The Veil (18 page)

Misha could tell something was wrong with Judy. She looked worried. Not wanting to force her to talk, she placed her hand on Judy's stomach and prayed.

 

 

Arriving at school the next day, she did not say anything to Roger about Bishop Moore. It would not have served any purpose. Besides, she wanted very little to do with him. Apparently people were beginning to hear Judy was in the hospital and throughout the day she was asked how Judy was doing. Saying as little as possible, she did not want to stoke the rumor fire at the school.

Severe cramping filled Misha's abdomen as she walked to her car after school. She had plans to make a brief visit to see Judy, pick up a sub sandwich for dinner, and head home to take some pain meds and curl up on her sofa. She had almost reached her car in the parking lot when Roger stopped her.

“Mimi, I'm glad I caught you. I wanted to send Judy some flowers. What hospital is she in?”

“You can get the information from Mr. Davis.”

“You don't have it?”

“I'm going to call her husband when I get home.”

“Oh.”

“I've got to go.”

“Mimi.”

“What?”

“I wanted to call you. I didn't have your number. You didn't give it to me yesterday.”

“My number's private. Not many people have it.”

“Well . . . can I . . . I mean . . .”

“If you're asking for my number, I don't think that's a good idea. If you need to get in touch with me, you can see me here at the school or you can call New Vision. That's where I go to church.”

“Oh, it's like that.”

“It has to be like that. If you'll excuse me, I have to go.”

Misha brushed past him and walked to her car, wondering why he needed her number. She wasn't crazy enough to give him her new number. He needed to get a life and leave her alone. It felt good to reject him like he rejected her. Finally, he was out of her system.

Misha was enjoying her classes at Clark Atlanta. She decided to start slow and only take two classes this semester since she had to find out how much studying she would have to do along with all the work she had to do at Westdale. Things were beginning to look up for her. The Westdale Eagles' blessing was its basketball team and, as usual, they were having a winning season. Her students were in a good mood because of it and were anticipating winning the state basketball title, an honor that had eluded them for the past three years. However, one thing continued to concern her: her period was still on after three weeks and it was still heavy.

She had waited as long as she could to see her doctor, but she knew something was wrong. Never had her period stayed on like this before. She waited nervously in Dr. Trinidad's office for the results of the ultrasound and lab tests. All kinds of thoughts ran through her mind. That voice that tormented her with the first surgery was back again, telling her the cancer had returned and she was about to die. This time, she found it difficult to convince herself of her healing. She looked at the crinkled paper in her hand. The sweat from her palms had begun to make the ink run the letters together. Yet, she could still see the “I believe I am healed” she had written on it. She recited it quietly as she sat on the hard exam table while the wrinkles in the paper cover pinched her buttocks.

“Well, Ms. Holloway, I have the results of your tests.” Dr. Trinidad walked into the room. Misha looked at her body, which obviously looked pregnant.
Even Dr. Trinidad is pregnant. God, what about me?
She watched as the doctor placed the clipboard down and walked to the sink and washed her hands. “We didn't see anything abnormal on your ultrasound. However, you are very anemic. This may be due to the bleeding. You are bleeding pretty heavy. This has been going on how long?”

“Almost three weeks.”

“Why didn't you come and see me sooner?”

“I've been very busy. I'm back in school working on my master's degree.”

“Oh. Well, we have a couple of options.” Dr. Trinidad sat down in the chair beside the sink. “One, we can go back in and do the same thing as the last time, with one exception.”

“What's that?”

“Well this time we will do a D&C. This may stop the bleeding.” Dr. Trinidad began to explain to her the procedure and that it was possible she may have to have a hysterectomy if something looked out of order, like if there were signs the cancer had returned.

“What's the second option?” Misha was concerned. She didn't want a D&C or anything like it.

“Well, we can go ahead and do a hysterectomy and this will probably solve all of the problems you are having now.”

Shaking her head, Misha said, “No . . . no . . . I don't want a hysterectomy unless it is absolutely necessary. Are these my only two choices?”

“You can also sit at home and hope the bleeding stops and everything's okay. I'm not trying to scare you. I know you haven't had any children, so having a hysterectomy is a major decision. Why don't we go in and take another look to see if we missed something. I'll do the D&C and hopefully we won't have to do a hysterectomy.”

