Authors: Dwan Abrams

When the Fairytale Ends (17 page)

BOOK: When the Fairytale Ends

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She understood the implications of that request and quickly jumped out of her seat. However, when they got home, the pasta she had devoured disagreed with her stomach, and she spent the next half hour in the bathroom, retching up the contents of her belly.

Greg thought maybe he could get some after her stomach settled, but by then she wasn't in the mood and told him she just wanted to be held. Greg didn't push the issue. He simply took her to bed and held her in his arms. Was this what he had to look forward to? Months of rejection?

Fourteen

The past two weeks seemed to fly by. Greg had elicited the help of a realtor who attended his church to help him find a location for his shop. The more he thought about it, the more excited he became. He felt like, if push came to shove, he could use his severance money to start his business venture in the event the loan fell through. That'd be enough to get started.

It seemed like he had just fallen asleep when his phone started ringing. Greg popped open one eye and looked at the caller ID. It was Franklin, so he ignored the call. But Franklin kept calling back-to-back. Finally, Greg answered the phone and growled out, “What, man? What do you want?”

“Wake up and get here ASAP.”

The sound of his voice caused any remnants of sleep to vanish like steam. Greg jumped up in bed and threw the covers off of him. “What's going on? What's wrong, Frank?”

“Mother Washington is in real bad shape, man.”

“What you mean?” Greg exclaimed, already slipping into a pair of jogging pants. “I just went by there earlier today, and she wasâ”

“Listen, man, me and Kaiya are over here now, and I'm telling you, she's not doing good. The doctors done gave her a three percent chance.”

“A three percent chance?” Greg looked at the phone incredulously. He hoped that this was just a sick joke, Franklin taking his humor overboard. He knew that this wasn't so. Franklin joked around a lot, but he knew his friend wouldn't joke about something like this. He wondered what in the world had gone wrong to cause things to go to such an extreme.

Just as he was about to wake Shania, her phone started ringing. With her eyes still closed, she reached over and grabbed the phone, put it to her ear and said, “Hello?”

Greg only half listened to her conversation while he pulled on a shirt and stuffed his feet into a pair of shoes. But when Shania screamed into the phone, Greg's head whipped around and he hurried to her side, feeling like someone had just sucker punched him in his gut. Her eyes looked like platters, and she was pressing trembling fingers against her lips.

Frightened out of his mind, Greg held his chest and wondered if it was healthy for his heart to palpitate like this so many times in such a short time span.

“What's going on, babe?” he asked, but she held up one finger, quieting him as she continued to listen to whoever was on the other end of the phone.

“But are you okay?” she yelled into the phone. “Okay, okay,” she said, throwing back the covers and jumping out of the bed. “I'm on the way now. What hospital are y'all at?” She nodded her head repeatedly. “Okay, I'm on the way.”

Greg stared at her, utterly confused. “What . . . what's going on, babe? Was that about Mother Washington?”

“Mother Washington?” She frowned as she hopped in a pair of pants to get them past her thighs. “No, that was Cheyenne. Jonathan's been shot again.”

Greg's eyes widened. “Again? How'd he get shot?”

“I don't know,” Shania snapped as she pulled off her night slip and searched through her dresser drawer. “I could barely understand Cheyenne, because she was crying so hard. She said something about a drive-by and bulletsâI don't know. All I know is that Jonathan got shot.” Shania pulled out a blue shirt and pulled it over her head. “
That's
why I told her to leave that boy alone. He is no good for her. All that talk about God and change wasn't nothing but a front, and he almost fooled me too. Almost. He ain't about nothing, don't want to be nothing, and ain't gonna be nothing. I can minister to him until I'm black and blue in the face, but that's not gonna change a thing. I can't change him and Cheyenne can't change him, either. He has to want to change for himself.” She rolled her eyes upward. “Cheyenne can do bad all by herself.”

Greg didn't have time to listen to his wife rant on and on. He cut her off mid-sentence. “What hospital is he at?”

“South Georgia Medical Center.”

He grabbed the keys to his bike, then said, “Okay, well you head that way, and I'm going over to Piedmont. Be careful, and call or text me when you get there.”

“Piedmont?” She paused in getting dressed and stared at Greg sideways. “What are you going over there for?”

“Franklin just called me,” he said, tussling with his motorcycle jacket. “They're giving Mother Washington a three percent chance to live. I've got to get over there.”

As he sped down the road, darting in and out of traffic, Greg asked God what in the world was going on in his life. He'd lost his job, a woman who was like a second mother to him had basically been given a death sentence, and now his brother-in-law had been shotâ again. The more he thought about the negativities in his life, the angrier he became. Then he heard a small voice whisper in his ear,
Whatever is positive, whatever is loving, whatever is of good report, set your mind on these things.

Greg understood that if he continued to look at all the wrong in his life, he would end up digging himself into an abysmal pit of despair. Not missing a beat, he began to combat his negative thoughts with positive ones. He had a baby on the way. Even without a job, he and his wife were secure and didn't have to worry about a roof over their heads or food in their mouths. His wife had just had an amazing door of opportunity opened for her. His best friend had finally found true love. Most of all, no matter what happened with Mother Washington, she had already assured him that there was peace in her soul. Knowing this, he still prayed that Mother and Jonathan would be all right.

When he arrived at the hospital, he locked his bike and ran along the corridor and made two left turns. At the receptionist desk, he requested Mother Washington's floor and room number. They had moved her over to the intensive care unit. The first person he saw when the elevator door opened was Franklin standing in the middle of the hallway, hugging his riding helmet as though it was a teddy bear.

“Frank.”

Franklin looked up and gave Greg the saddest smile he'd ever seen on his friend. They hugged each other and thudded each other's backs. Then Franklin said, “Kaiya's in there with her now.”

