Shattered and Shaken (7 page)

Here I am mourning my brother - her son, and she's out
livin' it up, not giving a damn about my wellbeing - not that anyone does, but shit, she's my mother. She should be here helping me through my pain, dammit.

I heard through the neighborhood gossip that she quit her second job at the church last week, so she can't be that fucking occupied. I understand her being gone during the day, but for her to evacuate our home for weeks at a time is ridiculous. My stomach lets out a loud growl. I check the time on my phone and it reads six-thirty. Where is she? She told me she was going to pick up Chinese take-out and grab a movie; it shouldn't take her an hour to complete those two simple tasks. Just as I begin to dial her number, a loud thud sounds from outside the door. Running over to look out of the window, I see my mom with her hands full, purse hanging off her shoulder, and she's digging for her keys. Why doesn't she just ring the doorbell?

Swinging the door open, I help her in. “Why didn't you just ring the bell? Would've been a lot easier," I sigh dramatically. She walks past me, giving me a once-over.

“What's wrong with you?” What the hell is it with her and once-overs? Normally, people who give you a so called “once-over” either hate you or want a piece of you - you do NOT give them to your daughter! Shutting the door, I follow her into the kitchen. Removing our food from the brown bags, she takes a step back and crosses her arms over her chest. And I know that she's watching me because I can feel her eyes on me.

Call me childish if you'd like, but I still believe in giving the silent treatment when someone's wronged me. I don't look at her; I don't acknowledge her in any way. Opening the containers, I empty the contents onto my plate, looking back inside the bag in search for chopsticks. I don't know why; I don't know how to use the damn things. As I search through the bags, my mother clears her throat and begins to tap her shoe against the tile impatiently, but I continue to ignore her.

“Allie, is there something you want to get off your chest?” Really? She's going to give me attitude? She's the one who abandoned me while I'm in the most vulnerable state of mind. Shaking my head, I remain silent and continue to make my way out of the kitchen. I flip on the television and put in “The Call” DVD; it's our movie of choice this week.

I go over to take a seat on the floor ready to dig in.

“I don't know what's going on with you and all your bitchiness, Al, but if you've got something you need to say to me, say it," she hisses.

Ohmygod....I'm choking, on chicken! I can't believe the words that just left her mouth, Mom never curses - I'm rubbing off on her. Is it sad that I'm choking because I heard the word “bitchiness” leave her lips? I sucked in a breath to begin laughing, but sucked down some chicken instead. It's like catching the little old lady who attends your church dropping F-bombs in the middle of service. Oh yeah, it's happened before; funniest shit ever.

Mom doesn't attempt to help me dislodge the chicken from my throat, because according to her, I'm not in any danger. She says if you can tell someone you're choking, or you're able to cough, you aren't actually choking. Yeah, well, tell that shit to the person whose airway is constricted by a fucking piece of Chinese chicken! Oh shit. I'm seeing spots. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Placing my hands over my throat, I give her the national I'm choking sign, but she doesn't help me. It’s official; she's trying to kill me off. After about five minutes of coughing, I finally cough out the foreign object. “Thanks for the help,” I wheeze.

“Oh please, you weren't choking; otherwise, I would've helped you, you know that.” Do I? Do I know that? Hell, I'm not even sure I know the woman standing before me anymore.

“How many people die from choking?” I ask curiously.

“Well statistics say around 2,500 each year.”
 

You've got to be shitting me! “2,500?” I confirm.

“Yeah. Why?” 

“Well the amount of deaths would decrease significantly if you'd perform the Heimlich maneuver while the person's actively choking. You know, when there's coughing and difficulty breathing from something like, umm, I don't know, a piece of chicken in their throat!” I don't know where medical personnel come up with this shit. Coughing, gasping for air, pleading for help, equals choking. No words, no coughing - that shit equals death!

“Clearly, you're fine." She's laughing at me like I'm some sort of joke, but I'm as serious as a heart attack. In fact, I'm going to do some research on how to educate the people that come up with the guidelines for performing such things as the Heimlich maneuver and CPR - the shit needs to be revised.

