Antebellum (45 page)

Another pause, and then Mr. Rose started to laugh.

“I'm sure this is a temporary thing. I'm sure he'll wake up in the morning and be talking his head off.”

SaTia looked over at me again, and I looked back at her.

“I don't know, Mr. Rose. There's something different about him, now. I don't think he'll talk until he's ready.”

“Well, when will he be ready?”

“I don't know, but honestly, I don't think it'll be tomorrow.”

I listened as panic began to weigh down Mr. Rose's breathing.

“Okay...okay...let's not get too hysterical about this.”

SaTia's act was amusing to watch. “Mr. Rose, what are you talking about?”

“Look, I'll send a shrink over tomorrow, okay? Best in the city.
He'll come in, turn Moses's head upside down, shake it a bit, and we'll have him back talking again in no time.”

“I'm not letting Moe talk to a shrink! The only people who have been in this room in the last twenty-four hours have been myself and his family—and I think his head has been turned upside down enough as it is. No shrink.”

“Well, then what do you suggest we do, SaTia?”

“We wait for him to come around. Wait for him to talk again on his own.”

There was another moment of silence on Mr. Rose's end of the phone, and I found myself wondering what his face must have looked like on the other end.

“Maybe you don't understand the gravity of the situation at hand, SaTia, so let me explain it to you. We've had the biggest occurrence in hip-hop history, maybe even music history, happen to our artist. To a Cosmos recording artist! And this event, if played right, could be worth millions of dollars in revenue. And at the center of it all, we've got a rap artist who won't talk.”

“I still don't understand the major problem, Mr. Rose.”

Rose could no longer hide his frustration. His voice went up two octaves as he blasted back at SaTia. “If Moses won't talk, he won't rap! If he won't rap, then he might as well have stayed in the coma! He can't give interviews, he can't do movies, he can't do anything! How are you not seeing this?”

“Do you even care that he woke up from his coma today?”

“Of course I care! He's the biggest thing on every station! We've gotten reports that another hundred thousand units sold today alone because of this! Moses Jenkins is the most important man in my life right now! My job is to get him back to the public as quickly as possible so that he can generate more revenue. And he can't generate anything if he won't talk!”

“I don't understand why you can't leave him alone and let him get better? You said it yourself—the record sales are soaring. He's golden right now. Why not let him come around in his own time?”

“Because nobody has that kind of time, Ms. Brooks. Nobody has that kind of time! He is our artist. We don't wait for him. We tell him what to do and how to do it, and then we sit around and watch it get done! Right now we've got major networks, publishing companies, movie producers, clothing lines, I mean, we've got everyone lined up waiting for him to step one foot out of that hospital. Nike even wants to have him endorse a shoe! But none of that can happen if he stands in front of a television camera like a deaf mute. These inner-city kids aren't going to look up to a deaf mute, Ms. Brooks. They're going to emulate the guy who had his chest blown wide open, spent six months in a coma, refused to die, and then came back seeking vengeance on the people who shot him!”

My head began to spin as I took in Mr. Rose's words. SaTia stood quietly with the phone in her hand, trying to harness the anger I could see creeping onto her face. Mr. Rose's voice got softer as he continued to speak. “Look, SaTia, I apologize—I get a bit excited, okay? Listen, talk to Moses. Tell him about all the opportunities we have got laid out for him. Tell him the money he made after the diss record dropped is crumbs compared to what he could make now. I know my artist. Once he hears that there's a couple million dollars in it for him, he'll start running his mouth in no time. I'm lining up people now who can help him, in case he doesn't—”

“Then I feel obligated to remind you, Mr. Rose, that Moses hired me as his manager. You didn't. To that end, I have done and will continue to do everything in my power to make sure that everything that happens is in his best interest. You can line up all
the psychologists and doctors you want to, but no one will set foot in this room until I determine that their presence and expertise is to his benefit. Moses needs time right now, Mr. Rose, and that's exactly what I plan to provide for him. As long as I'm his manager, he will have all the time he needs to get better.”

“You're talking like we're on different sides, SaTia. We're not. We're on the same side. We both want to see Moe get better.”

“No...we are on different sides. And by the way, his name is Moses. He doesn't answer to Moe anymore. You better hope the same rapper that went into the coma is the one that came out...”

“Who else would it be, Ms. Brooks?”

“It's late, Mr. Rose. I'm going to get some sleep.”

“You do that. I'll have my people standing by whenever you come to your senses.”

“Good night, Mr. Rose.”

I let myself fall back onto the bed as SaTia hung up her phone call, and I began to feel my grip on reality weaken. I had begun to accept that I was back to my old world, back to the world that I knew before Talbert and Bradley and the plantation. But this wasn't the world I remembered. I remembered being a superstar. I remembered being adored and having fans screaming my name. I didn't remember being anyone's slave.

I turned over and buried my face in the pillow as madness crept into my head. Where had I come back to? This couldn't be right! I was a god where I was from! I was nobody's slave! This was not my home. I was Da Nigga, dammit! I was Da Nigga!

“HHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII... AHHH... AHHHH... HHHHHHAAAAAAAA!”

I screamed into the pillow.

When the pillow wasn't good enough anymore, I slammed my fist against the wall behind the hospital bed instead.

The sound woke both my mother and Big Mama up, but SaTia
had already rushed over to the bed. She was terrified, but tried her best to hold it together as she attempted to calm me down.

“Moses...Moses, please...calm down! Please!”

