Copyright
Copyright © 2017 by Kalani Zoldyck.
All rights reserved under Kalani Zoldyck. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Table of Contents
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1
Romero eased into the first parking space he saw, barely stopping and shutting the engine off before getting out the sedan. He raced through the parking lot for visitors, dodging the traffic until he came to the other side of the street. The double doors of the Emergency Room opened automatically and he looked around at the near empty waiting room before stopping in front of the Reception Desk. The middle-aged woman looked up at him with tired eyes as if her shift could not end fast enough. Romero didn't have time to make small talk like he normally would have.
"I received a call, my mother. She was brought here." The woman raised and eyebrow and waited. "Rosa Cruz?" The woman looked down at some papers on the desk and then up at him. She handed him a few sheets of paper on a clipboard with a pen. "Look, I don't have time to do this mess!" he growled.
"Does Ms. Cruz have insurance?"
"Yes, we have insurance. But..."
"Well, we need all of her information in case we..."
"Look, ma'am, this is my mother! She could be dying and taking her last breath and you want to know how the hell am I going to pay for this! Conjo!" he cursed.
"Sir, you do not have to yell, I understand your frustration. Your mother is being attended to now and you will not be able to see her until he doctor says so. So, while you wait." she stressed. "You can fill out her information so that we have it." She glared at him and Romero pressed his lips into a thin line and turned on his heel. He walked tense and worried back to a seat and poured over the papers. Before he started, his cellular rang.
"How is everything, Mr. Jones?"
"They haven't allowed me to see her yet, Marcie." he muttered. "I'm filling out paperwork." he spat. He eyed the nurse who pointed to a sign that said "No Cellphones" and he rolled his eyes. "I have to go, I'll call you back. Route all my calls to the answering service and close the office for the day. I don't know if I'll be back." he finished. After hearing the click on the end, he turned it off and stuffed it in his suit jacket. Handling the pen again, he began writing down the repetitive information. Romero gave it to the Nurse just as the Doctor walked into the waiting room.
"Mr. Cruz?"
"Jones. Romero Jones."
"Oh, sorry." He held out his hand and urged him to follow him. Romero nervously fidgeted as he fell into step beside the older gentleman. His gray eyes hidden behind small rimmed glasses and once brown hair was sprinkled with gray along the top and sides. Doctor Grayden held up a file record and went over it with him.
"Your mother has sulfured what appears to be a mild heart attack."
"Ohmigod!" Romero ran a hand over his face. "Sh-she's gonna be alright? Right? Is she gonna need surgery? What?"
"One thing at a time, Mr. Jones. She is resting now and I have her being taken to a room. She's stable, but I want to observe her over the next few days. Do some more tests and settle on some type of regimen with her following up with me at my Cardiology Clinic to monitor."
"She's so young." he whispered.
"Yes, but heart disease in women is quite common. It is the number one killer, not like Cancer as they'd like you to think."
"She was always active. I mean she loved gardening. Her vegetables. Cooking , taking care of her nieces and nephews." he whispered. "She didn't look like she was sick."
"Silent killers are our hearts. Most of the time it's too late. The signs are there, but we misconstrue them or they are so tiny we miss them all together. For women, it is very different and can be missed easily. Luckily wherever she was at they recognized it and got her help quickly."
They came to a closed curtain where his mother was attached to leads and the sound of the monitor pierced the silence. She lay pale against the stark white of the pillow and blankets. Her black hair was still very much inky with hardly any gray, yet she looked older. Her small pointed nose, full lips and almond shaped eyes lay closed. Her once radiant caramel complexion was no more. Romero didn't expect the anxiety and wave of fear that came over him suddenly. He let out a sound that felt as if it was ripping from his gut.
"Mami!" he whispered. Touching her smooth skin of her hand. "Mami?" he whispered. The soft brown hue of her eyes peered through lowered lids and Romero breathed a sigh of relief. "You scared the piss out of me! What the hell is wrong with you!" he said angrily. "Do you know how many of my own damn heart attacks I just had. Not to mention..." Rosa rolled her eyes as she listened to the love of her life rant. He was scared, she knew that and this was his way of covering it up instead of crying. She listened with half an ear as the Doctor looked on in amazement. Romero switched to Spanish and she squinted at the language her son was spewing. She looked at him, her eyes widened and lifted a hand for him to be silent.
"Mami?" he whispered. "You promise you weren't going to leave me. Now this? What am I suppose to do if you are not here to feed me rice and beans." Rosa chuckled at the joke.
"I don't feed you rice and beans." she mumbled. "Rome, I'm alright, baby." she whispered. "I'm okay. Just a little set back."
""Set back"?" Romero stood up to his full six foot three inch height. His face grew stern as his dark brows wrinkled in agitation. ""Set Back?" She says this is just a set back. Tell me, Dr. Grayden, what you said her "set back" was?" Romero folded his arms across his broad chest and looked down at his mother who lay as if she could care less what the good doctor was about to say. Dr. Grayden cleared his throat and looked from son to mother. He stifled a chuckle, but repeated her prognosis to Mrs. Cruz. Rosa listened and felt her heart palpitate again. Her hands flitted to her mouth and her eyes watered.
