HeartWorks

by Charmaine Gordon

  She swallowed. “And I asked him – the cop – I asked him, ‘who was that, what happened?’ He said a young boy had been shot by a gang. He said the witnesses saw the gang try to rob him, but when he tried to put up a fight, they shot him. I asked them what his name was. I asked him if he had his school ID on him. I asked them if his first name was Azaiah.”

  She was sobbing so much now, she was struggling to breathe.

  “And he said yes.” Her voice quaked. “And…he asked me, ‘how did I know?’ And I said that was my baby brother.”

  Chantal wailed uncontrollably for several minutes. Her breaths were short and choppy. Her face was stained with tear trails while new tears continued to flow.

  It took a while, but she finally calmed down. “After that,” she sniffled. “I just drank. I drank to not feel. I drank to fill the void my baby brother left behind. I drank to be numb. I drank because I didn’t know any other way.”

  She wiped more tears away. “I drank, and I drank hard.” She coughed a small cough. “I drank for fifteen years. I don’t know how I did it. I don’t know how I didn’t die. I don’t know how my liver still works after all this. I don’t know how, but I drank hard for fifteen years.”

  “When – how – did you meet Desiree?” Grace gently asked.

  Chantal wiped tears away. “I’m getting there!” She propped herself up a bit. “I met Desi through a drinking buddy. I had been staying at his house for a few days. One night, we were having a party, and she showed up. And she was beautiful and smart, and black, and beautiful. And I just wanted her all to myself.”

  Chantal rubbed her face with her hands. “For the most part, I did. But we were using heavily, and we all know that anything goes when you’re drinking that much.

  “So we used and used and used. And we were piss-ass poor. It was like being back home at Mom’s, but worse. So we tried to come up with all kinds of ideas to eat and be able to drink. Then one day, Desi decided she wanted to be a stripper. She said she’d make all kinds of money, and we could live the high life. But Desi didn’t want to just strip in Detroit. No, she wanted to go big time. She wanted to Strip in Vegas. She said that was where it was at. I had my own company, so I could do whatever the hell we wanted to. So, we left. We moved out here.”

  Grace sat still, simply watching Chantal.

  “Vegas is two-faced, man. It can offer you a great life sober, but it promises you one hell of a life drunk.

  “Desi was able to get her high-paying stripping job pretty quick.”

  “And that didn’t bother you?” Grace quietly asked.

  “Nah. She came home to me. That was all that mattered.

  “So anyway, she did well. Took me a bit to build up my company, but after a little bit, we were living the high life.

  “Booze flowed more freely than water! We drank like fish, and it was all good. We thought we had friends. What we had were drinking buddies. People who loved us when we all drank together, but if we needed something, they were nowhere to be found.

  “And that’s kinda what happened. We both got DUIs out here. Mine first. February second, in oh seven. At the time, I didn’t care. Throw me in jail. Not like anybody’s gonna be able to hurt me. So I hung out at Clark County Correction for a few days. Actually, a week, I think. Anyway, it was no big deal. Once I got out, I came home and I drank. And since I couldn’t drive, it just meant that I could drink twenty four seven without worrying about my car, insurance, another DUI...”

  Chantal pressed her fingers against her eyes. Once again, she took in a deep breath. “But when Desi got hers, that was her bottom. She was done. She hated being in jail, she hated the consequences of her actions, she hated drinking, and she hated sobriety.”

  “But she got sober?” Grace asked.

  “Yeah. Through court, she found some AA meetings and started going. She met people. People with real jobs and real lives. People that she wanted to be like. She didn’t want to be a stripper any more. She wanted to do something – to make something of her life, and to make a difference. So she started hanging out with all of these AA people. Dumped all of our old friends. She quit stripping, and started going to nursing school. It didn’t take long for her to tell me to straighten up or get out. So I just came. I did what I did to make her happy. Not because I needed it for myself. ‘Cause I was fine. I didn’t need that AA shit. That was for other people. But I kept going, just to make my Desi happy.

