Feelin' the Vibe by Candice Dow

chart for him to be seen by a specialist once he’s on the floor.”
    “When will he get on the floor?”
    “It looks like he’s in stable condition right now. So they’ll be moving him shortly.”
    I hoped to be the hero returning with better news, but I strolled back to the waiting area with the same prognosis. And it
     didn’t look good. I almost wanted to lie as I approached the three helpless women. Each of them looked at me as if I was the
     pillar of hope. I said, “He’s pretty much saying the same thing that he told you guys, but I believe that only a specialist
     can really give a clear prognosis.”
    “What kind of specialist?” Mrs. Jabowski asked.
    “A neurologist can give a better opinion. I’m sure it’s not as cut and dried as he’s making it. He’s just trying to move him
     onto the floor.”
    Mrs. Jabowski shook her head. “It just doesn’t make any kind of sense how they treat us.”
    I looked at Taylor staring at the wall. It bothered me the way she was handling this challenge. I sat down on the arm of the
     chair beside her and stroked her back. “You okay, baby?”
    She huffed. “My father almost died. What do you think?”
    “Taylor, he’s alive.”
    “But he can’t talk.”
    I could see that making her feel better was not happening so I just stopped talking. Somehow, I needed to find a way to get
     her to open up to me. I continued to just rub her back. Finally, she rested her arm on my leg and began taking deep breaths.
     She looked up at me and said, “I’m hungry.”
    “Let’s go to the cafeteria.” She stood up, and I looked at everyone else and asked, “Does anyone else want anything?”
    Mrs. Jabowski stood. “I’m going to go with you.”
    No, lady. I need to talk to my wife
. Instead, I smiled and put my arm around her shoulder and grabbed Taylor’s hand. With the ball of her thumb, she stroked
     our clasped hands. I felt her relaxing. Truth be told, I’ve never dealt with any major illness with my parents. So I really
     didn’t know what she was going through. All I could do was be supportive, but it would be a lot easier if I didn’t have something
     to tell her.
    After going the wrong way, following bogus directions, we arrived at the cafeteria several minutes later. Mrs. Jabowski was
     doing all the talking. Taylor seemed to be in a daze, and I was concocting a smooth way to transition into discussing my run
     for Congress. I asked them what they wanted and told them to have a seat.
    While I was ordering the food, Curtis called. “You tell her yet, man?”
    “Can you believe her father had a stroke today?”
    “No,” he said, almost as if he was humored.
    “Nah, seriously. And it ain’t looking good. They’re saying he could possibly not speak again.”
    “Dawg, that’s tragic.”
    “Exactly.”
    “Man, you just going to have to spring it on her. I got the press and everything lined up for tomorrow morning. She has to
     be there.
You
have to be there.”
    I sighed. “You think I don’t know that?”
    “Nah, I’m just making sure we’re on track. We’re depending on you.”
    “Yeah, I know.”
    As I walked over to the table carrying their food, I realized that it was now or never, do or die. I put the tray down and
     went back to get the drinks and condiments. I came back to them discussing plans to call the assistant pastors and deacons
     and the spokesperson at the church. I said, “Do you guys think it may be premature to put out there that his voice is gone?”
    “Devin, it’s Friday. What are we going to do about Sunday? Somebody else has to preach and we need to make sure they’re prepared,”
     Taylor snapped.
    “I know, baby. I’m just saying that maybe we let them know he’s been hospitalized and ask them to give the family space. We
     don’t need the whole county talking about him losing his voice.”
    Mrs. Jabowski put her hand on top of my hand. “Devin, I think you’re right. We don’t want people trying to snatch