Dear Drama (16 page)

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Authors: Braya Spice

BOOK: Dear Drama
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Chapter 21
It was Friday, and I was anxious to start my weekend. Bryce had planned a whole romantic day for me on Saturday. First, he was treating me to lunch at Benihana. I'd told him I had always wanted to go there. Then he wanted to take me to Puddingstone in San Dimas. I had never been there before, but Creole said she had and that it was pretty romantic. She said each room had its own private Jacuzzi.
I picked up Sierra from the babysitter after work, I rushed over to my doctor's office to have a routine checkup. While Sierra stayed in their supervised children's area, I went into an examining room. I gave urine samples and took an iron test where they plucked a little blood from my finger.
As I waited for my doctor to come in, I texted back and forth with Bryce.
Can't wait to see you on Saturday, he texted.
Same here.
, I texted.
I got you something pretty to wear.
I was about to text him, Blushing, but another text came through before I could. I opened it quickly, expecting it to be from Bryce, and was surprised as hell when I saw it was from James. It read, Miss you.
Before I had a chance to respond, someone walked into the room.
It was an older white lady whom I had never seen before. But I knew she had to be a doctor, because she had a white jacket on and she had a clipboard in her hand. Since I was anxious to get out of there, I didn't trip on needing to see my doctor. Anyone would do for me. Damn, James had texted me.
Wow.
I hadn't heard from him or seen him in a couple months.
“Allure Jones,” she said, sitting on the stool, breaking into my thoughts.
“Yeah. I'm just here for—”
“How long have you been HIV-positive?”
“What?”
Okay, that was when the room started spinning. Her lips were moving, but I wasn't hearing her. That was when my heart started pumping a mile a second, when sweat and tears came out of my body and my legs felt like Jell-O, when my whole body—my head, neck, shoulders, arms, hands, legs, knees—was shaking, making it hard for me to hold myself up, and when I started screaming at the top of my lungs.
“Calm down, Ms. Jones.”
Screaming and backing away from her, I spun around and didn't see the door in time. It swung open and knocked me upside my head. I felt even weaker now, and then I hit the floor and slipped into unconsciousness.
When I came to, I blinked a couple times, until my eyes focused. I moaned when they did 'cause I was still there, in that damn doctor's office, in that room where I had received the horrible news that my life was over and that I was going to die of AIDS. What would I say to my family? To little Sierra? She's going to have to see her mother sick.
I wiped fresh tears away. Touched the bandage on my forehead. Underneath it was a big knot. Probably to stop my blood, which was tainted blood, blood that had AIDS in it.
I bawled.
Someone knocked on the door. I didn't respond, so the person slowly slipped into the room. It was a nurse. The same one that had received me earlier. I guess she stepped into the room slowly because she knew I had the virus. Maybe she didn't want to get close to me.
She smiled at me. Wow. She wasn't this nice when I first walked in.
“Allure, hi. I'm Janet. I was the nurse that received you.”
I knew who Janet was. I had been coming to that office for years. She was probably trudging slowly because she, too, knew my test results. So I nodded and stared out the window, feeling more tears pour from my eyes. My life was over. No one was going to want me now, and I damn sure couldn't have any more kids.
“Listen.” She shook her head and came closer, so close that she grabbed both my hands. “I don't know how to tell you this.”
I closed my eyes and sobbed, “I already know. I'm HIV-positive.”
“No, you're not.”
I froze. Then I turned around and faced her. “What did you say?”
She took a deep breath. “You're not HIV-positive, Allure. That crazy woman you saw lives on the street. She managed to get past security outside. She put on one of our jackets and snatched your chart, pretending she was a doctor. We had her arrested for breaking and entering. I'm so sorry for your distress.”
“What? You mean to tell me that y'all dumb motherfuckers let a homeless bitch in here, and she had access to my business and life and told me I have AIDS?” I jumped from the examining table so fast that I lost my balance and fell on the floor. I jumped up again and snatched my purse from her. “Get the hell out of my way!”
I yanked the door open. I ran to the reception area. I knocked over all the paperwork on their front desk.
Then I screamed, “You unprofessional muthafuckas!” while whipping around in a circle.
Silence was all I got. And a bunch of shocked expressions. From staff and patients.
“I'm suing the hell out of y'all, and by the time I'm done, you gonna have to shut this bitch down. So get ready.”
I went over to the children's area to get Sierra. Unfortunately, she and the other kids over there had heard my rant.
“Mommy, what happened to you head?” she asked.
I ignored her question. “Come on.”
We went home.
 
