CHAPTER 5 (NOW)

The realm between life and death is one thing I never intended to seek thought on, but when I stepped into a medicine class, I knew this was the part of reality I was set on course to play with. The detachment between the two is quite small, very small indeed. It is like a little membrane that when a little damaged, one can easily head to the next side, and that's what I was doing for the previous 24 hours. It was hell of a surgery, a patient intended not to be one part of us.., -I mean, he was transferred here then, at the spur of moment-, was brought in a horrible condition, and we were needed urgently, as he could barely breathe, as the left side of his heart could not condone the weight of oxygen that was exchanging the blood in the lungs…, meaning deoxygenated blood had started mixing with oxygenated..,God.., I wish I could teach a little science. You see, the heart contains the left and right side, the right side carries only deoxygenated blood, this is blood from the rest of the body, that is used up, and needs more oxygen. I'm really trying in layman's language, but anyway, when in terms with cardio, we use more complex words of the same. Anyway, the surgery was over, but unfortunately…, I mean unfortunately…, we hold no right to disapprove what nature condones, and we lost the patient five hours after the surgery. It seems the nurse did some wrongs with the medication. It was successful, but as y'all know, the hospital would never accept wrongs, never, but it hurts because we really did our job well, we really did. I may have been drunk when coming but I would never let myself do it without making sure I was a hundred percent sober, I made sure I could see well before I entered the surgery room to aid. 

I am disappointed honestly.., in nature and everything. 

The reason I say this is because I see the family of the deceased on the right side of the bench consoling each other. I hated breaking out news of death to a family; it felt like calling myself a failure a thousand times. I wish some people would be doctors to really understand the guilt I felt inside, the guilt that the nurse did, and the fact that right when we had clearly done everything and his blood was neatly traveling well, was when he would wave all goodbye. Death is really… Death is something indeed, it always is.

During work, some thoughts never really rang on my mind for some time now. Thoughts of love and pain; it was more of a by-the-way. The thing at hand was to save a life; that was what mattered. I looked at my cell for the first time, checking the time, when random messages tuned on my phone:

"I tried to call you" 

"I tried to call you" 

"Voicemail"

Never mattered, I found myself stating as I headed onto my car. It was almost dawn, five in the morning, so you can imagine how hard the surgery was. But luckily, there was some rest room next for doctors before really heading out, or departing home. That was where we got the news of the death, and all the "Good job" high fives turned into a melancholy occasion. We doctors sometimes feel much worse like the family; we understand their pains.

"What's that vibrating?" I found myself questioning as I sat inside my car and unbuttoned two of the top buttons of this white shirt. "My phone." So I just took it and answered, without really checking the caller. I was super tired despite being provided the rest room for rest; I barely had sleep there, with all the smell of drugs and the pains and groans from the patients. If not being heard, you would just see through your imaginations all the surgical things you were doing to a patient. It was sometimes horrible to remember. But hell, I was proud when a surgery was successful, and I told myself over again that it was, it really was, it was… just bad luck.

"Hello, Hayzen here," I stated.

"Hayzen, he is sick, send money," the person behind the phone stated, and I found myself tapping the wheel in front of me, as if thinking through what to answer.

"Okay," I stated, and the phone just hung up right after I said the word.

These were calls which made the man in me crash, they were calls that just made me look outside the window, and see the world crowded with nothing but inhuman beings. I looked at the number again; it was always a new number, +1... I found myself already getting to master the number, and I just stopped myself; I had crammed a lot of these kinds of numbers before. 

"Was he healthy? 

How were they?" 

I found myself questioning, and my heart started racing a thousand times again; it felt more of an ache, and I called the number again..., hoping the person would pick up. "Please pick up," my heart stated, and my mind repeated the word "Idiot! Idiot!" Our minds sometimes..,,, the phone rang; no one picked. I did it again; I rang it again. I needed it to be picked, and I cornered myself with the idea that I just wanted to check how he was doing…, how he was doing,.. mine.., and not the other.., not the other.

"What?" the person answered. 

"Can I speak to... how are you?" I found myself speaking. "Just send the money... bye...," and that disturbing tone when someone hangs up. I was tired, I was tired, and I felt like screaming, really screaming, and I lay my head on the wheel, I lay my head there. I had screamed a thousand times before, and I was already screaming as of now. Why did I feel all these emotions? 

