Page 15 of Impacted by Love

The first time I had sex was the first time my mom and dad had taken in more than they should have, which led my dad to the hospital. Ironically, unlike this time, Mom left me with the person who had their way with my body not even an hour before the incident. Like back then, Dad looks helpless while lying unconscious in the hospital bed. His face is a mask of hardness, even while sleeping, while the wear and tear of his choices is showing. Dad's hair is unkempt. His beard is graying fast, and he needs a barber. The dark hues under his lids let me know that this present rest period is necessary, even if it's only temporary.

"We're going to keep Mr. Harrison for a few days to monitor him for any potential risks from the naloxone administered by the EMTs. Once we're sure there aren't any repercussions, we'll have him moved to the floor for the staff who handle this kind of thing," Dr. Freeman adds.

"Wh-when will he wake up?" Mom asks, lifting to look at the doctor.

"Whenever he's ready. Please let us know if there's anything you need in the meantime," Dr. Freeman says.

"Thank you, doctor," I interject before Mom can say anything else when she opens her mouth to say something.

Nodding, Dr. Freeman exits the room, leaving Mom and me alone while the monitor's lowly beep with Dad's vitals.

"I thought I lost him this time, Asaiah. His breathing was slow and shallow before his body went limp. That didn't happen the first time, so I thought he died on me." Mom's voice is low, and her eyes are focusing on Dad.

"I ain't leaving you, Val," Dad mumbles in a groggy voice, shifting our attention and conversation to him.

Dad's eyes are at half-mast, and he looks worn out, yet his hand slowly runs up and down Mom's back when her cries return. Needing a minute, I stand and head toward the door to catch my breath.

"I'm gonna step out for a second," I lowly inform them.

The lump in the back of my throat prevents me from saying any more or waiting for a response, so I increase my steps to exit the room. Once the door is shut, I bend over, place my hands on my knees, and inhale large gulps of air. My eyes sting from my inability to release the water burning my cornea, begging for escape.

God, please. This burden is heavy, and my shoulders are starting to sag from the weight I struggle to carry. Give me Your strength to walk through this dark valley. I can't bear it alone or without You.

Annn.

The sound of the door opening does little to shift my position or posture, nor does the caress of a familiar hand on my back.

"Thank you for being here, Asaiah," Mom quietly expresses.

Licking my drying lips, I stand to my full height and stare into Mom's weary and watery eyes. The storm clouds within her eyes have me pulling her feeble body into mine and wrapping my arms around her. When her shoulders bounce from the silent tears she's shedding, I lightly rock her back and forth. "Shh. He's still here. He-he'll be okay," I assure her, forcing out the last line I'm unsure of the validity of, but speaking anyway.

"I know I haven't been the best mother to you, Asaiah, but I love you for never turning your back on your father and me," Mom whispers.

This is why I can't leave Mom or Dad hanging because every now and then, I get a glimmer of hope that things will get better. This moment reminds me of another time when hope peaked its head.

"Why are you crying, baby?" Mom asks, wiping my face of the water seeping from my tear ducts.

Coming in the house from school to see the living room clean, a heavenly aroma coming from the kitchen, and Mom wearing clean clothes with a bright face had me falling apart in her arms. Knowing that Mom is in a space to console me is the welcome home I needed today.

"A boy in my class kept teasing me at recess for having a druggie mom. He said you did something with his big brother in their backyard, and your lips were crusty," I relay through my heavy tears.

"Hm. Well, you tell his little ass that his mammy licks his dog's dick before kissing him good night," Mom says sassily.

"I can't say that. It's not nice."

"Fuck being nice, Asaiah. His little ass wants to tease you, so when they go low, you take them to Hell. Your mom might be addicted to drugs, but she isn't without love for her baby boy. Now make sure you repeat my words just like I said them."

"I know we can be a lot, and it's why Annalise wants nothing to do with us, but I appreciate you hanging in here. This addiction has such a tight hold on us that I'm scared it's gonna kill us," Mom admits, returning me to the present, and a pain in my chest has me tightening my hold on her small back.

"It doesn't have to be like this, though. Please consider rehab, Mom. I don't want to lose either of you. Please do it for me," I say, pleading.

When I hear humming in the hall, I see Onesti pushing an empty wheelchair out of a room not far from where I am. Not wanting to be seen, I quickly close my eyes while praying Onesti doesn't see or recognize me.

My life is way too complicated to allow myself to consider adding Onesti to it. A woman like Onesti, whose ability to care and selflessly give of herself, shouldn't be saddled with a man with more burdens than available time. Nope, I need to let Onesti live her carefree life without my burdens.

"I love you, baby. I'll talk to your father about us getting ourselves together," Mom replies, reminding me of her presence in my embrace.

Slowly peeling my eyes open, I lean forward, looking left and right before exhaling when I no longer see Onesti in the hall.

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