Lover's Island, page 24
“Hello. I’m Dr. Mishra, and I’m head of the oncology department. Zenova is stable and is resting at the moment.”
“Oncology?” Loveleen questioned. Her eyes grew wide as she realized what the doctor was insinuating.
Cree scratched his head. “Why would she need an oncologist?”
Dr. Mishra examined the chart in her hands for a moment. She wanted to give the family the full scope of her discoveries. “We’ve run a lot of tests, and Ms. Saint has been diagnosed with stage two breast cancer,” she stated.
Cree stumbled back a step as if someone had sent a jab to his gut. Everything went mute around him as he stared at Dr. Mishra. Her mouth moved, but he no longer heard the words she said. For a moment, he tried to imagine a world without Nova. All their lives they had been there for each other. Even when they’d been on bad terms. He simply couldn’t imagine a life without Nova. It confused the fuck out of him, because feelings he thought he had buried were reemerging. He had lost enough over these past few months. Losing Nova would surely break him.
“Cree! Did you hear what the doctor said?” Loveleen asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“I’m sorry. What was that?”
“We’d like to schedule Zenova for surgery to remove the tumor immediately. Typically, we start patients on chemotherapy after to lessen the chance of the cancer spreading. Ms. Saint, however, has declined chemo treatments,” Dr. Mishra informed them.
“How soon would the surgery be performed?” Fabian inquired.
The doctor flipped through the pages on her clipboard. “We can have an OR prepped within the next hour.”
“Can we see her before?” Cree asked. He didn’t understand how he had missed the signs. Nova had lost weight, but he’d figured that was due to the stress from Sanai’s accident. She hadn’t fucked him like a sick woman. They were closer last night than they’d been in years. Cree had seen no sign of her suffering from cancer.
“She requested no visitors until after the surgery. In my experience, it’s normal for patients to want time to themselves after receiving a diagnosis. I’ll have the nurse send for you all once she’s out of surgery.”
“Thank you, Dr. Mishra,” was all Cree could offer.
* * *
Several hours later, Cree entered Nova’s hospital suite with a bouquet of roses. Loveleen had sat with her while Cree had run out to get her flowers. “How’s she doing?” he asked as he stood beside Nova’s bed. He pushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead gently.
“She’s been asleep since they brought her in here,” Loveleen said. She took a deep breath. “Dr. Mishra said they were able to remove the tumor, but she’s not in the clear just yet,” she added, reiterating the message Dr. Mishra had delivered to her.
“And she doesn’t want to do chemo.” Cree sighed, lowering himself into the reclining chair next to the bed. He understood the reason why Nova was against chemotherapy. She had watched her mother slowly slip away during chemo treatments, until she ultimately succumbed to lung cancer. Nova had lost her eight years ago and had never truly accepted the loss.
“I don’t blame her. Chemo is aggressive. It should be the last option.”
“What are our other options? I can’t lose her, Ma.” He dropped his head in defeat. He could fix a lot of things, but he couldn’t defy nature. Without chemo, Nova’s life hung in the balance, and there was nothing he could do about it.
“You could take her home. To Haiti. There’s a healer near the village I was born in. They call her Mama Bridget. She’s been curing people since I was a little girl,” Loveleen stated. Unlike Fabian and his side of the family, Loveleen was born in Haiti and didn’t move to America until she was fourteen. She was familiar with ancestral practices and healing methods. One time she had watched Mama Bridget heal a man the doctors said would never see again. “I’m confident she can heal Nova. But you’ll have to go to Haiti with her. This will not be an easy journey, and she’ll need your support every step of the way.”
“I’m willing to do whatever it takes for her to get better,” Cree vowed.
“Okay, then. I’ll make the arrangements. Your father and I will take care of Sanai while you two are gone.”
“Thank you, Ma. For real.”
“I may not like her all the time, but she is Sanai’s mother, and for that, I’ll always love her.”
Cree held Nova’s hand, hopeful that his mother’s idea would save Nova’s life. She had never steered him wrong before. As soon as the doctors discharged her, Nova and Cree would board his jet for their homeland, Haiti.
