Shapiro
Standing at the edge of the bed I watch Penny. Taking in her small frame as the oversized mattress swallows her up. Her natural golden skin has faded to something so lifeless, that I’m starting to not even recognize the girl who once was filled with so much hope. Now, she lies here, in bed, day after day. Eyes closed, in a restless sleep. Only to get up to use the restroom and clean up.
The broken woman I carried in here a week ago, needed me to make it go away. She begged me to stay and understand. Instead, I blamed her. I took her confession and made it about me.
The truth is, I blame myself.
The moment I let my feelings interfere, is the moment Penny became a target. I gave up on her breaking my only promise … to keep her safe.
I told her Mama Ang’s would be a place where she could start over. Make a new life and flourish. I just didn’t think Tyler would find his way there.
No family.
No friends.
No money.
No connection.
I made sure the trail would run cold. How did he find her?
“Please …” Penny whimpers. “Don’t leave me …” She reaches her hand out.
“Penny?” I’m careful to call out. Unsure if she is asleep or delirious.
“Noooooo,” she moans.
“Penny?” I’m standing at her side.
Definitely asleep. Nightmare in full force.
Taking a seat on the edge of the bed causes the mattress to slightly dip.
“Noooooo!” Penny screams, as she jerks upright.
“It’s okay. I’m here.” I reach out to place my hand on hers. Something subtle so she will know it’s me.
Eyes wide, her breathing wild, she opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Turning to me she frantically jerks her head back and forth; her hands begin to tremble and her body shudders.
“What is it?” I jump up looking around to see what it is she wants.
“I-I-I can’t …” She stumbles over her words. “I can’t …”
I’m pulling her into my arms before I can think better of it. “You’re okay.”
Gripping my shirt, she claws at me, trying to get closer. “I can’t cry.” Her body wracks with a tearless sob.
“Penny …” I plead, as I pry her body from mine to get a better look at her. “Dammit.” I look over to the nightstand and see the bottle of water there, still unopened.
Just like yesterday and the day before.
“When is the last time you actually drank something?”
“I-uh-I. I can’t … I don’t … I don’t remember.” Her voice trembles.
“You’re dehydrated.” I reach over and grab the water, twisting off the cap, holding the bottle to her lips as she takes a sip.
Penny, takes ahold of my wrist, tilting it farther up, her neck bobbing with each gulp.
How did I let her get this way? For the past week, I brought her something to eat, but she would only take a bite and leave the rest. When I brought her in the medication, I gave her a new bottle, every time.
“There you go.” I pull the empty bottle away and set it back on the nightstand.
“Thank you.” Penny wipes her mouth with the neck of her T-shirt.
By the looks of it, it was probably safer to use the back of her hand.
“You need to shower. It’s been a couple days since I’ve heard the water run.”
Rolling her eyes, “It hasn’t been that long. I …” Realization sets in as Penny collapses to the bed. Searching for the end of the sheets. “I just want to sleep.” She gives me a look as she finds what she’s looking for.
“First shower and eat … then you can sleep.” I try to compromise.
“Just leave.” She lifts the blankets up and over her head.
“Don’t make me drag you to the bathroom,” I warn.
Peeking out from under the covers, her eyes and the tip of her nose barely visible. “You can’t.”
“Oh! I can, and I will.” I’m joking in the most serious way possible.
“Don’t touch me.” She scoots up to the back of the bed. Quickly pulling the covers to her chin. “I mean, I’ll do it when I’m ready.” She pauses, then continues, “Just a little nap, I promise.”
Nodding, I slowly back away. This shit is too heavy for me to handle by myself.
Time to call in reinforcements.
Penny
I wasn’t sure how time passed so quickly. A week of nothing but lying here day after day. Unable to move, unable to think. The light blinding, head pounding, I put my thoughts to rest. To ease the pain of more than just my injuries.
Mourning the loss of my child, my family … myself. Only getting up to use the restroom. Which was few and far in between, but I had no choice. The spotting a daily reminder of what I lost. Some days I would rinse off in the shower and others I would clean up in the sink, but the end result was always the same. Sleep.