"Romero, I don't have much time then." she whispered.
"Time for what, Mami?" he shook his dark head. "You have more than enough time. If I can help it. You will not lift a finger to even eat your food. I'll get people to do it for you. I work, make good money, and you will use it. No, I don't need this, or I don't need that..." he went on. His deep voice to the point and he didn't let Rosa get even a word in. Rosa grinned widely and looked at Dr. Grayden whose eyebrows were raised in admiration of the young man. If half of the family cared as much as he did, the patients would be so much better off.
"Well, Mr. Jones, I have to go see about ordering these other tests. They should be taking her up to her room in a moment. Once that's done, I'll keep in touch as much as possible to let you in on how she is doing." he reassured. Romero nodded and watched the doctor leave before turning toward his mother. A silent tear rolled down his cheek and Rosa patted it lightly. Romero caught the slender fingers and held them firmly.
"You scared me." he whispered again.
"I know, nino. Lo siento." The two stared at the other until the nurse came to take Rosa to her room. Romero followed until she was
settled, then left to get her things.
xxxxxx
Romero let himself into the two level house he'd grown up in. It looked nothing like the two bedroom shack it once was. Romero had it redesigned and remodeled to his mother's liking years ago. She had been against spending money on a house, even though Romero could afford it. He had no one else to provide for accept his mother. The thought of her not being there was unfathomable. He walked onto the wood covered floor. Her rugs placed in the center and the old arm chair that she'd reupholstered in a striped mint, burgundy, and ivory fabric stood out against the rest of the eclectic colored room. Rosa had so much in it, yet Romero could name each and every piece. The ones he'd broken and she'd glued back together and the ones she'd taken from her Native Puerto Rico when she'd met his father. Pictures scattered the wall unit that held pottery, china, and Romero's baseball trophies.
Romero jogged up the short staircase into her room coming to her closet. He took out an empty suitcase that still had the price tag on it. It was a high-priced bag that he'd gotten her for Christmas. It was obvious she never used it, but he bought it hoping she would. This wasn't exactly what he had in mind. He threw it on the bed before going to the long pine dresser to gather her clothing. When Romero opened the bag he stopped short.
"What's this?" he murmured, picking up what looked like photo albums and journals.
Romero sat on the edge of the bed and opened up the books, flipping through them and wondering if he should read the journals. He didn't think to long. Setting the books to the side, he opened up the album and came to a picture of his mother, very young and beside her a young dark-skinned man. They both looked happy and in love. Romero looked hard at the features of him, the father that he'd never known. The light eyes that were the same as his, the chiseled features and cleft chin. He had certain aspects of the man. Height and looks. He took after his mother with her soft honey coloring. Although, Romero darkened in the summertime, only enough to be mistaken for every nationality including Indian, Pakistani, and every Latin culture under the sun. None of them thought he was African-American, even though is father was half African. He still didn't understand why his mother named him Jones instead of Cruz, like her. Why hadn't she shown him these? She never talked about his father. Only that he loved him and that he loved her. They were in love and he was born out of it. Romero wondered if he had other family. Instead of continuing to contemplate it, he flipped through the pages. More pictures of "his father" and his mother. The one picture of him holding a very small Romero and the big smile that graced his face. At least he'd looked upon him once upon a time, he thought. Romero eyed the journals again and picked it up. Opening to a random page, he read the first paragraphs. It was written in Spanish and he grinned at his mother's way of protecting her private thoughts.
"Rome is growing so fast. I don't know when I'll ever get used to him going from needing me to independent in the space of a year. Avery would be so proud of him. I wish he could see him. Rome looks so much like his father now. I can see it in even just the little things. The way he holds his head as he walks. The way he chews on his lip when he's concentrating. Avery, you are missing so much."
Romero flipped backwards in the book and continued to read.
"Avery left today. I'm very scared. Romero is only six months old, and I'm not sure I can live here by myself and take care of a baby, but I would have to. Avery said he would write everyday, so I am holding him to his promise. It's just that this war has taken so many already and I fear that Avery will be one of them. How can I bear to find the love of my life just to have him leave me. At least I have Rome. My Rome will hold me over until he comes home to us..."
Romero closed the book quickly not wanting to intrude into his mother's private thoughts any longer. He hurried to get up, one of the books falling to the floor. An envelope spilled out with an exotic looking dried flower in between the papers. Romero picked it up and opened it. The soft writing was similar to his, but he knew it was his fathers. The script in English and Spanish. He read the love letter that held nothing but positive in it. Romero was sure it was anything but. Coming to the part where he asked about him, Romero felt a longing in him to know the man. He wished his mother had of shared this with him. At least he'd known his father loved and wanted him by his own words. Not by his mothers.
