More to Life

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  Charles ignored my sarcasm as he jumped out of the car, raced around, grabbed a wheelchair that was sitting by the front door, and returned to the car. After he opened my door, I glanced down at the wheelchair, then back up at him.

  “You know I can walk, right?”

  “I know you can walk, sweetheart. But I just want to make sure the doctor gives you a clean bill of health. I want Dr. Hubbard to sign off on everything before we let you loose to run your marathon,” he joked.

  “I don’t want to run a marathon. I just want to walk into the damn doctor’s office.” My tone was short and I didn’t care.

  Charles stood in front of me on the passenger’s side, unfazed by my attitude.

  I sighed, knowing it would be useless to argue with him. He patted the back of the wheelchair and said, “So, have a seat.”

  I got out of the car, then sat down and struggled to suppress my frustration at being ordered around.

  Charles shut the car door, locked it, and began talking about something that happened at the Rockets game and I didn’t even bother trying to appear interested in what he was saying as he wheeled me into the doctor’s building.

  “So, babe. I was thinking maybe I can get Mom a place and we can downsize. Something a little more intimate,” he said as he navigated my chair through the door of the first-floor doctor’s office. Navigating my wheelchair had become a skill he had mastered.

  I rolled my eyes. “Your mother would never want to leave you,” I said. Judy had long ago recovered from her surgery, but she had her own mother-in-law suite, complete with a kitchenette. And she didn’t have to pay a single bill. So why would she want to leave?

  “Well, I think it’s time,” he continued. “We need to just focus on us. I was serious when I said that.”

  “Hi, may I help you?” the nurse said as we approached the receptionist’s desk.

  I was just about to speak up when Charles said, “Yes, my wife has an appointment at two. Aja Clayton.”

  A flash of recognition then a gigantic smile filled her face. “Oh yes, Mr. Clayton. How are you today?”

  I rolled my eyes and slumped back in my chair. Now not only was Charles speaking for me but the receptionist wanted to know how he was doing—not me, the patient. On top of everything else, I was invisible next to my celebrity husband.

  The receptionist tapped her keyboard, peered at the screen, then said, “You’re all set. I have you all signed in. Please have a seat until the nurse calls you.”

  Charles thanked her, then pushed my chair over to the other side of the room.

  He took my hand as we sat in the waiting room and after a few minutes, he said, “Aja, I know you’re angry at the situation you’re currently in, but I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. I know we have been through a lot these past few months, but God works in mysterious ways and He brought us back together so we can focus on us. He took us through a storm so we can appreciate the sun,” he said, squeezing my hand. “I’m not going to lie. I didn’t know we were broken. But now that I do, I want to do everything in my power to fix it.”

  My husband’s words made some of my irritation dissipate. Charles was a rare breed. I’d left him, mistreated him, disrupted his life . . . and yet, he was still here.

  “Mrs. Clayton, Dr. Hubbard will see you now,” the nurse called out.

  Though I said no words, I squeezed his hand back, then slowly stood.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to wheelchair into the doctor’s office?” Charles said.

  “No, that man said I wouldn’t walk again. I want him to see me walk again. I want him to see me walk into his office,” I replied. I was going to fight Charles on this one. I had something to prove to my “you’ll never walk again” doctor.

  Luckily, Charles just extended his hand and motioned for me to lead the way.

  Once again, the nurses were eyeballing my husband. But I wasn’t the jealous type. I never had been because Charles had always made me feel secure. Besides, I had more important things to focus on—like showing Dr. Hubbard that I was the exception.

  Sunnie had been right about one thing. Setting a goal for myself made achieving it that much more rewarding. I really do think if I hadn’t said, “I’m going to get out of this chair,” I might still be in the chair. But I had given myself a date to walk again, and not only had I made that date, I’d beaten it by two weeks.

  It took me a little longer to make it back to the examination room. I just didn’t move as fast as I used to. But the fact remained—I was moving. I’d just rounded the reception area when I saw Dr. Hubbard. He was standing at the edge of the counter talking to a nurse about another patient. He looked up and his eyes met mine. His mouth dropped open in wonder as he looked down at my legs.

