Chapter 2 Hope
“Wake up!” came my mother’s shrill voice breaking into my sleep. I had never been a morning person and I didn’t foresee that changing any time in the near future.
“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” she began shouting, shaking my bed.
Rolling over to face her, I groaned, “I’m up.”
Sighing with relief, my mother leaned over my bed, physically exhausted from her mini fit. I perked up a little more and noticed how sickly she was looking this morning.
“Mom, are you okay?”
“No, honey, I’m not so good today.”
Not so good today. My mother was as tough as nails. This was the woman who had checked out of the hospital with walking pneumonia and went straight to working a double shift, so for her to say that she wasn’t feeling well was a big deal.
“I need you to go do Mr. King for me today.”
Her choice of words made the 19-year-old me giggle at the thought of me “doing” him, but I didn’t say anything to my mom.
My mom took her work very seriously. My father had died in a car crash when I was very young and he didn’t have insurance. My mother had no work experience and little support, but she had three young children to take care of. My mother struggled to take care of us. And it wasn’t until she had picked up a few regular cleaning jobs that we started seeing a light at the end of the tunnel.
Then, mom got sick. The doctors have no answer for her other than that she should retire and live out the ret of her days on a beach. Of course, that just wasn’t her reality.
I saw her come in many days, worn out and tired, becoming a shell of her former self, slowly dying in front of my eyes. And my heart began to break. Losing my dad had been hard enough, something that I will never get over.
My dad had been my best friend and my hero. He was so fun, always joking and laughing, doing silly things that would make my mother scold him, but a smile always played at the corner of mouth while she was doing it.
I couldn’t remember the last time that I’d seen her laugh.
I started helping her out with her jobs. I figured that my being younger, yet old enough, I could help her lighten her load. When I first offered to help out, my mom flat out refused, saying that it was her responsibility to care for the family and that she wanted me to start my life. She wouldn’t even listen as I explained that my family was my life and that I would do everything in my power to make sure that everyone was okay.
And I didn’t mind the work. I would throw on my iPod and rock out while cleaning. Time would always fly by. Even my mom was surprised at how well things were going at her jobs when I worked them. I told her that I’d learned from the best.
I had helped with all of her jobs, except for Mr. King. She told me that he was very particular and he made certain parts of the house off limits. She didn’t want to risk anything going wrong. We had been struggling just to pay bills for so long that once she started working for Mr. King, she saw that she finally had a chance to change things for us because he paid more than anyone that she’d ever worked for. She cleaned his house once a week and cooked his meals for the entire week.
“Sure, Mom, I can do Mr. King. I’ll get dressed and head over now.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” she said, putting her hands up to stop me in my tracks. “We need to go over the rules of being at his house.”
We had been over it so many times, but I didn’t say anything. I just nodded my head and listened as she recited her same speech.
“Now, Mr. King is very different. You can tell that just by looking at him. That is, if ever you get the chance to lay eyes on him. If you do see him, look at the floor, look at the ceiling, look at the wall. Look anywhere but directly into his face. If you need to tell him anything, write everything down on a note and leave it on the refrigerator. You never walk up to him directly. And there’s absolutely no walking into a room where he is if he hasn’t invited you. He spends most of his time in the west wing of the house, so most of those rooms are off limits. You get in, you get out. You clean and you leave. Got it?”
“Of course, Mom,” I smiled at her sweetly, hoping that that would reassure her. She looked me over skeptically, then sighed, her shoulders lowering like all of the energy had been drained from her. She kissed my cheek and shuffled out of my room and back to bed.
I got up, showered, and ran out of the door. I was eager to finally see his house.
Pulling up to the front gate, I was blown away by the sheer size of the building. I couldn’t rightfully call that enormous house a house; it was a building. I put in the code that my mother had given me and the gates swung open so majestically, I thought that I was about to walk into a castle.
Entering into giant oak doors, I had to catch my breath as I looked around at all of the luxurious beauty that laid before me. I had never seen more gold and crystal in all of my life.
It was amazing to think that only one person lived here. What did he do with all of the other rooms? He could only really sleep in one.
I could see why my mother had been so careful about how she dealt with Mr. King. But, the more I walked through the house, the less concerned I had become about following the rules that she’d drummed in my head.
I was curious and I wanted to explore the house.
I’ll just walk around and get an idea of what my work day is going to look like, I justified to myself.
I set off to look around, not quite sure what I would find.
Chapter 3 Darren
“What seems to be the problem?”
Dr. Milton had used his hallmark question for what seemed like the millionth time since I was young. He had been our family doctor since before I was born, so it just made sense that I would keep seeing him now. I went to see him shortly after the accident. He didn’t say much. He just hemmed and hawed, looking me over from the top of his glasses, his lips pursed as he evaluated me. He didn’t recoil in disgust or respond in some other way that made me feel uncomfortable like every other person in my life. Well, almost every other person. My maid, Eve, never made me feel like the monster that I knew myself to look like, either.
So, I kept my regular appointments with Dr. Milton and would even call him, like I was doing now, if I ever had a concern.
“There have been some…uh…developments,” I said, my voice trailing off. Even though Dr. Milton had been very understanding of my situation, what I called to talk to him about was not the easiest discussion to have with anyone.
“Developments?” he asked softly.
“Yes…I…uh…it seems that I am having trouble performing sexually.”
“Oh okay. I think that I understand. This is not uncommon given your condition. Are you able to have an erection?”
I couldn’t believe that I was talking to the man who had given me a lollipop after my kindergarten shots about the functioning of my penis.
"Yes. Well, I don’t really get them that often, but it seems as though they don’t last very long and I can’t quite…finish.”
“Yes, that seems to be pretty straightforward. Of course, we should run further tests to be sure, though.”
“To be sure of what?”
“The accident probably has had more of an affect on you than you realize. It may have affected your testosterone level and sperm count. And, if that’s the case, then it’s very possible that you not be able to father children again.”
“Really?” I said. I was annoyed. Annoyed by the situation and, in that moment, by Dr. Milton. “How can you say that without having run any tests?”
“Oh, trust me, we will definitely have to run some tests just to make sure. But, I was actually afraid of this from the very beginning due to where you have sustained injury. The tests will confirm it, but based on what you’re telling me and the results of some preliminary testing, due to the burns you suffered while in the helicopter, your sperm count is likely declining.”
“Don’t mince words with me, doc. Exactly what does that mean?”
“Well, it means that if you don’t have a baby soon, the likelihood of you ever having a baby again are slim to none.”
There it was, the death sentence that no man ever wanted to hear. I didn’t even know if I wanted to have more children, especially considering my estranged relationship with my son, but not having the option to choose whether or not I wanted to have future children was devastating.
“When can you come in so that we can run further tests?”
Just as I was about to answer, I was startled by a sound that I had never heart in my home. It was a voice, someone singing. I knew that it wasn’t Eve because she knew to never come to this side of the house. I had only told her one time and she never forgot and left me unbothered. Plus, she never sang. In fact, most of the time, I didn’t even know that she had been in my house until I found one of her refrigerator notes.
“Hello? Darren, are you there?”
“Yes, doctor,” I whispered into the phone. “Let me think about it and get back to you.”
I hung up the phone and grabbed a bat that I’d had tucked away in the closet and headed toward the sound of the singing.