They didn’t follow my orders. Both stood, stiff with shock, their backpacks still on their shoulders.
Tanner said, “Dad, what’s wrong with mom?”
“Please son,” I yelled, “just do what I said.”
“What’s wrong with mommy?” Raven was the first to move. She knelt over her mother. “Mommy? Mommy, wake up,” our daughter cried.
“Dad, is mom dead?”
“Mommy’s dead?” Raven screamed.
“Tanner, please call nine-on-one,” I said.
I positioned Monica, prepared to give her CPR. First, I checked her wrist for her pulse and felt a slight beat.
Behind me, I heard my son, “My emergency is my mom. Something’s wrong with her.” He paused before he said, “I don’t know.” Then, “Dad, is she breathing?”
“She is.” I had to shout above Raven’s cries. “She’s breathing barely.”
Then, Tanner’s voice. “I don’t know, “ he said into the phone. Then to me, “Do you know CPR, Dad?”
“Yes,” I told him. “But please, tell them to hurry.”
As my son stayed on the phone with 9-1-1 and my daughter cried until she was heaving with hiccups, I focused on breathing life into my wife.
Thirty pumps, two breaths.
I remembered the lessons from the CPR class that Monica and I had taken together, and I began the compressions: one, two, three, four, five….
I pumped until I got to thirty, then I breathed my life into her — twice. Then, I started all over again: one, two, three, four, five….
I pumped, I breathed, I prayed.
* * * * *
Four hours, thirty-three minutes, and twenty-seven seconds.
I’d been counting how long it had been since my heart had stopped. That was how much time that passed before I glanced up, and saw the Emergency Room doctor coming to me.
As he approached, my heart felt like it stopped for real now. But then, he nodded slightly, making me able to stand.
He said, “Your wife is going to be fine.”
Those words had brought tears of relief to all of us — me, Lamar and his wife, Tanner and Raven. I had wanted my children to go home with Lamar. But my six and sixteen year old had told me, in not so polite terms, that they weren’t going anywhere except for with me and their mother.
So, I’d acquiesced because I wasn’t sure what to do in a situation like this. They’d already seen their mother, sprawled out, looking dead. Whatever happened here at Houston Memorial Herman Hospital couldn’t be worse than that. Well, maybe one thing — but it seemed that I wouldn’t have to worry about that.
“Your wife gave us quite a scare, Mr. Logan. But we managed to pump her stomach.” He glanced at my children.
That made Lamar say, “Okay, now that your mom is doing okay, y’all are going home with me.”
It was exhaustion that made my daughter agree right away, but I had to give Tanner a pat on his back to let him know that it was fine to leave now.
I said, “I really want to concentrate on your mom and it’ll be better if you’re with Lamar.”
“She’s gonna be all right?” My son looked at me and the doctor.
We both nodded back. I hugged my children and Lamar’s wife, gave my man, dap, before he hugged me and then, I watched them walk through the doors.
Turning back to the doctor, he continued his explanation. “Her heart never stopped, which is a good thing. And she’s stable right now. I do have to speak to you about her recovery.” He glanced down at his tablet. “Her admitting paperwork. Your wife, she suffers from depression?”
I nodded. “But she’s never done anything like this before.”
“Unfortunately, this is not uncommon. She’s being treated, though.” Again, he glanced down at his table. “Doctor Nichols, I know her.”
“She’s really good, but it’s my wife. Her visits have been sporadic and she takes medication, but not regularly.”
He paused. “Well, you do understand that she will have to be admitted under a seventy-two hour hold for observation.”
Even though I nodded, I didn’t know that.
The doctor explained, “This is standard procedure when we believe someone is a substantial risk of serious harm to himself or others, so this is something that we have to do. Your wife will be admitted to West Oaks Hospital. ”
I had lots of questions about this, but that wasn’t my priority right now. “Okay, but can I see her?”
“Of course. She’s still groggy. She’s going to be for a while. But she’ll be under observation so we’ll get her whatever she needs.”
He led me through the door, then past several draped-off areas before he stopped. He pulled back the curtain, and I caught my breath. I heard the curtain close behind me, but I didn’t look back. My eyes stayed on Monica and I moved toward her. My wife, she looked as fragile and as innocent as our daughter.
“Hey,” I whispered.
She turned her head toward me, and smiled at first. But then, it was as if she remembered, I watched tears come to her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I pulled the chair next to the bed up close, sat down and took her hand. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”
She licked her lips, nodded a little, and closed her eyes. For a moment, I wondered if she’d fallen back asleep — she’d taken so many pills. But then, she opened her eyes.
“Don’t leave.”
“Oh, no, baby. I’m going to stay right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
She shook her head a bit. “No, don’t…leave…me.”
Then, I knew what she meant. “Oh, no, baby. I’m not leaving you. I was never going to leave you. It’s just….” I swallowed back tears. “I love you. Do you know that?”
She didn’t move.
I said, “I love you,” again and again, until my wife nodded.
She nodded and said, “I love you, too.” Then, she closed her eyes, but my heart sang. Because she closed her eyes and there was a smile on her face.