“How's Mother doing?”

Franklin's skin looked pasty as he spoke. “It's a tumor in her brain.”

Greg's heart dropped to his soul.

“And the doctor said it's inoperable.”

Greg held his stomach and had to literally fight back vomit. He wished Franklin would shut up, but he kept talking.

“The doctors said that
if
she lives, she'll be in a vegetative state. But that's
if
she lives.”

Greg shook his head and stared up at the ceiling, non-verbally asking God why. Kaiya walked out of Mother Washington's room. She had been crying so much that her eyes looked like two watery Roma tomatoes. She rushed into Franklin's outstretched arms, and he held and rocked her from side to side. Greg left them to each other and tapped softly on Mother Washington's door before allowing himself in.

A nurse was in the room, checking Mother's vitals. She looked over her shoulder at Greg and gave him a sympathetic smile. “You must be the son she keeps talking about.”

The nurse's words almost sent him to his knees. Only a single thread was holding him up, and he felt that at any second, the thread would snap and he would collapse in despair.

“She's pumped full of morphine,” the nurse assured him, “so she's feeling no pain. If you need me, just press the red button.” She bowed out of the room.

As soon as Greg laid eyes on Mother Washington, he felt like breaking down. He hated seeing her lying there with tubes sticking out of her. He plastered on a fake smile, hoping she wouldn't pick up on his trepidation. Though he was only a few steps away from the bed, the walk to her bedside seemed like the longest walk he'd ever taken in his life. He took a chair and pulled it to the side of the bed before taking a seat. Mother Washington had a serious expression on her face but attempted to smile when she saw him. He encouraged her not to. He could tell that every move, no matter how minor, made her uncomfortable.

Careful not to disturb the tubes, Greg touched Mother Washington's leg. “You'll be all right,” he assured her. It hurt him to speak; it felt like someone had punched him in his throat, and he was trying to talk around the pain.

Her eyes filled with tears as a faint sound escaped her lips. He leaned in closer to hear her stammer, “I don't think so, suga. But all is well with my soul.”

He turned his head away and looked at the window so she wouldn't see the tears that were threatening to spill down his face. He knew he needed to be strong, so he blinked repeatedly until the tears dissolved and returned to their ducts.

Looking back at Mother Washington, he noticed that her skin no longer looked brown, but gray. He leaned down and kissed her cold cheek and whispered in her ear, “The God we serve is able to do exceedingly, abundantly, above all we can ask or think.”

“Yes, He can.” Mother looked at the ceiling and nodded.

Greg didn't like to think about the possibility of Mother Washington dying. He felt the need to open his heart to her and tell her just how much she meant to him. When he opened his mouth, no words came out, just a heart-wrenched sob.

“It's okay to cry, suga,” she said, and patted his leg. “Go 'head and cry, chile. Crying won't make you any less of a man.”

At her prompting, he dropped his chin against his chest and let the tears flow. He sniffed hard to keep snot from running down his lips while he talked. “All my life,” he said, while still looking at his lap, “I always felt like I lived in my brother's shadow. Like I had to work extra hard to prove to my parents that I was just as good a son as he.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and then dried his hand on his pants. “But when I'm with you, Mother”âhe wiped his nose again and looked over at herâ“when I'm with you, I don't feel like I have to compete, you know? I can be myself and you don't judge me. You just shower me with love. You've taught me what it means to be a good man, a godly man, and a good husband. I don't know . . . if I can make it . . .” He gasped and tried to catch his breath. “Without you.”

Mother looked over at him and gave him that toothless grin that he had fallen in love with. “You can and you will. Sometimes God puts us in situations that we ain't got no control over. When that happens, know that even when you can't trace Him, just trust Him.”

Greg nodded his head and his shoulders shook while he sobbed. Then he pulled himself together and said, “Are your feet cold?”

“Chile, yes,” she said. “For all the warmth these hospital blankets give me, I might as well be laying here naked.”

Greg chuckled, always amazed at how she could make him laugh despite the situation. Carefully, he sat on the edge of the bed and uncovered her feet. They felt like chunks of ice in his hands. As he massaged them, he listened to Mother reminisce on all the good times they'd shared. Before he knew it, Mother Washington had him laughing with her jokes and antics, and for a moment in time he let himself forget about the severity of the situation.

The nurse returned to the room and said, “Ms. Washington, a young lady who says she's your daughter is here to see you. But the doctor told me to only let one visitor in at a time.”

Greg lifted his eyebrow at the nurse, then turned to face Mother Washington. “I thought Kaiya has already been in here.”

Mother Washington sighed deeply, then shook her head gently from side to side. “It's not Kaiya. It's Kristen.”

“No. No!” Greg said, jumping off the bed. He pointed at the nurse, who gave him a frightened look, as though she was about to go call security. “Don't you dare let that woman in here.”

“Greg, hush yo' mouth,” Mother Washington reprimanded him. “She might be a hateful somebody, but in my heart, she's still my child. And there's something I need to tell her before it's too late. You gon' out there and let her come in here so I can speak to her.”

Again, Greg held his chest as his heart palpitated. “What if she tries to hurt you again?”

Mother Washington pointed up at the ceiling. “No weapon formed against me is gonna prosper. That's what my Father told me.”

She had a point there. Reluctantly, Greg nodded. “Well, I'll leave out the room for now, but I'm spending the night here with you.”

“No, you ain't,” she corrected him. “You got a pregnant wife at home to tend to, and you don't need to be sitting here worried about me. Get on outta here and tell that pretty wife of yours I said she better take care of herself and take care of that baby. And, Gregory,” she added, almost as an afterthought, “you listening to me?”

Intuition told him to listen closely to what she was about to say.

“No matter the situation, God's always gonna make a way for you to escape.”

BOOK: When the Fairytale Ends

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