had a mild stroke; that is what I’m leaning toward. Nevertheless, we have arranged to keep you here overnight for observation, after which you will be discharged but you must follow up with your physician three days after release.”
Saint nodded in understanding as a nurse approached him with medicine. A flurry of activity began and Xenia was pushed away, to the side. She sat in a corner, gripping the arms of the wheelchair, her face flushed with sadness.
She now knew the truth as to why she looked and felt so vibrant and why he was lying in that hospital bed.
He’d risked his life for her once again. This was no miracle. This was simply Saint…
~***~
Hassani rubbed his weary eyes, his fingers pressed onto his closed eyelids trying to appease an itch after an evening filled with odd dreams. He stared dreamily out the window with blue and white striped curtains pulled to one side. There was nothing out there but the street, lined with palm trees and peach colored row houses dotting it. A tricycle was parked in one front yard filled with choppy brown grass. He recalled the little blonde haired boy that rode it. This day had been a day just like any other. He and Dakarai had slept on the living room floor by choice that evening. It was bigger than the tiny guest room they typically shared in Chantel’s house and there was a big television with silver knobs. Though the thing was old, he appreciated they had something to distract them, to take their minds off the worry he and his brother were knee deep in. Another day had passed and the grownups were either still lying, or they were telling the truth as best they knew how. Dad wasn’t much of a liar like other grownups, but it seemed from his last conversation with him, he was doing his share of grown-up deception, too.
He asked about his mother, and was told by Grandma, Aunt Porsche, Godmama Stacey and Chantel that she was doing well. Mama was kind of hard to read, even when she wasn’t blocking, and he couldn’t break through as easily as Dakarai, who had the gift of a deaf mute. Hassani yawned and stretched his long legs, wiggling his toes as a smile creased his face. He felt much better, he had to admit that. Maybe it was a sign? After all, he’d been feeling mighty crummy in the last few days. He was sorry that Dakarai had cried so much, and he was sorry that Isis took so long to settle down. He’d tried to sing her songs and make the silly faces that usually made her laugh, but nothing worked. The little girl was determined to let the entire world know how upset she was. She had some lungs on her, that was for sure—a voice either fit for a professional singer or a haunted house extra. Family…he missed them.
He thought, what if Daddy died? What if the man he looked up to the most in the entire world was gone? He’d have to be the man of the house and take care of Mommy, Day-Day and little Isis. He was sure he could do it, but he much preferred to just be the big brother for now. No one could make him laugh like Daddy could. No one could dance like Daddy, play ball like Daddy, tell the best scary stories like Daddy, even though Mommy told him to stop…he’d sneak around and do it anyway. She warned he’d give him nightmares. And sometimes that was true, but Hassani wanted to hear them anyway. Daddy was the best. He couldn’t have asked for a better one and when he said his prayers at night, he begged God to not take him away. He wondered if other kids had similar prayers? Do they too wonder if their father will die?
Hassani understood that his father did a lot. What he did exactly, he wasn’t sure. Daddy was getting calls all day and night, from people that really needed his help, it seemed. He was an important man. Hassani had a hunch that one day he’d be in his father’s shoes. One day, people would call him all day and night as well, and he’d wear cool business suits and wink at himself in the mirror just like Daddy. He liked how his father put on his sunglasses, and leaned a bit to the side, like he had swag. Daddy was cool! Hassani smiled.
I wanna be just like him when I get bigger…
He’d have a family one day, too. He imagined he’d marry Erica, and they’d have three children, just like Daddy and Mommy, two boys ’nd a girl. Daddy had been right about that, too. Hassani did like girls, well, just one. She was the color of peanut butter, and had soft, sandy br
own hair and a few freckles on her nose. He gave her his Snicker bars and all of the sweet treats from his lunch in exchange for holding her hand. Then, one day, she said he didn’t have to give her anything to hold her hand; she’d do it for free. They’d do it under the lunch table, their fingers intertwined so no one would see. She had an accent, a funny one, like Daddy, but it sounded different. He asked her why she talked like that.
“I’m from Barbados,” she said to him. He didn’t know where Barbados was, but if she was from there, it must be a nice place.
“Can I be your boyfriend?” he’d whispered in her ear.
And she nodded, smiled and said, “Yeah.” She had a cherry candy in her mouth; it stuck to her tooth, next to the one that was missing. She smelled sweet and she got good grades. Boy, did he like her…
“Heeheehee!” came a raspy, half sleepy, mischievous laugh. Dakarai rose from his slumber like a vampire from a coffin and scratched his head, messing up his disheveled dark waves even further. “She smells sweeeet! She got fregggggles!” He burst out laughing even harder, holding his Superman-shirt covered belly. “I’m tellin’ Mommy! You…got uh giiiiiiirlfriiiiiiend!”
Embarrassment ran through Hassani’s blood stream, no doubt reddening his face.
“Shut up, Day- Day! Daddy tol’ you about reading people’s minds!”
~***~
“So, that is where it stands. Man, I honestly think she knows nothing about the IRS. I scanned her up and down and could find absolutely nothing.” Jagger’s shoulders slumped as the three men talked amongst themselves in the quiet hospital room.
“Well.” Saint grimaced. “That makes sense I suppose because whoever he used to help him had some connections, some big balls and some intelligence and wit about them. This chick doesn’t have it like that.”
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