Taking Chances (2 page)

When we were ten, Uncle Troy took
me and Crystal to the Bronx Zoo. He was given strict instructions from my mother not to let me have any junk food. He agreed. By the end of the day Crystal and I had eaten hot dogs, cotton candy, popcorn, ice cream, and all the cola we could keep down. On the train ride home I started to cry. I just knew my mother would have a fit when she found out all the junk food I’d consumed.

“What’s wrong with you, girl?” Uncle Troy asked, handing me tissues from his jacket pocket.

I explained that I didn’t want to get in trouble with Mom. Uncle Troy just chuckled. “What your mother don’t know won’t hurt her. If you don’t say anything neither will I. Are you going to tell, Crystal?” Crystal giggled and shook her head, making the beads on the end of her braids jingle.

As I rode in a taxi headed for the hospital I remembered that day so clearly and quite suddenly. Funny the places one’s mind goes in an emergency. I glanced down at the cell phone in my hand. I’d told Crystal to call me if anything changed with Uncle Troy’s condition before I’d arrived. As worried as I was, I was hoping that my phone wouldn’t ring. It could only be bad news if it did. When the taxi pulled up in front of the hospital I quickly paid the driver and headed for the fourth floor. Once Crystal had calmed down enough to give me the details, she’d told me that was where she’d be waiting for me, and that’s where I found her sitting in the hallway. We hugged for a long time.

“Where is he?”

“They just took him for an MRI. It might be awhile.”

“Where’s Brianna?”

“Still in school. Miss Etta will pick her up and take her home. I don’t want to tell her anything until we know more.”

“Right. Tell me again what happened.”

We sat outside Uncle Troy’s empty room and held hands as Crystal recounted what happened at the restaurant earlier. She and Uncle Troy were in the kitchen, prepping for that night’s dinner service, when he suddenly complained of a dry mouth and feeling really tired.

“I told him he should sit down and let me and the crew finish the rest. I should have known something wasn’t right because he actually listened to me. He took a seat by the freezer and I went to get him a glass of water. While I was gone one of the sous chefs, John, realized an order was wrong. Daddy wanted to call the supplier and complain but, when he tried to dial the phone, he wasn’t able to. John said he was just pushing random buttons and, when he tried to ask if he was okay, Daddy couldn’t talk.”

Crystal wiped tears away with her free hand. I squeezed the other. “When I got back he was on the floor and his face was kind of drooping and… and... he had tears in his eyes. I could tell he was trying to talk, but nothing was coming out and—”

I pulled her close and held her as she cried. I knew the rest, a frantic call to 911 and a frightening ambulance ride to the hospital. Uncle Troy was able to talk by the time the paramedics had arrived and insisted that all was fine. Crystal, thankfully, didn’t buy it and accompanied him in the ambulance to the emergency room. She had called me while they were running tests on him and, now that I was there, she didn’t know much more than when they’d arrived except that the doctors wanted to admit him for further observation. We sat in silence except for the soft sounds of Crystal’s crying.

Being in a hospital reminded me of the night my father died. I was only six, but I remembered it clearly, especially all of the adults talking around me in hushed tones. It was the same kind of quiet Crystal and I sat in, waiting for word on Uncle Troy—the kind of quiet where your mind goes a million places it shouldn’t. The air around us felt heavy and it made me feel as if I were choking. 

The night my father died the eerie silence was broken when the doctor came out to tell my mother he hadn’t survived. Her cries came from somewhere deep inside of her. Uncle Troy was there, holding my mother then as I held Crystal now.

Crystal wanted to call and check on Brianna, so I offered to get us something to drink from the cafeteria while she did. Instead of following the signs for the cafeteria I headed outside to call Patrick. I felt like I was going to explode any second and he’s who I wanted to talk to, to be with, but I didn’t want an audience. 

True to form, Patrick said he’d be there without me having to ask. I gave him the specifics of where he could find us in the hospital and then called my mother and left her a message. I purchased two cups of coffee from the cafeteria. As I approached Uncle Troy’s room I found Crystal standing in the hall looking distraught and speaking with a doctor.

“What’s happened?”