Ten
Nyimah ate a mango while she watched Ceraya sit in her playpen and amuse herself with her stuffed animal while she watched Gracie’s Corner on the TV hanging on the wall. The time seemed to pass by so fast. It felt like she was just cradling Ceraya in her arms all day, and now her little one was showing signs of being ready to crawl. Witnessing her daughter grow and achieve learning milestones was a never-ending gift.
So many of Ceraya’s mannerisms reminded her of Cree, not to mention how much she resembled him. Sometimes Nyimah imagined what it would be like if Cree was here. He’d look after Ceraya while Nyimah happily prepared a full-course dinner. They’d feed Ceraya, put her to bed, then make love all night long. Some nights she’d use her rose, imagining it was Cree between her legs. It ought to be a crime to crave someone the way she craved him. If it were, I’d do the time.
She moved into the kitchen and tossed the mango pit into the trash can. Reaching into the refrigerator, Nyimah grabbed a bottle filled with breast milk. She turned the sink faucet on and held the bottle under the hot water for a few minutes. “All right, fat mama. Time to eat.”
Nyimah returned to the playpen and picked Ceraya up, then sat down with her on the couch. She was healthy and chunky, with rolls filling out in her little legs and arms. Ceraya’s pediatrician had informed Nyimah that breastfed babies tended to weigh more than formula-fed babies. “Here you go.” Nyimah tilted the bottle as Ceraya readily gripped it with two hands. She chuckled at how fast Ceraya’s cheeks moved as she sucked the bottle. It was easier for Nyimah to alternate between pumping and putting Ceraya up to her breast. Her freezer overflowed with pouches full of frozen breast milk. This method allowed her to have peace of mind.
Knock, knock. Knock.
Nyimah’s head turned to the door as she rocked Ceraya in her arms. She stood up and walked over to the door, the baby still in her arms. “Who is it?” she asked.
“Khiri.”
Nyimah unlocked the door and stepped aside, giving him a path by which to enter.
He smiled when he saw Nyimah and Ceraya. “Hello to Atlanta’s two most beautiful women,” he said.
Ceraya pushed the bottle out of her mouth and grinned at Khiri as she blabbered incomprehensibly. Nyimah laughed at her response. “Oh, you sound like you want something,” she told Khiri.
Over the past few months, Nyimah and Khiri had grown closer. He constantly checked in on Nyimah and Ceraya, ensuring they had everything they needed. One day he took the girls out to the park, and on one occasion, he even treated Nyimah to a few days out around the city while Aida watched Ceraya. Their friendship was completely platonic, and Nyimah hoped it stayed that way.
“Damn. I’m that obvious?”
“Just a little,” Nyimah said, pinching her fingers close together as she positioned Ceraya on her hip. “Come in. What’s up?”
Khiri stepped into the home and closed the door behind him. “I need a favor.” He rubbed his hands together.
“Yeah? You know you’re good for it what with all the work you’ve helped with here.” Nyimah recalled how Khiri had helped assemble a few items she purchased for Ceraya’s first Christmas. He had stayed true to his word of being there whenever Nyimah needed him, so she was happy to return the favor.
“My stylist canceled on me last minute. I got this thing in a few hours, and my shit need a retwist bad. I was wondering if you could get me right. I’ll pay you.”
“Damn. I’m the second option?” She feigned heartbreak, gripping her chest with one hand.
“Never that. I figured you ain’t have no time for me.”
“Whatever.” Nyimah burped Ceraya and smiled mischievously at Khiri. “What? You have a date or something?” she asked. The smile on Khiri’s face answered the question for him. “Oh, you do!”
“Yeah, since you ain’t try’na let a nigga take you out. Only one excited to see me these days is li’l C.”
Sucking her teeth, Nyimah held in her laugh and shook her head at Khiri. He came with all the jokes today. “Cut it out. We’re always happy to see Khiri, right, Ceraya?” The baby responded with a hand clap. “I’ll do it for you, though.” She walked over to Khiri and held his locks in her hand. “Does it need washing?”
Khiri shook his head. “Got it washed and detoxed yesterday.”
“Okay. You hold Ceraya while I do your hair, and it’s on me,” Nyimah stated.
Khiri held his hands out for Ceraya, and she nearly jumped into his arms. He chuckled as she nestled on his shoulder and laid her head on his chest. “I think we’ll be good with that.”
