Heartbeat (20 page)

I looked at Denise and shook my head. “What the fuck are you talking about? I didn’t kill my parents!”

She laughed again and her laugh chilled me to my core. “Ok, you didn’t do it on your own, of course. I helped you.” The expression on her face turned into a scowl. “I’ve always had to help you do shit that you couldn’t do on your own.”

I grabbed both sides of my head to keep the pounding sound out. “What are you talking about?”

“You still don’t get it, do you, Lake?” Denise asked.

I stared at her wondering what the hell she was talking about.

“I am you, Lake!”

What the hell? I felt lightheaded and fell to my knees. I put my face in my hands and tried to scream but when I opened my mouth, nothing came out.

“You get it, now, Lake? I’ve always been you. Well, the better part of you. Every time something happened and you needed someone to take care of it, because you were too fuckin’ weak to do it yourself, I was the one who took care of it.”

What she was saying didn’t make sense. I shook my head as hard as I could as if to shake away all of this nonsense.

“You don’t remember all the doctors and counselors, Lake? You don’t remember the diagnosis?” Denise laughed again. “I know you remember the medications. All of the medications that you are supposed to take but you refuse to. Those medications that kept me away… why did you stop taking them, Lake?”

The room was spinning and going in and out of focus. I heard everything that Denise was saying but none of it was making sense. Or was it? All these memories came crashing back at me like a kick to the face. I remembered the 11
^th
grade. I’d been expelled for fighting but kicking the bitch’s ass wasn’t enough for messing with my man. She needed to learn a lesson. That was the first time I’d met Denise…or so I thought. She’d said she knew exactly what needed to be done. So we went to the girl’s house and I’d confronted her, tried to stab her. But what I didn’t know was she had two older sisters who were home and were able to get the knife out of my hands. I was arrested that day.

How could I have not remembered that until now?

Denise gawked at me. “Your parents sent you to that mental hospital that year. You were diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. All those doctors probing you and shit. They said you were chronically unstable and needed medication in order to live a normal life. They filled you with so much shit and made you forget about me, Lake. I was buried inside of your head for so long. Then you stopped taking it and you allowed me to come back. Why did you stop taking your medication, Lake?”

My head was still in the palms of my head but I refused to look up. “I hated how it made me feel. I was grown. I wasn’t living under my parents’ roof no more, so I didn’t think I had to take it.”

Denise’s laugh was bitter. “No, you needed me, Lake. You needed me to do all the things that you couldn’t do. That’s why you stopped taking it. You wanted me to come back.”

I finally looked up at Denise. But she didn’t look like Denise anymore. She looked exactly like me. I gasped when I realized I was staring in a mirror.

Everything Denise had said was true. So I’d killed Greg’s wife? And I’d killed my parents. Cold chills ran throughout my body causing me to quiver. I looked at my daughter who lay asleep on the couch. What the fuck was I gonna do now?

I stared at clumps of my hair in the bathroom sink. I stared at the hair so long that my vision turned blurry. I knew this could happen, but damn, it burned to see it was actually happening. I was staring at my hair so hard that I didn’t hear or notice that Pops had entered the bathroom. I didn’t even realize he was standing beside me until I heard the sound of clippers buzzing.

I snapped out of my daze and looked at my father. He was shaving his salt and pepper colored hair completely off his head. In all of my life, I’d never heard my father talking about going bald, even when his hair was thinning at the top, he still held on to his hair for dear life. So I knew exactly what he was doing and it brought tears to my eyes. I glanced at the doorway and saw my mother standing there with wet eyes as well. She caught my eye contact before giving me a weak smile and walking away.

“Whatchu’ doing, Pops?’ I said.

“I’m shaving this shit off my head,” he said without looking at me. “It’s just hair, son.”

I watched as my dad shaved his head completely bald. When he set the clippers on top of the sink, I picked them up. I stared at them debating my next move. I was losing more and more hair every day so it was only a matter of time. Fucking cancer. Fucking chemo.