  “Oh my God, Mrs. Clayton,” he said, scurrying over to me. He ran a mental scan over my body.

  “In the flesh.” I beamed.

  “Do you need some help?” he asked, coming and trying to slip his hands under my arm.

  I gently tapped his hand to push him away. “No. No. I got it.”

  He stood back and watched me take a couple steps. “That you do,” he said. “Extremely impressive.” He turned to his nurse. “Which room?”

  “C,” she said pointing to the third room down the hall.

  “Mr. Clayton, good to see you, too. The two of you can go right in here,” Dr. Hubbard said. “I’ll be just a minute.”

  Charles walked behind me, carrying my purse. I guess he was making sure I didn’t fall. We got in the room and I got settled on the doctor’s table. A few minutes later Dr. Hubbard tapped on the door.

  “Knock knock knock,” he said, pushing the door open, then stepping inside. “Thank you for your patience. I wanted to make sure I closed out my other patients so that I could come in here,” he folded his arms and looked me up and down, “and just marvel at you.” A smile lit up his face.

  “You said I wouldn’t walk again.” I held out my arms as I stood, took two steps, and turned around.

  He held up a finger. “I said you may not walk, but honestly, I was leaning more toward the ‘not.’ But I always love it when my patients prove me wrong. Let me take a look at you.” He patted the table and I sat back down. He pulled out a stethoscope and put it up to my chest, listening to my back, taking my vitals, and then he took some type of hammer-looking thing and hit my knee. “How does that feel?”

  “Ouch,” I said.

  “I love that sound.” He hit the other knee before I could say anything else. I winced at that as well.

  “Really? That hurts,” I said.

  “I am sorry about that,” he said, “but I just wanted to make sure that you’re in tip-top shape.”

  He ran his fingers along my legs, pushing and prodding. He nodded his approval with every knead, then tapped on a laptop to study my records. “Well, Mrs. Clayton, this is amazing. Considering where you came from and where you are at this point, I’d call you nothing short of a miracle.”

  “While we know God helped her get here, my wife was determined,” Charles interjected, his voice dripping with pride. “My wife said she was going to walk again, and when she sets her mind to something, she gets it done.”

  I couldn’t help but feel a twinge in my stomach because I’d set my mind to move on, start a new life, and yet here I was. Charles couldn’t have been more wrong.

  Dr. Hubbard nodded. “Well, I don’t know what your motivation was, but I’m sure glad you had it because your recovery is remarkable.”

  “Thank you, Doc.”

  He examined me some more, but I could tell from the expression on his face that he was pleased with everything that he found.

  “Of course I want to continue to monitor you and make sure you don’t have any setbacks, but,” he closed his laptop, “Aja Clayton, I’m giving you a clean bill of health.”

  “That’s awesome,” I said.

  “I don’t know what your previous schedule was, but as long as you
’re not exerting too much energy, I think life as you know it can return to normal. If at any time you start feeling any pain, don’t be ashamed to grab a cane to help you around. You do have one, right?”

  Charles nodded. “Yes, and I’ll make sure she has everything that she needs to continue her recovery.”

  “Wonderful. In addition to continuing your recovery, any big plans coming up?” Dr. Hubbard asked.

  I was just about to open my mouth and tell him all the big plans I had with my gallery when Charles said, “We’re going to take it slow and I’ll be right by her side as she recovers.” He squeezed my shoulder.

  “Well, that’s just perfect,” Dr. Hubbard said. “Every woman should be so lucky.”

  I was lucky to have a man like Charles by my side. Everybody told me so.

  I inhaled, then expelled the little voice that kept trying to whisper “but” in my head. In that moment, I decided to stop fighting the side of me that was begging to break free.

  “Yes, every woman should be so lucky,” I said, with no sarcasm in my voice because I truly meant it. And my words brought a gigantic smile to my husband’s face.