And the old familiar feeling started creeping, calling, and suddenly it became a scream. I was a man, I was a man, the words I always repeated when in this state. "Fuck!... FUCKKKKKKKKKK…," 

Life already pissed me out, I guess, and I started my car as I looked at my phone. I knew that damned caller was waiting; she always did, she fucking looked for ways to just reach out to me. Reaching out was never a problem, I knew I had the responsibility as much as I gave her the more, but I wished the responsibility would just be shared between us in the same house... but sometimes when the lights are off, when the lights dim on us, we lose people, yeah. I... honestly, I just needed to send the caller the damn money. I always did send a lot... I knew who the caller was, of course I knew... but it was harder than ever to accept that we really, that everything fell apart, right when my life was literally falling into place, career-wise and all. Anyway, I just took my phone.

Maybe one day, I will tell a more clear story about this caller and I .., I sighed, as I searched for Luke's number. He dealt with her better.

"Luke... Where the hell is Luke?" it took its time before being picked, and…,,

 "Yoh." Luke stated, as I sighed in relief.

"Hey... eeh, I need you to send her some cash," I stated. 

"Dude... are you serious?" 

"Yeah man, send her a thousand dollars, it will do for a month," I stated. 

"Dude, she ain't gonna leave you if you keep sending her all this. Just take the damn junior and live together." 

"Man..., just send it. I'll refund a while later. My phone is on lock,… I mean.., my money is on lock saving... it is maturing man, can't interfere," I stated. 

"Dude..., okay then (sighs)... just..., she's a gold digger though... you gonna die." 

"I chose her,… I just have to deal with it..., everything.., am also losing it.., but…" 

"Man, that's a lot of money though," he kept on insisting, and already I was feeling myself losing control of my own talks with him. 

"Dude..., what do you want me to do?... I chose my fucking poison, without knowing it was poison..., what am I to do? I have tried blocking, unblocking.., created a all together bank account but I just can't.., I really can't... what am I to do? Take him then what? Live with him…, what about her? …anyway,…I'm already losing it... I'm already losing it. She won't call in a month anyway." 

"Dude, you know, you want her to keep calling... you want her to keep doing it, you want her locked...," I hang up right when Luke was talking about that. But it was true. 

"SEND PLEASE..., DISEASE ISSUES. WORK HOURS BYE." I sent to Luke, as I now started the car. 

Luke was right, he was, I always knew I sent her a lot of money, I really did, I just wanted her to live lavish, I just wanted her to live well. I did not want to condone her with my/our responsibility. The truth is we had a little one; he was some years old, I think two. We had never spoken for a while; it was currently that she had started calling, way sooner, she wanted money and everything. In the past, I just let Luke deal with her, I knew it would never be wise for me to be in terms when I was still trying to heal. But healing is a hell of a journey, it has no end, doesn't it? Every time we speak, it is like the same, the same experience, it is like everything that I have been building from the day she left the house, it is like it just crumbles down, it just crumbles down in ways I can't even explain. And all it turns to is a yearning for her, a want to hear her voice again, in the name of what we shared... just rang in my head as I saw Luke text me that he had sorted her.

I wonder how she is doing. 

I wonder if they eat well or they might suffer from malnutrition. 

I wonder who the boy now looks like; he looked much like her. 

I wonder if I will ever get a chance to hold him, the last time I held was in that bed. 

I wonder what will be told about me. Will I be like my father, a worthless black man who cared no less that he had impregnated a white girl? 

My worst fear was being a bad father, and I already seemed to be. I already seemed to be... a father. "Father" was one word I hated even thinking of.

It had taken me years to accept.

How much I did for her,

how much I would kill,

how much I would fight for them.

And I was parked in some park., i had parked the car, or rather stopped the car in a certain park ; I could not drive. I could not.

I observed the children; they were happy.

How beautiful would a family feel, I found myself stating... and I just imagined what would never happen.

I know the truth... it's hard to let go. It's really hard. It is hard to forget the much I wanted for both of us.., all of us. It is like giving away something you really treasured.

It has been hell of years. And still this feeling.

The children were beautiful, and I felt a little wetness on my cheek.

Damn tears, damn tears... no, that's blood.

What kind of father was I?... I questioned.

One who just sends money.., just a money sending father...,,,, I sighed.