My parents had been with me every step throughout all of this. They never missed a chemotherapy session, they never missed a check-up with Dr. Johnson. At first, we’d all been confident. I had hope; strong, resilient hope that got me out of bed every day. But with each passing week, each new test result, each new cancer cell, that hope dwindled until there was nothing but the realization of death left.

I looked under the sink for a pair of scissors and began chopping my dreads off. I’d had my dreads for so long, that my hair had become a part of me. I cut the hair as short as I could with the scissors and then handed the clippers to Pops. He pat me on the back before taking them from me and shaving my head.

❤❤❤❤❤

The office remodeling was supposed to be finished a month ago but I’d been so sick that the job was taking longer than I’d told Jamison Mitchell. He’d stopped by the building a handful of times to check on it and I could tell his patience was wearing thin. I wanted to appease the man, because God knew, I needed the money.

My cousin and I was working our asses off but I stopped when I saw his car pull up outside. Each time he stopped by, my nerves were on edge thinking this was the day he fired my ass. “Shit,” I said as I watched him jump out of his expensive truck with another man in tow. I recognized the man off the bat. He was another contractor, in fact, I’d beat his bid on the first job I’d done for Jamison.

“What?” My cousin, Bo said. He looked down from the ladder at me.

“He finna’ fire us,” I said.

“Ah hell naw! We gonna at least get paid for the work we’ve already done, right?”

I shook my head. That wouldn’t be enough after I split it with Bo. My treatments were adding up like a mutha’fucka’.

We held our breath until Jamison walked inside. He seemed to stop dead in his tracks as soon as he laid his eyes on me. It was the same reaction Bo had given me when he first saw me today. I must have looked like a completely different person with my hair gone. I’d almost forgot I’d cut it until I saw the reaction from people who knew me.

“Hello Jamison,” I said breaking his stare.

He blinked his eyes a few times before clearing his throat. The man standing next to him took it upon himself to start looking around. He walked around examining our work and it gyrated on my nerves.

Jamison walked over to me and sighed, “The job was supposed to be finished by now, Amir.”

I couldn’t argue with him so I didn’t say nothing.

“I needed it finished, like weeks ago.”

I looked at him and nodded. “I know, Jamison. And I take full responsibility for that.” I’d already started packing up my materials.

He placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Wait. Stop.”

I stopped and looked up at him. If he wanted me to beg him for my job, that wouldn’t be happening. All I had left was my pride and I planned on keeping it.

He reached inside the collar of his shirt and lifted a silver necklace. “Three years complete remission.”

I gaped at him.

“Colon,” he said. And it was the first time I noticed the sympathy behind his eyes. “You?”

“Prostate,” I said.

It was his turn to gape at me. “But you’re so young.”

I chuckled. “Tell that to my prostate.”

He dropped his head and stuck both of his hands into his slacks. “Come on, Dean. I changed my mind.” He called out to the other contractor. “Seems to me, these guys have this under control.”

I looked at Jamison hoping my eyes said everything my mouth couldn’t. I was filled with so much gratitude that it left me speechless.

Dean looked like he’s just swallowed something whole but didn’t say anything. He just followed Jamison out of the room.

Before walking out, Jamison turned around and gave me another look, “Good luck, Amir. I’ll be praying for you.” Then he turned around and walked out of the building.

He had no idea how much his words had touched me.

After finishing up for the day and giving the job my complete all, I headed home where Charlie was waiting for me. She’d all but moved in with me. She spent more time at my apartment than she did at her house. Her husband was contesting their divorce and I knew it was getting to her but she tried her best to hide her frustrations.

I prepared myself for her reaction when I walked into the apartment. I’d been lying to her for the last three months, pretending everything was all good when it was the complete opposite. I never told her what Dr. Johnson had said or that I’d even started chemo. I knew the word chemo scared the shit out of people and the last thing I wanted was to see fear on Charlie’s face. I loved that girl more than I thought was possible and it killed me to look at her every day knowing I was lying to her. Knowing I was breaking the only promise she’d asked me to keep.

