My phone rings before I can put it down, and a lazy smile upturns my lips as I answer the call. “Hello.”
“Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday, my dear, sweet Deshona Charise. Happy Birthday to you,” Mom sings as flutters fill my chest.
For as long as I can remember, Mom has sung to me for my birthday. As the years pass and my age increases, I have grown to ignore the chalkboard screech of her voice. But it’s the one constant that I enjoy as I ring in a new year of life.
“Thank you, Mom.”
“Always, Dee. You can go to bed now,” Mom says with laughter in her tone.
It’s just after midnight, and usually, I would go to bed after getting my official greetings from the three people in my life. But this year is unusual, and based on my current location, I know this isn’t gonna be a day like in times past. Not ready to go into that or anything else, I express my love for my mother and end the call just as a knock sounds on the door.
“Howdy, folks. I’m Dr. Wrigley. What brings you in?”
I stare from the older Black man with a bald head, white beard, and white lab coat to the bed, where a lone sleeping presence lies.
“This is the third day that he’s been sick. He has a fever over one hundred, chills, a scratchy throat that gives the worst Teddy Pendergrass impersonation, and he’s barely eating. He didn’t want to come, but since the fever isn’t staying broken, I thought it was best,” I say as the doctor sits on a stool opposite the bed and types into the keyboard attached to the computer in the room.
If someone had told me that I would spend my birthday as a nurse, I would have called them a liar. But I guess the joke is on me because here I am. Oddly, I’m not mad or sad about it, though. I have never been in this position before, and Alijahhasn’t made it hard for me to care for him. In fact, I have enjoyed getting an opportunity to be tender and gentle with him.
“When would you say this began?”
“Uh, probably a few days ago. We got stuck in a storm while jogging over the weekend, and he didn’t have a shirt on. I have been fine, but his hardheaded butt didn’t take the Zicam I suggested when he said his throat was funky a day or so later.” I roll my eyes at the memory of Alijah’s insistence that he never gets sick and didn’t need my little girly gummy.
My eyes shift from the doctor, who nods as he continues typing, to Alijah, who has yet to move. Despite the summer temperatures, Alijah is buried under a hoodie, with his head covered, and some sweatpants.
I bet his ass wishes he took that little gummy now.
“Do you think you can wake him up so I can check him out? I don’t want to walk into an unexpected jab from catching him off guard,” Dr. Wrigley says.
“Sure thing.”
I stand and move closer to Alijah to wake him up so the doctor can check him out.
My poor baby.
Gravely grunts sound from Alijah when I place a couple of kisses on his warm cheek, but he doesn’t move. I tap his shoulder a couple of times while calling his name, and it works a minute or so later. When his eyes peer into me, my chest aches from the redness and sickness I see within them. Once Alijah is coherent, Dr. Wrigley makes his presence known and checks Alijah out as I step aside. I watch Alijah like a bird overseeing a nestling’s first feed. Time moves on, and before long, Alijah and I are leaving the emergency room with a diagnosis and prescriptions that have been sent electronically to the pharmacy closest to our apartment.
I flickmy index finger up to advance the page as my other hand rubs the head of the man who rests under my arm. We’ve been in this position most of the day, and I think I’ve been more content than Alijah.
“Damn. I’m sorry about this shit, mama.” Alijah’s hoarse voice rumbles against my chest, and I remove my eyes from my reading device to look at him.
Dark lines are beneath his eyes and yet it doesn’t take away from how attractive he is. His braids are up in a messy bun I gave him, so it’s less bothersome in his current state.
“Don’t apologize. Stuff happens. But damn, you’re the worst man I’ve ever had.” My lips twitch from the smile that threatens to upturn my mouth.
“We can go do what I planned for you.” Alijah tosses the blanket off his body, and I shake my head when I see the tremors.
“You still have a fever, and the doctor said the only thing you should be doing is what we are currently doing. Stay put.”
I put on a voice that Roslyn would be proud of if I ever have any children to use it on. My eyes are stern as Alijah frowns deeply. What I won’t tell Alijah right now is that this birthday isn’t bad. It’s different, and yet I still feel a sense of fulfillment.
“But-but—” His words get cut off by the round of coughs that hit my side and rock his body which confirms his need to stay put.
“See. This is why you need to lie back down. There will be other birthdays.”
“Man, this is the devil trying to have me out here looking bad and shit.” The wheezing in his delivery made me shake my head and tap the spot on my body where he just was.
“Rest, baby. I promise I’m good.”
