This man had already left me with a five week old, two other children, and no job. It had taken time, sheer will, and much help from the good Lord to make it from the pit of depression I fell into after he left, to deal with the heartache and disappointment and humiliation that comes along with a failed marriage, but I had managed to make it through all of that only to land in a new space full of new stressors—single motherhood.
At least I had a decent job and a decent home and my smart, beautiful children were pretty easy to raise, but still there were three of them and only one of me. I was one person dealing with three separate personalities, moods, and quirks. It took two to make them, there definitely should've been two of us there to raise them, but no, I was it. There was just me and the pressure of having to teach my girls to be women and my son to be a man was staggering. It felt like I was carrying a boulder of parenthood around with me day in and day out and my knees were buckling beneath the pressure and the mere weight of the load.
That's where he came in with his looks and his swagger. He wasn't Denzel handsome, but he possessed the strong facial features that had always appealed to me, and he had a way about him that made him stand out in a crowd. He wasn't tall or the best dressed man I'd ever seen. He was just magnetic, and so cool you would've sworn he was Billy Dee's twin brother. The confidence he exuded was almost palpable…
Excerpt from
Been So Long 3 (Whatever It Takes)
Coming early 2014
I hurried through the parking lot to the ER entrance, my feet trying to match the pace of my thoughts, which were racing at break-neck speeds. Thoughts of the possibilities of what I would face inside of that hospital. All they’d told me was that my husband was hurt and in critical condition.
I tried to steady my breathing as I held the bottom of my swollen belly and waddled to the receptionist’s desk. I was out of breath as I asked about my husband. Sahib stood behind me, tears streaming down his face. I’d apologized for raising my voice at him, but he’d been dragging his feet back at the house, and we didn’t have time to waste. His feelings were still hurt, but I knew he’d get over it. Besides, what was going on with the love of my life was the most important thing in the world at that moment.
“Please have a seat, ma’am. They’re working on your husband right now. I’ll let you know his status as soon as I hear from the doctor,” the receptionist said in a calm, soothing voice.
I wanted to yell at her, to scream that I didn’t want to sit down or wait. I needed to see my husband, and I needed to see him right now. I couldn’t wait. I had to see his face, to know that he was okay. But I looked down at Sahib and then felt my unborn child kick and felt the discomfort I’d been feeling at the bottom of my stomach since I got the news, and I decided to go ahead and sit down for a moment.
I took a seat. Sahib sat down beside me and continued to wipe his own tears and sniffle and hiccup air. I pulled him close to me and hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry, baby. Everything will be okay. Stop crying, sweetheart.” I kissed his forehead, and he began to calm a bit. That made one of us. I was still on edge, but I knew I had to keep my cool for Sahib and my unborn child and my husband.
Thirty minutes of worrying and praying passed, and the receptionist finally called my name. She agreed to keep Sahib at her desk for me. As I walked through the ER to Trauma Room Three, I felt my heart race. She’d said my husband was stable but that I would only be allowed to see him for a moment before they transported him to ICU.
I walked into the room and gasped. There he lay—motionless. Machines whirring all around him. His clothes cut to shreds and in a bloody pile on the floor. I slowly walked over to him and rested my hand on his forehead. I leaned over and kissed his cheek and let my tears flow freely.
“Baby, it’s me. It’s Mona-Lisa. Please be okay, baby,” I whispered. “Please be okay. I need you. We all need you. I can’t have this baby alone. Please get better. Please be okay. I love you so much…”
“Mrs. Masood?” a nurse said. “We need to take him to his room now. You can visit him there when he gets settled.”
I nodded. “Okay, thank you.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I love you, Wasif. I’ll see you again really soon.”
Adrienne Thompson, Your Love Is King
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