Rescue Me

by Rochon, Farrah

  Alex shut his eyes at the news. He did not need this, not with the work they were about to start on Children’s Hospital, and the other jobs Holmes Construction had lined up. He couldn’t afford a single minute away from his business, let alone a month and a half.

  “You’ll need to take it easy, Mr. Holmes.”

  “That phrase is relative,” Alex said.

  “He means no working on construction sites,” Eli clarified. “You shouldn’t have been out there yesterday.”

  “Your brother is right, Alex.” His mother decided to chime in. “I thought you were supposed to be behind the desk from now on?”

  “I am, Mama. I was just helping out since we were behind on the job. And I still have to supervise.”

  “Well, you’re going to be sitting on the sidelines for a while,” Eli said. “I don’t know if I’ll make dinner to night,” he added, leaning over to give their mother another kiss.

  “Monica already explained. If you want, I can drive out here to the hospital and bring you some leftovers,” she offered.

  “No, thanks, Mrs. Roadrunner. You’re going to tire out that car.”

  “I was just offering,” Mama said.

  “I’ll suffer through the food here at the hospital.” To Alex he said, “I’ll try to stop in on you later.”

  “How long will I be in here?” Alex asked Dr. Lewis.

  “I want to keep you for at least a week.”

  “No way.” Alex shook his head.

  “Alexander, listen to your doctor,” his mother warned.

  “Forget it. I’m not staying in the hospital for a week.” He had a daughter to take care of, and a business to run. And he still had to turn in his test for his online macroeconomics class. He’d worked for two nights straight on that test.

  “I need to get out of here,” Alex said.

  “I want to monitor the progress on that arm,” Dr. Lewis said.

  “I’ll come in for a checkup. There are people way sicker than I am who can use this hospital bed.”

  “You suffered a serious injury, Mr. Holmes, and you just underwent major surgery. If you do not heed the recommended recovery regimen, the damage can be permanent.”

  “Don’t worry, Dr. Lewis, he is going to follow your advice. I’ll make sure of it,” Mama said in that voice that brooked no further argument.

  Alex sighed, wishing he could bring both his hands up to rub his temples, but he had to settle for just his left one since his right shoulder was wrapped up tighter than King Tut’s mummified body.

  “Lay it out for me, Doc,” Alex said. “What am I really looking at here?”

  “How long since your last vacation?” the doctor asked.

  Alex grimaced. “Long enough.”

  “I suggest you get ready for another one.”

  Chapter Two

  Alex pressed the up button on the remote, skimming past soap operas and talk shows.

  “Is there anything on TV during the day?” he asked the empty living room.

  He settled on the Food Network and listened with half an ear as Emeril Lagasse whipped up some French dish Alex knew he wouldn’t know how to pronounce if he ever saw it on a restaurant menu.

  He rose from the recliner he’d spent most of his time in since arriving at Mama’s house over a week ago. According to Dr. Lewis, he still had at least a couple more days of sleeping upright. He settled onto the sofa. Change was good.

  “Alex, you want some iced tea? I just made a pitcher.” His mother’s voice carried from the kitchen.

  “No, thanks.”

  She walked through the open doorway that led from the dining room to the living room in the shotgun-style house Alex’s father had purchased more than forty years ago in Uptown New Orleans.

  Alex had offered over the years to update the design, but Mama wouldn’t hear of it. In a way, Alex was relieved she’d always turned down his suggestion to bring one of his construction crews over to renovate the structure. Some of the happiest memories of his thirty-eight years had occurred in this house. A sense of comfort and peace washed over him whenever he walked through the door.

  These last two weeks, however, did not fall into the peaceful category. Mama’s constant pampering was driving him crazy.

  “You’re out of your chair,” she said.

  “I’m tired of that recliner.”

  “Why did you sit on that end of the sofa?” Mama asked as she attacked the undetectable dust she swore had invaded the impeccably clean house.

