Antebellum

by R. Kayeen Thomas

  “I think you better bring them doctors in one by one,” Big Mama said. And before SaTia could respond she added, “or else you gon’ get one’a them doctors hurt.”

  SaTia looked at Big Mama, then me. “Moses...look, I’ll bring them in one by one, okay? Only one at a time. But if I do, you gotta sit down and try not to look like you want to murder them. Deal?”

  She waited for my response. Slowly, I lowered myself back down to the bed and tried to calm myself.

  “Good. Thank God! Okay, one by one. You ready?”

  I nodded again, and SaTia made her way over to the door. When it opened, she motioned to the first doctor, who was an older white man with a gray beard. He came in with a smile, but lost it when he saw the hate in my eyes.

  I didn’t even have to shake my head. SaTia ushered him out just as soon as he had come in.

  That was the routine for the better part of an hour. SaTia would usher in white doctors of all varieties—tall and short, male and female, fat and skinny, tanned and pale, and I’d reject all of them in the same manner. Every once in a while there was an Asian or Middle Eastern doctor thrown into the mix, and the room would become quiet as everyone watched my face soften a bit, but in the end, I’d shake my head for them as well. They were still strangers to me.

  SaTia never lost hope. She continued to bring more doctors in, and I continued to turn them away. Just as she began to show a little crack in her armor, and cut her eyes at me with the slightest look of exasperation, she invited in a middle-aged man with bifocal glasses and a crisp shape-up.

  Visibly nervous, his white coat shook slightly and contrasted with his dark tan skin. He’d set his face hard. He wouldn’t let it betray him. He’d been broken before. I could tell by his eyes. He’d been broken and had somehow found his way back, just as I had.

  I turned to SaTia and nodded.

  “Are...are you serious? You’re okay with him? Really?”

  “Well, what’s wrong with him?” Big Mama said from the corner.

  “Nothing, Mama Jenkins. I just can’t believe Moses finally made a choice. So...”

  SaTia turned to me again, hesitant. She was scared I would change my mind, but it was made up. “You’re okay with him? We can start your exam?”

  I nodded my head once again. SaTia paused a moment and turned her head up to the ceiling. “Thank goodness!”

  “Wasn’t too hard to figure out the puzzle after while, girl,” Big Mama interjected. “Seems you went and rounded up all the white doctors you could find.”

  SaTia looked at Big Mama with words on her tongue that she knew she couldn’t say, then looked back at the doctor.

  “Moses, this is Doctor—”

  “Bail...” the doctor’s voice cracked like a broken cell phone screen. I, along with my army of women, couldn’t help but smirk. His embarrassment had sufficiently lightened the mood in the room. I was already happy I’d picked him.

  He cleared his throat and tried again. “...Bailey. My name is Dr. Bailey. And if you don’t mind, Mr. Jenkins, we’re gonna see just how healthy you are today.”

  Mr. Jenkins. If I’d ever been called that before, I hadn’t cared enough to note it. Now it made all the difference in the world.

  “Shall we begin?”

  One more nod, and we were under way.

  An hour later and Dr. Bailey was wrapping up. I hadn’t said anything during the examination, but he’d gotten over his nervousness and become light-hearted and jovial enough for me to consider him a potential friend by the time we were done. Every once in a while he’d look at me curiously, as if there was something he just couldn’t figure out, and then he’d shrug his shoulders and start out with the next part of the exam. There was only one point in the exam where he was perplexed enough to stop the process and pull me to the side.

  “I know you aren’t talking just yet, Mr. Jenkins, but I have to ask you something.”

  I looked at him curiously, wondering what he was going to say.

  “Are you aware there’s something wrong with your back?”

  I looked at him as if he had spoken Mandarin.

  “Nothing’s broken but you have some significant markings on it. I reviewed your file thoroughly before I came in here, and none of the doctors or nurses reported this kind of scarring being present while you were in your coma. And I know for a fact that you didn’t come in here with that kind of scar tissue, so I’ve got to ask, how did it happen?”

  I reached around, under my hospital robe, and ran my thumb over the skin of my back. I’d brought a gift back from the Talbert plantation, it seemed. The mountains and ridges formed in my flesh whispered to me as I caressed them. I closed my eyes, knowing now that I could never forget, and let my pain swell my chest before opening my eyes again.

  “Did someone from the hospital give you those scars? If they did, you need to let me know immediately. Do you know where the scars came from?”

  I nodded my head.

  “Did someone from the hospital give them to you?”

  I shook my head.

  Dr. Bailey stood in front of me, unsure of how to proceed. I looked at him, then over to my family, and back to him again. I shook my head slightly so that the women across the room wouldn’t notice.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Jenkins, I won’t tell anyone. I’ll even leave it out of the report I give to the board—but under one condition. I’d be remiss if I didn’t immediately recognize what the scars on your back look like, and frankly, I’m baffled. When you’re feeling more comfortable, you’ve got to promise to find me and let know how you got them.”

  I offered my hand. He extended his as well, and we shook on our agreement.

  With that done, he placed his stethoscope around his neck, took in a long breath, and spoke loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Well, I’ve got good news and bad news for you, Mr. Jenkins.”

