Michael

Kirby Elaine’s
Michael

Lucky Eleven Publishing

Michael © 2015 Kirby Elaine

All Rights Reserved

Cover concept by Lucky Eleven Publishing

Cover photos from Shutterstock

Book printed by CreateSpace Publishing USA

ISBN-13: 978-1500514440
ISBN-10: 1500514446

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, products, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

What is the true measure of a man?

“Michael, it’s your turn to share.” The mediator spoke. It wasn’t my first meeting. It’s been weeks and I finally felt ready to speak. I had spent the latter weeks in silence; observing, judging, and thinking I was better than them for the “control” I had over my addiction. And then I learned the sad truth. I was no better than the people sitting with me in the small circle. My addiction was as real and uncontrollable as theirs and I was going to drown if I didn’t allow this life raft to do its job.

“My name’s Michael.” I looked at the other six people in the circle. “I’m an addict. My drug of choice…barbiturates. I’ve been clean now for thirty seven days. I was just sitting here thinking about addiction, the demon that it is. It’s taken a lot from me; my wife, my kids, my career. I don’t know the exact moment where popping pills became an addiction. But it did and I’m trying to rein it in. I’m still craving it. Still dwelling on past issues and having trouble deciding if I’m ready to go home. But I think this is working. It’ll take more time but it is working.”

“Thanks for sharing that, Michael.” The mediator spoke. “Next session, I want to talk about short term milestones. What are yours and how can we help you reach them?”

The session ended. As everyone filed away I looked through the window at the lush green lawn. I thought about my wife and how her blue eyes had become my motivation. It was because with every day that I stayed here, I stayed away from her and our children. I didn’t know if there was anything I could do to remedy the hurt I undoubtedly caused them. I didn’t know if there would be a way to explain my absence to my children.

***

“Excuse me, can you help me?” the petite woman asked.

“I’m sorry, I don’t work here.” I stopped and looked into her eyes. I was stuck for a second. My soles had melted to the floor and I couldn’t move.

“I’m sorry.” She looked around the wide aisle and up at the directory hanging from the ceiling, and then back to the shelf.

“Uhhh!” She stomped away.

I continued to the next aisle to find legal copy paper. And there she stood again.

“Do you need help finding something?” I interrupted her browsing.

“I thought you didn’t work here.” She gave me a curious glare.

“I don’t but I spend about forty percent of my time here stocking up on stuff for work.” I knelt down on the floor next to her. “I’m Michael Cruz.” I outstretched my hand.

“Krishna Daar.” She finally smiled taking my hand and standing. Her skin was as warm as the smile that caused her intense blue eyes to shimmer. We stood there, hands locked together, a gentle shake continuing unnecessarily. “Um, I, I um.”

“You, what?”

“I need my hand back.” She let go and we shared a brief laugh.

“What is it that you can’t find? You sounded pretty close to your wits end back there.” I took a step closer.

“Just regular printing paper. All of these stupid colors and sizes. What happened to plain freakin’ paper?” She threw her arms up in despair. I grabbed her hand and pulled her down the aisle. I picked up my own legal sized paper.

“Some people need those stupid sizes.” I waved the pack as I passed her, leaving her standing with her plain paper.

I paid for my paper and headed to my car, starting it and turning on the air conditioning. The thumping on my window halted me from putting the car in reverse. I rolled down the window.

“Sorry for my hissy fit back there.” She smiled looking slightly embarrassed.

“I understand. Not having your immediate paper needs met because the masses are after unique colors and sizes can be frustrating. I so get that.” I mocked.

“Ha ha ha! You try teaching in an inner city middle school where you have to buy your own supplies just so the kids can get their work done. It’s getting old.” She stepped back leaning against the car next to mine. I assumed it was hers the way she sat the packs of plain paper on the hood.

“A teacher.” I turned off my engine, stepped out of the car and leaned against it, sizing her up.

“Go ahead and say it.” She rolled her blue eyes.

“Say what?”

“I don’t know; a corny line about how you would have gotten straight A’s if your teachers looked like me in school.” She waited.

“I was just going to ask, what nationality you were.” I smiled. She cleared her throat.

“Um. I don’t really know. Not sure, I’m adopted, can’t really find that information out. But my mother was Caucasian and my father was African. I like to pretend that’s what I am.” She laughed pulling her hair into a neat ponytail.

“Definitely, not. Caucasian, maybe. But I’d lean towards the middle east for the other half.”

“Mutts know best, I suppose.” I watched her examine my features. “Latino and white?”

“Yup. Columbian.” I shook my head. “Most people don’t see that.”

“I’m not most people.” She smiled. I tried not to flirt with the adorable woman in her high-waist slacks and neat blouse. “It was nice meeting you, Michael.” She grabbed her bag of paper and walked around to the driver’s side of the red Dodge Caliber and got inside rolling down her windows. I followed suit getting back into my BMW and watching as she buckled in. I gave my horn a light tap.

“For the record, Ms. Daar, I don’t know how I would have gotten any work done with a teacher as gorgeous as you.” I winked as I buckled my seatbelt and pulled off.

***

I tossed and turned awaking from my dream. I stared at the white bubble ceiling taking a deep breath. I missed Krishna. Just thinking about the first time I saw her, the automatic chemistry I felt between us. I picked up my phone and looked at the screen saver, Krishna holding the twins with little Lincoln climbing on her back. It was from a picnic the family had at National Mall. They were carrying on life without me. I had to get out of here. I had to clean up my life to get back to them.