We take our places on the couch and begin the movie, and let me tell you that Halle Berry plays one bad-ass operator. I don't want to give away the details and ruin it for you, but it's a must-watch. Mom has been unusually quiet tonight. It must have something to do with the bitchy childish vibe I’m letting off.
 As the movie ends, we say our goodnights and head to bed. While I climb the steps, she speaks to me for the first time since my choking incident. She asked me out to brunch tomorrow morning; there's someone she wants me to meet. I'm hoping it's her mysterious friend. I seriously need some answers into what the hell is going on with my mom and who has taken her hostage. Because I’ll be damned if I believe that the woman I spent tonight with is the woman who gave birth to me. Nope. Something is most definitely off.

Chapter Six

I’M WOKEN BY LOUD pounding coming from outside of my bedroom door. I reach over to grab the pillow and place it over my face, trying to drown out the sound, and it works; for a second that is. The pounding becomes louder. “Allie! Get up! We're running late,” my mother shouts from outside my door. Shit, I forgot to set my alarm. I pry my eyes open and see it's 11:00am; looks like we're going to lunch instead of brunch.

I get out of bed and stumble over to open the door. “Shit, sorry. I'll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

She shakes her head in disapproval at my profanity usage. “Okay, well I'm going to go on over to meet Jack; he's been there for an hour already and I don't wanna keep him waiting any longer.”

Now hold on just one got damn minute. “Jack?” I confirm.

“Yes, Jack. I'll explain when you arrive at Betty's.” she kisses me on the cheek and makes her way downstairs. Jack? She better hope that's short for Jackie.

I don't have time to primp, so I pull my hair back into a loose ponytail, throw on a yellow sundress with cowboy boots, and head out. I arrive to Betty's at 11:45 and it's slammed. Betty's is a small local home-cooked diner; they have the best homemade pancakes I've ever put into my mouth, and thankfully, I still have fifteen minutes to order them.

Hallefrigginlujah!

I walk into the sixties-style diner and search the booths for my mother, but I don't see her. I scan the area one last time searching for her, but my vision is suddenly blocked by a tall man in a business suit; he towers over me by at least a foot. His stature is broad; he looks to be in his early fifties. His hair's cut short and combed aside, and his brows furrow as his brown eyes question me. “Allie?” he asks.

Who is this guy, and how does he know my name? My mama raised me to never speak to strangers. “I'm sorry, who are you?” I question.

He gives me a slight smile. “How rude of me. I'm Jack. Pleasure to meet you.” He extends his hand out, greeting me - I don't shake it. As I lift my eyes from his hand, my mother appears behind him.

“There you are, love, took you long enough.” She walks past Jack and embraces me in a hug.

“Follow me. We already have a booth, here in the back,” Jack says, guiding us towards the back of Betty's. Mom releases me and follows behind him. Her face is glowing and she's wearing that smile again; the smile she wore when Dad was alive.

It takes a minute for my feet to cooperate with my brain, but eventually, I'm able to accompany them to the table. I scoot inside the booth by myself, and the waitress takes my order. I order a glass of chocolate milk and an order of pancakes. The waitress makes her way around the table, taking Jack's order last.

Looking across the table, I see my mom swooning over this man I've never met. As Jack places his order, I glare holes into him, waiting for an explanation. My mother looks like a love-sick puppy - it disgusts me. I can’t help it. I’m seriously
freaked out and everything about this whole situation is all sorts of wrong. “So Jack, how did you know who I was?”

He looks nervously at my mother, and she gives him a slight nod, urging him to answer the question. “Well, your mother and I...we've been, um…” he clears his throat and beads of sweat form on his forehead, “we've been dating for quite sometime. I've seen several picture of you over the past few months or so.”

What the motherfucking fuck?  “I'm sorry, what?” Dating... he can't be serious.

“Jack and I've been seeing each other since January,” Mom announces.

Oh shit, a lump the size of a golf ball rises into my throat. I can't swallow and my pulse is rising. “Wh-What?” I stammer. I don't believe this shit. Now, I'm the one sweating. Fuck a fucking donkey! I'm sweating worse than a menopausal woman experiencing hot flushes in the middle of the Sahara desert. Mom reaches across the table, grabbing my wrist as I try to exit the booth. “Don't you fucking touch me,” I seethe, yanking my wrist from her grasp.