“Not you acting funny on Mommy!” Nyimah exclaimed, tickling Ceraya, making her erupt in giggles. Ceraya seemed so comfortable in Khiri’s arms. “You can sit on the couch while I do your hair. Let me go grab a few supplies. I’ll be right back.”
She walked into the bathroom and retrieved a rattail comb, a spray bottle, and lock butter. “I hope you ain’t tender headed,” she said, walking back into the living room. She stood behind Khiri and took his locks and put them up into a bun before spraying the back of his hair with an herbal detangler she’d made.
“Mmm, that smells good,” Khiri commented as the aroma from the spray settled on his nose. He glanced down at Ceraya, who had one fist wrapped around the diamond chain that was around his neck. Her other balled fist rubbed at her eyes as she fought against sleep.
“It’s my special blend of herbs,” Nyimah said. She parted the new growth in Khiri’s hair before applying the lock butter to his roots and retwisting each lock. Then she took three locks and braided them together into a plait.
“Where are you taking your date?” she inquired as she worked. In all their conversations, they had never discussed each other’s love lives. Even though Khiri was single, she had assumed there was a woman, or two or maybe even three, in his life somewhere.
“Dinner, then a comedy show.”
Nyimah parted another section of his hair and repeated the same actions. “That sounds fun. You got flowers for her?”
Khiri chuckled and shook his head. “I ’on’t even think it’s that type of vibe, if you know what I mean.”
“Uh, I don’t. What you mean?” She’d been far removed from the dating scene for a while. She didn’t understand the rules some people abided by.
Khiri explained the best way he could without being vulgar. “Put it like this. The first few days will be cool. She’ll show me a good time, and I might buy her a few gifts, maybe even a trip or two. From the things she’s told me, I know that’s what she requires. It won’t be anything more than that. Every woman doesn’t get the same treatment. Feel me?” He had exchanged messages with the woman for a few weeks, and he knew what she wanted, which wasn’t different than what most women he had encountered in Atlanta wanted. A man to sponsor them.
Nyimah nodded as Khiri’s words marinated on her. “So, no flowers,” she concluded, laughing.
“Nah, no flowers, love.” He looked down at Ceraya, and she was sleeping on his chest. “She’s asleep. You want me to lay her down?”
“Yes, put her in the crib. Thank you.” Her eyes followed Khiri as he carried Ceraya into the nursery.
“Yo, she getting heavy as hell. Li’l baby healthy!” he said when he returned. He gave a light snicker as he took his position back on the couch.
Nyimah giggled and swatted Khiri’s shoulder with the comb. “Leave my baby alone. She’ll lose the baby weight when she starts crawling.” She took the comb and resumed retwisting his locks.
“She gone be into everything then. It’s crazy how fast she’s growing,” he commented.
No one could agree to that sentiment more than Nyimah. Bringing a life into the world, from the point of conception to birth, was a divine task, godly even. Watching that creation grow into a beautiful and intelligent child was a blessing. She thanked God each day for her baby being alive and well. “I know, right?”
A silence fell over them, and Nyimah grabbed the TV remote and turned on Pandora. The smooth sounds of R & B settled in the room. Nyimah hummed to the music as she braided Khiri’s long locks.
“Okay. You’re good to go,” Nyimah announced an hour later. She put her hands on her hips and beamed as she observed her work. “I still got it.”
“How I look?” Khiri asked, licking his lips.
Squinting, Nyimah tilted her head to the side and scanned him. “You a’ight,” she said finally.
The two of them burst into laughter.
“Whatever, nigga,” Khiri joked. “I appreciate you, though. Real shit. Nigga been thugging it for months without a retwist.”
Nyimah waved Khiri off. “I’m just returning the favor. Couldn’t have you out here looking crazy.” She smiled as her eyes met his. They both held the stare until Khiri finally cleared his throat.
“I’ma head out, though. Gotta catch my barber before he locks up.” He wrapped Nyimah in a hug. “Thank you again,” he said before releasing her.
“You’re welcome. Have fun tonight and be safe,” Nyimah stated.