  “What’s wrong with this part of the sofa?” Alex asked.

  “You’re putting pressure on your right arm.”

  “I’ve got a pillow under it.”

  “That doesn’t matter. If you don’t want to sit in the recliner, at least come on over to this side of the sofa.”

  “I can’t see the television as good from there,” Alex grumbled, and felt like a child for arguing.

  Mama’s lips thinned into a firm, familiar line. “Excuse me for trying to help you get better,” she said, upping the stakes by crossing her arms over her chest.

  She had that look—a mixture of disgust and disappointment—down to a science. She’d spent the last thirty eight years perfecting it, and knew it was the one look that would make her three sons fall in line.

  “Fine,” Alex conceded, moving to the other end of the sofa. The woman was a master when it came to laying on a guilt trip.

  He had to keep reminding himself that Mama had his best interests in mind. The coddling was bordering on unbearable, but Alex knew what he was getting into when he’d agreed to stay at Mama’s after he’d been released from the hospital. When he’d revealed his intentions of recovering at his own house in Old Carrolton, Mama had looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.

  She’d demanded he and Jasmine stay at her house until Alex was able to function, at least at a basic level, on his own. Jasmine had jumped up and down as if she’d won the lottery, which was almost the case with the way his mother spoiled her only granddaughter rotten.

  Mama always fussed over her boys when they came over to the house, fixing their food, offering to do laundry; anything she thought would take away some of the burden. Alex could admit to going over to Mama’s when he needed a little extra help, knowing the offer would be forthcoming. Heck, the majority of the time he counted on it.

  As much as he boasted about being able to raise his six year old daughter on his own, Alex knew he’d be a burned out waste if he didn’t have his mother to turn to when he was in a bind. She was there for him whenever Alex needed her, and he was much more grateful than he ever told her.

  But the past two weeks had been major overkill, even for Mama. From the moment Alex had been released from the hospital, she had been hovering like a bald eagle protecting her nest.

  Alex had reluctantly accepted the invitation, knowing it was the most sensible option. How would he iron Jazzy’s clothes and comb her hair for school with an immobile shoulder? He’d needed Mama’s help.

  What he didn’t need was his mother breathing down his neck every five seconds and refusing to allow Alex to do anything for himself. His first day out of the hospital, he’d had to stop her from following him into the bathroom.

  Most people would welcome someone waiting on them twenty four seven, but Alex had grown tired of the constant pampering by day two. If he didn’t get out of this house soon, they would have to add a prescription for anxiety pills to the pain medication the doctor had him taking.

  Alex used his left arm to push himself off the couch and silently cursed the slight wobble his unbalanced equilibrium caused. He knew it was all the pills in his system. They had his body out of whack.

  “Where are you going?” Mama asked.

  “To get dressed.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s eleven o’clock in the morning and I’m still in pajamas.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Mama asked, putting down the porcelain angel she’d been dusting.

>   “Pajamas are supposed to be worn at night, not in the middle of the day. I feel like a bum.”

  “You’re recovering from surgery, Alexander. You need to be comfortable.”

  “Mama,” Alex groaned. “I just want to change my clothes.”

  “Okay, baby. I’m sorry,” his mother said. She came over to him and Alex put his good arm around her, bending down to give her a kiss on the cheek. “I don’t mean to be such a nag,” she said.

  “You’re not being a nag.”

  “I am,” Mama admitted. “I just want to make sure you’re okay, Alex. You don’t take care of yourself.”

  “Of course I take care of myself.”

  “No, you don’t. Not the way you should. You’re too busy taking care of everybody else.”

  “Who, Jasmine? She’s my responsibility,” he pointed out.

  “Yes, she is, but I’m not, and neither are your brothers, or the men and women who work for you. You put everyone before yourself. I just want to make sure you’re taken care of for a change.”

