“You will stay here at least until you see that neurologist! And you will get a referral from him to a specialist in Cincinnati! You will not leave here until you have done at least that!”
Troy stared at her. She glared at him. His adam’s apple bobbed and he nodded his head once and slowly went back up the stairs.
***
“I went to see the neurologist today.” Troy was lying on his bed. It was three days later. He’d been leaving long messages in which he just pretended that she was talking to him. It was okay to do that since he wasn’t really crazy.
“Babe, he put me through every test imaginable. EEG, MRI, blood, urine. And then more forms, more documents and he took me off the phenytoin and put me on something called ethosuximide.” He rambled on and on about side effects, different medicine, how much they cost.
“He’s giving me a referral to a good neurologist in Cincinnati. He wants to see me one more time in three days to see how this medication interacts with my headaches. But after that…well I’ll come home. I miss you lots, Juice. Do you miss me?” He waited but of course she wasn’t really there. He hung up slowly.
He called Juicy several times a day; if he had a thought that he wanted to share with her or just to say goodnight or good morning. He stopped becoming upset if she didn’t answer because he was doing what he needed to do and that was all there was to it.
“Hi Juice.” He murmured into the phone, eyes drooping. “I was I was I was…I was trying to call you be-before the migraine hit but I was too late. So sooooooo…I love you…”
The next morning he called and said. “Hey Juice, I was holding the phone in my hand when I woke up this morning. Did I call you?”
Later he called to say; “Oh man, this medicine is jacking me up. I keep blacking out. Not sure if I can do this one.”
That night he called to say; “Hey Juice? Do you think Miss Vernetta is mad at me because I didn’t bring her cookies?”
***
“Hi J-Juice. I’ve been having bad seizures.” He was gripping his stomach as he paced in his bedroom. “I’m tired a lot but its okay. The medicine is just showing up in my system is all. We think that one of the medications that I’m taking for the migraines is interacting badly with the seizure medicine which is making it worse than ever. I told the doctor that I don’t want treatment for the migraines. They aren’t as often and he can just give me something to reduce the pain once it is already happening.
“Also, something is really bothering my stomach.” He paused. “Are you…there? I’ll be coming home tomorrow. It’s been almost two weeks and I miss you so much. You know what he told me? He told me that my focal seizures may go away permanently with medicine and that means that I’ll be able to drive.” He hadn’t thought he’d ever be able to do that, now it was another goal.
“It would be nice not to have to carry the muffins on the bus. Do you know how often people try to buy them off of me?” He chuckled. “I miss you and I miss the shop and the ladies and baking.” He sighed. “I want to hold you, Juice.” He hung up and then hurried to the toilet.
The next day he called her again. “Juice? Please answer just once. I’m going to the bus station now. Everyone in my family will be sending me off; even my little nieces and nephews. I told them they’d be having another little cousin real soon…So, I guess I’ll see you in a few hours. Juice…I really needed you.” He hung up the phone with a disappointed sigh. After a moment of staring at the phone, hoping that it would ring he picked it up and dialed the hospital that he’d only just recently been a patient.
He asked to speak to Rebecca and got some information that he needed then he went downstairs. “On the way to the bus station, do you think we can make a quick stop?”
Troy walked down the white linoleum floor, following an orange stripe that would lead him to the psychiatric ward. He stopped at the receptionist desk. These people dressed in nurses clothing. He spoke to her for a few moments and she pointed a short distance down the hall.
When he reached the room that he was looking for, he knocked on the door lightly. A few moments later Jace Macadue opened it and his eyes grew large with surprise. Troy grinned sheepishly.
“What-?”
“I’m a visitor, not a patient.” He explained.
Jace grinned broadly. “You came to visit me?”
Troy entered the room and looked around. “Isn’t that what friends do?”
CHAPTER 17
“Troy, I want to come with you.” Bob said seriously.
“You want to run away from home?” Troy joked. He knew that everyone was afraid for him, concerned about him going away from them and wondering how fragile his emotions were. After all he was on a new course of medication and that alone was enough to cause some concern. He blacked out more frequently, his tremors were more pronounced and he had bouts of stomach problems.
But he had faced things tougher than that and survived. Maybe one day he would share those things with his family; but only if they asked.
“You might need…someone to talk to.” His lip twisted grimly. He thought that Juicy would dump his ass or an argument might send him flying off the handle.
“You’re just a phone call away, right?”
Bob nodded. “But if you need your big brother I’ll be there in a flash, right by your side Troy.”
He looked down. “I know.” They hugged briefly and Troy boarded the bus back to Cincinnati; back to his life and his future.
***
It didn’t really make sense that he didn’t have a cell phone. In actuality, his life would be so much simpler if he didn’t have to worry about having change so that he could call Juicy to tell her that he was getting off the bus and waiting for a cab. And yes, he was going to use his brand new CREDIT CARD to pay for the fare. Some things were too much of a hassle to deal with; like stopping at an ATM machine when he ran out of ready cash, so while back in Connecticut he had received his very first credit card.
As the cab let him out in front of the Brownstone that was his home, he thought about Juicy’s dark, nearly black eyes that slanted slightly and looked so beautiful on her rounded face, and her deep chocolate skin highlighted by her long golden dreds. His heart began to pound in anticipation as he hurried up the stairs. Two weeks was a long time not to see the woman that you’re in love with.
He slipped the key into the lock and was calling her name before he even pushed open the door. “Juicy?!” He looked around. The apartment was a mess. He closed the front door and walked inside, stunned. He stooped to pick up clothes. It was as if she’d come home and stepped right out of her clothes as she walked.
“Juice?” He hurried into the spare room, the one that had been used to do her customer’s hair. It was the same as they’d left it. Then he checked her bedroom. The room smelled. There was old food containers, plates with old dried up food on it, the bed even had food on it. He had never seen this apartment in disarray. Juicy prided herself on being neat and clean.
