Charity moaned, trying to answer.
“Hallelujah! Thank You, Lord! My baby’s alive.”
She recognized her mother’s voice and tried to open her eyes. She was still dreaming and could see herself getting up from the table.
“God, I thank You. God, I worship You.” She heard her mother say.
“Where… am… I?” Charity asked between moans.
She could feel someone grip her hand. She gripped back. She could feel herself being kissed on the face.
“Open your eyes, Cherry. It’s Esha. Can you hear me? Open your eyes. Come on.”
Charity tried but she could only see herself sadly walking away from the table. With every step, she could feel the distance between herself and the person on the other end.
“Come on, Cherry, open your eyes. Ya’ll need to be praying. Daddy, will you come and lay hands on her?”
She heard a man’s voice say, “Father, You said lay hands on the sick and they will recover. I know that You honor Your word. Lord, we speak those things that are not as though they were. According to Your Word, Charity is well. She is recovered. The chastisement of her peace was upon Jesus and by His stripes she is healed. Amen.”
When Charity felt a cold hand on her forehead, she opened her eyes. “What… happened?”
It looked and sounded like pandemonium in the room. Mama Lorraine was running around praising God. Terrence was jumping up and down in place blessing the Lord. And Iesha was on her knees worshipping. Mr. Brown just sat in the recliner crying tears of joy. Only the nurse was available to answer her.
“What happened?” she asked again.
“Today’s Friday, February 11, and you just awakened from a three-day coma,” the nurse answered.
Charity tried to sit up. Her body still felt heavy.
“Oh no, sweetheart, don’t try to get up. Your body’s still weak.”
Charity looked confused. “A coma?”
“Yes, do you remember what happened?”
She sadly lowered her head and nodded.
The nurse lifted Charity’s chin, “Uhn huhn. Hold your head up,” she smiled. “You had too many prayers sustaining you for you to be ashamed.”
As they could, Mama Lorraine, Mr. Brown, Iesha, and Terrence joined Charity individually to welcome her.
“How are you feeling?” Mama Lorraine asked.
“Tired.”
They all laughed. Iesha joked, “You’ve been asleep for three days, you ought to feel rested.”
Charity held her hand to her throat. “I need some water,” she requested.
Iesha fetched a cup of water for her. When she handed it to her, Charity noticed her ring. Her throat was too scratchy and dry to talk. She pointed to her finger as she sipped water.
Iesha held out her finger for Charity to inspect her ring. “You like it? Terrence and I are getting married.”
“You didn’t waste any time, did you? Congratulations!” Charity said in a whisper.
“All right,” the nurse warned. “I’mma let you folks visit for a few more minutes then I’mma have to ask you to clear out of here. I need to call for the doctor.”
Mama Lorraine was holding her daughter’s hand. “How long should we go for?”
“I’d like to see her rest without interruption for the rest of the day and night. When I call the doctor, he’s going to order a series of blood tests and a liver panel to check for damage. Hopefully, we won’t find any.”
“Will we be told the results of the test?”
“Yes, sir,” the nurse answered Mr. Brown. “We can let you know those when you come back tomorrow. I’ve got to take these tubes and things off of her and help get her bathed. Poor thing’s going to be poked and prodded for the next couple of hours. She’ll need to rest. You folks could use some rest too. You haven’t moved in three days. You’d think you were the ones in a coma.”
They laughed. Charity could tell that they didn’t want to leave her. She made eye contact with her mother. “I’ll be fine. Go on home.”
Mama Lorraine squeezed her hand and kissed her on the forehead. Charity basked in the love and peace she felt among her family. And vowed to herself that she would let nothing, no matter how devastating, make her want to throw it all away again. “Where’s Zavey?”
“In school,” Mr. Brown answered, combing his daughter’s hair with his fingers. “We can’t wait to tell him the good news.”
“I was just making sure he wasn’t with Emmitt. Does he know what happened?”
Mama Lorraine asked, “Who, Emmitt or the baby?”
“Both.”
“Your daddy and I told Xavier you were sick and resting in the hospital. You know we didn’t call Emmitt.”
“I did,” Iesha raised her hand like a shy schoolgirl. “Ha ha,” she laughed to play it off when Mama Lorraine gave her one of her deadly looks. “I called to cuss him out Tuesday.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing. Don’t start worrying about him, Cherry.”
“That’s right,” her father agreed.
“I just don’t want him to use this against me in court.”
Terrence spoke, “If our God has made death behave, don’t you think He’ll show up for you in the courtroom? He can take care of a court case.”
“Amen,” they all agreed.
Charity was glad to have been moved to a room on a regular floor. It was early Saturday morning, and a doctor had come in with a casually dressed woman. Charity could tell by the identification badge that she was a staff person. “Hello,” the doctor greeted. Charity’s parents were already there and they both returned his greeting. Mama Lorraine thanked him for his help. She told him that she and her husband had grown to like him over the past three days that he’d worked on Charity. Then she stepped away from the bed to make room for him to speak to Charity.
“Ms. Phillips. I’m Dr. Gellar,” he said to Charity. “It’s good to see you up.”
“It’s good to be up.”