Crystal nodded to the doctor that it was okay to fill me in.  The doctor, a tall Indian man who looked much too young to be a doctor, crossed his arms across the front of his blue scrubs and tried to explain Uncle Troy’s condition in simple terms.

“We refer to these as mini strokes, the body’s way of telling you something isn’t right. In about half the cases of people who experience one, there’s a better-than-great chance they’ll have a full-blown stroke within a year.” Crystal grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. “We’re waiting for his EKG results to see what, if any, damage was done to his heart. We’ll be able to assess his condition and recommend treatment when those are back. They should be bringing him back to his room shortly. We’ll definitely want to keep him until all the test results are in and we can get his blood pressure to an acceptable level.”

After the doctor had gone Crystal and I spent the next twenty minutes waiting for Uncle Troy to return to his room. When the nurse wheeled him in he looked both happy and embarrassed to see me.

“Lady, you didn’t have to come all the way up here for this. Crystal, I told you not to bother anybody,” he grumbled.

“Uncle Troy, you know better than that. This is not a bother.”

“And why I gotta stay here all night? I’m gonna miss CSI. And who’s going to handle opening the restaurant tomorrow? How long will I be here, anyway?”

“Will you just stop it?” Crystal had been adjusting the pillows on his bed but stopped to snap at him, her hands slapping against her thighs. “That’s what the DVR is for and I will handle the restaurant. Just stop fighting and stop being so damn stubborn. This is serious!”

“Now, Crystal—“

It sounded like Uncle Troy was about to scold Crystal for her tone, but she wasn’t done scolding him. “You’re acting like this isn’t a big deal and it is. You don’t eat right, you skip your doctor appointments, you don’t always take your medication like you’re supposed to, and I’m not much help. You start with your complaining about being treated like a child and I turn a blind eye. Not anymore. You could have died. Do you understand that? You could have died.”

Before Uncle Troy could say anything Crystal stomped out of the room, nearly knocking over a nurse on her way in. I watched in silence as the nurse administered his blood pressure medication, which knocked him out almost immediately. I thought it best to give Crystal some time alone so I remained in the room, watching my uncle sleep. I was struck by how old he looked. I’d just seen him a few weeks ago when Patrick and I had gone to the restaurant on our first date.

Did he look this old and fragile then?

Crystal returned; her face looked freshly washed and showed no signs of the tears and streaks of makeup from earlier.

“Do you think you can stay here while I run home and pack some clothes for him?”

“Of course.”

While she was gone I decided to sit in the hall, because watching Uncle Troy sleep and look weak was difficult. Our family was so small already. We couldn’t lose Uncle Troy. Just imagining our lives without him brought me to tears. I felt someone standing over me and looked up to find Patrick.

“Come here,” he said, reaching out to hold me. I rose and welcomed his arms around me. I’d tried hard to be strong in front of Crystal. I felt since she was obviously and understandably so upset, it wouldn’t do to have us both fall to pieces. Now, in Patrick’s arms, I gave myself permission to finally let go. He held me as I cried and, when I could finally talk, I told him everything that had happened. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks for coming. You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I did.”

We stood there, staring into one another’s eyes. My feelings for Patrick seemed to get stronger every day but, for the first time, at that moment I was truly grateful to have him in my life. We kissed gently and then broke apart. He rested his forehead against mine and stroked my hair. For a brief moment I felt as if everything would be okay. I closed my eyes and wished that the feeling would last forever.

“Chloe?”

The sudden sound of my name broke through the magical moment and I was reminded that we were standing in a hospital hallway. We both turned to see who had called my name. Myra stood a few feet away with her mouth wide open.

In the span of five seconds at least ten emotions crossed over Myra’s face. I recog
nized surprise, confusion, and possibly disappointment. 

“What are you doing here?” Chloe asked.

Myra looked briefly hurt before responding. “I came by your office to go to lunch, remember? You weren’t there but I ran into Jules who told me you came here for some kind of emergency. I figured it was Brianna, Crystal, or your uncle and came right up.”

Chloe let go of me and hugged Myra. “I totally forgot I’d told Jules where I was going. Thanks for coming.”

“Of course. What happened? They wouldn’t tell me anything at the desk, just that he had been admitted and I had to lie and say I was his daughter to get that.”

