Page 11 of Awakening
“And you don’t know what the fuck I went through,” I fired back. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to grow up wondering why you weren’t good enough to keep? To have to show up to every mommy/daughter event with an aunt or one of Dro’s flavors of the week and pretend you loved her with your whole heart? To have to ask the school nurse about your period and what products to use because I didn’t have a mother who loved me enough to realize it would be her love that helped usher me into womanhood!” I yelled, forgetting where we were, as onlookers kept their gaze on us.
Her lip quivered. I didn’t soften.
“I’ll get tested,” I said, “Not because of you, but because my sister didn’t ask for any of this. Not whatever illness is plaguing her, and she damn sure didn’t ask for a mother who’s a coward and has been hiding a child.”
She reached across the table, “Ajaih, please.”
I snatched my hand out of her grasp as I stood. People turned to look, but I didn’t care.
“You made your choice, Kimberly. Live with it. You left a baby in a hospital and walked away. I don’t know you and don’t know if I’ll ever want to know you, because first impressions are forever, and yours was the grandest disappointment of them all. You’re just a woman who gave birth to me,” I spat venomously.
I watched my mother swallow hard. “I never stopped thinking about you. I saw you on the news and read about the work you do as a volunteer firefighter and flood fighter. I saw myself in your face, and I… I couldn’t stay away any longer. It’s not about you being a match for Lena; we’re on the donor list. I needed to meet you,” she sobbed quietly.
My stomach turned. The praise felt sharp-edged, misplaced.
“I know I don’t deserve anything from you,” the woman who called herself my mother whispered, “But I wanted to say I’m sorry. Truly. And I wanted you to know I’ve always loved you and I always will.”
I stood up. Too fast. My chair scraped back sharply, drawing glances from other tables as I walked away, shaking, furious, and more heartbroken than I’d let her see.
The fluorescent lights above me hummed like angry bees. Nurses moved like shadows, voices blurring into muffled echoes. My body felt too small for the terror inside it. The tightness in my chest, my breathing shallow, fingers clenched like claws into the scratchy ER blanket.
I couldn’t move. Anxiety-induced paralysis had my limbs feeling like they were filled with cement.
I’d managed to get through the meeting, barely. That woman, my mother, had said things like, “I prayed you’d have a good life.” “I was just a child.” “I’ve thought of you every day.” One excuse after the other, when all it boiled down to was that I wasn’t worth sticking around for.
And then I felt my feet moving, my body leaving the café, hurrying away from Kim the coward.
Out of the café, into the street, onto the sidewalk where my knees buckled, and strangers stared as I spiraled into the darkness. The walls had come down so fast,snatching my next breath from me and dangling it over my head like a carrot. The quick onset of anxiety and panic swarmed me, wrapping me in a cloak of terror.
I closed my eyes, trying to focus on anything real, anything I could find joy in, something I could touch, but everything inside me felt numb, cold, still.
Until him, his voice was low, smooth, and warm like a hand pressing gently to my spine, “You’re okay. You’re here. You’re safe.”
I didn’t open my eyes, but I felt it, his hand, resting over mine, not heavy, not invasive, but present, soothing, loving.
My fingers twitched. I didn’t know this man. Didn’t know his name. But his energy was steady, anchoring.
“I’m Nurse Carter,” he said quietly, “I’ll be with you until your vital signs stabilize and we get you feeling better.”
His voice held none of the pity she dreaded. No condescension. No judgement, just calm.
“Can you hear me, Ajaih?” He asked, mispronouncing my name like most people did, calling me Asia.
I nodded faintly, my throat burning, my eyes still shut as I corrected him, “Uh-Jye-Uh.”
“Breathe with me, Ajaih,” he said, correcting how he pronounced my name. “Alright? In… and out.”
I did as I was told, slowly— matching his rhythm, clinging to it like a lifeline.
Minutes passed, hell, maybe hours. Time seemed to warp when your mind and body are working against each other. Eventually, my heart rate normalized, my body stopped fighting itself, and the fog in my mind started to clear.
I opened my eyes.
And there he was.
Tall, deep, dark brown skin that resembled the finest silk, sharp cheekbones, and gentle eyes that I knew smoldered under the right circumstances. He was a calming presence I didn’t expect in a place built around chaos.
Our gazes locked, giving way to something in his expression. Something in his eyes flickered. Was it Recognition? Empathy? Something unspoken?