“The nurse checked your vital signs and everything looks good. No internal damage, your liver is fine. You look good. How’re you feeling?”
“Good enough to go home.”
“Before that can happen, I have someone here you have to meet.” He motioned for the young lady to move closer. “This is Lynette Spence, she’s from the Behavioral Health unit and she has to assess you before we can discharge you.”
The woman reached out her hand for Charity to shake. Charity accepted her gesture. “What am I being assessed for?”
“To see if you should be admitted to our Behavioral Health unit.”
“Oh, I don’t need to be. I’ve learned my lesson.”
“What would be a good time for me to come back?”
Charity looked at the clock. “Will you give me an hour to get cleaned up and then come back?”
“Yes, sure.” She stepped back.
Dr. Gellar spoke again. “If Ms. Spence finds that you don’t need to be admitted there, then I will discharge you this afternoon. If she finds that you should be admitted, then I will transfer you today.” He stood up to assure the family that everything was all right. Then, he and Ms. Spence left.
“Lord, now they trying to lock me up on the psycho ward,” Charity chuckled.
“Girl, you ain’t going nowhere.”
“You right about that, Momma.”
“Cherry, who is Sharon Nelson?”
Charity thought for a moment. “Oh, the girl I was telling you about that had dinner at the house with us last Sunday. Why?”
“She’s the one who called the police and called Pastor King.”
“Huh?” Then Charity remembered Sharon telling Mrs. King that she was completing her internship at the county.
“When Pastor King called us, he said she told him she works for the county’s suicide line and recognized your voice. God was definitely in it, because she even remembered your address. The paramedics say if they hadn’t gotten to you when they did, you woul
d have been dead upon arrival.”
Charity shook her head and thanked God.
“She’s called the hospital to check on you every day. I have her number if you want to call her later. She seems like a sweet girl.”
“Thank you, Momma. I’ll get the number later. Has Pastor been by?”
“Every day. You sure he’s married? ’Cause I’d swear—”
“Daddy, please.”
“I’m serious.”
“Baby, you want something to eat?” Mama Lorraine asked.
“No, ma’am. I’m hungry but I don’t have an appetite. I don’t think my stomach would hold anything. Just the thought of eating makes me sick.” She tried to raise herself up higher on the bed. Mama Lorraine helped her. Her body was still weak and the IV pole didn’t make it easy for her to move. “I’d like to take a shower.”
“I can help you with that.”
“Lorraine, you can’t do that. Them nurses is gonna have to do that.”
“Cherry, where’s that nurse’s button? I’ll ask them myself.”
Charity pointed to the red button with a picture of a white nurse’s cap on it.
“May I help you?”
“Yes, ma’am. This is Lorraine Brown. I’m the mother of the patient in room 645. She’s requesting a bath. Is it all right if I give her one?”
“Oh no, ma’am. She has an IV pole with her. Please let Ms. Phillips know that her nurse will be there as soon as she can.”
“I told you.”
“Did I ask you anything, Charles?”
It felt good to hear them bicker again. Thank You, Lord, for sparing my life.
“Charles, I need you to step outside. I got something I want to talk to Cherry about.”
Her father stood up. “Cherry, holler if you need me. You know how your momma is. I’ll be right outside the door.”
“At least you divorced your troubles,” Mama Lorraine joked to Charity. When Mr. Brown left the room, Mama Lorraine sat on the edge of the hospital bed and locked her eyes with her daughter’s. “Baby, you have endured many things throughout your life and God has brought you through them all. Rape couldn’t take you out, abandonment couldn’t, an abusive marriage failed. Ever since we’ve had you, we’ve known that God has been good to you. Remember that song we used to sing?”
Charity listened as Mama Lorraine began to sing about how God has been good to her all her life. When she finished, Charity said, “God is so good to me.”
They were interrupted by a knock. A nurse peeked in from behind the door. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Mama Lorraine answered for Charity and squeezed her hand. Mama Lorraine got up off the bed. “I’mma be outside with your daddy.” As Mama Lorraine was leaving, Charity heard her humming the rest of the song.
“You ready?” the nurse asked again.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Call me Rose, sweetie. I’m not much older than you.”
“Okay, Rose. That’s a beautiful name and it fits you too.”
“Why thank you. That’s exactly what it means, beautiful. Your name is just as fitting.”
“Charity?”
“Yes. Char-i-ty,” she enunciated.
“It sounds like a charity case, someone who’s needy.”
“Oh no, I don’t think of it that way. When I learned your name and heard your folks talk about you, I thought of the King James version of the word, meaning love. Someone who walks in love, and always giving to others.”
Charity thought about her life. “Yep, that would be true. That’s how I wound up here—I was giving so much of myself, I felt empty.”
The nurse helped her out from the bed and into the bathroom. “It’s not a bad thing to help. That’s a gift not given to many people. But it’s a terrible thing when your motives are not right. Like giving to gain people’s approval or recognition.
“Humph.” Charity stiffened.
The nurse must’ve noticed. “I do this so often I forget how uncomfortable it can be sometimes. Would you like for me to just run your water and step outside while you shower?”