When you fall asleep you take a fifty-fifty chance of either having a sound sleep or restless one filled with dreams or in my case nightmares. Since I just had one of the latter, I’m betting on a nice, peaceful, “please don’t wake me up, I’m just on the brink of comatose” sleep.
The problem, I’m wide awake and my stomach is roaring with hunger. I could get up and take a shower, grab something from the kitchen … or I could let my tired eyes rest.
Sleep.
Rolling over, I can’t help but examine his room. It’s bare. The walls are painted a gray-blue, but nothing adorns them.
No pictures.
No decorations.
No memories.
Just a single light from the lamp beside me, projecting across the wall. Nothing else to tell me about the man on the other side of that wall.
Smacking my lips together, my mouth dry, I reach for the other bottle of water Shapiro brought in before my so-called nap and take a big gulp. Lying down, I reach across the bed and blindly reach for the nightstand. Missing my target, the bottle rolls under the bed.
I contemplate getting up, but I’m already exhausted from the thought. Instead, I do the next best thing. Lying flat on my stomach, I slowly pull myself to the edge of the bed. Hair sweeping the floor, I stretch my arms as far under the bed as I can, without falling off. All the blood rushing to my head.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.
Feeling a little light-headed, I give up. It’s water, in a plastic bottle, it’s not going anywhere.
Swinging up, I hit my head on the nightstand, causing something on the bottom shelf to tumble out onto the floor. Shifting I see a small memory album laying open.
Mama Ang.
Swiping up, I push my way back up onto the bed.
“That was a workout,” I huff.
Fluffing up my pillow, I adjust the covers to settle in.
Album in hand, I close my eyes and take in a deep breath to prepare myself for what is inside.
Starting at the beginning, I pull out a small card addressed to Frances. I know I shouldn’t pry, but this is what I wanted. To know more about the man who has given up days to make sure I’m taken care of.
Frances Eugene,
You are a bright star in a huge dark sky. Go and shine. Be the man I know you to be … show the world. Good luck and don’t forget about me.
Love you,
Mama Ang
P.S. Just so you don’t forget me.
Turning the page, Mama Ang is standing there with a mixing bowl in hand, holding out a wooden spoon of brownie batter.
Picture after picture posing in her everyday world.
Mama Ang standing there in her kitchen, with a pink mixing a bowl in hand. Holding out her finger full of batter to the camera.
She always said licking the bowl was the best part.
Flipping the page there is another picture of Mama Ang holding a basket of muffins with a black eye mask covering her face.
Bakery Bandit.
I remember the first day she decided to let me in on her little secret. It was only a couple of days after I arrived.
“Rise and shine, kiddo.” Mama Ang flips on the overhead light and I groan out.
“What time is it?” I pull the sheets back, eyes still closed.
“What time is it?” I hear her come closer. “Kiddo, it’s time to get your sad butt out of bed. That’s what time it is,” she says as she grips the bed sheet. I know what’s coming so I squint my eyes as hard as I can. Relinquishing my claim on the thin sheet of cotton and choose to cover my eyes instead.
But it doesn’t come.
I’m still under the sheets, eyes squeezed shut, hands covering for added protection.
“You still in here?” I call out.
“Yup!”
“You’re not leaving, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Why?” I throw the covers off and sit up. Hands in my lap, I open one eye to adjust to the light and then the other.
“Because. You need me and what you need more than me is this …” She throws a small black mask in my lap. “Put this on. We are about to get high?”
“What? No!” I throw the mask back at her. “I can’t do drugs. I-I’ve never done them.”
I knew this real-life gingerbread house was a façade. Mama Ang probably runs some underground drug ring.
“Silly girl. Not high, high at least not today.” She winks.
My eyes, I’m pretty sure, just bulged out of my face.
“Kidding. Today we are going to get high on life.” She motions to the mask. “Now hurry up, you’re making the Bakery Bandit run late.”
Pulling the hair tie off my wrist. I wrap my hair in a bun securing it. “So, putting this on makes me … what?” I pick up the mask and secure it in place.