 
While I was at the doctor's, Bryce had called me on my cell phone and on my home phone. I didn't return Bryce's calls. I wanted the swelling on my head to go down before I saw him again. So I kept putting ice on the egg on my damn forehead. But truth be told, I did talk shit about suing them, but I wasn't going to. It was a mistake. A big one. Nonetheless, they didn't do it on purpose. I would rather have ten knots on my head than really have HIV. That was some scary-ass shit. I really wanted to die when that crazy woman read those results to me, and I thought my life was pretty much over. Thank God it was an error on a psycho's part.
As Sierra sat at the kitchen table to do her homework, I asked her, “What do you want for dinner?”
“Cookies!”
“How about some chicken fingers, potato salad, and string beans?”
“Yeah, that sound good, Mommy. But can we make cookies for dessert?”
I checked the cabinet to see if we had all the ingredients to make them. We had everything, down to half a package of chocolate chips. When I was a kid, I always loved to bake goodies, so Sierra and I often made cakes, pies, cookies, and whatnot together.
“Yeah, we can. Hurry and finish your homework.”
“Okay.”
She finished her work quickly, and I scanned it while the chicken fingers were frying. Then I let Sierra help me with the potato salad.
“Mama, you still didn't tell me what happened to your head,” she said. I let her crack open the cooled boiled eggs.
“The door bumped into me,” I joked and kissed her on her cheek.
She laughed and said, “Mommy, doors don't bump into people. People bump into them!” She had a little hand up when she made that statement.
I shook my head at her. “Sierra, remind me to stop paying the babysitter.”
“No, Mommy!” she exclaimed, giggling. That girl loved her some La La.
“Then hush up and finish them eggs, girl.” I was only kidding with her, and she knew it. So she kept on doing the eggs.
And, man, when we ate, you would have thought I was eating lobster bisque. That was how good the food tasted to me. It tasted good because I was okay. I didn't have a life-threatening disease.
After dinner Sierra and I whipped together some chocolate chip cookies. As they baked, I gave her a quick bath.
As soon as she was asleep, I was going to give Bryce a call and cancel our date for tomorrow
.
“Seems like you're ready. Girl, are you ready to go all the way?” I sang.
Sierra giggled at me.
“What you laughing at?”
“You, Mommy, 'cause when you sing, you sound bad.”
I cracked up laughing and swatted her little bottom. Then I held up a towel for her. “Go on and dry off. Put on your nightgown. I'm gonna get the cookies out. They should be done by now.”
She dashed off to her room.
I went into the kitchen to check on the cookies. They were done. I took them out of the oven, then let them cool down for about a minute. I poured two glasses of milk, one for Sierra and one for me, and placed the cookies on a plate. Then I joined Sierra, who was now sitting on the couch. We enjoyed the cookies and milk while watching
The Suite Life of Zack & Cody.
When it was a little after eight, I told Sierra it was time to go to bed.
Once I had Sierra hidden under her Barbie covers and her damn near dozen pillows, she turned to me and said, “Mommy, I wanna tell you something but don't want to make you sad.”
“What?”
“I miss Jeremiah, Mommy, all the time.”
I gave her a smile. The best smile I could muster. I tried not to look sad. “I miss Jeremiah, too, Sierra. In fact, there's not a day that goes by that I don't think about him.”
“Do you think he misses us?”
I ran my finger along her right cheek. “I know he does.” I turned my back quickly so she didn't see my tears. I brushed them off of my face, then turned back to her. “We just have to appreciate the time God gave us with him and know that Jeremiah is in a better place.”
“In heaven, I know.”
“Yes, that's where he is.”
I rose, but she said, “Mommy?”
“What, baby?”
“I miss James, too, but I didn't want to say that, 'cause that probably wouldn't make you sad. It probably would make you mad.”
That was when I laughed. Yes, thoughts of James would make me angry, because he did us dirty. It was not something I wanted to make a habit of doing, telling my daughter that someone she had grown attached to was not coming back. I mean, she kept a brave face when I told her, but I knew deep down it hurt. And before he left, he vented a lot of his anger and snapped at me in front of Sierra. I thought we were both taking big steps by moving past James. I was glad we could joke about it. Part of me still pondered over his random text, which I never responded to.
“Go to bed, baby.”
She pointed at the Strawberry Shortcake clock on the wall across from her bed. “But I still have ten minutes. Can I watch TV until eight thirty?”
“Girl, go ahead, but as soon as the big hand hits that six, you better get your little butt up and turn it off.”
“Okay!”
I closed the door behind me, went into the living room.
I sat on the couch, thinking about little Jeremiah. A little sadness swept over me. I missed the hell out of my son. This made me forget what I was about to do, which was call Bryce. I told myself silently to get myself together and hummed the song I was humming earlier to break the mood I was now in. But I couldn't, so I decided against calling Bryce. Instead, I looked through my photo album at the pictures of Jeremiah, James, Sierra, and me. I couldn't help but shed fresh tears. I still couldn't understand why Jeremiah was taken away from me. I sat the photo album aside and closed my eyes as more warm tears slipped down my cheeks.
Just then my cordless phone rang. It was a blocked number. Curious, I answered. “Hello?” I said. I knew I sounded depressed.
“Hey. It's Andre.”
Shit.
I wished I hadn't answered. It wasn't that I didn't like Andre. I just liked Bryce more. Our vibe was better, and we had better conversations. It was like that sometimes. Calling me from a blocked number because I wouldn't answer when he called from his regular number made Andre look desperate. It made him look like he was jocking me.

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