Charity shook her head. “No, it’s time I learn to delegate and accept help. Thank you.”
Rose eased Charity onto the toilet and adjusted the temperature of the water. “Just be patient with yourself. It’s going to take a little while to get back to one hundred percent. What kind of work do you do?”
“I feel like I have three full-time jobs. I’m a therapist, a single mother, and a minister.”
“Girl, bless you. I challenge you to change your perception about your roles though. Each of them is a calling and you have been anointed and equipped to handle them all. You can only do it if you rely on your Higher Power’s strength and not your own.”
“Are you saved?”
Rose started to whisper. “Yes. But we can’t talk about religion on the job. It’s looked at as imposing our beliefs, so we have to say Higher Power.”
“Oh, ’cause I was getting ready to lead you into the sinner’s prayer and convert you to Christianity.” Charity relaxed as they both laughed.
“Are you ready to get cleaned up?”
Charity nodded and Rose helped her into the shower. Before the shower ended, Charity had told her about Emmitt, Mr. Wright, Harmony, and everything else that led up to the crisis.
“You’re a strong woman,” Rose encouraged her, and reached for the towel to dry her off. “It has already been taken care of and by the time you go out to face it all, it will all be fixed.”
“Praise God. I’m believing for that.”
“I think your folks brought you some clean clothes in here.” She walked over to the closet and took out a sweatsuit and undergarments. “These little clothes. How do you stay so small?”
She and Rose laughed. “I know, I know. You stay busy.”
Charity got dressed while Rose remade her bed. She helped her to lie back down.
“You go ahead and get some rest. I’mma go check on my other patients.”
“Thanks, Rose.”
“You’re welcome.”
“No, thanks for everything.”
Rose shooed her and before she closed the door behind her, she said, “You just make sure you remember that righteousness is a gift, and that it can’t be earned.”
Although Charity understood what she was hearing, she felt that she’d heard it before.
The tap on the door woke her. It was Ms. Spence.
“Did I wake you?”
“Come on in. I’ve been waiting for you.”
She pushed the recliner up to the bed. “This assessment won’t take long. Just about fifteen minutes. Okay?”
Charity nodded.
“Again my name is Lynette Spence. I’m a social worker from 7E, the Behavioral Health unit. Our department is called to assess people who feel suicidal, homicidal, or are depressed, or having any other psychiatric issues. I was called to interview you since you were hospitalized for a suicidal gesture. My first question is, are you currently suidical?”
“No, ma’am.”
“What happened that you were suicidal?”
“I was overwhelmed with life. I’m a minister, a therapist, and a single mom. Those roles are hard enough, but I take care of myself pretty well. But all in a matter of hours things started snowballing. An employee of mine needed my help, then I found out the building I rent space from for my practice was in foreclosure, then I received papers from my ex-husband informing me that he was taking me to court for custody of our six-year-old son, and when a client of mine stopped taking his medicine and became psychotic and got into my home, I couldn’t take it. I woke up Tuesday morning and was convinced that I didn’t have any other options.”
“That is a lot of stuff happening at one time. Do you feel prepared to return home and handle those things?”
“Oh yes. This little ordeal has taught me that I have been on the right track, but just doing things the wrong way. I have learned that nothing is worth my life.” She
looked the social worker in the eyes. “Nothing.”
“Do you have a therapist? Or need a therapist?”
“No to both of your questions. I have plenty of support, but I’ve been too prideful and stubborn to use them. As you can see, my whole family is close. I have the support of them and my church family, and I have good friends.”
“Do you think you need to be hospitalized?”
“No, I don’t need to be hospitalized. I’m not suicidal, or homicidal, or experiencing any other psychiatric problems.”
The social worker stopped writing. “All right. We’re done.”
“What’s the next step?”
“You just completed it. I’ll write up a report for your doctor, letting him know that I’ve seen you and that I second his recommendation for discharge. You don’t meet criteria for hospitalization.”
“Thank you, thank you so much.”
The social worker was leaving when Mama Lorraine and the rest of the entourage walked in. “The prayers of the righteous availeth much,” Charity said. “The doctor should be here shortly to discharge me.”
“Thank the Lord,” Iesha said, walking in behind her parents.
“Momma, where’d y’all go?”
“We went to eat. You hungry?”
“I want something, but it has to be light.”
Mr. Brown said, “We can stop and get you a baked potato and salad, or soup on the way home.”
“I’ll try that.”
Mama Lorraine didn’t look up while she was packing Charity’s belongings. “I had a taco salad from downstairs, it was good.”
Charity turned up her nose. “That’s too heavy. I can’t eat that.”
“Cherry, I’mma go ask when they think youll be ready to go. Hopefully it’ll be in time enough where you can go with Momma and Daddy to pick Zavey up.”
“You don’t have to go anywhere,” Mama Lorraine said. “I like ringing this nurse’s button.” She pressed the button.
“May I help you?”
“Yes, this is Mrs. Brown. Do you know what time we’ll be discharged?”
“Tell Ms. Phillips that we’re working on her discharge papers now. I’ll say she should be ready to go in less than an hour. Okay?”
“Okay, thank you.”
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