  “But then I heard Sharon chair one night. And that changed it all. I understood everything she said. It was like she was telling my story for me. She hit on every possible nerve and sore subject. She got me. And I liked what she said. I wanted what she had. I asked her to be my sponsor that night, and then everything changed.”

  Chantal breathed a few, shallow breaths. “Suddenly, I saw myself and my life in a completely new light. So my sobriety date is Christmas Eve. December twenty fourth. I’ll have eight years this year.

  “But once I got sober, things changed between me and Desi. It was kind of hard both of us being new to sobriety. It was definitely the blind leading the blind.”

  Grace leaned in towards her. “So what happened?”

  “Her sponsor said it was probably better if we got ourselves grounded, otherwise we were both likely to lose our sobriety.”

  “And?”

  “And Sharon agreed. So, we broke up, but not really. I moved out, got my own place, and just worked. I built a great client base. And I was able to work on me, too. But we kept seeing each other at meetings. We still hang out.” Chantal paused for a moment. “And,” she sighed heavily. “She saves me when I fucking break my back.”

  Grace was silent.

  Chantal looked at her.

  They both looked at each other in an awkward silence.

  “What about hope?” Grace asked quietly. “You haven’t talked about your hope. Just your experience and strength.”

  “Really? Oh.” Chantal grunted. “Okay. My hope is that my back will get better soon.” She paused, hoping to get a chuckle out of Grace. “Nah. My hope is that sobriety gave me my home and business. My hope is that sobriety will help me to keep it and live a life that is much richer than what I came from. My hope comes from my real friends, not just people looking to take advantage of me. My hope is in that I was given a way better life than most kids in the projects. My hope is to keep this good life till the day I die, and to maybe help some other ghetto kids get a good life, too.”

  Grace pushed a tear away from her eye. “That’s awesome. Seriously. That was amazing. Thank you so much for sharing that with me.”

  Chantal looked over at her. There was such sincerity behind her blue eyes.

  “You’re welcome.” Chantal gently replied. “Now,” she said as she propped herself back up. “Can I please finish my toast and juice?”

  “Oh geez!” She popped up. “Oh I am so sorry! Of course! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to not eat.” She pushed the plate closer to Chantal.

  “It’s all good, Snowflake.” Chantal flashed a smile before taking a bite out of her toast.

  Grace took her spot in the chair next to Chantal’s couch. “How are you doing today?”

  “Ah. Same old, same old. Not like I get a change in scenery or anything.”

  “Do you want to?”

  Chantal looked over at her. “Seriously? Where can I go? I can’t sit, so I can’t get in a car or go to a meeting or whatever.”

  Grace remained quiet for several moments. “I have an idea.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. If you do want to go out. Like to a meeting. You could lay across the back seat of my car.”

  “And at the meeting?”

  “Have you been to any of the meetings at the Unitarian church?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you ever notice their seats don’t have arms? You could lay across a few. I’d sit next to you, and if anyone give you any trouble, I’ll tell ‘em to fuck off!”

  Chantal rolle
d in laughter. “Listen to you, Snowflake! Ha ha! Shoot!”

  “But it would work.”

  Chantal paused to think. “Yeah it would.”

  “Do you want to try? You want to get out of the house?”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Let me know if you want to try, and we’ll find a meeting, okay?”

  “Alright, Snowflake.”

  Grace sat uncomfortably. “What’s it like?” She softly asked.

  “What?”

  “Being you? Being so strong, but now you…” She cut herself off.

  Chantal took a deep breath. “It sucks. That’s all you need to know. No two ways about it.”

  “You’re still strong, it’s just…”

  “It’s just that my back is broke and I can hardly move. Yeah. Like I said, it sucks.”

  Grace reached out, but quickly pulled her arm back. “What can I do?”

  “Nothing more than you’re already doing.”

  “It seems like you’ve lost yourself.”

  Chantal rolled her head towards Grace. “How would you know?”