Troy took a step to the phone and felt his head spin. “Shit!” Not now! He clapped his hand loudly. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you black out! Don’t! You are not going to…to…” He sighed and his face went slack. His eyes went glassy as he stared unseeing into the distance.
Less than a minute later he took a stumbling step forward. For a moment he couldn’t remember where he was and what he’d been doing. Something was badly wrong but he couldn’t—JUICY! He reached for the phone and dialed the shop but when he put the phone to his ear he heard nothing. He looked down and saw that it had been unplugged. He reached down and quickly plugged the end into the receptacle. She had unplugged the phone…
He began to panic and pace as he dialed the number to the shop.
It rang impossibly long before someone answered. “Hello, Juicy’s house of hair. How can-”
“Let me speak to Juicy!” His words came out all run together.
“Huh?” came the voice. “Is this Candyman?”
“Yes! Where’s Juicy?”
“Juicy ain’t here. She ain’t been here in almost two weeks and she don’t answer her phone. Look, Troy, I don’t mind-”
“What?!”
Ebonique got quiet. “Troy? Didn’t you know?”
He ran his hand through his hair, his face falling. “Well…where is she?”
“Well I don’t know…I assumed she was at home on bedrest. She asked me to watch the shop because she’s sick. She’s got some disease or-”
“DISEASE?!” He started panting and dots were forming in front of his eyes. Not happening! Not again! He stomped his feet and kept pacing to fight off another bout of unconsciousness. “What do you mean, disease?!”
“Okay! Don’t yell at me!”
“I’m sorry Eboni, but-”
“She got something called Fre-erasia, or…something like that.”
Fre-erasia? He repeated the word over and over trying to understand it.
“Look, Candyman, Juicy’s customers keep calling here asking for her and cussing us out. She going to lose her customer’s if she ain’t careful.”
“Uh…I’ll call you back later.” He sat down on the couch, flopping down more than sitting down. “Fre-erasia.” He looked around suddenly, than he tore through the apartment searching for some paperwork. If she was sick then there had to be something…an invoice, something. This is why the bedroom looked as it did. She was supposed to be on bed rest—and he hadn’t been here. She had been sick and he hadn’t been here!
Then he found what he was looking for in the kitchen on the cluttered counter. There was an appointment card that said Weds. May 23 5pm. Dr. Luenenberger. Tri Health Associates. He checked the clock. It was five til six. She was at the doctor’s then. He relaxed a little. Then he went to the phone again and dialed the number on the card.
“H-he-hello. I-I’m tr-trying toooo…” He took a deep breath and calmed down. “…trying to get in t-touch with my g-girlfriend. Her name is Juicy Robinson and she has an appointment t-today.”
“Oh, Miss Robinson, you just missed her. I checked her out myself.”
“Oh…ok.” He was just getting ready to hang up when he remembered. “Oh! Can I ask you a question?”
“Okay.” She said in a guarded voice.
“Is there a disease called fre-erasia?”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. Thanks.” He hung up. He looked at the clock once again and then checked the fridge. She’d been shopping. Good, he would do what he did best.
***
Juicy walked up the apartment stairs, stopping once to rest. She was so tired. It wasn’t the fact that she carried a bag filled with oranges, apples, bananas some more of that grotesque raw spinach, romaine lettuce, roma tomatoes and ranch dressing. She was just tired all of the time now. She wanted to get into the house, step out of her clothes, make a quick salad and then climb into bed and lay down. That should make Dr. Lueneneberger happy. He was always harping on her blood pressure and staying off her feet. But how did he expect her to get to his office every three days if she was really off her feet? He wasn’t offering to make a house call!
She slipped the key into the lock and opened the door kicking it closed behind her. She stepped out of her shoes and was half way to the kitchen before she heard his quiet voice.
“Juice?” She jumped. Troy was standing in the doorway of the bedroom. She blinked and looked around, coming out of a fog. The apartment had been cleaned and was that the aroma of roast beef coming from the oven?
He came forward and nervously swept back his hair. He needed another cut, it was back to falling into his eyes.
“You haven’t been to the shop in days-” he began.
“How would you know?”
He studied her listless expression. “Right.” He quickly took the bag from her arms and carried it to the kitchen. Juicy didn’t respond, didn’t really seem to care. He looked back at her, unnerved by the blank expression on her face. “I called the shop when I couldn’t get you here.” Juicy moved to the kitchen with him, but went directly to the fridge and got a bottled water. She didn’t seem to be listening. He absently started unpacking the bag.
“I’ve been calling and calling; both your cell as well as the home phone…but I didn’t realize that you’d unplugged it.” She shrugged. “So I plugged it back in and called the shop. Eboni told me that you were home sick and no one’s been able to reach you and well…I waited.” He looked around, “and cleaned.” He looked at her belly and wanted to touch it, to touch her. But not when she looked like she’d rather him leave then be here.
“What’s wrong with you Juice? Is the baby okay?”
Her expression frosted over. “No…You don’t get to ask me that! You don’t get to just walk back in here after two weeks, then ask me questions!” She slammed the half filled bottle onto the breakfast bar.
He was nodding his head in complete acceptance of her words. “I checked myself into a mental hospital; seventy-two hour hold. It’s what I
told
you in my messages.” She watched him without the slightest inkling of interest. “You didn’t even listen to even one of them, did you?” He couldn’t even pretend to hide the disappointment on his face.
She sucked in an annoyed breath and walked into the bedroom where she stripped out of her clothes, letting them drop to the floor. He followed feeling his disappointment turn into annoyance. He’d been doing all of this for her; her and the baby. But she didn’t give a damn about anything but her own anger.