Recovering

Blake slips back into my hospital room after visiting hours. I'm mostly asleep from the pain meds. He strips down to his boxer briefs and carefully climbs in bed with me. He curls up with me hugging me back against himself. He whispers to me, "I love you, Ava."

I mumble back, "Love you too, Blake." Then I sleep soundly for the night. I don't even wake up needing any pain meds.

Then I'm awoken by my poppa exclaiming, "What the hell!"

I feel Blake lift his head behind me. He asks, "What time is it?"

I mumble, "Too early."

My Abuela informs him, "Six am."

"Can't you Cross boys even leave my granddaughter alone while she's recovering in a hospital bed," ask my poppa angrily. "Did you have to come and impose yourself on her while she's recovering?"

Blake stretches as he sits up, "What do you mean impose?"

Abuela informs Poppa, "Ava's still has on her hospital gowns. She's not naked."

Blake slips off my hospital bed and Abuela tells Poppa, "He's wearing his underwear. He's not naked either. I don't think they did anything."

"What would we be doing," ask Blake getting dressed. "Ava's injured. I just wanted to be near her. I've been so worried about her the last few days I've not slept well. And when I couldn't sleep last night, I came here to sleep with her. I didn't think that would hurt anything." Then he steps into the bathroom to relieve himself."

Poppa ask me directly," Did he impose himself on you?"

I shake my head," No, Poppa. We just slept."

Abuela opens the curtains and blinds and I squint at the bright morning sunlight and complain, "Why does it have to be so damn bright? My eyeballs are melting."

Abuela tells me, "You're eyeballs are fine, vampire."

"Ava," Blake calls as he's washing his hands, "Is this your tooth brush?"

"Yes, it's mine," I call back. Then I hear him brushing his teeth.

Poppa asks me, "Has he ever been cruel to you?"

I shake my head, "No. He likes to tease Bryant and Bronson, but he's not cruel about it. It's just typical big brother stuff."

Blake comes out of the bathroom and to my bedside, "Can I do anything for you before I leave for work?"

"Help me out of bed and to the bathroom," I request.

Blake stays in the bathroom as I relieve myself, wash my hands and brush my teeth. Then he helps me back to my hospital bed and into it. He takes my hand and kisses my fingers.

I asks Blake, "Why did you give Dr. Walker a dirty look on your way out last night?"

"He told you that," assumes Blake.

I shake my head, "Abuela told me when they came in with my dinner last night."

Blake shrugs, "I guess I just don't like him."

I ask Blake, "How can you dislike someone you've yet to have a conversation with? He hasn't even lived here a whole week yet."

Blake shrugs again as he's holding my hand, "He's not from here and I guess that makes me uneasy."

"Well we're all from the same planet," I tell Blake. "Does that make you feel better?"

Blake smiles amused, "Not exactly. I really don't like that they just moved some strange guy into your home. What if he takes a shine to you?"

"Blake Cross," I tell him amused, "you're sounding insecure."

Blake sighs and admits, "Maybe just a little. There wasn't anyone better than me, Bryant and Bronson in our district for your family to choose for you until he showed up. He's a doctor like you, your dad and your grandfathers which means he's smart like all of you."

"You're smart too," I tell him.

Blake admits, "I'm smart enough to know I'm not as smart as you. I like to think I'm perfect, but I know I'm not. And until he arrived, I was the best looking guy in the district and the best they could do for a husband for you here. I know I'm technically not good enough for you and that you deserve better, but I love you and want you anyway. I can't do any better than you."

"Goodness," I tell Blake, "whoever they think they've found for me, he's probably in another district. And I know they're not in a hurry to send me away. Give them time to consider your proposal. I think they'll like the idea of keeping me under their roof. Of course after putting up with me while I'm recovering, they may be anxious to get rid of me."

Blake manages a smile for me, "They may want to keep you under their roof, but they'll do whatever they feel is best for you. And I can't blame them for that. I better get going. I need to grab something to eat before I head to work."

"Here," offers Abuela, "have a breakfast burrito."

Blake accepts the breakfast burrito and I happily accept one too. He is visibly impressed with it and tells Abuela, "Mrs. Reed, this is delicious." He finishes his breakfast burrito, kisses me good-bye and heads to work.

After Blake is gone Poppa says, "That was really mature of him to admit his insecurities when it comes to you, Ava. And brave of him to admit you deserve better than him. I knew he was the sharpest of their three boys, but I didn't know he was sharp enough to know he can't do better than you. We've got a hard decision ahead of us."

