"You're no good to Xavier like this. I understand what you're feeling. But there's a better way. You can be here for him and take care of yourself.”
"I'm fine."
"You're not. And even if you were, how long will it last, going at this rate?"
"I said I'm fine."
His voice was resolute, his face, hard. As far as he was concerned, the conversation was over. And if he’d been talking to anyone other than Kristina, it might have been.
Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t.
She didn’t even try to keep the irritation out of her voice when she spoke again.
"And what about Chloe?"
Omar looked at Kristina, blinking as if she’d just thrown a bucket of cold water at him.
"Have you glanced in the mirror lately? You look like something out of The Walking Dead. How do you think she feels, seeing you like this?"
Omar's shoulders dropped and he bowed his head. He put his elbows on his knees and pressed his fingers to his eyes.
"My Chloe…”
He stood and shoved his hands in his pockets.
"I tried sending her home with my sister. Deandra said she cried the whole time. But when she's here, she's so nervous she can hardly keep anything down. I actually caught her picking at the skin of her arm the other day. To the point of bleeding. She didn’t even realize she was doing it.”
Omar rubbed his hands over his head and the back of his neck. “I try talking to her, but she hardly talks back. I keep expecting for her to ask for her mom, but she doesn’t. I don't think she understands she's not coming back."
Omar looked back at Xavier and shook his head.
“Everything is so messed up. All I ever wanted was to be a good father. I thought if I could be half the man my dad was, I’d be all right. I can't even be a decent father, much less, a good one.”
Omar paced the floor at the end of Xavier’s bed, and as he continued to speak, his volume and frustration escalated.
“I screwed up the one chance I had to look into my son's eyes. And Chloe? I don't even want to think about what kind of damage the last few weeks have done to her. And what's worse is, I have no idea how to fix it.”
He raised his hands and tightened them into fists.
“It's like I don't know how to do anything anymore. I can’t even pray. I try, but no words come out. My kids lives are being ruined and I can’t even pray? I’m their father! I should at least be able to do that! I’ve never felt so helpless in my life!"
Kristina thought for a moment he would punch a hole in the wall. But he just stood there, shaking.
She went to him and put her arms around his waist and her head against his chest. At first, he didn't move. But then slowly, she felt the muscles in his body relax and he let his arms drape her shoulders. Finally, he took in a deep breath and exhaled.
"You're one of those guys who take care of business. You take care of your daughter. Your family. Your friends. When things are falling apart, you're the one who holds them together. In that way, you remind me of Pam."
She looked up at his face and he playfully grimaced, then smiled.
"I think God put me in your lives to remind the two of you that you don't have a cape or wear an ‘S’ on your chest."
Omar sighed, then looked at Xavier.
"I wish I did. I would turn back time."
His words were heavy with pain and regret. It broke Kristina's heart. She knew what it was like to live in that place. And it was pure torment.
"Nobody can do that. But maybe it doesn't matter."
She had decided to keep her and Esther’s plan to herself. She knew how hopeless the situation appeared and she didn't need people telling her what a fool she was to think it could change. Pam was doing that enough for everyone.
But if it would help Omar…
"Chloe will make it through this. She has you. She has me. And we have Him," she said, pointing upward. “And as far as Xavier…" she looked at her son, battered and bruised. And, according to doctors, beyond all hope. “What if that wasn't your one chance? What if you could have more than a few seconds to tell him how you feel?"
Omar stepped back and searched her face, unsure of what she was saying.
"Okay. This may sound crazy to you. And if it does, that's fine. Just keep it to yourself, because nothing you say is going to change my mind anyway."
Omar blinked. "Okay…"
Kristina told him everything. What Esther had said about Xavier's close calls. About how the doctors expected him to have learning disabilities. She told him about their plan to meet in Xavier's room at the same time every day and to keep meeting until the situation changed.
When she was done, his only response was to stare at her. Finally, after what seemed to Kristina to be an eternity, he spoke.
"So that's what you two are doing when you come in here?"
She nodded.
Omar looked at Xavier, then walked past Kristina to the window and stared out of it.
Kristina didn’t know what she’d expected his reaction to be, but it certainly wasn’t silence. After a few moments, she followed him and put her hand on his back.
"Omar?"
When he turned to her, his face was streaked with tears.
"Thank you," he whispered.
She leaned her head on his arm and he held her hand.
"You just told me there’s still a chance. That’s the best news I've had since I found out he existed."
Kristina wiped his tears away. "So you'll go home with your sister? Maybe eat something? Sleep?"
"Yeah," he said, smiling for the first time that day. "Knowing what I know now, I'm gonna sleep like a baby."
Chapter 12
When Tamia heard the door open, she cringed. She didn’t even have to open her eyes to see who it was. There was only one person who refused to leave her in peace and that one person was Russell.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come by earlier. But I thought about how messed up the cafeteria food is, so I ran out and picked up something special.”
Tamia didn’t have to see him to know he was grinning.
She heard him set a bag down on the tray and roll it to her bed. The rich and heavenly aroma of chicken-fried steak and buttermilk biscuits filled the room, making her mouth water.