Khiri saluted her as he walked out the front door and locked it behind him. Nyimah released an exhale when the door closed. Looking down at her arms, she reimagined the sparks that had erupted in her body when Khiri held her. She didn’t know if her body had responded because of Khiri or because she just hadn’t been that close to a man in so long. Either way, she felt the anticipation dripping down below.
She stored away these thoughts as she poured herself a glass of wine. The surplus of frozen breast milk she had allowed her to indulge in a drink from time to time. Ceraya would be down for most of the evening, and Nyimah would enjoy this alone time.
Eleven
Cree stared at his reflection in the mirror as Loveleen adjusted his tie. He knew this day would eventually come after he had agreed to marry Nova. There had been no romantic proposal; it was rather a mutual arrangement. Nevertheless, this had given Nova an excuse to plan an over-the-top party to celebrate their engagement.
“Are you sure about this? The dream I had . . . I was so sure you and Nyimah would cross paths again,” Loveleen said as she smoothed her hands across Cree’s shoulders.
Cree smiled lightly and kissed his mother’s cheek. He loved how even though she had never met Nyimah, she advocated for her. Every night Loveleen prayed for Nyimah’s safety and her return to Cree. However, holding on to Nyimah had done more harm than healing for Cree. “It’s been nearly two years, Ma. Two private detectives later. Nothing. I don’t even know if she kept the baby,” he uttered. “I gotta move on. With Nova being in remission, we want to give Sanai a stable home. I’ve been working on things with Nova.”
Loveleen kissed her teeth. She didn’t know who Cree was trying to convince. Himself or her. “You’ve been settling with Nova,” she mumbled.
“Ma,” Cree said as he shook his head.
Loveleen sighed and rolled her eyes to the side. “But my grandbaby has been through enough. You know I’m going to speak my mind, but I’ll never not support you.”
“I’d expect nothing less,” Cree stated.
A knock came upon the door, and Nova peeked her head in before pushing the door open. Her slim frame filled out the black Versace dress nicely. The cancer had caused her to lose a few pounds, but the weight loss was becoming on her. Cree had grown to love the short bowl cut Nova wore. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but the guests are starting to arrive,” Nova announced as she walked over to Cree. She pecked his lips. “We should be greeting them. Together,” she whined.
“I am the host. I’ll greet them. Take your time, baby,” Loveleen interjected.
“Thanks, Ma,” Cree said.
Loveleen waved her hand as she exited the room.
Nova clutched the sides of the jacket to Cree’s tailored suit. She pulled her body close to his. Dapper didn’t do Cree justice. He stood tall and as majestic as a Haitian king before her, and she was ready to submit. “What’s wrong? Are you having second thoughts?” Nova placed her hand on Cree’s chest.
Cree turned his face and kissed Nova’s hand before placing it back at her side. He knew that if these were Nyimah’s hands, somehow he wouldn’t feel as guilty. Even though over a year had passed, Cree felt like he was disrespecting Nyimah by marrying Nova. “Nah, I just need . . . a minute. I’ll be out in a few. Go mingle, beautiful.”
Nova stared at Cree skeptically. She wouldn’t challenge his word. If he still intended on giving marriage a shot, Nova trusted that. “Okay. Don’t be long.” She shuffled out of the room, leaving Cree with his conflicting thoughts.
* * *
The city of Miami came to life at night. Nyimah beamed as she rode beside Khiri in his drop-top Corvette. He had convinced Nyimah to let Aida watch Ceraya over the weekend while he treated her to a trip to Miami. The separation anxiety she suffered from being away from her daughter compelled her to call Aida every other hour. Aida had nearly cursed her out the last time she called. She had assured her that Ceraya was fine and had encouraged Nyimah to enjoy herself. If there was anyone Nyimah trusted Ceraya with, it was Aida. She had proved to be the most loyal person in Nyimah’s life besides Sunni.
In the two days they’d been in Miami, Khiri had shown Nyimah more fun than she’d had in months. She enjoyed his company more than anything. He was laid back but liked to explore the thrills in life. He had that bad boy spark that made your adrenaline rush, and he knew how to make her laugh. Their friendship had grown closer over the past few months. Nyimah could tell the lines were beginning to blur between friends and something more. If only Cree didn’t still have a hold on her heart, Nyimah wouldn’t be so hesitant about moving on with someone else. Someone like Khiri.