Am I behaving like a spoiled child? All hells types of yes. Do I fucking care? That will be a big fat no. I can’t even pinpoint what the hell I’m feeling right now. I just know that I have to get the fuck outta here.

Exiting the booth, I haul ass through Betty's, rushing to get into my car. Mom and Jack follow behind me, pleading for me to stop so they can explain. As their voices get closer, I increase speed, and hop into my car faster than lightning strikes. Inserting the key into the ignition, I crank the engine to life and back out of the parking space. Placing the gear in drive, I put the pedal to the metal and take off. The tires squeal in protest at my driving. I drive as if there's someone shooting bullets at my ass. I don't look back. I can't see her cry, and I'm pretty sure I've just broken her heart.

As I pull up to the house, I see that my phone has ten missed calls, all of which are from my mom. I can't deal with this right now. Dad hasn't been gone long enough for her to move on. Why hasn't she mentioned Jack before? She could've at least beat around the bush with this information and eased me into the idea of her being with another man. Doesn’t the sun set slowly, warning us night is falling? She could have mentioned the word dating a time or two, anything, but there were no warnings. Now, looking back on my actions, I may have overreacted. I mean, I want her to be happy; she deserves it. However, I will not apologize for my foolishness, my pride is too strong.
 

Throwing my phone into my purse, I exit the car and go inside. Sprinting to my bedroom, I grab a bag, and pack items I'll need for a few days away. I grab my toothbrush, hair necessities, panties, and enough clothes to last me the rest of the week. I zip my bag and hurry down to my car. I want to leave before Mom gets home. I know I can’t handle seeing her right now. If I do, my mouth’s going to get me in trouble. I love her and I want her to be happy. I really do. But shit, everything is too fast, too soon.

Fishing my phone from my purse, I text Sophie to let her know that I'm coming over, and I need to stay with her for a few days. She replies letting me know it’s fine, not that I needed a confirmation, but I thought I'd at least pretend to need her permission. Normally, it takes me ten minutes to get to her apartment, but today, I'm furious and it affected my driving - I made it in five.

I silence the engine and remove my keys from the ignition. Exiting my car, I leave my bag in the passenger’s seat. I dash towards the stairs, and I take them two at a time. As I conquer the last flight, Sophie's standing in the doorway waiting for me. “Damn, Al, you okay?” She moves aside and gestures for me to enter her home. I dart past her and plop down onto her black leather couch. I land in an uncomfortable position, but I don't bother moving. For those of you that have leather couches, you know when you sweat, you stick. I know this, but still I don’t have the energy or the ability to give two fucks.

Leaning forward, I place my elbows on my knees, and hang my head, shaking it in disbelief. Sophie walks over to me and places her hand upon my back. “Allie?” She pauses, providing a chance for me to explain. What is it about the touch from a loved one that sends you into a complete crying spell? She begins to rub her hand in circular motions around my back while I cry.

Neither one of us speaks for what seems like hours. She doesn't ask questions or dig through my mind, she just comforts me in complete silence. After I finish flooding her house with tears, I make my way to her bed; all the anger, the hurt, and the crying has made me exhausted. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I'm out.

I wake up gasping for air from a horrific dream. I look around in complete panic, taking in my surroundings; it takes me a moment to realize where I am. After realizing that I'm safe, I'm able to breathe again, and I begin to remember why I'm here. I lie back down and try to stabilize my breathing  as my mind wanders back to the dream I just woke up from.

Mom was upstairs reading in her room, or so she said. The door was locked and there was an unfamiliar voice coming from behind the door. “Yeah baby...just like that,” the man moaned.

“You like that?” I heard my mother ask.

”Oh yeah, I fuckin' love it,” he replied.

The sound of jingling keys grabbed my attention as the front door downstairs opened, then closed. I went to make my way down to greet whoever it was entering our home, but before I made it down the stairs, my father greeted me at the half way mark. “Hey sweetie,” he said smiling. “Where's Mom?” he asks.