Misha agreed to this option. She was tired of the cramping and bleeding. She was scheduled for surgery in two days. Although Dr. Trinidad wanted her to have the surgery the following day, she wanted to wait, to inform her family, job, church, and friends.

Misha left the doctor's office upset that, once again, she was going to have surgery and it was possible the cancer had returned. She cried as she listened to the voices in her head telling her she was going to die. This time, she did not have the energy to fight them. She let them beat up her mind. Crying, she found it difficult to drive with the tears that clouded her eyes.

She drove directly to her grandmother's house from the doctor's office. She walked throughout the house looking for her but the house was empty. She went in the kitchen and out the back door, where she saw her grandmother hanging clothes on the line. “Grandma, what are you doing out here? It's thirty degrees. Those clothes are not going to get dry.”

“Sun's good for white clothes. They get dry.” She picked up the empty laundry basket and walked into the house. She took off her old brown coat and hung it by the door. “Child, look at you. What's wrong?”

Misha laid her head on her grandmother's shoulder and began to cry, telling her the cancer may be back and she was scheduled for surgery in a couple of days. They walked into the living room and Misha sat on the sofa. Her grandmother walked over to the storage bin Misha had purchased to keep the quilting supplies in, and took out the partially made quilt and some material, and walked back to the sofa.

“Grandma, I really don't feel like working on that quilt now.”

“Best thing for you.” She picked up some material and began to thread the needle. “You know I had five babies before your mama come to this world.” Misha followed her grandmother, picking up another end of the quilt and a needle, and began sewing. “All them babies died before they was ready to be born. Your granddaddy thought we would never have no children 'til your mama came. I was old then. We took in your Uncle Paul and raised him when his peoples put him out. He was four years old. Raised him like our own. We was happy. But Lord when your mama came, we had joy. Never felt like that before. Now I know how Sarah and Abraham must have felt.” She screamed with laughter.

Misha listened quietly to her grandmother. She never knew her grandmother had five miscarriages. She knew her Uncle Paul was adopted. She didn't know why. “Your mama was old when she had you, almost forty. Then, she had Justin.”

Misha watched her grandmother's hands carefully stitch each piece of cloth. She tried to do the same. Somehow her seams didn't seem the same. Silence filled the room. They continued to quietly sew each stitch that seemed so important to Misha. Her grandmother stopped sewing and leaned back on the sofa.

“Child, listen to me. When yo' time come for your baby, it gon' come. Not in your time. In God's time. Now tell me, do you believe God healed you of that cancer?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then the devil can't touch you. Believe in your healing. God's doing something in you. You need to find out what it is.”

“Why do I have to go through so much pain? I've been in pain all my life. When will it stop?”

“You's special. Devil don't like it. Devil do things for evil but God make it good. You gon' be all right.” She patted Misha on the leg. “You's gon' be all right.”

It had been a long time since Misha had seen her grandmother so solemn. She didn't say much more after that.

Thinking about her grandmother as she drove to her class at Clark, she wished she had never told her. She didn't want to worry her. Her heart was heavy because of her grandmother, more than her surgery. It was unfair for her to put so many burdens on her grandmother. It was on her so much in her thoughts she couldn't concentrate on her class that night. However, she managed to stay until the end of the class. She informed her instructor about her surgery and that she would be out of class for a week, she hoped.

The next day, Misha sat in her classroom before school started, cleaning her desk in case she would be out of work for the next six weeks. She looked at her doctor's note she had for Mr. Davis. Mr. Davis paged her over the intercom to come to his office. When she arrived there, she saw Roger and Gloria sitting in the office with him. She groaned.

“Ms. Holloway, come on in.” He got up and walked to the door and closed it after she entered the office. Wondering what they were up to now, she took the seat Mr. Davis pulled out for her. “Ms. Holloway, Mr. Williams and Ms. Bates have brought some very serious allegations against you.”

“What kind of allegations?”

“Ms. Bates and Mr. Williams said you came to Mr. Williams's apartment last night and threatened to harm them. Is this correct?”

“What?” Misha shook her head in disbelief.

“They say you have been stalking them and they're afraid of you.”

Misha looked at the two of them. Gloria leaned toward Roger. She shook her head again.

