The Morning After (22 page)

He could feel Jerrod's eyes boring into his skin during the interim silence. “Can I see it?” The boy's voice was low and quiet.

T.K. glanced at him. “See what?”

“The ring. You said that you had bought Ma a ring and was gonna ask me for her hand. Can I see the ring, or were you just saying that to get me to call you?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“No, sir.”

T.K. thought about the beautiful piece of jewelry that he purchased weeks earlier. A flawless one-carat, oval-shaped solitaire diamond encased in a band made of white gold. Beautiful. Just like Jennifer. “It's at my house. I'll let you see it later,” he told Jerrod.

“I would have said yes,” Jerrod said, keeping his eyes fixed on the windshield. Then, as though he thought T.K. may not have been clear on what he meant, he added, “I would've been glad to have you marry Ma; would've been glad to call you Daddy.”

T.K. had to swallow hard to keep his emotions in check. They drove in silence for most of the remaining ride. When T.K. turned in the direction to head toward Alpharetta High, Jerrod protested.

“I don't want to go to school. Not today.”

With raised eyebrows, T.K. asked, “Why not?”

“I just don't. I ain't feelin' it today, Coach D. Please don't make me go.”

T.K. didn't regard not feelin' it as a good reason to miss school. Especially since the boy had already missed classes yesterday. “I want to keep an eye on you, Jerrod. I can't take a chance on you running off again.”

“Then take me to your house.”

“I can't watch you at my house. I'll be at school, remember?”

“You don't trust me?”

The car weaved a bit when T.K. took his eyes off the road to shoot a grimace in Jerrod's direction. “Have you given me any reasons to lately?”

Jerrod sank deeper into the seat, but shot into an upright position a moment later. “Let me earn your trust back, Coach. If you take me to your place, I promise to God that I won't leave. I'll wait right there 'til you get home. If I run off, you ain't never got to trust me again.”

T.K. knew Jerrod was being sincere, but there was more that they needed to consider. “What about your mother, Jerrod? She needs to know where you are. She's been worried sick about you. The only reason she didn't get the police involved is because I called and told her that I'd take care of everything.”

Jerrod's face lit up. “You talked to her? You and Ma are talking again?”

It broke T.K.'s heart to disappoint him. “I left a message at the house yesterday when I knew she wouldn't be at home.”

“Oh.” He sounded dejected as he readjusted himself in the seat and faced the windshield again. “Well, you can tell her that I'm with you if you want to. I just don't want to go home right now.”

T.K. conceded and turned toward Braxton Park. He was getting dangerously close to being late for his first class. “Your mom should be at work right now, so we'll swing by your house so you can pack a few things. I'll find a way to convince her to let you stay with me for a few days.”

“Okay.” A smile graced Jerrod's face for the first time since he got into T.K.'s car.

T.K.'s eyes searched the neighborhood as he pulled onto Braxton Way. A part of him hoped to find Jennifer's car parked in the yard. He hoped she had been too upset to go to work. It would give him a chance to see her. To talk to her. To talk some sense into her. But the driveway was vacant.

“What's that?” Jerrod pointed at what looked like a mound of cloth in the street about a hundred feet from his home.

T.K. squinted. The downhill slope prevented him from having a clear view. “Probably just something that fell off the back of somebody's truck or something.”

The men climbed from the car and headed toward the front steps of Jennifer's home. While Jerrod fished his keys from his pocket, T.K. found himself looking again in the direction of the thing in the road. The more he looked, the less it appeared to be an inanimate object. In fact, he was almost sure that he saw it move.

“Wait up, Jerrod,” he said, taking a few cautious steps toward the fixation.

“It's moving, Coach,” Jerrod observed, following close behind. “Somebody hit a dog or something.”

T.K. could feel the gradual increase of his heartbeat. Something wasn't right. “That's not some
thing
, Jerrod,” he suddenly said, coming to a stop still fifty feet away. “That's some
body
.”

Jerrod stepped from behind him and took off running toward the mound of crumpled flesh. T.K. wanted to shout at him to use caution, but instead, he found himself following suit.