  Mama and Big Mama stopped what they were doing and focused solely on the medical professional in the room. SaTia almost fell out of her seat.

  “Oh my God, there’s bad news?”

  I looked Dr. Bailey in the eye, waiting for his diagnosis.

  “Well, let me start with the good news first, Ms. Brooks. The good news is that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with Mr. Jenkins. He’s in perfect health.”

  SaTia stopped pacing the floor and faced Dr. Bailey.

  “Okay...so what’s the bad news?”

  “The bad news is that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with Mr. Jenkins. He’s in perfect health.”

  Even I looked at the doctor as if he had grown two heads.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Bailey, are you trying to make some sort of a joke?” SaTia narrowed her eyes, and I saw her attitude building. “Because if this is all funny to you, you can—”

  “No, no, Ms. Brooks, it’s not a joke. It really is good news and bad news.”

  “How?”

  “Well, it’s good for obvious reasons. He’s not carrying any symptoms that people usually experience after spending so much time in a coma. In fact, physiologically, it’s as though he was never in a coma at all. It’s bad because I’ve never seen or heard of anyone coming out of a six-month coma and having full use and function of all their muscles and limbs. Mr. Jenkins is now officially a medical miracle, and there are two things I know for sure. One: after they see my report, the other doctors will question it and try and discredit it. Two: they will want to run extensive tests on him for the next couple of weeks. Maybe even months.”

  SaTia bounced around, frantic. “We can’t stay in here for that long! Are you serious? Moses wouldn’t let a white doctor anywhere near him. There’s no way he’s going to let them all run in here poking and prodding him. They’re crazy.”

  She was right. Just the thought of all those white men bursting in my room made me want to slit someone’s throat. I listened intently to Dr. Bailey, wondering as his lips moved if I should prepare myself for war once again.

  SaTia turned back to Dr. Bailey,
all the attitude drained out of her beautiful face. “What can we do?”

  “Well, he has to give consent.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Moses has to give consent to the tests before any of them can be performed.”

  “And if he doesn’t give his consent?”

  “Well, now that I’ve already declared him healthy, he would be able to leave whenever he wants to. And without expressed consent, the doctors can’t do anything but watch him leave out of the door.”

  SaTia turned to me with a big smile replacing her once tormented face.

  “Okay, then that’s settled. Moses, will you give your consent to the doctors doing any other tests on you?”

  I shook my head. Hell no.

  “Alright, then. Moses, we leave when you’re ready, and that’s the end of it.”

  Dr. Bailey spoke up, reluctant to kill the premature good mood.

  “Actually, there’s one other thing. With Moses still not speaking, the doctors can try and have him declared mentally unfit. If the ruling passes, then they can do whatever they feel is in his best interest.”

  “And we don’t have any say about that?”

  “Not unless one of you has his power of attorney.”

  SaTia dropped her head in defeat.

  “None of us do,” she said quietly. “He never declared one.”

  SaTia’s head was still down, and so she couldn’t see the urgent look on my face as I stood up and tapped her on the shoulder. When she looked at me, I lifted my arm and pointed a finger at my mother, who was pretending not to pay attention.

  “Umm, Ms. Jenkins?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you have Moses’ power of attorney?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  SaTia looked at me with her mouth gaping open.

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  She was looking at me when she asked the question, but my mother answered.

  “I didn’t even know I had it. While he was still in the coma, when the doctors didn’t think he would make it, they asked me to come and step outside. They said that I held his power of attorney, and that I could make the decision to end his suffering. I told them to go to hell, and I came in and sat back down by his bed. I almost forgot about the whole thing.”

  SaTia turned around and looked at me, smirking. “You sly bastard.”

  I smirked back.

  “So,” she said, and turned and looked at Dr. Bailey again. “Moses’ mother has his power of attorney.”

  “Then he’s covered, and you all don’t have anything to worry about.”

  Dr. Bailey stood up, preparing to leave.

  “S’cuse me, doctor...”

  Big Mama had placed her knitting material on the floor, and was now looking up and focusing on the physician. “We just wanna thank you for all your help, sir. You a mighty kind man to let us know what them doctors was gonna try and do.”

  “Oh God, yes,” SaTia said. “Thank you so much, Dr. Bailey. I’d ask why you did it, but I think I already know...you must be a fan of Da Nigga.”

  “Actually, no.” Dr. Bailey stopped in mid-stride and turned around. “I’m not a fan of his at all. Truthfully, I hate his music. I really do.”

  SaTia’s mouth dropped open for the second time in less than an hour. Mama looked up, her attention now piqued, while SaTia stumbled over her words. “You...you hate his music? If you hate his music so much, then why did you help him?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Yes, Doctor. Honestly.”

  He raised his hand and pointed directly at me. He never touched me, but the tip of his finger made me rock back and forth on my toes.

  “That’s not the same guy I’ve seen in all the videos and all over the news.”

  His words pushed me back onto the bed. The room fell silent.

  “Well, I better get going,” he went on. “I’m sure the last hour in here has probably turned me into an instant celebrity. Let me go out and greet my adoring fans.”