I stayed in my seat, holding her hand, and I was going to stay there until she woke up. I was going to stay there until she was admitted under the seventy-two-hour hold. I was going to stay there even if she needed to be admitted to a longer term facility.
I was going to stay and stand until my wife got well.
I was going to stay and stand because I loved Monica. From my heart, to my soul. And even with my transgression, all my imperfections and Monica’s illness that was the kind of love that lasted forever.
CHAPTER 26
Angelique
“Okay, Preston. Five o’clock. I’ll meet you there.”
I clicked off my cell, right before I had the urge to say, ‘I love you,’ then turned and looked straight into the face of my friend.
We stared at each other for a moment before Sheryl said, “Before you tell me what he said…here.”
I took the glass from her. “You know this isn’t healthy, right?”
“What?”
“Filling me with all of this wine all of the time. And never, ever any food.”
“You need food?” She shrugged. “I drink my dinner.”
“And your breakfast and lunch, too.” I took a sip.
“Girl, today is Saturday. This is an all wine, all day, kinda day. Plus, didn’t I feed you a hella dinner last night?”
I chuckled. Yes, she had. She’d served me the one dish that she knew how to make — macaroni and cheese. That was it. Just mac and cheese and wine. But like she said, it was hella good, and I hadn’t had to cook. So, who was I to complain?
While Sheryl sat at one of the bar stools at the counter, I set my glass down, then searched her pantry that was loaded with food that would never be prepared unless Cassidy or I came over. But for the week that I’d been here, I hadn’t had the energy to do more than sleep, think, and drink with my best friend.
I grabbed a half bag of potato chips and a box of crackers. Inside her refrigerator, I found a block of chees
e (which she always kept handy for her mac and cheese) and set all three on the counter in front of her.
After I rounded up the plates and utensils, I wiggled onto the stool next to Sheryl, and ignored the way she stared at me.
“Just take all my food, why don’t you?”
“I cannot drink on an empty stomach. Not when I’m meeting Preston in,” I paused and glanced at my watch, “in a little under five hours.”
“So,” she picked up a cracker and cut into the cheese before I did, “you’re gonna keep your conversation with Preston a secret or are you gonna share with me?”
Not even a second passed. “I’m gonna keep it a secret.”
She did one of those gangsta leans back and away from me. “Wrong answer.”
I took a sip of wine before I said, “He wants to get together to talk.”
Grabbing another cracker and a cut of cheese, Sheryl said, “My middle school education gave me enough to deduce that. So what does he want to talk about?”
“Well, my elementary school education gave me enough to deduce that he wants to talk about us.”
This time, she chomped on some chips before she said, “So what’re you going to tell him?”
I was thoughtful for a moment. “I think I’m going to do more listening than talking.”
“Really?” She sucked her teeth as if my words annoyed her. “After a whole week, this is all you were able to come up with? You haven’t decided what you want? Who you want?”
“I’ll talk, but I really want to listen to Preston since he’s the one who called me,” I said, thinking about how difficult it had been to not call Preston to see how he was doing. No matter how he’d neglected me over the years, we did speak every day, we did check in to make sure the other was safe. And in this past week, that was what I’d wanted. To know that my husband was safe and that his hurt was at least kinda inching away.
But, I’d followed Sheryl’s advice when it came to Preston, giving him the space he needed, knowing he would reach out when his heart said that he could.
“Well, what about Blu?” Sheryl said, taking my thoughts away from my husband.
I shrugged and wondered what Sheryl would think when she found out that I hadn’t followed her advice with Blu. What would she say when she found out that I’d already talked to Blu — and hadn’t told her? It wasn’t that I had planned to keep it away from my best friend, but since she hadn’t been home on Wednesday when I’d said goodbye to Blu, and since I’d gone into my bedroom and cried myself to sleep, and since I hadn’t seen her until the next morning — by then, there just didn’t seem to be a point.
“I cannot believe that you aren’t itching to speak to Blu,” Sheryl said as if she were intent on breaking up every thought I had this morning. “Aren’t you going to call him?”
“You told me not to, remember?” I took another sip to give me more than a moment of reprieve, more than enough time to come up with something profound to tell Sheryl. When I put the glass down, all I came up with was, “And anyway, I need to speak to my husband.”
“Well, that’s a good sign. You’re still calling Preston your husband.”
“No divorce papers have been served.”
“Good point.” She dumped a couple of chips onto the empty plate in front of her. “So are you prepared to lose Preston? Are you prepared for him to say that he wants a divorce because of what happened with Blu?”
I nodded right away because that had been one of the thoughts that had stayed steady in my mind. “I know that could be one of the things that happens with Preston. I know that he could ask me for a divorce.”
“And you’re ready?”
“I have to be.”
“How do you feel about that? I mean, you were with Blu just once and your marriage may be over. Was that one time worth it?”