I sucked in a breath.
I can do this
. I have been waiting my whole life for this moment, I can do this. I turn the doorknob and walked into the retirement home that sat a few hundred yards from a lake. The trip to Toronto wasn’t supposed to end like this. I spent the last three months tracking down my birth parents and after I found that my birth father had passed just three years ago, the only key to my true identity was just moments away. I realize that I had already approached the counter and I’m gripping it for dear life. The heavy-set man on the other side stared at me. I came to.

“Hi, um, I’m looking for Amita Roshan. I was told that she was a resident here.” I stuttered.

“Yes, Mam. But this is a private facility. Visitation is limited to those on an approved list. Mrs. Roshan doesn’t take visitors.” He says in a heavy Canadian accent.

“Perhaps you could make an exception? I’ve been searching for Mrs. Roshan for several months. I can’t possible leave here without seeing her.” It had been a tiresome search and it was brought on by the absence of my husband, Michael.

Of course if it weren’t for my husband, I wouldn’t have had the resources to track down my birth mother. But Michael Scott wasn’t being the model husband at the moment. I can hardly call a stint in rehab model husband behavior. But he’s been gone for three months and I have been alone, raising our three young children. I needed this right now. I needed to meet her before I turned around and went back to the States.

“Mam, Mrs. Roshan has been strict on not taking visitors. Her son hasn’t seen her in the three years since he’s checked her in here. I think it’s best if you not waste your time. She won’t see anyone.”

“Her son?”

“Yes Mam, Abi. He comes in monthly to see her, she refuses him every time. May I ask who you are to Mrs. Roshan?”

“Yes, I’m her…I’m her daughter. I’m Krishna.” I backed out of the room and hightailed it for the parking lot. I had a brother. My birth mother and birth father were married when he passed and I have a brother out there.

“What happened?” Charlie asked as I swiftly buckled my seatbelt and struggled to catch my breath.

“She.” I inhaled another deep breath and let it go just as quickly. “She’s not taking visitors, let’s go.” I looked at Charlie and faked a smile. I knew he could see right through me.

Over the last few weeks, Charlie and I went from complete strangers to good friends and when I told him what I needed to do, to find my birth family, he helped me find the resources I needed to make it happen, no hesitation.

“Krish, babe, it’s okay to let it out. But trust me, all of this work, it wasn’t for nothing. We’ve found her. We just have to figure out how we make her want to see you.”

“You don’t get it. She didn’t want me then and she doesn’t want me now. There’s no fixing that. There’s no where left to go. I just have to force myself to move on.” I cried.

“That’s it? You’re just giving up?” He let out a small chuckle and shook his head.

“I’m not giving up, there’s nothing left in this.” I cried. His hand gripped mine on my lap as we headed back to the hotel.

“You’re not one to give up. And neither am I. One way or another, Krish, you’re going to meet this woman.” He smiled.

I sniffed and laid my head against the window watching Toronto pass by. I just wanted the next flight out. I wanted to forget I found Amita.

***

“Counting down the days. What else am I supposed to do?” I laughed. As per usual I was sipping wine and having brunch with my sister-in-law Jayda, Michael’s ex Alex and our niece Mackenzie.

“He’ll be home before you know it.” Alex chimed in. I shot her a curious glare. No one had heard much from Michael, I certainly hadn’t. He’d been gone for five months now and I guess he figured that I would be satisfied by a measly phone call once or twice a week.

“I’m sure. You would know; he’s always been good at keeping the lines of communication open with you.” I barked back. Alex was six months pregnant and despite my better judgment I had made it a point to be on the best of terms with her. After all, she was my stepson’s mother and I loved Daniel like he was my own.

The issue with her was that she wreaked havoc on my life from the moment I met her. After the kiss she shared with my husband that he admitted to and the heated make-out session that they’re still hiding from me, I’ve lost a lot of respect for the both of them. The difference was that Michael could earn his back because I refused to let her destroy the best thing that has ever happened to me.

Losing my parents as a young adult was one thing, trying to reconnect with my birth family and failing at every attempt was even worse. I continued to look for my biological brother Abhishek Roshan for the past two months to no avail; which wasn’t surprising considering the overwhelming Indo-Canadian population I’d been searching through.

Again I’m spacing out only bought to by the vibrating of my phone on the glass table. I sucked in a breath, it’s Michael. I grabbed the phone and left the room.

“Michael.” I tried to hide my excitement. I missed my husband, my best friend.

“Krishna, how are things?”

“Hard. Lonely. When are you coming home? Or when can we visit?”

“Soon. I’m definitely coming home soon. How are the kids?”

“The twins are growing so fast, Michael. And Lincoln, she can’t stop asking about where you are. I’m running out of things to say.” I wanted to cry. Our kids were everything to us. They were a blessing because there had been a point when I thought I would never be able to conceive yet alone carry twins.

“I’m sorry, Krish. I’m getting myself together. I’ll be home before you know it.” I could hear the pain in his voice. I could see his beautiful dark hair and tanned skin when I closed my eyes. “Krish? I love you.”

“I love you too, Michael. Don’t be too much longer.” I hung up without another word and collapsed against the wall. I let my anger at him go and focused my attention back on my birth family. I had to find Abi. He was my last chance at getting the answers I needed.