  The sincerity in her eyes was a stark reminder of just how lucky he was to have someone like Mama in his corner. Alex leaned over and gave her another kiss. Thank God for this woman.

  “I’m going to be okay, Mama,” he reassured her.

  “I know,” she answered, giving him a squeeze. “Because I’m taking care of you.”

  Alex let out an I give up laugh. “Can I please get out of these clothes?”

  “Fine,” his mother answered.

  Alex followed her into the kitchen, grabbed his favorite blue and white mug from the cabinet, and filled it with water from the tap.

  “I’m going to drive over to the grocery store in a minute. Do you need anything?” Mama asked.

  “Not really,” he answered, draining the mug and setting it in the sink.

  “You sure? I was thinking about picking up an oyster po’ boy for lunch.”

  “Nah. I’ll heat up some of that roast from last night.”

  “I can do that for you.”

  “I got it.”

  “Okay, honey,” she said after a beat, though Alex could tell she was itching to grab the roast from the fridge and shove it in the microwave.

  Mama picked up her purse from where it hung on the arm of a chair at the kitchen table. “I’ll be back around one o’clock. I want to stop in on Oretha Borne. I haven’t seen her since her hip surgery.”

  “Take your time,” Alex said.

  “Call my cell phone if you need anything,” she called.

  As soon as the door closed behind his mother, Alex hauled it to the other half of the house. The shotgun house had originally been two, but his father had bought the other half when their old next door neighbors had moved to Mississippi. What used to be home to the Johnsons now housed three bedrooms and a bathroom.

  Alex shuffled through the room his younger brothers shared on his way to the bathroom that separated the Holmes boys’ childhood rooms.

  He reached behind the shower curtain and turned on the hot water, then started to strip. It was hell trying to pull the button down pajama top off with one arm. He managed to wrestle off the shirt, then pushed his cotton pajama bottoms and boxers down his legs, shoving them in the hamper.

  Grabbing a washcloth from the neatly folded stack on the wooden shelving unit, Alex stepped into the shower, making sure to keep his right arm away from the spray as much as possible. He’d taken baths this past week since it was easier to avoid getting his postoperative dressing wet, but Alex didn’t have time to wait for the tub to fill. He needed to get clean and get out of the house before Mama got back from the store.

  He did a halfhearted job of showering, then quickly dried himself off and went in search of clothes. Any other day he would have ironed the jeans and button down, even though he was going to a dusty construction site. Today, Alex could not have cared less if the image he projected was professional or not. His sole focus was to do something with his day that didn’t include watching reruns of Judge Joe Brown. He had to find some semblance of his normal life.

  Alex struggled through pulling on his jeans and donning the blue and white shirt Eli had bought him, two sizes too big. Thank goodness his brother had the ability to think ahead. The roomy shirt glided over his bandaged shoulder with ease.

  The buttons, however, were another issue.

  Alex fastened the four in the middle and said to hell with the two on the top and bottom. Mama had been gone fifteen minutes already. If Murphy’s Law was up to par, traffic would be nonexistent, the ten items or less line would be empty at the grocery store, and Mrs. Borne wouldn’t be at home when Mama stopped in to visit.

  He quickly passed a hairbrush over his close cut hair, then hustled to the kitchen, where his keys hung on a nail next to the door. He locked up the kitchen and pulled the screen door to the porch tight.

  His heart beat hard and fast in his chest as he climbed into his Ford F-150. He just knew Mama’s little Toyota Corolla was going to pull into the driveway any second now.

  Alex swore under his breath. He was a grown man. He could leave the house any time he wanted to leave.

  That half assed declaration of his manhood didn’t stop him from heaving a bone melting sigh of relief that Mama had not returned. His right arm immobile, Alex awkwardly reached across to start the truck and shift the gear into reverse. He backed out of the driveway, groaning in frustration as he reached over to shift the truck into drive. Maybe driving two weeks after shoulder surgery wasn’t such a good idea.