  He walked briskly through both doors, and the sound of the harassment of reporters echoed back into the room before the doors closed once again.

  Two hours later, Dr. Bailey’s words were still echoing in my head. SaTia had been in and out of the room several times, assuring the press and media that Dr. Bailey’s exam was not falsified. She reiterated each time she went out that she’d been present during the exam and it was absolutely legit. Despite her assurances, the head doctors in the hospital did exactly what Dr. Bailey said they would—they demanded that they be able to give their own battery of tests to determine Moses Jenkins’ health. SaTia heard their request, denied it, and wished each of them a wonderful evening before she retired to the room.

  As the excitement of the morning died down, and the afternoon began to lay its claim on the sky, Mama and Big Mama finally put their knitting equipment down and went their separate ways. Big Mama stayed in the corner, sitting peacefully, reading her Bible, while Mama went back and forth between a magazine and an iPod.

  SaTia came back for a final time, looking tired but resolved. She crumbled on the bed beside me and took deep breaths.

  “These idiots never quit,” she vented. “I don’t how many times I have to say the same thing. No, we didn’t fake the test. No, you won’t do any more tests. No, picking the only black doctor in the hospital does not prove that Moses Jenkins is mentally disturbed. I’m done! I’m not going back out there anytime soon. They’re going to make me lose it.”

  I looked over at SaTia with a sad appreciation. She was driving herself crazy, trying to save a reputation that I didn’t want anymore. If people like Dr. Bailey hated my music, what kind of people liked it?

  SaTia sat up from the bed and looked at me. I could see her armor begin to crack. “Moses...do you think we can get out of here tomorrow? I’ve tried to keep this from you as long as I could, but this place is starting to drive me nuts. The days are starting to run together. You know I’ll stay in here with you as long as you need me to. But too much longer and they may have to admit me, you know?”

  I nodded my head to show that I understood.

  “Don’t force that boy to make no decision he ain’t ready for,” Big Mama said without looking up from her Bible. “You might not like the consequences.”

  “Mama Jenkins, I don’t want Moses to do anything he’s not ready to do.” SaTia looked directly at my grandmother as she spoke, and then toward me. “I don’t want you to leave here until you’re ready, Moses. But as soon as you say the word, we’re getting out of this place if we have to jump out the window to do it. If it’s tomorrow, great. But you know I’ll wait for you.”

  I looked at SaTia, knowing that I’d do anything for her. It must have shown on my face, because she looked away with guilt.

  I resolved then that we’d be leaving tomorrow. Even if I wasn’t one hundred percent, I was strong enough to make sure that SaTia got some peace.

  Realizing what she had done, SaTia stood up from the bed and stared at me. Her lapse in strength had made my decision for me. She pondered a way to make the situation right.

  “Moses, have you noticed that we haven’t had the television on at all?”

  It was an odd question on many different levels. First, I had to struggle and remember what a television was. I looked up at the large black box hanging from the wall with the screen on the front, and recall took over. Second, why would I have noticed that the television wasn’t on? I vaguely remembered the part of my life when television would entertain me for hours on end, but it seemed so long ago that the question seemed lost in time. I shook my head at SaTia.

  No, I wanted so badly to tell her. No, I didn’t notice that we hadn’t watched television. Is that important? Does that make me crazy?

  “I talked to your mother and grandmother very soon after you woke from your coma, and we made an agreement about the television,” she explained.

  “Wait...” Mama had stopped listening to her music to offer her thou
ghts. “You want to show him now?”

  “You sure this is a good idea?” Big Mama stopped reading and looked up.

  “No, ma’am, I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” answered SaTia. “But it’s the only way to see if he’s ready or not. I know Moses. He’s going to agree to leave tomorrow because he wants to protect me. Maybe he’ll change his mind once he sees what’s really out there. You were right, Mama Jenkins. I don’t want him making a decision that he isn’t ready for.”

  I jumped up from the bed, looking at everyone with confusion.

  “I’m going to turn on the television, Moses,” SaTia said as if she was my psychiatrist. “I’m going to turn it on, and I want you to watch it.”

  “I know it don’t seem like a big thing, Moses, but she showed us the news right after you woke up, and it was nothing but craziness with you all up, down, around, and through it. That’s why we decided to keep it off in the room.”

  “So why are we turning it on again?” Mama asked.

  “’Cause she wanna see if Moses ready to go home or not. She figure if he can take all the foolishness on TV, then he ready to get outta here.”

  Mama thought about it for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders and sat back down. She kept her headphones off, however, and watched me very closely.

  I still failed to understand the importance of turning on the television. I turned around slowly and grabbed the remote before SaTia had a chance to grab it.

  “Moses, no,” she protested. “Let me.”

  I motioned for her to calm down, and with a steady hand, raised the remote to the television and hit the Power button.

  ...rapper Moses Jenkins, otherwise known as Da Nigga, remains a mystery as he continues his seclusion in the hospital. The only fact that this network can confirm is that he is, in fact, out of his coma as of yesterday. The rumor mill has been in overdrive since news of his emergence from the dead became public, the most rampant rumor being that he has had some sort of psychotic break and is no longer mentally stable...