“It's Ms. Elaine, Coach!” Jerrod yelled as he knelt down beside her. “It's Ms. Elaine!”

She didn't exactly know where the melodic sounds were coming from, but it was definitely nearby. Elaine turned her head and could hear her own quiet murmurs, but she couldn't understand the words that were attempting to come out of her own mouth. Yet, the lyrics continued.

Again Elaine tried to speak, but couldn't. She was thirsty, hungry, tired, and hurting. If she could get the attention of whoever was near her, perhaps she could get some relief from her pain and discomfort. Using all the energy she could muster, Elaine pushed out the loudest groan possible.

The singing stopped and was replaced by a voice. “'Bout time you woke up, child. I been sitting here near 'bout all day long, waiting for you to come to.”

Elaine struggled to open her eyes, but the weight of her eyelids was too heavy. Only darkness surrounded her. “Wa . . . Wa . . . ter.” The word was barely audible, but at least, now she could hear herself speaking. “Water.”

“I got you, I got you,” the woman said.

Elaine could hear the sound of water pouring in a glass, and it was the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard. Her throat felt like it hadn't been irrigated in ages. It felt like someone had laced it with baby powder, and then shoved in cotton balls to top it off. Footsteps approached her bed, and Elaine knew that relief was only a moment away. She felt the head of her bed raise, and then a strong, but soft hand cradled the back of her neck, lifting her head forward. When she felt the glass touch her lips, Elaine parted them and tried to take in as much of the liquid as she could. The cold liquid felt blissful.

“Got enough, or you want more?” the Good Samaritan asked.

Elaine hated to be a bother, and her mother had raised her on the rule of never accepting anything from people she didn't know—especially food. But until she could do for herself, Elaine decided that she had no choice but to depend on the kindness of strangers. “M . . . M . . . More.”

“Child, you sho' 'nuff was thirsty,” the lady said once the contents of the second glassful was drained.

Something about those words and the chuckle that followed sounded oddly familiar to Elaine's ears.

“Got more if you want it,” the woman offered.

Elaine really did want more, but she responded with a whispered, “No, thanks,” then listened to the sound of scuffling feet as the lady walked away. “Wh . . . Where am I?” Elaine was afraid that if she stopped talking, the kind stranger would leave, and she was too afraid to be left alone right now. Too many unanswered questions. Too many cloudy, mangled, snapshot-type memories.

It sounded like the woman had taken a seat somewhere to the right of her. “Dumb people end up in one of three places, sugar,” she said, taking Elaine by surprise. “The cemetery, the jailhouse, or the hospital. Now I ain't saying that everybody in them places is dumb, 'cause they ain't. Not by any means. I'm just saying that them are the places where dumb folks end up. And you been mighty dumb lately, so you in the hospital right now. They brought you in this morning.”

“The hos . . . pital?” Elaine was too healthy for the need of a hospital.

“Uh-huh. Pale as a ghost. Sick as a dog. Skinny as a stick. Dumb as a box of rocks. Laying up in a hospital bed.”

Suddenly, Elaine felt that being left alone wasn't such a bad option. The only problem was that if she suddenly banned the woman from her presence, she might not get her other questions answered. “Who are you?” She laced the question with as much attitude as she could, but she was just too weak to incorporate the raised voice, the neck roll, and all of the other accessories that would be needed to do the job just right.

“Oh, that's right,” the lady said. “On top of all that, you 'bout blind as a bat too, ain't you?” She had a good laugh at Elaine's expense. “Let me see what I can do to help you out.”

Elaine could hear the woman stand from her chair. If she'd had the strength, when the lady got close enough, she would grab her around the neck and see who would get the last laugh then.

“Let's see here.” The woman's hands covered both Elaine's eyes. Her touch had a soothing, almost medicated type effect, like how Halls cough drops felt to a sore throat.