  Chapter 30

  Silencing that inner voice was becoming a constant source of mental anguish. It seemed the more I tried to convince myself to accept that how things were was how they’d continue to be, the more my mind was fighting me. But every day Charles proved to me why I was a fool to even think about leaving him. Judy was right about one thing: Not many men would take their woman back, then nurse her back to health after she’d broken his heart. But Charles had done that and more.

  Since we’d left the doctor’s office and I got my clean bill of health last week, I’d tried my best to not think of the things I wanted in life and simply appreciate the things I had. Every morning, I reminded myself that I needed to do what I had done the last twenty years for the next twenty years. Love the life I lived. And even if I couldn’t get to the point of loving it, I needed to find a way to like it.

  That’s why I’d spent the last week trying my best to ward off thoughts of the life I’d begun creating before my accident.

  “There’s no reason you can’t have your gallery and your husband,” Roxie had told me just yesterday. I’d tried to talk to Charles about the gallery a couple of times during my rehabilitation, but he always managed to change the subject by telling me to focus on total healing.

  I didn’t know when or why I’d developed an either/or attitude, but my best friend had a point. And that thought had consumed me all night—to the point that I’d awakened with a new resolve: I would stay with my husband and open my gallery to showcase my work. Even if it was a scaled-down version of what I initially wanted, having a slice of the happiness pie was better than nothing at all.

  I was grateful that I had paid my deposit and Charles had called to pay up the monthly rent so I wouldn’t lose my building.

  We were all gathered now to celebrate Charles’s forty-eighth birthday, Eric and Anika had come in for the weekend. Judy was there, along with Eula, one of her friends. And of course, my girls. The lopsided balance of friends reminded me of how antisocial my husband was.

  Clink. Clink. Clink.

  Charles tapped on his glass with his fork as he stood. “I just want to say thank you to each of you for coming out and helping me celebrate my birthday. A few months ago, I didn’t think I’d have a cause for celebration. But if ever you doubted the power of God,” he put his hand on my shoulder, “we are a living testimony. And all of you know what Aja and I have been through.”

  I glanced up at him out the corner of my eye. Surely he was not going to put me on blast in front of everybody, especially my children, who didn’t know that I had actually left their father. Anika had noticed us settle back into our normal routine, so that must’ve satisfied her because she didn’t ask any more questions.

  I was glad when Charles skipped all the details and continued his speech. “Nursing my wife back to health has been heartbreaking because there have been times I wanted to chop my legs off and give them to her.”

  A chorus of “awws” resonated throughout the room.

  Charles continued, “Aja is my rib, my source of completion. She is everything that I’ve ever wanted in a woman.”

  I inhaled, then glanced over at Judy, whose lips were tight as she kept her eyes focused on her son. A few times over the last few weeks, Charles had put her in her place when it came to dealing with me.

  “So, on my birthday, I want to thank God for the greatest gift of all—my wife.” He leaned down and kissed me on the lips as everyone clapped.

  Simone was clapping the hardest. Nichelle looked happy that I had come to my senses. My eyes met with Roxie’s and her faux clap summed up how I felt inside.

  The clapping subsided and Charles held up his hand. “Hold on, there’s more,” he said, turning to my friends. “I know you ladies went to the DR for Aja’s birthday and probably don’t need another vacation,” he winked as they chuckled, “but I’m hoping you’ll be ready to go again in three months as I’m requesting, and this is a surprise to Aja, that you all join us for our twenty-first wedding anniversary and vow renewal in Turks and Caicos—on me.”

  Everyone started clapping again as I stared at my husband in shock. He hadn’t discussed any of this with me. I wouldn’t be able to go to Turks and Caicos in three months. I would just be getting my gallery off the ground.

  “I can’t wait to renew my vows,” Charles told me. “I can’t wait until you stand on the beach and we pledge our love to one another again. I want to spend my lifetime making you happy.”

  More “awws” as Charles took me into his arms and hugged me like I was a soldier about to go into combat.