They will ask me questions to help them make their decision on what's best for me. Truth is in this area I have no idea what's best for me. My Doctorate's didn't come with that information. Caring for infants and children is much easier than trying to decide who I should be stuck spending my life with. And I will be stuck with him. I can't get a divorce unless he decides he wants one. Plus, I really don't have much choice in the matter. I expected to become Bryant's wife whether that's what I wanted or not so I just accepted it. I really try not to have any hopes or dreams in this area because it's easier to accept whatever decision is made for me if I don't have any.

Around ten am a gentle hand on my shoulder wakes me. I blink my brown eyes open to a smiling Dr. Walker who informs me, "Detective Reynolds needs to speak to you. Are you up to it?"

I nod as I sit the bed up, "Sure." I rub my eyes and stretch as much as my sore body will allow, "Good morning Detective Reynolds."

"Good morning, Dr. Washington," returns Detective Reynolds.

"Just Ava is fine, Detective Reynolds."

Detective Reynolds nods acceptingly, "So how are you feeling today?"

I think for a moment, "Mostly groggy. Between the anti-inflammatory medication and the pain meds, I'm doing a lot of sleeping. And I find being a patient a little unsettling to say the least. But as long as no one tries to make me use a bedpan, I think we'll all survive my injuries."

Detective Reynolds smiles amused, "That sounds like the safest approach. Ava, Bryant doesn't believe you're alive. He thinks we're trying to trick him for some reason. And he can't be evaluated properly by the specialist that accompanied me and my partner here if he won't speak to us. He won't even speak to his family. He just keeps requesting to be executed. So we would really appreciate it if you would come over to the psych ward with me and talk to him. You won't be alone with him. Both my partner and I will be in the room with you. The specialist will observe from the observation room. Dr. Walker can stay in the room with you too."

I nod agreeingly as I answer, "I'ld like to see Bryant."

"Are you sure," Dr. Walker ask me concerned. "You don't have to do it."

I assure him, "It's alright Dunston. I want to see Bryant."

He doesn't look happy as he tells me, "Alright then. I'll go get a wheelchair for you."

"Detective Reynolds, would you please assist me out of the bed and over to the lavatory." He doesn't hesitate to assist me out of the bed and over to the lavatory. The lavatory's not spacious, but it's functional and wide enough for a wheel chair to maneuver in. I'm grateful for the bars to hold onto and put my weight on. After relieving myself, I wash my hands and face and brush my teeth. I check the two French braids Abuela and Dr. Walker put in my hair last night to ensure they're not coming loose.

Dr. Walker is waiting by the lavatory door with a wheelchair. I am happy to plant myself in it. Even with assistance, my short trip to the lavatory and back to my hospital bed is exhausting.

Dr. Walker lays a blanket over my lap and tucks it around my legs and feet. Then he places a throw over my shoulders. Hospitals are chilly places for a reason. Most viruses and bacteria thrive in warm moist environments. The hospital's cooler temperature discourages the growth of most viruses and bacteria.

"Are you comfortable," Dr. Walker ask me concerned.

I nod, "Yes, I'm fine, thank you." Then Detective Reynolds leads the way.

Dr. Walker tells me, "If you change your mind just let me know and I'll take you back to your room. I understand if you're scared."

"But I'm not scared," I inform him. I probably should be, but I'm not. "I know it must seem strange, odd or even crazy that I'm not afraid to be in the same room with him. I know one would expect that I would never want to see him again after last Sunday. And the last few years he's felt more like a stalker than a fiancé or boyfriend… I don't expect you to understand, but he wasn't always like this. He was a sweet kind little boy. Before we started kindergarten together we only saw each other in passing at church and in the Little Sunday Schoolers' class on Sunday with our mothers. He would always wave to me with one hand tucked under his arm so everyone didn't see and I would give him a little wave back. After we started kindergarten it didn't take long for the teachers to get tired of tying his shoes for him. People like to gossip that he never learned to tie his shoes, but that's not true. He knew how. He just didn't have the manual dexterity to get them tied tightly. So the teachers had me tying his shoes so they didn't have to. The other children wanted nothing to do with either of us just for different reasons. Me because I was a little brown child to put it nicely, so don't play with her. They would tell me I was dirty and go home and wash your ass. And him because he was quiet and thoughtful. So all we had was each other growing up. He didn't care that I have brown skin." I smile, "He loves my brown skin. He wasn't dumb enough to think I was dirty. And I always appreciated that he wasn't the typical loud mouth pushy little boy." I frown sadly, "We were best friends. I'm losing my best friend and it hurts. My family just wanted to give him time to finish earning his degree and get comfortable with my working here so he wouldn't make me quit and would let me come back when our children were old enough. I'm this district's only pediatrician. I fill a vital role here even if it's only part-time." I tear up, "Even if they let me marry Blake instead of Bryant, Bryant will still be broken hearted."