“Well, Miss Holloway, what do you have to say?”

“Mr. Davis, I don't have any idea what you are talking about.”

“Where were you last night?”

Misha followed the instructions given to her in her spirit. “What time are you talking about?”

“They tell me it was about six,” Mr. Davis responded. Misha laughed. “This is serious, Miss Holloway. They tell me they called the police on you.”

Misha once again followed the instructions. “Do you have the police report?”

“We tried to protect you from going to jail. We didn't file a report with the police,” Gloria chimed in. She sat up in her chair like she had proof of her allegations.

“So you called nine-one-one and didn't fill out a police report on me threatening you?”

“Roger—I mean, Mr. Williams—didn't want you to get into trouble. So we didn't file a report. You need to stay away from us. I know you have been in a mental institution and you may be off of your medication, we want you to get some help.”

Misha screamed with laughter. She couldn't help it. With all that was happening in her life, a person with lesser faith would have ended up in a mental hospital. Not her. She believed God and it was this belief that she was holding on to. This was how she was able to make it each day.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Davis, but they can't be for real. Roger, how did you come up with this one? Better yet, tell me why? I haven't done anything to you or Gloria. But thanks, I needed the laugh, especially today.”

“Miss Holloway, this is no laughing matter,” Mr. Davis said.

“I know you don't believe them. Mental institution? That's funny.”

“In our last meeting, Miss Holloway, I warned you not to bring this matter back into my school. These are very serious allegations and I must address them.”

Misha began to get serious. She heard the seriousness in Mr. Davis's voice and on his face. “I understand this is serious. I am not the one who is bringing this into the school,” she answered. Turning to her accusers she asked again, “What time was I allegedly at your apartment last night when the police were called, Mr. Williams?”

Gloria answered for him. “It was about six. You know what time it was.”

“Mr. Williams, I believe I asked you what time it was,” Misha asked him again.

“He said—”

“No, Ms. Bates, let him answer it.” Mr. Davis leaned forward on his desk, looking sternly at Roger.

“She said about six,” Roger answered, nodding toward Gloria. “I don't really remember.”

Once again she followed the instructions. “What do you say?” Misha said, trying to force his participation in this accusation. “What time do you say I was at your apartment?”

“Six, I think.”

“Mr. Davis, may I speak with you alone?” Misha requested.

“Yes. Ms. Bates, Mr. Williams, can you give us a minute? Please have a seat outside. I'll let you know when you can come back in.” Gloria and Roger walked out of the office looking like two innocent children. “Now, Miss Holloway, what do you have to tell me?”

Misha handed him the doctor's note she held tightly in her hand. She watched as he read the note. “I'm having surgery in the morning. My doctor feels the cancer may have returned. She's going in to do more exploratory surgery. If I have to have a hysterectomy, I'll be out six weeks.” He looked up at her. “I have been having problems for weeks. Yesterday, after school, I went to her office for the results of my tests. After I heard the news, I went to my grandmother's to tell her. By six, I was sitting in my class at Clark Atlanta.”

“You're in school?”

“Yes. I didn't tell anyone I went back to school to work on my master's degree. I'm glad I didn't. Now you see they're harassing me. I have no earthly idea why. I haven't done anything to either one of them. I don't even speak to them. Mental hospital? I can't believe they said that.”

“Can you prove you were in class last night?”

“Yes. I was there until eight. After class I spoke with my professor about my surgery and told him I would be out of class next week or possibly longer. I will give you his name and number. I never went to Roger's apartment. I was tired and emotionally drained. I went home and prayed and went to bed. If they had said nine or later, I would have been nervous because I was at home alone, but they said six. At six, I was in class.”

“Why do you think they are saying these things about you?”

“I don't know. I'm too busy to stalk anyone right now. After tomorrow, physically, I won't be able to do anything for a little while.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't know you were still having problems. I thought your last surgery was successful.”

Misha could hear in his voice he was sincere with what he was saying. “I didn't tell anyone. Please don't say anything to anyone about this, especially Roger and Gloria. I only want people who are praying for me to know. They are definitely not praying for me. I think they want me to lose my job.”

“Don't worry about them. I'll straighten this entire thing out.” The bell chimed the start of the day. “Can you get me a copy of your schedule from Clark?”