  I was speechless. And not in a good way. Even though I’d resolved to make this marriage work, I hadn’t told Charles, so this announcement meant that he just assumed I wasn’t going anywhere. It meant that he had just discounted my feelings. Again. Everyone but my friends seemed oblivious to my change in demeanor. Both Nichelle and Simone had stopped clapping and were studying me like I was chemistry homework. Finally, after about ten minutes of chatter in the room, Roxie stood and said, “Charles, do you mind if I borrow your wife to escort me to the restroom?”

  Charles laughed and turned to Eric. “Son, in case you don’t already know, women have to travel in pairs to the restroom.”

  “Make that quadruplets,” Nichelle said, standing and flashing a smile as she pulled Simone up and followed me and Roxie.

  Inside the restroom, Nichelle pulled a scene out of a movie and checked the stalls. When she noticed everything was clear, she turned to me.

  “Could you be any less interested in your husband’s enthusiastic announcement?” she asked.

  “Who said I was disinterested?” I replied.

  “Your body!” Simone exclaimed.

  “Look,” Roxie said, stepping next to me and taking my hand, “I know you’ve been to hell and back. And I know you’re grateful to Charles, but if this isn’t what you want . . .”

  I pulled my hand away and walked off. “I don’t know what I want. I mean, I do. I appreciate everything that Charles has done. But that scene out there—that’s what I’ve been living for twenty years. Doing what he wants. Doing what the kids want. What about what I want?” Fresh tears sprang to my eyes as Roxie hugged me.

  “Calm down, sweetie.”

  I sniffed, wiped my tears, then added, “I want to do what I was doing before my accident. Start my new life. I don’t want to show my gratitude for Charles taking care of me by giving my life back to him.”

  This seesaw of indecisiveness was too much. I would never be happy if I stayed. That was the brutal truth. That was the reality I needed to face. Oh, I might convert back to my complacent life—but my heart grimaced at that idea.

  “I want more,” I added, my voice low.

  “Then go get it,” Simone said, turning me around to face her. “The worst thing I ever did was guil
t Ben into staying with me when he told me he was ready to go,” she said, referring to her ex. “I cried and acted such a fool that he stayed, but his heart didn’t. For the last four years, his heart wasn’t there, and that made our marriage miserable.”

  “Guys, I understand we want to support her,” Nichelle said, “but marriage is about ups and downs. Hard work. Forgiveness. We all get bored. But maybe you need to find a way to put a spark back into your marriage.”

  I looked out at three sets of eyes. One telling me to go. One telling me to stay, and the third . . . I couldn’t make out the expression on Roxie’s face.

  “What do you think, Roxie?” I asked her.

  She folded her arms. “I think this is something you have to come to terms with yourself. I think you have lived for others all your life and it’s time for you to live for you. Whether that’s with Charles or without is a call only you can make. But I will tell you this, Charles is a good guy and you can’t begrudge him for trying to make it work, whether it’s the vacation, the vow renewal, or his persistence. But you shouldn’t stay with him out of guilt. Whatever you decide to do, just talk to him about it.”

  “Just not today,” Nichelle added. “It is his birthday.”

  I nodded as I grabbed a paper towel to wipe my tears. I knew she was right. They all were. There was no more indecisiveness. It was time to go.

  “Thank you, ladies. I love you so much.” I extended my arms until we were all in a group hug.

  “Know what else I think?” Nichelle said, pulling back. “I think we need to get back out there before Ms. Eula drinks up all the Dom Pérignon.”

  “Nichelle!” I said.

  “Girl, what?” she replied. “Y’all know Ms. Eula is a lush.”

  “Takes one to know one,” Simone said.

  We laughed as we headed back to our table.

  Chapter 31

  I took my time walking across the room. One end of the room to the other, over and over. I marveled at the ease with which one foot went in front of the other. I had been doing that for about twenty minutes when I felt some eyes on me. I turned to see Charles standing in the doorway, a smile across his face.