It wasn’t that I was a piece of shit, I just didn’t want to hurt her. She’d been through so much with Kesha and she damn near worried herself sick about her, I didn’t need to be another person she had to worry about.

I put my key in the door and took a deep breath. When I stepped inside she was already walking toward me with her arms outstretched. But as soon as she laid her eyes on my bald head, she froze. Then she gasped, her hand went to her mouth.

“Damn, do I look that bad?” I said with a nervous laugh.

But she didn’t laugh. Her eyes went watery and I sighed again. This was the last thing I wanted to happen but I’d prepared myself for tears. Tears, I could handle, I could kiss those away. Anger was what I was praying I didn't get.

“Amir!” She walked up to me and ran her hands across my clean shaven head. “Chemotherapy? But I thought…”

I didn’t want to look at her. I didn’t want to see the look on her face when she realized I’d kept something from her…again.

I walked to the couch and sat down. I was hoping she’d follow me like she always did. I was hoping she’d lay her head on my chest and tell me how much she loved listening to my heartbeat like she always did. But she stood across the room staring at me with eyes that were full of questions and hurt. It damn near killed me to know I was the reason she felt like that.

“I didn’t tell you because you were going through so much with Kesha’s disappearance and I didn’t want you to have to worry about me on top of all that,” I said and once I said it, I realized it sounded lame as hell.

“But I do worry about you, Amir!” She looked at me and her voice was full of fear. “I worry about you more than anyone. I think about your cancer every single day that I wake up. You know what I do when the worry gets to be too much? I remind myself that you said most of your cancer was gone. I remind myself that you promised you wouldn’t keep anything from me. That’s how I keep myself sane, Amir. I remind myself of your got-damn promise!”

And there it was. The anger I’d been hoping I wouldn’t get. But as I looked at her, I realized she was just scared. She wasn’t mad, she was standing there trembling with fear. I stood up and walked over to her. She tried to fight me at first, but I held on to her as tight as I could. I buried my face into her hair that smelled like cinnamon. God, I loved this woman.

“I can’t lose you, Amir. She wrapped her arms around me just as tight as I was holding on to her. And there we stood in the middle of my living room holding on to one another tight as hell. Both fearing the exact same thing.

After laying everything on the table and telling Charlie the whole truth, we were both so physically drained that neither one of us had the strength to cook but we both were starving. She’d suggested we go to some bourgeois ass restaurant saying she needed a treat after the news I’d dropped on her. It wasn’t pretty, but it was true. My cancer wasn’t getting better and each time I visited Dr. Johnson, his optimism was lower and lower. He didn’t want to outright tell me I was dying, but I knew it. I hadn’t wrapped my head around the idea of death, in fact, I did everything in my power not to think about it. A nigga was scared as hell to die. And every time I looked at Charlie it gave me a thousand more reasons why I had to live; why I had to beat this cancer.

We drove to the restaurant in complete silence. I wasn’t sure what Amir was thinking but my mind was all over the place. I couldn’t grasp the notion that Amir was dying. Looking at the man, you would never be able to guess he even had cancer; let alone that the cancer was beating him. I couldn’t imagine my life without him and it seemed so overwhelmingly unfair that I wouldn’t get to spend my forever with this man. I reached over and grabbed his hand. He squeezed my hand, looked at me, and gave me the smile that I’d fallen in love with. The smile I’d grown accustomed to seeing, the smile I needed to see.

Amir had been my rock these last few months. Once I found out Kesha was missing, I’d ran straight to Amir. I should have noticed it that night that something was off about him, but I was lost in my own grief to notice his.

Now, as I sat in the passenger side of the car watching him drive, I was able to remember that night completely and how foolishly blind I had been.

I’d rushed to his house and he’d welcomed me with comforting arms. He’d told me at least a hundred times that Harris and the other police officers were going to find Kesha, and that she was ok, but that didn’t alieve my anguish. My imagination ran wild with the different possibilities of what could have been going on with my best friend.

Amir held on to me and wouldn’t let me go until the tears stopped coming, until my body had stopped shaking.