Dunston pats my shoulder companionably, "I think I understand."

Our psych ward isn't huge, but it has rooms and cells for those that are sick and injured to be kept in for homeland security. Besides his head injury, Bryant is on suicide watch. No one has managed to harm themselves seriously in one of our padded rooms to my knowledge. But Detective Reynolds leads us into a homeland security interview room within our hospital. This is the first time one of these rooms has gotten used since I started here. The table and the chair are bolted to the floor so they can't be over turned during a fit of rage.

Detective Reynolds knocks on the door and another detective that's nearly as buff as Reynolds answers the door. Reynolds makes quick introductions, "This is Dr. Ava Washington. Ava, this is Detective Parker.

"Good morning Detective," I greet pleasantly.

He glances down at me in the wheelchair unimpressed and doesn't bother to respond. He simply steps back out of the way and allows Detective Reynolds to step inside the room. Then Reynolds allows Dr. Walker to push me into the room.

I never imagined seeing Bryant like this. His feet are cuffed to an eyebolt in the floor and his hands are cuffed to the table in front of him. I can see the sweet little boy I grew up with. He's so lost and scared. But he's there in his eyes. I see him. He's there. His eyes have been terrifyingly empty the last few years. But he's back. He's there, I see him. And I try to take control of the wheelchair to go to him as he calls wide eyed and shocked, "Ava!"

Dr. Walker retains a hold of the wheelchair preventing me from going to Bryant. I demand frustrated, "Let me go."

Dr. Walker tells me softly, "I don't think that's a good idea."

I ask the detectives, "Has Bryant given you any trouble? Has he been violent?"

Both detectives shake their heads no. Detective Reynolds shares, "He's actually been quite docile. We just haven't been able to get him to talk to us. He's just kept confessing to your murder and requesting execution."

"And if he becomes violent and tries to hurt me," I ask them, "are you both confident you can stop him?"

They both nod their heads and Detective Parker answers confidently, "Of course."

I look back at Dr. Walker and tell him, "It's alright, Dunston. You're here and so are these two detectives. It's alright."

Dunston reluctantly releases my wheelchair. I roll it over to Bryant and take his tear streaked face in my small hands. I wipe his tears lovingly as he says my name softly, "Ava… My beautiful Ava."

I am so happy to look into his eyes and see him. I kiss him lovingly and ask him, "Where have you been? I've missed you."

Bryant rest his head on my shoulder, "I don't know Ava. I remember everything. But it feels like a bad dream, like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from."

"Could you at least uncuff his hands," I demand of the detectives. "We're not going anywhere. He's still chained to the floor by his ankles."

Detective Reynolds frowns but he uncuffs Bryant's hands.

Bryant's hands are trembling as he gently touches my face and hair. He kisses me lovingly and holds me tightly, "I can't believe I hurt you." He sobs softly, "But I remember doing it."

I inform him, "You weren't yourself. You haven't been yourself for a while. And it wasn't all you Sunday. I fell down the front staircase. I'm not sure when some of my injuries occurred."

Bryant tells me, "I remember choking you. I remember kicking you and punching you. And what was going through my mind doesn't make sense to me now. You are the one person who has always loved me unconditionally." He tenderly kisses the bruises on my neck. "I'm so frustrated and tired of sharing you with Blake and Bronson, I feel like I've trapped you with my dysfunctional family and I don't know how to let you go. I love you so much. All I ever wanted was to spend my life with you. But for you, spending your life with me means being stuck with my dysfunctional family." He sobs again, "But your family will never let us marry now."

I caress away his tears and kiss him lovingly, "But I still love you. And above all my family wants me to have a happy life. They just need to see you're yourself again."

"Has Blake asked to marry you yet," ask Bryant.

"Yesterday." I answer sadly.

"How did your dad respond," ask Bryant concerned.

"Initially he refused," I share, "They're lucky they got in the room to see me. But Blake offered to relocate to our family home to be my husband. Daddy agreed to think about it."

Bryant ask me, "Is Blake right about your family looking outside of our district for a husband for you."

I nod yes.

"Have they found someone," ask Bryant worried.