It felt good, but Elaine was still fuming from all the earlier comments regarding her stupidity. She appreciated the water and all that had been done to help her, but she didn't know who this woman thought she was. Elaine hadn't allowed anyone to speak to her in such a tone since . . .

“Ms. Essie!” Elaine yelled, eyes wide with disbelief when the hands that covered them had been removed. She couldn't believe the figure that stood at her bedside. Elaine's depleted strength wouldn't allow for her to bolt from the bed and run through the concrete wall of the room, leaving a gaping hole in the shape of the outline of her body like she'd seen cartoon characters on television do when she was a child.

But her voice had returned, and if she could talk; she could scream. And she did. For what seemed like an eternity, she closed her eyes, braced her head against her pillow, gripped the railings on the sides of her bed, and screamed to the top of her lungs. When she was all yelled out, she opened her eyes to see Essie doubled over with laugher.

“Child, cut that foolishness out,” she said through a sigh as she calmly made her way back to the chair. “Common sense ought to tell you that if I'm here, then something's going on that ain't natural. This is God's doing, girl. Them doctors can't hear you.”

“Am I dreaming? What's happening here?” It was then that she took note of her covering. It was the blanket. Her eyes were fixed on the pink and blue weaving that rested on top of her hospital sheets. How did that get here? What on earth was going on? Elaine reached beneath the covers, trying to feel her way through to the cotton fabric of the hospital gown that covered her nakedness.

“Lord have mercy.” Essie sighed. “There you go with all that pinching yourself and going on. Just like Jennifer did. Stop it 'fore you break something. Ain't no meat there no way. Last thing you need to do is pinch yourself so hard that the skin breaks and a bone come sticking through.”

Elaine felt as though she was genuinely losing her mind. Everything about her current situation felt surreal. All of the wild details blended together to make an even-layered dish of sense and nonsense. She'd never felt so out of it, yet so fully aware at the same time. “What's going on here, Ms. Essie? You can't be here. You just can't. It's not possible.”

“With God, all things are possible,” the old lady replied, pointing toward the ceiling. “Now, I'm gonna need you to stop trying to figure all this out and listen to what I got to say. I ain't got long to say it, and you ain't got long to listen. So, for the next few minutes, I need you to lay quiet and let me do the talking. Deal?”

Elaine nodded. What other options did she have? Agreeing with Essie just seemed like the right thing to do. It seemed like the
only
thing to do. Elaine's initial fear had evaporated all of the water that she'd drunk. Swallowing was nearly impossible now. There was no moisture left on her tongue or in her throat.

Like she had some sixth sense, Essie walked back to the cart where the pitcher of water and glasses stood. She filled one of the glasses and walked back to Elaine, handing it to her. This time, Elaine was able to hold her own glass. When she reached for it, she realized that she had a needle inserted in the back of her right hand and another one going into a vein of the opposite arm. Elaine's eyes trailed the length of the tubes and they led her to bags of liquid that were hanging on metal poles that stood behind her bed.

“Scary sight, ain't it?” Essie said, pulling Elaine's attention back to her.

Elaine thought hard. The last thing she could recall was sticking the key to the front door of her home into her shoe and jogging up the street to begin her morning run. How did something that she did every day lead to this?

“Too much exercise and not enough eating will send anybody to the hospital,” Essie said, answering Elaine's unspoken question. “What's gotten into you, child? I mean, you always did run. That's what you were doing the first day I ever spoke to you.” Essie smiled like the memory was a fond one. “Wanting to be healthy is one thing, but you been eating like a squirrel lately. You been exercising more and more and eating less and less. Look at you.” She pulled the covers off of Elaine's body, then pulled up the hem of the gown so that her slimmer thighs and legs were in full view. “This don't make no kind of sense, Elaine. You went from being a beautiful, healthy woman to a dried-up bag of bones.”

Elaine reached to try to cover herself, but Essie's voice stopped her.

“What you trying to hide it for? You
worked
for this. It ain't like you been sick or forced to live in some third world country. You actually put on clothes and shoes every morning to go out and work to have this kind of body. What's wrong with you, child? You trying to kill yourself?”