She wanted to kick him.
There was only one place Tamia had to visit whenever she was in the metroplex and that was Babe’s Chicken Dinner House. Russell must’ve thought he was being real slick, bringing all her favorites. But she wasn’t giving in. She kept her eyes closed and her breathing steady.
“Ahh. So instead of ignoring me to my face today, you just gonna pretend you’re asleep, huh?” He chuckled and she could hear the legs of a chair scrape the floor as he dragged it to her bed.
“All right, then. I guess I’ll just have to enjoy all this good food by myself.”
Russell hummed as Tamia listened to the rustle of the bag being opened and food being taken out.
“Between patients, I’ve been doing a lot of reading online about spinal injuries…”
Here we go again…
Tamia couldn’t take it anymore, his upbeat attitude, his unrelenting hopefulness. It seemed as though every time he showed up, it was with new research or a testimony or some breakthrough. She was starting to hate him for it. The last thing she wanted to hear about was spinal cord injuries. Here she was trying to get through each day without imagining how to get her hands on a bottle of sleeping pills and there he was, constantly reminding her of the very thing she wanted to escape.
“Apparently, he was given no hope, right? But he said he just kept visualizing…”
The worst part was, there was nothing she could do about it. She’d already made it clear she didn’t want visitors. When that didn’t work, she’d tried to pretend he wasn’t there. But no matter what she said or did, he kept coming back. And since she was in no position to physically remove him from the room, she was condemned to lie there
and suffer through his nonsense until he left.
“And it made me think about how in the Bible, it says—“
“Why are you here?”
Tamia opened her eyes. Russell had his mouth open to take a bite. He looked so shocked and happy, she wanted to punch him in the face.
“Hey there!”
“Why. Are. You. Here.”
Tamia made sure there was no warmth in her voice. She left no room for him to think her finally acknowledging his presence was a good thing.
He swallowed and set his fork down. “Really?”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
He gave a half smile and nodded. “Okay. Well, I thought it was clear, but since it isn’t… I’m here because I care about you.” Russell put his hands up, as if in surrender. “More than I ever thought possible.”
He looked at her, expectation in his eyes, and waited.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Her response was not what he’d anticipated and he was taken aback. But he recovered quickly, a smile on his face.
“Well, according to my brothers, a lot!”
He tried to laugh, but the stony expression on Tamia’s face made it hard.
“I’m not playing. I’m not trying to be cute. I’m trying to figure out what kind of freak thinks girls in wheelchairs are hot.”
Russell leaned back in his chair. “Wow…” He breathed the word out. His eyebrows were furrowed and Tamia felt a bit of hope rise inside her. Maybe she’d just insulted him enough to finally be rid of him.
“That day when we met you and your sisters at your mother's funeral? I remember looking at you and thinking, how can someone have eyes so beautiful, yet so sad at the same time? And then I wondered, what in the world had you gone through to put that sadness there? You were like a shooting star or something. Beautiful, but light-years out of my reach. Then you started coming to visit Xavier and it turned out you were as cool as you were stunning.” He shook is head and laughed.
“I don’t got a thing for girls in wheelchairs. I got a thing for you. On two legs or two wheels, you’re everything I want.” He raised his eyebrows. “That being said, you won’t have to stay in a wheelchair for long. Not if you don’t want to. Not if I can help it.”
“You can’t. No one can.”
"Hey, I'm the best physical therapist in the state.”
"Yeah well, you may be good at your job, but paralyzed is paralyzed. No matter how much physical therapy you throw at it."
"Now see, that's where you're wrong. You're looking at this like the die has already been cast."
"Hasn't it? Maybe you need to have a chat with my doctor because—“
"I'm fully aware of your diagnosis. But I take on every patient with one thing in mind."
Tamia rolled her eyes. ”And what's that, Russell?”
"First Corinthians 2:5.”
He reached around the back of his chair and unzipped the pocket of his knapsack. He took out a tiny New Testament and opened it.
"Read the highlighted part."
Tamia cut her eyes at him, but did what he’d asked. ”That your faith rest not in the wisdom of man, but in the power of God.”
"Doctors only know what they know. And that's not everything. If you had any idea how many patients I’ve worked with that were never supposed to walk or run or even stand up straight, but did—you wouldn't be so quick to give up. It's like your sister said, miracles can happen."
Tamia felt the heat of fury rise in her chest. She was so fed up with people talking about miracles. A miracle would have been all of them surviving the accident. A miracle would've been her nephew conscious and out of danger. A miracle would've been her closest girlfriend anywhere but down in the morgue. A miracle would've been not getting in the accident at all.
"Things can get better, Tamia. And they will.”
Tamia scoffed. "Yeah, things will get better. That's what I told myself, too. For years. That's what I hung onto. Through the beatings, the anxiety, the fear. It's going to get better. Because it had to, right? It certainly couldn't get any worse. And just when I thought that's finally what happened, it all went sideways. Literally. Next thing I knew, the bus was flipping over itself and I was watching people I’d known and loved for years get thrown around like rag dolls. And I just kept thinking, this is it. After everything I've gone through, this is how I’m gonna die.”