  “Look at you! You were always out. You worked outside, you played outside. You never had a dull or lazy day. And now…”

  “And now, I have no other choice. I know. Thank you for reminding me, Snowflake!” She yelled. Chantal rolled back into the couch. Shit. She was out of line. She shouldn’t have said that – or least not like that. …And when we were wrong, promptly admitted it. The tenth step. She was wrong, and she needed it fix it. She gingerly rolled back towards Grace. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so nasty. It’s just…”

  Tears began to roll down and around her cheeks. “You don’t get it. This is hard, man. This is so freakin’ hard. I never needed anybody in my life before. I didn’t need anyone’s help. Shit. I was strong, I was brave. I got this shit, man. I got this.

  “Now some pretty little Snowflake comes in and reminds me that I don’t got this shit anymore. I guess I’m not so indestructible after all.”

  She wiped away the tears.

  “I’m sorry,” Grace replied quietly.

  “Nah. You got nothing to be sorry for. It just sucks, man.” Chantal struggled to sit up a bit. “You like me, Snowflake?”

  Grace looked at her with great confusion in her eyes. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “You like me? You’re a sister and all. You like butches like me? Bitches who are strong and manly, we keep you femmes safe and protected and shit? Or am I not your type?”

  “Well, I…”

  “Well you what?”

  Grace straightened up in the chair. “Well, I do, actually. I think you’re beautiful. You have a stunning face and an amazing body. And I think that deep down, you’re a good person.”

  “Deep down?”

  “Yeah.”

  Chantal’s expression was one of near anger.

  It took Grace a moment. “Oh no! Not like that! It’s…it’s not just superficial with you. You’re not just nice on the outside, but really a bitch at heart. You’re a nice person through and through.”

  Now Chantal’s eyes expressed cynicism. “I am, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Grace smiled.

  “You ever date anyone like me? Would you ever date anyone like me?”

  “Well, I have dated some women who are kind of like you, but not exactly.”

  “They weren’t black?”

  “No. It’s not about that.”

  “Then what is it about?”

  Grace sighed. “Honestly?”

  “Yes, honestly.” Chantal snapped back.

  “Honestly, they may have looked like you, but they were nothing like you.” She fidgeted with her hands, and looked at the floor. “In the end, they were just looking for trophies. They didn’t have the kind of heart and soul you have.”

  Chantal stared up at the ceiling for several quiet moments. “How do you know what kind of heart and soul I have?”

  “Desiree.”

  “Desi? What did she tell you?”

  Grace looked out through the window on the wall closest to her. “That you are one of the most amazing people she’s ever known. That for as much as you and she enabled each other’s addictions, you have also been a rock for her and her sobriety. That she has never known anyone who is as generous as you. That you have a tough exterior, but you have a heart of gold.”

  She turned her gaze down to the floor. “I kind of agree with that.” She said softly. She waited for a moment and turned back towards Chantal. “That no matter what, she knows a little bit of you will always love her, and that a little bit of her will always love you.”

  Chantal didn’t know what to say. She had hoped Desi still felt that way. It was powerfully pleasant, but also powerfully painful to hear.

  “Did I say too much?” Grace asked.

  “Nah.” Chantal carefully resituated herself on the couch. “It’s all good. So, is that what you think of me, too?”

  Grace pressed her lips together. “Uhhh…yeah, actually.”

  Chantal was shocked. “You do?”

  She nodded.

  “Uh huh. I see.”

  “I’m sorry, Chantal. I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”

  “What do you gotta be sorry for? You’re telling me the truth, right?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Okay, then. There’s nothing for you to be sorry about.”

  “Okay,” Grace sheepishly replied.

  Chantal weakly stretched her arm out. She gently brushed Grace’s arm. “You’re alright, Snowflake. You’re alright.”

