Crave: A BWWM Romance (10 page)

“
W
hat are you doing here
?” Moneka turned to me as she was cleaning up in the back of her restaurant. “Job’s done remember?”

“I know. I just wanted to swing by and see how things were coming along. Anything you need me to take a look at?” I moved closer, letting the kitchen door swing shut behind me.

“Oh really. You were my contractor; you are
not
my maintenance man.” She squinted at me suspiciously. “I know why you’re
really
here.”

“Why’s that?”

“The same reason I’ve been picking up my phone all day, debating whether or not to call you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I can’t stop thinking about you. I know we said the moving truck would be the last time, but I don’t think I can resist you any longer.” She stepped toward me, slowly unbuttoning her blouse.

“Good. I feel the same way.” I started toward her with matching enthusiasm, my fingers working at my belt.

Brrring!

Suddenly Moneka’s face began to float a little. Briefly, she looked like a bird before melting away completely and leaving me alone in the kitchen.

Brrring!

I stepped out of the kitchen, hoping to find her. Instead of the restaurant, I found myself in the parlor at my father’s house. He and Moneka’s mother were making out on the sofa. “Get a room you two.”

Brrring!

The parlor faded to black and I opened my eyes to find myself in my own apartment. At first I was at a loss to explain why I was here in the middle of the day. Then I remembered that I’d given myself the day off. It had been a long and awkward week with Moneka and I didn’t want to get in her way during the big opening day. So, I’d decided to make myself scarce and that meant stealing a well-deserved afternoon nap.

Well, I
had
been napping up until my phone had started going off. The heavy base of
We Will Rock You
had pulled me rudely from my dreams. If it was Moneka getting on my case about something, I swore I was going to lose it and say some very not nice things I’d been bottling up for days.

“Hello?” I mumbled into the phone, trying very hard to sound put out. I didn’t even bother to look at who was calling.

“Cole it’s your father.”

“What’s up Dad?” I slowly shifted to a seated position. “I thought you were at the big day or whatever. I’m taking my day off.” I yawned for emphasis.

“Day off is over Cole. You’re on family duty now.”

“Family what?”

“Kaila was in a car accident. She’s in critical condition at Mass General. I just dropped Moneka and her mother off at the front and I’m looking for parking. You need to get down here as quickly as possible.”

“Oh God! I mean yeah, of course. Let me just get my shit together.”

“Good. I’ll see you when you’re here.”

He hung up rather abruptly, but I didn’t have time to get my feelings hurt. I stumbled through my apartment like a blind man trying to navigate a garbage heap. Well, I wasn’t really blind, but the garbage heap part was pretty accurate. It seemed to take me far too long to locate both shoes and attach them to my feet. My wallet and keys also seemed to elude me for an unnecessarily long time. When I finally had everything in order, I stepped out, locked up, and tore downstairs toward my truck.

As I made my way toward Mass General, I thought of nothing but Moneka. My previous irritation had all but evaporated. Now, when I thought about her, all I wanted was to know that she was all right. During my time as her contractor, I’d had plenty of opportunities to learn how close she was with her sister. This must be tearing her up inside. I wanted to find her, put my arm around her, and hold her for as long as she’d let me. A sick feeling in my stomach reminded me that she probably didn’t want to see me at all.

“Goddamn it!” I swore at the red light in front of me. Driving in Boston was about as fun as having a marathon root canal. Someone had told me once that this particular string of lights was designed to slow traffic down. In other words, you were
supposed
to hit every fucking light. I found it far-fetched at the time, but today it was all too real. I could easily believe that the universe was working against me, why else would I be rushing to a hospital on a Friday morning?

When I eventually made it to the hospital, almost an hour had passed. My Dad had called twice to check on where I was. For the third time, my phone was ringing. I answered and politely informed him that I’d arrived, but, unless he wanted me to lose the truck he bought me last year, I would need to park it. Not wanting to waste any more time, I flew up the parking garage toward the top. The spots were easy pickings up there. In relatively no time at all, I’d locked up the car and started toward the elevator.