  Alex made his way up Amelia Street, taking a right onto St. Charles Avenue. He arrived at the construction site at Felicity and Orange streets less than ten minutes later. He parked just outside the newly constructed chain link fence, noting one of the sections was leaning slightly.

  “Boss?”

  Alex looked up, finding his head foreman, Jason Deering, walking toward him, half his face covered by the safety shield attached to his hard hat.

  “What happened to the fence?” Alex asked without preamble.

  Jason looked from the top of the fence to the bottom, as if the piece of wobbly steel could speak for itself.

  “Have somebody straighten this out,” Alex said.

  “I’m on it,” Jason answered. “So, what you doing here, boss? I thought you weren’t coming back for at least four more weeks?”

  “I’m not back.” Alex adjusted the hard hat he’d grabbed from the front seat of his truck. “I just stopped by to check out how things were going.” He started for the group of guys carrying stacks of two by fours from a pallet just to the right of the newly poured concrete foundation.

  “It’s all good,” Jason said. “We picked up a couple of the days we missed because of the rain.”

  “Oh yeah?” Alex’s brow rose. “And how did you manage to do that?”

  “A few of the guys on the Pennington Parking Lot job came over to help since they were ahead of schedule.”

  Alex nodded his approval that it was extra men, and not overeagerness, that accounted for their accelerated work schedule. His crews knew better than to compromise workmanship for the sake of timeliness. As much as he hated coming in behind schedule on a job, if it happened, so be it. It was better than shoddy work. Holmes Construction did not cut corners.

  Alex surveyed the site and was startled at the annoyance building up inside him as he studied the superior work being accomplished.

  Without him.

  The reality of the construction site running like a well oiled machine was a punch in the gut. It was counterproductive to hope that things would be at least a little chaotic since he had not been around for two weeks. Counterproductive and stupid. Anything that happened here, good or bad, was a reflection of the example he set as owner of the company. But if his foreman could elicit this level of production from the crew without Alex there to breathe down their necks, then maybe what Eli and Toby had been telling him these past few years really was true. Alex wasn’t needed out in th
e field anymore.

  The thought of cutting back his time at the work sites caused a chill to course through Alex’s body. He’d tried doing the desk thing before. He’d lasted less than a week.

  Alex admitted he had a problem with control when it came to Holmes Construction, but how could he not? He’d built this business from the ground up. Literally. He’d actually built the small building that had housed the company’s first set of offices.

  It was due to his blood, sweat, and tears that Holmes Construction was the fastest growing construction company in the Deep South, and one of the most successful African American owned small businesses in the region. He’d sacrificed nearly everything for this business. His time. His sleep. His marriage.

  Alex briefly closed his eyes. Those were memories he didn’t have the stomach to think about today.

  “How’s the arm?” Jason asked as he followed Alex on his perusal of the job site.

  “It’s healing,” Alex answered.

  “I swear, when that beam landed on you, I thought that was it, boss.”

  “It wasn’t as bad as it seemed.”

  “Shoot, boss. From what your brother said after the surgery, it sounds like things were really bad.”

  Alex didn’t have to ask which brother had stuck his nose where it didn’t belong. “When did you talk to Eli?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  “He came over to the site just after your surgery and briefed us all about what you’d been through. All the guys here felt so bad for you.”

  Alex made a mental note to beat the hell out of Eli when he saw him to night at Mama’s. As if he needed his brother to play spokesman for his injury. One thing he did not want was sympathy from the men who worked for him.

  Alex toured the rest of the site and gave his employees the praise they deserved for a job well done. On the drive back to Mama’s he tried to abate his sense of uselessness by going over all the work he’d accomplished in the past week. The time off had given him the opportunity to tackle the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated on his desk over the past few months. He’d had extensive safety investigations performed on two minor incidents that happened on a job over the summer. He’d spent the last couple of days studying the findings and had figured out measures he could implement to prevent the incidents from occurring again.