“Kiddo, don’t get your hopes up.” She makes her way to the door and turns. “There is only one Bakery Bandit. You, are no other than, Bakery Buddy, Bakery Bandit’s trusted sidekick.” She flips off the light.
“Hey! I can’t see.”
“Spying eyes, my friend. Spying eyes.” She nods once toward the window. “Five minutes, meet me out back,” she says as she skips out of the room chanting something about muffins and memories.
Closing the book, I rub the worn leather album and place it gently next to me. Given its condition, Shapiro must have flipped through it quite often and after seeing those couple of pictures, I can see why.
Mama Ang taught me so much that day. The muffins we delivered were for patients, widows, businesses, anyone who needed a smile.
That day she taught me that sometimes mornings are worth waking up for.
Swiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I wipe away the happy tears. Smiling at the memories.
“Oh my God.” I take a long whiff. “Is that …” I lift my arm back up and quickly gag.
Enough is enough. Mama Ang’s picture is the reminder I needed. No matter what is going on in my life, I’m in control of it.
Choose happiness.
And even though I’m not ready to make that choice. I can choose to wake up and move.
Quickly moving around the room, ignoring the sting from my muscles and the pounding in my head. I find my things. Grabbing a comfy shirt, lounge pants and all the necessities.
What time is it?
“Time to get high!” I shout as I swing open the door, skipping out of the room Mama Ang style.
“Holy shit!” Nina jumps.
I scream skidding to a stop.
Shapiro stands there, eyes wide.
Nina looks up at Shapiro. “Depressed, huh?”
Looking at me. Then back to Nina. He stands there.
“Can someone tell me what is going on?” I put my hands on my hips. My lace bra falling to the floor.
Doing a quick bend and pop, I become a tad dizzy, catching myself on the frame. “Crap.” I hold my head.
“You okay?” Shapiro seems concerned.
I have to go throughout the day living. Letting the darkness overcome is not what Mama Ang would have wanted.
I shouldn’t want it.
Fight to stand strong, I lift my head up high and wait for one of them to give me an answer.
“Big guy over here.” She throws her thumb in Shapiro’s direction. “Said you were depressed, wallowing in your own filth.”
“I-I didn’t say that exactly . . .…” Shapiro begins to backpedal.
“You didn’t?” Nina comes to move beside me. Uniting our girl power forces. “You said …” She tries to get out before she sidesteps. “Oh hell.” She takes another step. Hands to her side, she turns to look at me. “A week, Penny? Seriously?”
“Well, technically, one or two days. But the other ones, I rinsed off in some shape or form. So, tell that guy to stop being dramatic.”
“Doesn’t count. Did you even use soap?” she whispers, eyeing Shapiro.
“Say it,” he counters.
“Say what?” Nina and I say in unison.
“That I was right?”
“About what?”
Nina and I begin to laugh.
“Twinning?” Nina jokes holding out her fist.
“Totally.” I shove my clothes under my arm. I give her a small bump since my knuckles are still a little sore from the fall.
“Well, apparently, I need to shower … with soap.”
“Yeah,” Shapiro replies standing there shocked and confused.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this … holding you up from finally taking a proper shower, but can I talk to you for a minute.” Nina closes the distance before she continues, “I promise, I’ll be quick. I need to get home to study. I have one more exam and then I’m done with finals.” Nina beams and I couldn’t be happier for her.
While I was living with Mama Ang, Nina decided to make a few life changes as well by going back to school for interior design. A dream she thought would never see the light of day in her previous relationship. Maybe someday, I’ll have the courage to do the same.
“Sure. Everything okay. Is it school? Kyle?” I glance toward Shapiro, hoping he would give us a few minutes.
“Let’s go into the bedroom for a little girl talk.”
“If we go back in there, I can’t guarantee the bed won’t be calling my name. Those pillows …” I laugh, trying to make light of the situation, but Nina wasn’t having it.
“Those pillows …” she interrupts, “are to knock you upside the head. Concussion or not, if you even so much as look at them. Got it?”
“Got it.”