I blinked more than a couple of times, trying to gather all of the thoughts I’d had when I asked myself that same question. “Was it worth it?” I repeated her question. “It was just one night, but…” I shook my head wondering how long the memories of that night would remain. I didn’t even have to close my eyes, it was still that vivid — I could see him, smell him, taste him, and most of all, I could feel him. I shuddered, hoping that Sheryl didn’t notice. “But with Blu,” I continued, “I realized all that I’d been missing and with that…then, it was worth it.”
Sheryl glanced at me sideways, then said, “You know you’re my girl and I love you for life. But you sound crazy right now,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because one time with Blu and you know what you’ve been missing?”
“It wasn't one time with Blu.” Before she toppled over with shock, I added, “It may have been only one night with him…in that way. But it was all times with Blu. It was every time we texted, every time we talked on the phone, every time we got together for coffee, drinks, or dinner. Even when we were just playing the game, every time I was with him or had any contact with him, I felt alive. Every time, he made me feel like I was the prize.”
Sheryl’s lips were pressed together, as if she wanted to be sure that I was done with my soliloquy. “So, are you saying that you want to be with Blu?”
I wish that you were mine.
After a moment, I said, “You know what I want? I want whatever God has for me.”
She threw her hands up. “God? Now you want to bring Him into this? ‘Cause He wasn’t anywhere in the mix when you were sexin’ Blu.” She sat back as if she’d just dropped the mic.
Her words hurt a bit because she’d asked a good question. There had so many reasons why I’d had to talk to God and ask for forgiveness this week. “Well, if God wasn’t there then, He certainly needs to be here now. So, that’s what I want.”
She gave me a slow smile. “Well, I can’t say anything to that.” She paused. “But do you wanna know what I think?”
“No.”
“I think you should tell Preston everything you just told me. Make him understand how Blu made you feel.”
“No man wants to hear what another man did for his wife.”
She sighed in a way that made me wonder if she thought I was a little dense on this subject. “Of course, I’m not talking about the physical part, I’m talking about how he got to you emotionally. Preston needs to do his job and connect again with you that way.”
I nodded.
“And then,” she added, “you need to get on your knees….”
My eyebrows rose to the top of my head.
“And beg and plead that your husband will forgive you, that he will take you back. Tell him you were smoking crack, on that Molly or something, anything that would make you crazy enough to cheat on him.”
“Really? And that’s your professional opinion?”
She nodded and took a sip. “And I won’t even send you a bill.”
“This from the woman who encouraged me to do…whatever…with Blu.”
“There are three things that are wrong with that statement.” She held her hand in the air and began counting off her fingers. “Number one, you know how I am. You know I can be a little crazy,” she made a circular motion near her temple, “and number two, I can be out there sometimes. And number three, I was just talking about you having a good time, not committing to a lifetime. I wasn’t talking about you making any life changes. I just wanted you to feel good for a moment. I was never talking about you and Preston breaking up.”
I nodded. Preston and I breaking up. That was something that I had never really considered. Not seriously. Not until I met Blu. And even then, not until last Saturday.
I wish that you were mine.
I’d wished, too. So what did that mean for me and Preston? Was divorce right here in front of my face.
I glanced at my watch. Well, I guessed I would know in about four hours and twenty three minutes. I would know how the next chapter of my life would read.
CHAPTER 27
Angelique
I’d been in search
of my happy and now, I was coming home.
I pressed the garage remote, and held my breath for a moment, wondering if Preston had changed the code. But when the door lifted, I exhaled. Of course, he would not. My husband was neglectful, not vindictive.
I eased my car next to his and remembered the last time I’d done this — a week ago tomorrow. What a difference these days had made — I’d had to say goodbye to Blu; was this my goodbye to Preston?
My steps were tentative as I walked toward the door. What had I been thinking? Why would I agree to meet Preston here? It felt like I was returning to the scene of my crime and now, I wished that I’d suggested that we meet somewhere else like Starbucks.
Well…maybe not Starbucks.
That was the thought before I stepped into our home. That was the thought before I had no thoughts whatsoever because it was hard to make sense of what I saw — votive candles that adorned the floor, setting a pathway. And then what I heard — Prince:
You own my heart and mind
I truly adore you….
If my steps had been tentative before, now I wasn’t certain what to do at all. But I just put one foot in front of the other. And kept moving through the kitchen, following the candle-lit path, until I rounded the corner into our dining room. In there, I stopped.
Here, the music was a bit louder, though still soft. Here, the candles flickered, making the dining room glow. Here, Preston stood, the same way he had on Sunday, holding two glasses of what looked to be champagne.
His face wasn’t as hard, nor as stiff as it had been six days ago, though still, he wore no smile. He moved toward me, his steps seemingly as tentative as mine. But by the time he finally stood in front of me, he now wore a semblance of a smile.
My eyes were on his as he handed me my glass. “We started this the other day,” he said. “And we never finished…our drink.”
He sounded the way he did on the phone, not happy, not sad, no commitment whatsoever. When I took my glass, he brought his glass to his lips and I did the same only because I didn’t know what else to do. My mind hadn’t quite caught up with my question — what was all of this?
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