"You know what I wish, Rosie?" the letter continued. "I wish that our Rome would know love like ours. Love that gets you through the hardest of times and glides us through the smoothest. Love that makes you look forward to tomorrow, because you know that you are loved. You are treasured. That your life is precious to not only you but someone else. Rosie, I hope he knows that the love of a soul mate, of a woman, is the best that God has ever created for man. For it is the love of you Rosie, that keeps me warm at night. That gives me memories to remember when I'm sure that life could get no worse than this. The love of Romero that I have to come home to. Imagining the things I will show him and give him more sisters and brothers, Rosie." Romero stopped reading and refolded it, tucking it into the page that it had slipped out of. He looked at the tear stained entry.
"My darling, my love, my one and only. You will forever be in my heart no matter where God has taken you. I am selfish, Avery. I do not want to share your memory."
Romero decided not to continue and hurried to pack the suitcase. He thought to get another bag, but decided not to. Romero left the house back to the hospital. He thought of his father and mother. How much they loved each other and the words that his father had wrote. His life was full, Romero justified. A great job he loved and family. If he had an itch, which really wasn't often as he was too busy and tired by the end of the day to do nothing but shower and fall asleep, he had no problem in that department. A few dates that turned into mutual gratification, but eventually the women would leave because of his demanding schedule. He only made quality time for his mother and that posed many problems in the female department. He was ridiculed for being a Mama's boy, and he didn't care. The only woman in his life was his mother for all he knew. At thirty- seven, he figured he had more than enough time to worry about the other stuff. Love and marriage. Even a family. No, Romero didn't have time for that right now, especially now. Romero parked and focused on his mother instead of his life for a change
2
"Ouch! Darnit!" Natalie placed her finger in her mouth and sucked. She looked at it and saw that she hadn't drew blood, so she forewent a band aid. "Darn needles.' she muttered and re-threaded the needle to continue the alteration on the hem she was doing. Natalie hurried through the stitches until done and folded the fabric. Stretching, she looked over at her grandmother and smiled. Fast asleep still and probably didn't know she was even there. Natalie packed her sewing bag and stood near the bed. She was just about to leave when the nurse walked in.
"Back again, huh?" she asked. Her brunette bob bounced and her wide mouth spread into a smile as Natalie nodded.
"I haven't gotten a chance to see the doctor, but how long will she be here?" she asked. Looking at the chart, the Cardiology Nurse scanned through it.
"It looks like he ordered a few more tests. He will be doing rounds in the morning so if you can come early maybe you'll be able to sit and talk to him."
"Alright. She hasn't awaken once since I've been here." Natalie looked at the dark figure laying still in the bed. The nurse had done all her vitals without her Grandmother so much as moving. The Nurse didn't seem phased but it scared Natalie.
"Dr. Grayden ordered her a sedative to help her sleep. She's been having trouble getting any good sleep."
"Oh. Well, maybe I should start coming earlier."
"Yes, that would be a good idea. Just after breakfast or close to." Natalie nodded before she touched the soft leathery skin and walked slowly out of the room. She closed her eyes briefly pushing back the wave of grief that threatened to overtake her. She stopped for a moment and leaned against the wall. She was bought out of her stupor by a deep baritone voice talkin
g in Spanish. It then switched to English and she looked carefully in the room. Seeing the bent head of a man over a older woman.
"Mami, please. Why would you not tell me? I have a right to know?" he whispered. He didn't sound angry, just frustrated. "I went my whole life not knowing and you could have given me something."
"Rome, I'm sorry, nino. I just couldn't talk about him without it hurting." she sniffled. "It hurt so much, nino. So much. I still feel the ache in my heart to this day."
Natalie continued walking toward the elevators, chastising herself for eavesdropping. Twenty minutes later, she arrived at the apartment complex. The small apartment was a mess. Natalie swatted her cat off the pile of magazines and began straightening up the area what she called her living room. She hadn't had much time to do anything since her grandmother was sent from the nursing home to the hospital. She'd barely had time to go into her quilting store to see how everything was going.
"Orange!" she yelled at her tabby that had begun scratching on the sofa. Natalie pointed to the pole and Orange slithered toward it. "I know it was just for attention, but that was a sixteen hundred dollar sofa. You are not going to ruin it because you want Mommy to pay you some mind!" she shook her head and continued to clean. Thirty minutes later, Natalie headed back out to her shop where she was met by her friend, and manager when she wasn't there, Deann.
"How is your grandmother, Nat?" she asked. Deann picked up the papers behind the counter and filed them in the drawer under the cash register.
The racks of quilts decorated the walls and sewing materials along with fabrics were neatly organized on diagonal shelving along the side of the rectangular store front. Not only did Natalie sell original designer, handmade quilts, but made available materials for making them. It was originally her grandmother's, but she had brought it from her when the threat of it closing had come around. Natalie was still in college at the time. Fifteen years later she could barely keep up with orders and had a waiting list for the next two years on original quilted designs. She had thought about getting a few seamstresses to help her out, but Natalie enjoyed the busy work and sometimes stayed until well in the early morning hours to work on them. It was the last thing she ever thought of doing, but her hobby she'd developed from her grandmother had eventually turned into a business venture she hoped to pass down also.
Finding Mrs. Right Page 1