  “Fuck man, I gotta get out!” Chantal was very uneasy. She couldn’t get comfortable, and she was just agitated, for whatever reason. She tried to take a deep breath, but it was pointless. Even breathing hurt. She tried rubbing her arms and legs. She pushed down hard and slowly rubbed up and down her legs, hoping it would kill the sensation and make her feel a little less uneasy. It didn’t work.

  “Get out where? Out of the house?” Grace asked.

  “Nah. Out of my own fucking skin! I can’t take this, man!”

  Grace looked worried. “Are you alright? What’s going on?”

  “Fuck, man! I hurt. I fucking hurt. Every fucking part of my fucking body fucking hurts!”

  Grace sprung up and ran into the kitchen.

  “Hey! What are you doing in my kitchen?” Chantal called out.

  “I’m checking on something to help you. Hang on!”

  There was a brief pause before Chantal could hear Grace talking. She must be on the phone. Chantal could hear her, but could not make out what she was saying.

  Chantal withered and writhed in discomfort. God almighty, would she ever get a break from this? This was unbearable.

  Grace came skidding and sliding back in. “Here.” She handed Chantal a tablet.

  “What’s this?”

  “I just spoke to your doctor. He said it was okay for me to give you another pain pill. He said that sometimes when the nerves are pinched or impinged, it gets really painful.”

  “You’re telling me,” Chantal murmured.

  “He said it was ok for me to give you another pain pill for now. He’s going to write you a prescription for muscle relaxants. And he wants us to see if we can find someone to do a deep tissue massage for you.”

  Us? We? Was she really in on this? Was she serious about helping Chantal out? She must be. She called the doc. Cool. Very cool. Chantal’s lips curved up into a slight smile. “Cool. Thanks, man.”

  “Sure! I hope this helps.”

  “If nothing else, it makes me sleep.”

  “Good. And while you’re sleeping, I’ll look up massage therapists that could come here and help you.”

  “Seriously Snowflake?”

  Grace looked at her, very confused. “Yeah.”

  “Thanks. I mean it. Seriously. Thanks.”

  Grace smiled. “You’re welcome.”

  Grace put the car in park. “Well, we made it!”

&nbs
p; Chantal tried to look up, but it was too painful. “Shit!” She grunted through clenched teeth.

  “No no no! Stay there!” Grace quickly got out of the car and raced over to open the door for her. “Can you roll onto your side?”

  “I…don’t…” She moaned and grunted as she tried to roll.

  Grace reached out, and gently helped her.

  Once Chantal was on her side, Grave carefully pulled her towards herself. Grace ducked down and came up under Chantal’s shoulder. Together, they slid Chantal until she was out and up.

  Chantal leaned on the car when Grace shut the door.

  Grace then walked over to her, and Chantal leaned on her.

  Slow cautious step by slow cautious step, they eventually made their way into the building.

  “Over there,” Grace said. She gently guided Chantal to a row of chairs.

  Chantal placed her weight against Grace. She slowly bent her knees and lowered herself. She swung her legs onto the chairs. Grace held her arms, and carefully laid her down completely. Chantal’s head rested right next to Grace’s lap.

  “Thanks for coming out,” Grace said.

  “Thanks for taking me. It’s been so damn long since I’ve been to a meeting.”

  “I know. I know this has been tough for you. But you’ve been doing really well. You should be proud of yourself.”

  She looked up at her. “Shoot. Thanks.” She smiled.

  “You know, you have a beautiful smile. Even upside down.” Grace said.

  Chantal slightly blushed. “Thanks.” Just as she was about to take a breath and say something to Grace, the person chairing the meeting knocked the gavel signaling the start of the meeting.

  “How are you, Chantal?” Sharon asked as she sat down.

  “Alright. How’re you?”

  “Good. I’m not the one laying down, though. How are you managing?”

  “I’m here. There’s nothing to be managed. It just is.”

  Sharon nodded. “You working the steps to get through this?”

  Chantal rolled her eyes towards her. “I dunno.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “Shit, man. I’m trying. You know this shit ain’t easy.”