Forgive Me by Stacy Campbell

dismayed that she remained on the plane when they stopped in Atlanta. After they took off for Augusta, however, he went to sleep. She followed him to the luggage carousel where they waited for their suitcases.
    â€œI did all that talking and didn’t tell you my name. I’m Barbara,” she said. She retrieved a hefty, floral bag from the carousel and rubbed James’s arm.
    The words of his mentor, Isaak Benford, came to mind. “Everyone is a potential customer, so treat the conversation as such.”
    â€œGood luck with your transition, Barbara. If I might make a suggestion, with a face as lovely as yours, you should do a big chop. Save yourself the agony of wrestling with relaxed and natural hair.”
    â€œYou really think I can pull off a TWA?”
    â€œI’m positive you can rock a teeny-weeny afro,” James said.
    â€œI sure wish I could call you and get personal assistance with this transition,” Barbara said. She twirled her shiny braids around her fingers.
    â€œYou don’t have to call me,” said James. He pulled a postcard from his shirt pocket and gave it to her. “This is our website devoted to natural hair. Log on and click on the tabs for information about the process as well as specifics about my natural hair care line. Should you have questions, call the number on the site and our hotline team can assist you.”
    â€œMay I give you my number just because? You are so sexy!”
    â€œI’m strictly business these days, young lady,” said James. He hoisted his bag from the carousel.
    Barbara’s countenance drooped. She turned away and rolled her bag in the opposite direction. He watched the lovely young woman walk away as she added an extra twist to her stride.
    James marveled at his restraint. There was a time when Barbara would have been able to capture his attention and everything else. He eyed his watch and scanned the airport for Alamo signs. Shandy had sent him directions to the East Central Region Hospital, Aruba’s current location. He needed to rent the car and get to her as quickly as possible. After checking out at Alamo, he headed toward the hospital. Aruba and James frequented Augusta when they visited relatives and friends during their marriage, and he knew the city like the back of his hand. This time, the eight-minutedrive to the hospital seemed like an eternity as Aruba’s face danced around in his thoughts. He wasn’t sure what to say to her or if she would speak to him. Lance used the term “checked out” to describe her. Lance also said for the first seventy-two hours, she couldn’t receive visitors.
    James pulled into a parking space, took a few short breaths, and walked toward the facility. He approached the receptionist’s desk. “I’m here to see Aruba Faulk,” said James.
    â€œWhat is your relationship to the patient?” asked the receptionist.
    With confidence, James answered, “I’m her husband.”
    â€œMr. Faulk, she’s in room 184. She can’t have visitors yet, sir. You can join your in-laws and your son. They’re sitting in the lobby area down the hall.” As James walked away, the receptionist called to him, “Your son is adorable. I’m sorry he has to be here under these circumstances.”
    James shook off the Mr. Faulk insult and endorsed her concern with a nod. “So am I.”
    James headed down the hallway. He saw Darnella, Lance, Jeremiah, and Maxine, Aruba’s grandmother, sitting in hard chairs. Jeremiah noticed James and ran toward him.
    â€œDaddy!” Jeremiah screamed as he ran into James’s arms. His face lit up as he jumped into his father’s embrace.
    Darnella tossed Good Housekeeping back on the coffee table. “What are you doing here?” she shouted. Three other people in the lobby area turned their attention to the unfolding drama.
    â€œI’m here to see my son and Aruba,” said