I didn't want to lie, so I shrugged my shoulders at him. He leaned down, placed a kiss on top of my head and headed for his room; the room my mother was in with the mysterious man. As he approached the door, he came to a halt and pressed his ear against it, listening to the voices. He reached up and undid his tie. His face turned blood red, and I heard him mumble something that sounded like “fucking whore” under his breath.

He stepped away from the door and backed up across the hall. He popped his neck by jerking his head from side-to-side. He took in a few breaths and then...CRASH! Dad kicked his bedroom door open. I heard Mom scream and I ran to them. I saw Dad fall to his knees. Standing in front of Dad was a man I didn't know. It was difficult to make out his face; it was blurred. Mystery Man held a gun right at my father's head, and he pulled the trigger...
.

Thankfully, I woke up before I got to witness the end result. My eyes scan the room in search for a clock. I have no clue what time it is or how long I've been asleep. I look at Sophie's alarm clock, but since the last time I was here, she's broken it. All I know is that the sun was shining when I came in here to nap, and now it’s pitch black outside.

Light shines under the crack of the closed door that leads from Sophie's bedroom into the living area. As I make my way towards the door, I hear Sophie whispering, but I can't make out what she's saying or who she's talking to. Slowly opening the door, I make my way down the hallway, and I immediately get butterflies as I lay eyes on my handsome man dressed in light blue scrubs, indicating he’s come here from work. He’s in his third year of residency at the local Memorial Hospital, becoming an OBGYN. This is why he pleasures me so well; he’s perfectly familiar with female anatomy.

He stands up and I take off running to him, forcefully jumping into his arms. I wrap my arms around his neck and I squeeze him with all my strength. “Hey baby,” he says, returning my embrace and placing a kiss onto my lips, causing them to tingle. Setting me to the floor, he brings his hands up to the side of my face and brushes my hair away from my eyes. “You alright? Sophie called, hysterical and threatening my manhood, babe. She believes I've done something to hurt you. I haven't, have I?”

I place my hands on either side of his face and pull him down to me. “Blake, no. You haven't done anything wrong,” I assure him.

He lets out a breath of relief. “Didn't think so, but women are hard to determine. I rushed over after my last delivery. I'm on call though,” he says, lifting his shirt to show us his work cell.

“I'm fine, Blake. You can go back,” I push him towards the door. I’m so happy that he’s here. That he’s this concerned about me. For a moment, I allow my happiness to soak into my heart.

“Now, you calm your pretty little ass down and stop pushing me away.” He walks in front of me. Bending down, he speaks softly beside my ear. “Or I'll have to punish you, Al,” he teases.

Punish me? I like the sound of that.

“Oh, please,” Sophie mumbles. “I wish you two would just get it over with. The sexual tension between you two is tighter than Honey Boo Boo's mamma stuffed into an extra small corset. But you can't do it here,” she says.

Blake and I laugh at her outburst as we make our way to the dining table. I tell him about the mental breakdown I experienced earlier, telling him the entire story from start to finish. Blake looks at me in pity, and Sophie's called my mother everything but her name. Normally, I'd fight for my mom, but agreeing with
Soph makes me feel better. I thank God every day for these two amazing people he put into my life. They bring light to my life when I'm in the darkest of places, and I can’t imagine life without them.

After we finish talking about my fucked-up day, Blake offers to take me out for coffee. Of course I take him up on his offer; it’s like offering a crack head a free hit; they can't resist it. Gathering my purse, we head for the door, and just as we exit, his phone chimes. “Dr. Andrews,” he answers. I can't hear the other side of the
conversation, but I can tell by the look he's giving me our coffee date is canceled. “Get the IV inserted and have anesthesia come down and start her epidural,” he instructs. “I'll be there in fifteen minutes,” he adds, ending the call and clipping the phone back in place.

“I know,” I say frowning. I know it's his job, but for once in my life, I want to be somebody's number one. He reaches out and pulls me into him. He rests his chin on top of my head and runs his fingers through my hair.

“I'm sorry, baby,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “You know I hate to leave you, but I don't have a choice. You know that, right?”

Not really, no.

“I know,” I acknowledge. I push myself away from him and enter Soph's apartment, again.

 
“Allie, please don't be upset,” he pleads.

“I'm not,” I say and force a smile. I'm just bummed our date ended before it began.