Tears burned Tamia’s eyes and her head throbbed so painfully, it felt like it would explode, but she kept going. It was as if all the rage she’d swallowed since the moment she’d regained consciousness had been set aflame. She had to get it out, even if it tore her apart. And if it destroyed Russell in the process, so much the better.
“Only, I don't. No. I get to live. Better yet, I get to live with a choice: disabled and in chronic pain or paralyzed." Tamia laughed, but it was callous and devoid of joy. "I get to choose between those two prizes while my nephew—“
At the mention of Xavier, her face crumpled and her voice broke. "My beautiful, funny, talented nephew gets no choice but to die before he’s even lived. So no. Things don’t get better. They get worse. Way worse than you could even let yourself imagine. And it makes me mad! So mad I can hardly see straight. And instead of just leaving me alone to deal with it like I've asked you to, you keep showing up! When are you gonna get the message? When are you gonna get the hint? I don't want you! I don't want nothing to do with you! How many ways do I have to say it?"
Russell stared at the floor. Finally, he stood, unsteadily. "I'm sorry. Tamia… I never meant to upset you."
She said nothing, hoping the anger she felt rolling off her in waves was enough to do the communicating for her.
He picked up his knapsack, lingering for a moment. "I'm really sorry. I'll just… I'll just come back later."
"Don't. Don't come back at all."
Russell blinked. “Tam—“
“You heard what I said.”
He gripped one of the straps from his knapsack and stared at the floor. ”Ask me for anything and I'll do it. But please, don't ask me to do that."
"I'm not asking. I'm telling you. Leave. Me. Alone!"
He stood there for another moment, then attempted a smile. "Hey, if you’re getting tired of looking at this ugly mug, I can understand that. So how about this: I won't come in. At least, not for a while. I'll just sit outside your door and when you’re ready—“
"Do you even hear yourself? Do you have any idea how pathetic you sound?” She laughed, mocking him. “You’re a joke and you don’t even know it.”
Russell chewed his lower lip, but remained silent.
“Sit outside the door. Sit out in the parking lot. I don't care. As long as I don't have to see you and your useless, pitiful face, you can do whatever the hell you want."
That's when she saw it. It lasted for only a split second, but the pain on his face assured her she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do.
She’d eviscerated him.
But instead of feeling the satisfaction she thought she would, she only wanted to disappear. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He looked so lost and confused, it made her eyes burn and her throat ache.
“Umm…” He clenched his jaw and furrowed his brows.
Tamia closed her eyes so she didn't have to witness his humiliation.
"Okay. I'll, uh…”
Leave. Please, just leave, she silently begged him.
“If, uh, that’s what you want, then…I’ll stay away.”
Finally, she heard shuffling footsteps move toward the door. Then, just before he closed it, he mumbled, "I really am sorry."
Chapter 13
Pam closed her eyes and leaned her head back. She was so relieved to have the waiting room all to herself; she didn’t even know what to do.
Correction. She knew exactly what to do. Sleep.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so tired. She turned sideways in her chair, propped her legs up and fold
ed her arms. She snuggled in to the chair and exhaled, determined to grab a few minutes rest.
Her determination lasted all of three minutes.
As exhausted as she was, her worried mind wouldn’t let her sleep. How could she? Between Kristina’s misguided faith and Tamia’s misdirected anger, Pam felt like her world was spinning out of control.
She’d dedicated her life to her sisters and their well-being, but now, when they needed her most, she didn’t know how to help them. And if there was one thing that set Pam on edge, it was not knowing what to do. Especially when it came to her sisters.
She knew what Robin would tell her: Pray.
And while she knew it was probably what she should do, she didn’t want to. What she really wanted was—
"Happy birthday!"
Pam jumped and her eyelids popped open. Standing over her was Justina, all smiles.
Pam sat up and smoothed her hair. “I’m sorry. What was that?”
“I said, Happy birthday!” Justina’s twinkling eyes reflected the unrestrained merriment in her voice. In her hands was a small paper plate and on the plate, a cupcake.
If there'd ever been a sadder looking cupcake, Pam had never seen it. It looked like it came from a kitchen in the midst of a frosting famine and it had the world's skinniest candle sticking out of its uneven top.
Justina studied Pam’s facial expression and frowned.
"I know. It's a homely little thing." She laughed and sat next to Pam, still looking at the cupcake. "But it's all they had in the cafeteria and I don't know my way around here well enough to find a bakery. I almost didn't get it, but I just couldn't let your birthday pass without at least a little something."
Her birthday…
Pam had completely forgotten it. Not that she ever made a big deal of it anyway. Not with the way she worked.
If it wasn’t a record release date, it was a music video shoot. There were always appearances to book or, like now, tour preparations to make. And that was on a regular year. Now, with everything that had happened, her birthday was the farthest thing from her mind.
Besides, birthdays weren’t really her thing, anyway. Especially her own.
My Soul Is Satisfied (The Langston Family Saga Book 3) Page 6