I walked into the waiting room embarrassingly late. On my way there, I’d practiced all sorts of speeches about how the lights and the traffic were just awful today. I’d even tried to think up a silly metaphor or two involving molasses. When I arrived, however, it was clear that nobody really cared.

Moneka and her mother were sitting next to each other in one corner of the room. Louise was sobbing uncontrollably, a box of tissues lay ready in her lap. I was suddenly reminded of the last time I was in a hospital waiting room, when my mother was wasting away as cancer dissolved her from our lives. Moneka was not sobbing. She didn’t even appear to have been crying. Instead she just stared at the empty seats across from her. That reminded me of something too. I was left with a similar emptiness when my Mom passed. For a moment, I feared the worst.

My father approached me from the counter where he had been discussing something with the nurse. He looked tired and not the Friday morning kind of tired. He looked like he’d been up for about twenty-four hours and was in dire need of a shower and a nap. His hair was greasy with sweat and his clothes appeared to have been fed through a trash compactor.

“Is she?” I tried to keep my voice low.

“No. She’s alive. Napping. She’s in seriously rough shape though. It was touch and go there for a while.”

“What’s the verdict?”

“She's a tough lady, just like her Mom.” He looked over my shoulder at the new love of his life, his eyes gleaming with tears. “She’ll live.”

I exhaled slowly and audibly. The oppressive cloud that had slowly suffocated me from the moment I left my apartment was dissipating.

“Thanks for coming,” my father added.

“Of course. I’m just sorry it took me so long. I’m glad she’s ok though.” I glanced again toward Moneka and Louise. Louise’s sobs were painfully loud in the otherwise quiet room. “Have they gotten a chance to see her?”

“Louise has. Before her nap. They don’t want to wake her. Moneka is waiting for her turn.” My Dad reached up and brushed a piece of hair from his forehead. I’d never been more impressed with my Dad than in this moment. He’d known this woman for roughly two weeks, but he was there for Louise. They were family now and, by God, he was going to do what family does.

“Maybe you should take Louise home. It’s been a long morning already and you look like you could use a break yourself.” I put my hand on his shoulder, trying not to notice how frail he suddenly felt.

“Right. You’re right. Moneka won’t leave until she has a chance to talk to her sister. You stay with her. She shouldn’t be here alone.”

“Of course.”

I waited at a distance, acutely aware of the possibility that Moneka may not want me around. My Dad went and spoke with them as he encouraged Louise out of her chair. With a hug and a kiss, she left Moneka staring ahead at the seats in front of her, doing her best impression of a catatonic. On their way out the door, I touched Louise’s back and told her how sorry I was to hear about what happened. Her response was barely audible through her sobs, but I think she appreciated the gesture. I watched them as they made their way out the door: the new love-birds struck with tragedy, a love that was only two weeks old.

When I turned back toward Moneka, she hadn’t moved an inch. Her eyes stayed trained on that damn chair. I was starting to think something must be written on it that was just irresistibly interesting. As I came closer, I maneuvered myself in front of her and sat in that chair. I figured she’d be more welcoming to me if I sat across form her instead of next to her.

At first, she didn’t seem to register my presence at all. She just stared at me instead of the chair. I decided to try staying silent and letting her choose the conversation. After about ten minutes reading and re-reading every poster in the room, I realized that she might never speak again if I didn’t coax the words out of her.

“How are you doing?” I started with the basics.

“Well, that’s a dumb question isn’t it?” Ever the fan of sarcasm, she knew how to push buttons for every occasion. I was happy to see her finally move her eyes to my face though. Eye contact was another form of communication.

“You’re right,” I offered. “It was. You’re obviously feeling awful. I’m sorry about what happened to Kaila.”

“Me too.” She closed her eyes briefly, seeming to carefully consider her next words. “Why are you here?”

This one came as a bit of a shock. My Dad had been here after all. Did she question
him
the same way? Part of me wanted to snap at her, but I thought better of it. Like any recently traumatized individual, Moneka had a right to be snippy.

“I’m here because I care about you and your mother and Kaila.” I tried to read her, to see if that was the answer she had been expecting.