Chloe filled Myra in on her uncle’s condition. Myra looked concerned, but at times slightly annoyed. She continuously cast furtive glances my way. Chloe didn’t seem to notice, but I did.

“Well I thought you could use some support, but it looks like Patrick has that covered.”

“Myra, I was going to tell you—”

Chloe didn’t get to finish because the doctor approached and asked to speak to her in private. They stepped away to talk by the nurse’s station. There was an uncomfortable silence during which Myra stared down at her shoes.

“Listen, Chloe was going to tell you today. You know, about us. We were hoping you’d come over next week—”

“Don’t do that.” Myra looked at me suddenly, clearly angry.

“Do what?”

“Don’t stand there and act like you know my friend.
You’re
inviting me over? Who are you? What do you think you’re doing with Chloe?”

“I do know Chloe and, as for what I’m doing with her, I thought it was pretty obvious. We’re dating. I care about her.”

She laughed bitterly. “Dating? Is that what you’re calling it? Guys like you aren’t slick, okay? You knew she was vulnerable after her break up with Lawrence and you’re taking advantage of that situation, plus the fact that she let you move in, to screw her.”

Myra had stepped closer to me and all I saw was pure hate across her face.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to offend you, Myra. In all honesty, right now I don’t care. Chloe isn’t with me because she’s vulnerable and she damn sure isn’t anyone’s fool. I could never take advantage of her. She’s too smart for that, and if you knew her you’d know that.”

“Don’t talk to me like—”

“And what, exactly, do you mean by
guys like me
?”

“You know what I’m talking about. Don’t try to play like you don’t.”

“What?” I sneered. “Actors?”

She stepped closer, putting her face in mine.

“White. Boys. Used to getting everything you want. You think you can have a little fun by screwing a black girl and then what? You mean to tell me you’re going to take her home to meet your parents? I don’t think so. I know how your people think, and I’m telling you right now that I’m not going to let you play Chloe.”

Before I could respond Chloe came back looking upset.

“What happened?” Myra and I asked at the same time. Myra looked annoyed. 

“He’s not responding to the medication as quickly as they’d like. I just called Crystal on her cell. She should be here soon. I told her I’d stay with him until she got here.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Myra offered.

“No, girl. That’s not necessary. You get back to the office. I’m fine.”

“It’s okay. I’m not leaving her.” I knew it was childish to say that with the hopes of needling Myra, but I couldn’t help myself. I was pissed and she deserved it. Chloe smiled at me, took my hand, and gave it a squeeze. Myra noticed and didn’t even try to hide her disapproval. Chloe looked from me to Myra and back again.

“Patrick, can you do me a favor? Can you get us something from the cafeteria?” She turned to face her friend. “Myra, do you want anything?” 

“No,” she replied tersely.

I knew what she was trying to do and, though I didn’t like the idea of her getting into it with her friend under the current circumstances, I knew they needed to talk. “Sure. I’ll be right back.” I gave Chloe a kiss on the lips and turned to leave. As I did, Chloe took Myra by the arm and started to walk away.

As I rode the elevator down to the ground floor I found that I was getting angrier the lower it descended. I had a queasy feeling in my stomach that had nothing to do with the ride. Unless I was mistaken, Myra had just accused me of being a racist—and not just any old racist, but one that got his kicks by using black women.

She doesn’t know me
.

I kept telling myself that over and over in an effort to control my anger, but it wasn’t working. Where did she get off? What had I ever done to inspire that kind of attitude from Myra? 

Guys like you aren’t slick, okay?

White. Boys.
She said it as if she was saying
Serial Killers
. Deep down I knew that Myra’s issues seemed to be rooted in something deeper than Chloe and me, issues that apparently existed long before I came along. That didn’t make her accusations any easier to swallow. I’d never once been accused of being a racist. Never. Roman Glen was predominantly white, sure, but there were some black families in our community. Of course, going to college meant I met more people of different races, and I was happy for it.

Once in the hospital cafeteria I grabbed two bottled waters and headed for the cash registers. The fact that Myra’s words caused me to even question myself was unsettling. She didn’t know anything about me, so her opinion shouldn’t matter. I realized that it did matter—to Chloe. I had to have faith that Chloe knew me well enough to know that Myra had me, and my intentions, all wrong.