SaTia's pleading was of no use. My mind spun around like a top, and I could barely tell up from down anymore. All my thoughts blended together, as if they were being melted into a large stew.

I continued screaming as long as my senses were still lost, and at this point, it seemed doubtful they would ever return. What I thought I was avoiding by not talking had crept up on me regardless. I felt my sanity begin to dissolve like cotton candy on a child's tongue.

The room was soundproof, one of the perks of being a VIP in a well-endowed hospital, so there were no orderlies or nurses to come rushing in. My mother ran up to the bed and knelt crying beside me. I don't know how her eardrums stood my screaming, but she wept and prayed. The sounds of both were drowned out by my screams.

I never even saw Big Mama come up to the bed. She walked up to me from my blind side, leaned over the bed close enough to be heard, and started to sing...

“
O Mary, O Martha,

O Mary, Ring dem bells!”

She sang it softly, but the strength in her voice was enough to quiet my thoughts and shouts..

Big Mama never told me what made her sing that particular song, but she sang the madness right out of me as she leaned over my bed. SaTia, convinced that my grandmother had put me under some sort of trance, lay there beside me as I rocked back and forth ever so slightly.

“I hear archangels a rockin' Jerusalem!

I hear archangels a ringin' dem bells!”

I lay down and drifted into oblivion with those words ringing in my head. It was the first time I'd slept since I'd gotten up from my coma, and Big Mama's words echoed somewhere off in the near distance. They bounced around in my head, trying to attach themselves to every thought.

I slept hard and long, and dreamed of words I could not yet say.

The next morning I woke up and spent my first ten minutes wondering if I were dreaming or not. I could see my mother, Big Mama, and SaTia, but I kept expecting Roka and Sarah to come through the door. When the confusion became too much, and my mind began to give way once again, I slowly turned myself toward the window and continued staring out it just as I'd done yesterday.

“Do you think he'll be okay?”

Mama could never whisper well. She spoke to SaTia and Big Mama as if she were afraid I would hear her.

“He'll be fine,” Big Mama answered her nonchalantly.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I jus' knows it.”

Time was more defined for me now, which became increasingly scary. The minutes didn't turn into hours anymore, like they had the day before. They stayed minutes, and inched away one by one until I could no longer stand it. The bright sky was still a refuge, but I couldn't lose myself in it anymore. As I grabbed a hold of more and more sanity, my consciousness would force my mind to stay in the present.

After an hour of staring out the window, I stood up from the bed and began pacing back and forth across the room.

“Moe...I mean...Moses...are you okay?” SaTia said with uncertainty. I turned to her and nodded my head.

“Do you know where you are?”

I nodded once again.

“Do you remember everything that happened yesterday? Do you remember last night?”

Nod.

“Do you feel like...like you might need some help? Like, some professional help?”

I stopped pacing and looked at her, thinking hard about her question. She wanted to keep her hope that my recovery wasn't false. She was hoping that I could reassure her.

I shook my head and looked her straight in the eyes. I could still see the doubt on her face, so I walked up close to her. I could feel her nervousness as I approached her, but she didn't move. When I got close enough to kiss her, I stopped, looked her in her eyes again, and shook my head.

No, I said with my gaze. I'm okay now. Trust me.

She read my eyes and nodded her head in acknowledgement. “Okay then,” she said, resolved. “Let's talk about what's going to happen today.”

She walked over to where my mother and grandmother were sitting, pulled up a chair, and motioned for me to sit down. I did as instructed, and found myself seated directly across from her, with Big Mama on one side of me, her knitting equipment in her lap, and my mother on the other. They all looked at me, and then back at each other.

“It's good to have you back, Moses,” Big Mama said as her hands went to work, and then she smiled so slightly that I believed I was the only one who saw it. “You lookin' a bit different this mornin'.”

I nodded my head to my grandmother, and then looked back at SaTia.

Though she knew I wouldn't speak, SaTia still waited on my blessing to begin. I nodded, feeling bits and pieces of the man who had earned the trust of slaves coming back. She tried to hide her smirk.

“You do look different this morning,” SaTia whispered, as if she was trying to sneak in a phrase without anyone hearing it. “Really different.”

“You do, son.” Mama backed up the other women in the room. “Something's changed.”

I looked at each of the women and nodded appreciatively. Whatever strength I had gotten throughout the night was now visible, and knowing that made me feel even stronger.

I turned back to SaTia and willed her to start talking.

“Okay...first things first, this hospital,” she began. “They've had to shut it down temporarily because so many people have tried to sneak in here to see you and it has jeopardized the welfare of other patients. I know you don't know this, because there's no way you could know, but you are literally the only patient in this hospital right now. That's causing a bit of a public outcry. So we need a timeline of when you'll be ready to get out of here. Any chance we could walk out of here today?”

I thought hard about SaTia's question, which again proved to me that I was finding my way back to the land of the sane. I was able to think rationally, but only in the context of being in the room with these three women. Overhearing a conversation might have thrown me into a psychotic break. God only knows what would happen if I tried to leave this room today.

I turned to SaTia and shook my head.

“Good,” she quickly responded. “I wouldn't have let you leave today anyway. Just wanted to see where your head was. How about tomorrow?”

I thought about it again, and nodded my head slowly.

“I'll take that as a maybe. What do you think about me telling the press that we're leaving tomorrow? Believe me, no matter what, the hospital won't kick us out. You can still take all the time you need. It would just be a date for them to have.”