"They think they have," I answer. "But I haven't asked any questions. I'm afraid of the answers I might get. I just know I'm our districts only pediatrician. I know our district needs me. So I don't know what they're trying to work out."

"It's not like you not to ask questions," notes Bryant. "Why haven't you asked?"

I admit, "Because I'm afraid of the answers. What if they're trying to arrange a marriage for me in another district? I know in some districts I would be much safer than here. They may be trying to make a trade. There are districts with more people of color than ours, many more. That means more health care providers. They're probably trying to trade me for a male pediatrician that can provide full-time care."

"I doubt that," says Bryant thoughtfully. "But maybe another district would be good for you. Maybe you would be safer in a district with more people of color. Here, you're a novelty. Men's mouths may be saying they don't want you in front of their wives, mothers and daughters here, but their dicks are saying something else when you walk by."

That's too true. I've seen the rising interests of men that contradict the ugly things falling out of their mouths. Still I tell Bryant sincerely, "But this is my home."

Bryant gently caresses tears from my cheeks and kisses me tenderly, "It may not feel like home at first. You may feel homesickness the likes of which you've never been able to imagine. But in time, your homesickness will wane and it will come to feel like home." He manages a weak smile for me, "And you'll wonder how you ever missed this awful place."

I still tell Bryant with a slight sob, "But it's not all awful."

Bryant hugs me, "The things I remember from the last few years are awful. The things I know you've had to endure because I love you are awful. I love you, Ava. And how you have managed to endure me and my family with such strength and dignity, I'll never know. But I do know you deserve better." He kisses me lovingly and tells Dunston, "Doctor, please take the woman I love back to her hospital room. Make sure she rest. She'll work herself half to death if you let her. And give her better loving care than you've ever given before in your life."

"Will do," responds Dunston confidently as he pulls me and my wheelchair back away from Bryant.

Bryant tells the detectives, "I don't know if I can answer all of your questions. I'm not sure I remember everything clearly. It feels like a terrible nightmare. I don't know how reliable and accurate I'll be."

"Just do your best," Detective Parker tells Bryant as Detective Reynolds lets Dunston out of the room with me.

Detective Reynolds tells me, "Thank you, Dr. Washington."

I point a stern finger up at him, "You just listen to me you big thick goon. You better not harm a hair on his head. He's suffered enough."

Detective Reynolds smiles understandingly and somewhat amused at me, "You really do love him."

"Of course I do," I respond a bit insulted. "Do I really seem like a gold digger to you?"

Detective Reynolds shakes his head, "No, I know you're not. My apologies that I may be a little narrow minded in areas concerning women and colored folk like yourselves. Get some rest, Dr. Washington. Good day Dr. Walker."

"Good day, Detective," returns Dunston.

I go home Monday. It feels strange to miss church on Sunday. I am to stay off my right foot which means a wheelchair came home with me. And schedules are shuffled so someone is always home with me. But Dunston sees to most of my care. I find him to be an extremely knowledgeable and competent doctor with a warm caring bedside manner. And it certainly doesn't hurt that he is gorgeous eye candy. I think he's the first man I've ever really found attractive. And I hate to admit it, but I'm attracted to him. He's in the bedroom by mine which puts him sharing the Jack and Jill bathroom with me.

When Poppa bought this triplex he intended for it to also house Abuela's parents and he planned to rent out the basement apartment. He says it just needed a little work. Abuela always rolls her eyes when he says that which tells me it needed more than just a little work. But the renovations Poppa and Granddaddy did make it feel like one large home that just has a kitchen, living, dining and three bedrooms on each floor.

Originally Abuela's parents were on the main floor so they didn't have to go up and down too many steps. Poppa, Abuela and Mom when she was a little girl, lived on the top floor and Poppa rented out the basement apartment to another doctor and his wife. Abuela's parents were deported to Mexico for being illegal aliens. The doctor and his wife were here legally, but not citizens yet. They were from Nigeria. And when things started to get bad, returned to Nigeria on their own. I know Abuela is tortured by not knowing what's going on with her family in Mexico. But there's no mail received from other countries. No phone calls. No contact what so ever. But occasionally someone hacks into our television service and a message is seen by everyone watching TV. It's usually just people quickly saying to family members trapped here that they're safe and well where they are and send their love. But they wouldn't do it if they knew how much trouble it got their family members trapped here into. They get picked up, detained and interviewed. I've heard those interviews sometimes involve torture. But Abuela's parents were deported when my mother was a little girl. They have most likely passed away by now. I can only imagine how tortured Abuela is by not knowing what's become of them.