“Can I pray for you, Charlie?” He’d asked that night.

Something inside of my soul leapt when he’d asked me that. I’d pulled away from him and looked him in his beautiful eyes and nodded. I’d never had a man ask to pray for me and that made me fall even more in love with him

He’d took both of my hands inside of his and prayed for Kesha’s safety and her return. Then he prayed for God to give me peace. And I was sure his words had reached God’s ears because I felt a calm like none other wash over me. After he prayed, we laid in his bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms. We’d fallen into each other, completely and absolutely. Body, mind, heart, and soul.

Little had I known, he was going through his own battle and needed prayer himself. I felt incredibly selfish knowing everything I knew now.

But Kesha had been found, and she was safe physically, but mentally, she was injured. And daily I worried about her, daily I talked Amir’s ear off about how I stressed about Kesha’s issues. No wonder he hadn’t told me his cancer had taken a turn for the worse.

But how could I have not noticed? Looking at him now, he did look thinner, a bit less muscle, his jaw line more taut. He’d been doing chemotherapy and suffering those side effects in silence. Being married to an oncologist, I knew a great deal about cancer, yet I ignored the signs that were all up in my face. And I wasn’t there for Amir when he truly needed me. Guilt ate the lining of my stomach and I squeezed his hand.

We pulled up to the restaurant and gave the valet my car. We didn’t have reservations but were seated right away. The restaurant was fancy, and dim lit, adding an intimate touch to dinner.

I sat across from Amir and studied his face. He was still as beautiful as the day I met him. Without the hardness the dreadlocks added to his appearance, he looked exactly like a pretty boy. He didn’t look sick. Maybe if I told myself that enough, it would become true.

“You been here before?” He asked as he looked over the menu.

I forced a smile on my face and nodded. There were still so many questions I wanted to ask about the cancer but I knew it would be best to let the conversation for rest of the night be cancer-free.

“Shit is expensive as hell,” he joked. He looked up at me and his hazel green eyes seemed to pierce into my soul.

“I love you,” I blurted.

He dropped the menu and frowned. “Charlie…”

“No, no, lemme’ say this,” I said. “I love you more than I ever thought could be possible. Nothing compares to how you make me feel, Amir. Not my success, the money, the cars, nothing.”

He reached across the table and took my hand inside of his and I could have fallen apart right then and there but I managed to hold it together.

I continued, “You came into my life during a time when it was falling apart and you hit the reset button.” I told myself I wasn’t going to cry so I swallowed hard, forcing the tears to stay at bay. “I mean, I thought I’d experienced it all, but every day, Amir, you show me I haven’t seen nothing. I feel connected to you in ways that scare me sometime. You make me feel things that I never thought were possible.”

He was about to open his mouth to say something but we were interrupted when Rick walked over to our table. He was looking like he’d seen a ghost. It had to be hell to see me sitting, holding another man’s hand but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about Rick’s feelings and was pissed off that he had the nerve to walk over and interrupt my dinner. He’d been making my life a complete hell fighting me on every end of the divorce. He flat out refused to let me go. But little did he know I’d been gone a long time ago. And it was thanks to the man sitting across from me.

I knew Rick wouldn’t make a scene because above all, his appearance meant everything to him. I didn’t want him to upset Amir. Not today of all days.

“Dr. Johnson!” Amir stood up to greet Rick but looked stunned when Rick suddenly backed away from him.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Rick’s voice was low and incensed. He looked from Amir to me and then back at Amir. “You’re fucking my wife, Amir?”

The look on Amir’s face was indescribable. He stood frozen in shock and it felt like a full minute had passed before he looked back at me and said, “Dr. Johnson is your husband?”

It all made sense to me and once again, I felt foolishly blind. Of course Rick was Amir’s doctor! How could he not have been? Rick was one of the best oncologist in the country. Of course, Amir was going to seek him out. I thought back to how he’d bragged on his doctor, and how he was convinced that his doctor was going to save his life. He’d been talking about Rick all along.

I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out.