Our heartbeat thudded together, and I asked, “What is it?”
She sniffed. “They think it is ovarian cancer.”
I held her tight. I fiercely blinked to hold back my tears. Her head rested on my chest for a few seconds and then she said, “They discovered it when I was at the hospital.”
“I should have been there. . . We’ll figure this out. I promise,” I said to her as she cried in my arms. “We’ll figure this out,” I said again, soothing her like a newborn baby.
“That is why I can’t marry you. I know this will be hard for you to handle because your father’s death was difficult for you.” She tried to take a breath. “I need less stress in my life and more support from family than ever,” she said.
“No, I get it. My father was a strong man, but you’re stronger. So marry me regardless.”
She smiled and finally nodded yes. I jumped and punched the air, and I slipped the ring on to her finger. I wiped her eyes with my shirt and stepped back.
“So, our first engagement outing is to meet my mother. She invited me home next week, and I want to show you off,” I excitedly said. Janice’s expression sobered, and she massaged the back of her neck.
“I knew it.” She sniffed with frustration.
“Knew what?”
“I know you, Wellington! You did not get that promotion at work, so you’re not a ‘scientist.’” She created bunny ears around the word scientist. “And now you need something that will trump the old promise to your family and bringing home a fiancée sounds doable. You’re disgusting.” She struggled to take off the ring.
“Janice! I was going to propose to you, anyway.” My body leaped forward to stop her.
“We’ve been together for three years. Kind of overdue, don’t you think?” She lashed out.
“I had a plan, and it didn’t work the way I thought it would have after college. . . babe?”
She finally pulled the ring off her finger. “Wellington, you need to do more soul-searching than using things or people to fulfill your needs. You need to find why your father’s death made you abandon your family for all these years. You need to rebuild your relationship with your family without using me as a distraction,” she yelled. My mood plummeted, and my body felt leaden. Tears dripped from her eyes. My heart shined a light on unsolved problems that I had avoided for ten years.
“You’re right,” I confessed, and she slowly melted with guilt. “That is why I need your support. Maybe I am not ready to go back home? Going back to that place brings up so many memories of my father. He was a great man.”
Her words finally broke me, and I felt weak with the thought of neglecting Mama and Wheatly.
I confessed, “When I left for college, I did return to Virginia a few times. I even took a bus to the street, but couldn’t get off it. I couldn’t go back, and I shouldn’t ever!” I held my tongue and slapped my fist into my hand. “It’s hard to blame Him, you know?” I pointed upward.
She sighed and told me, “Wellington, you’re not cursed. God wouldn’t curse anyone he loves.” She rubbed my shoulder, trying to loosen the bitterness I had with God.
“How do you know that? You don’t understand. It’s better that I stayed away, to protect my family. I rather stay here with you, anyway.”
“No. This is not about me. It’s about you reconnecting with your family.” She counseled as if I trotted into her clinical office from off the streets.
“No, I am not leaving you here. Are you crazy?” I paced back and forth for a moment and blurted out, “Janice. I love you, and I can’t lose you, ever!”
She calmly approached me. She nodded and focused on my every word as I continued, “Of course I figured my mom needed me more than ever now that she’s getting older and my brother will be leaving for college, maybe soon. But I can’t leave you here to deal with this on your own,” I panicked.
“And I can’t leave this earth without making sure you patch things up with your family, even the dark things deep inside of you. You sleep talk, and I’ve noticed.” She giggled, and I blushed. A thought popped into my mind: me, a young boy, staring at my bloody hand. I shook the idea out of my head and hid my face. “Are you okay, Welly? It’s fine to discuss the different outcomes to this—”
“You’re not going to die.” I turned to her. “There may be a way to save you. I will do everything in my power to find a cure for you, even if I have to risk it all.”
“Stop talking foolish!”
“No, I am serious. I work at the biggest pharmaceuticals plant company in the world. There has to be something that I can find in a vault or in that green binder.” The binder sat on the couch. The question mark captivated me with thoughts of the miraculous soil. I shook the thoughts out of my head and saw a huge smile on Janice’s face. “But I need your support. Come with me to see my family,” I said. I never asked her for her counsel, let alone acknowledged her expertise as a therapist.
“I will go and support you, but I will not accept your proposal, right now.” She smiled.
I nodded, stepped closer to her, and roamed my fingers against her cheek.
“Janice, I meant what I said. I will find something to cure you and not let anything get in the way again.”
“Not even a work project?”
I thought for a moment about the same promise I made to Dr. Frazier. “Not even Pharmaceuticals Plant Discoveries.”
She sparkled with excitement as we kissed and wrapped our arms around each other. “Okay, let’s eat,” she said.
I pulled her chair out, and she sat. I headed to the kitchen and uncovered the food, but fear crept up inside me. My grin now faced the floor. I rolled my shoulders back and took a deep breath wondering why I felt a sudden change of anxiety and nerves. My day recapped in my mind as I held on to the edge of the kitchen sink for support. Pain fluttered my chest, and my head spun with fear.
“Do you need help with anything?” she asked.
“Nope. I’m getting plates and will be there in just a moment,” I reassured her. I rested my forehead in the palm of both hands and massaged the dark thoughts out of it. Each bowling ball of disaster struck against me, but none leveled up to the inner, unexplainable gut torment playing fight club inside me. The wall supported my back as my head hung low. Tears formed, and I rushed to splash water onto my face when a decorated plate, fixed over my sink, caught my attention. It displayed a painted tree—brown trunk and colorful sprout given to me by Wheatly for my birthday four years ago. I slowly stood up straight, star-struck at the resemblance of the colors, splashing off the plate.
I paced back and forth, fighting and accepting my past mistakes. Again, the decorative plate froze me and memories shivered all over me. My heart revealed that today’s steps, setbacks, and decisions led me to one thing. I roamed my fingers across the hand-drawn depiction of my family’s best-kept secret, The Mercy Tree.
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