“Ok,” was all she said before slipping into another silence.

I gave her a little time to recharge her batteries. I noticed her pants suit and had to resist cracking a smile. I didn’t think Moneka would put on a pants suit if her life depended on it. That’s when it dawned on me that today was her restaurant's debut opening and she was here, grieving the near loss of her sister.

“Who’s at Crave right now?” I wondered if I’d be able to offer some more practical assistance.

“Sonia. She’s got it covered.”

“Ok.” We fell into silence once again.

After a few moments, Moneka’s eyes sharpened and she seemed to scrutinize me briefly. I was suddenly acutely aware of what I was wearing. Having just woken from a nap, I was in slightly torn pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. I was wearing ratty sneakers with no socks and my hair was pointing in all directions. One piece was standing so cleanly up from the top of my head that I imagined you could take me outside and use me as a sundial in the right light.

“Thank you for coming,” she finally said.

“You’re welcome.” I hesitated. “How is she?”

“She’ll be OK. She’s badly beat up. Three broken ribs. A broken hip. Broken leg. Two broken fingers. She punctured a lung and some massive blood loss. There was a moment when they didn’t think she was going to wake up,” her lower lip trembled. I wanted to reach out and touch it, reassure her that she’s not alone. “That’s the hardest part you know. When they don’t wake up. At least I think so.” A few tears started to fall on her blouse, making dark streaks in the material. The quivering of her lips was far more noticeable now. “I mean, cause the doctor’s can’t just take her in and fix it,” she choked out. “They can’t. They just say ‘wait and see’ and, you know ‘hope’.” Sobbing slightly, Moneka lifted her hand to her face. She was trying so hard to keep it in. Maybe she hated crying. Maybe she hated crying in front of me.

In either case, I thought I understood. When my mother was sick, she was undergoing some heavy Chemo. The treatments were supposed to damage the cells or put her into remission or something. But the doctors stressed that there was never a guarantee. You did the treatment, you suffered the side effects, then you waited and you hoped. There are not many friendly medicines out there that rely on hope. It seemed to me that the more you relied on hope, the more you found you had none left.

“Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

“Some asshole ran a red. Kaila was T-boned.”

T-boned. It seemed too silly a term for the occasion.

“Wow. What…”

“He’s dead.”

Dead. She said it with such poise.

“Had he been…”

“Drunk? Texting? Does it matter?”

I supposed it didn’t.

I wanted to reach out and lay a hand on her shoulder, but I was fairly certain it would not be a welcome gesture. The last thing I wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable. I tried to think of something I could do, something friendly and platonic.

“Can I get you something? Water? Coffee?”

“No. Thank you.”

“You sure?” I found myself wanting to go, wanting to be useful if even for a minute.

“Really. My stomach is too upset right now.”

“Ok. Well, I’ll go anyway. You can decide when I get back.” I rose from the chair across from her and scanned the room for a sign that would point me toward the cafeteria.

As I headed toward the cafeteria, I felt stupid. She probably thought I was trying to avoid her. I shouldn’t have seemed so eager to get out of there. I just wanted so badly to bring her something that would make her feel a little better. I wanted to let her know that I was capable of making her feel better. When I eventually got to the cafeteria and saw all of the food lined up, I felt even more stupid. Who really wants sustenance at a time like this? What am I going to say? Here is your commiseration coffee? How about some sympathy sandwich or an “I’m sorry” Iced Tea? I couldn’t be tackier if I went to the hospital gift shop and bought “get well” balloons for Kaila. What was I trying to do anyway? Was I trying to get her to fall for me? I bought a ginger ale and some peanut M&Ms before turning back toward the waiting room.

When I got to the waiting room, Moneka was gone. For a moment, I thought she’d left without me. However, it seemed more likely that she’d gone in to visit Kaila. She must be awake again. I decided to wait.

For a while, I just sat there, a can of ginger ale in one hand and some M&Ms in the other. I felt like people could tell. They could see the moment they walked into the waiting room what an asshole I was. Inwardly or in whispers they were saying, “Look at that asshole with the candy and the soda; he has no idea what he’s doing”.