Every question that Essie hammered out sounded accusing. Elaine didn't want to answer, and she wasn't going to. Besides, Essie had asked her to just be quiet and listen; so that alone gave her permission to remain silent.

“Don't try to get smart with me, girl,” Essie warned.

Clearly, the thoughts in Elaine's head were somehow being transmitted to Essie's ears. The old lady always did have an oddly keen sense of hearing, but this . . . this was just too weird.

“Answer me,” Essie insisted. “What are you trying to do?”

This was a battle that Elaine knew she couldn't win. She had always had a mulish streak, but her stubbornness had never been any match for Essie's persistence. “I'm not trying to kill myself, Ms. Essie. I just want to do whatever I can to make myself attractive.”

“Attractive to who? Dogs? They the only ones who want bones.”

Elaine smiled. “You're just saying that to try and make me feel good, Ms. Essie. I'm not skinny and you know it.”

A frown began forming between Essie's eyebrows and soon covered her entire face. “You think boney is a compliment?”

“I think
weight-loss
is a compliment, yes. I'm not skinny and I'm not boney. I just want . . .
need
to lose a few more pounds; that's all.”

“For what? You can't weigh over a hundred twenty-five soaking wet. You look worse than them skinny, flat-chested girls on that show 'bout women trying to be big-time models. Half of them look hungry, and the other half look like they need to eat. Society might call it pretty, but it ain't. Not for them, and it sho' ain't pretty for you. You ain't even built to be like that. God gave you them hips for a reason, child. They ain't no curse, they're a blessing. You always been beautiful, Elaine, and you ain't never been fat. Who got you thinking like this? You used to be so much more confident than this. What done got into you?”

Elaine could feel tears stinging the backs of her eyeballs. Why was Essie torturing her like this? Surely, she already knew the details. That Mason hadn't touched her in over a year. That she slept alone in the bedroom, while her husband snuggled nightly with the sofa. That she was losing the weight as a desperate last attempt at making her husband desire her again. God had probably told Essie all of that before He sent her down, or whatever had transpired to bring this dead woman back to life and into Elaine's hospital room.

Essie's heart must have softened at the sight of the stream that trickled down Elaine's cheeks, because she returned Elaine's covers back to their rightful place, then lowered the bedrail and sat on the side of the mattress. Elaine thought that Essie was going to start one of her lectures, but the old lady said nothing. All Essie did was cover Elaine's right hand with her left and sat in silence. Her hand was as soft as butter, and her brown eyes radiated kindness as they locked on Elaine and remained there. Without verbalizing, Essie seemed to be telling Elaine that everything was going to be all right. That she was there to listen and to help. That she wasn't leaving until she knew Elaine was okay.

“Ever since the morning after, things have been a mess, Ms. Essie.” Elaine used her free hand to dry her cheeks.

“The morning after?”

“The morning after you died.”

“Oh. I see.” Essie squeezed Elaine's hand and smiled. “It ain't really dying when you got Jesus, you know. It's living. As a matter of fact, it's life eternal. Imagine beautiful weather every day. Peace and happiness every day.” Essie stood from the bed and twirled around like a ballerina. “No more sickness. No hurts. No pains.” She spread out her arms, and her eyes took on a far away gaze. “Everywhere you look, it ain't nothing but
good
people. Ain't no killin' and stealin', ain't no cussin' and fussin'. Just good people lovin' God and lovin' each other. Angels singin', music playin', people worshippin'. No loneliness, no sorrow, no judgin'.” Essie looked back at Elaine and chuckled as she approached the bed again. “No wonder my Ben left me so early to go there. I can't blame him one bit.”

The words struck a chord in Elaine, forcing her to face a reality that she'd never before admitted to herself or anyone else. “Then maybe I did wanna die.” New tears threatened her eyes. “I think I did. I mean, I didn't know that I was trying to kill myself, but maybe I was. I'm just so tired of being judged. Tired of being in pain. Tired of being rejected. If I die and go to heaven, then I won't have to worry about any of those things.”