like someone really cares about you a lot, young lady,” she said, smiling. “Are you feeling pain, sweetie? If so, I can bring you something for it.”
“No, I’m not in any pain. Thank you.” At least not the kind of pain you think , I thought, as I wiped away my tears.
“Shall I sit them here by the others?” she asked, handing me the card that came with the flowers.
“Yes, that’s fine.”
“Okay, sweetie. Give me a buzz if you need anything. Breakfast should be in soon,” she stated, as she walked out of the room, closing the door. I opened the card and it read:
As I sit here and watch you sleep
I ask myself, ‘what are you doing here?
I just met this woman a few days ago,
and yet I’m willing to sit here and keep
vigil with her friends to make sure that
she’s okay.’ I guess there are some situations
that I should not question, and this has
definitely got to be one of them.
I know that there was no place that
I would have rather been than spending
whatever time I could getting to know you
and getting to know the people closest to you.
Thank you
Deon
I was wondering the same thing, but I didn’t want to question it either. I just knew that it felt good to have him here. I put the card down on the table beside the bed and closed my eyes. My sleep was tainted with perversion this morning, which left me completely drained. So, I decided to try again.
“Simone, wake up. It’s 12:00 in the afternoon,” I heard my mother demand.
“What, damn it?” I was sleeping good and here she comes, bringing her ass in here like someone requested her presence.
“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by to see what’s going on here…and you better watch who you are cursing at, Simone.”
“First of all, you don’t have to do me any favors by coming here. Second, as you can see, I’m fine. Thanks for asking. Now you can leave.” No one could have more of a bitch for a mother than I do , I thought, as she traipsed around my hospital room.
“I wish I wouldn’t have called you. What’s the real reason you came here, anyway?” I knew there had to be a reason for her coming here because she wasn’t here to check on me. She couldn’t be more insincere.
“Don’t talk to me like that, Simone Marie Johnson. I see that you’re fine and I’m sure you don’t need anything. Someone has already sent you flowers and you haven’t even been here a good 24 hours,” she said, in her annoyingly proper voice. “What you do need is some light in this room,” she said, as she opened the blinds. She must’ve lost her damned mind. I was fuming as I squinted from the sun’s rays.
All she’s ever done was make my life hell and she waltzes in here like I need her ass now. Hell, when I needed her, she was emotionally void. A deadbeat parent! I don’t know what made me call her in the first place. Maybe hitting my head in the accident impaired my judgment. Or maybe I thought that, for once, she would show that she loved me and cared about me like a mother should. After my father was killed, instead of growing up with a single parent, it was more like I grew up with no parents.
When I was a little girl, my father was everything to me. Julius “Juju” Johnson was gone at least four nights out of the week and whenever he came home, he was always bearing gifts. He would buy my mother beautiful jewelry and bring me the prettiest dresses any little girl could dream of. We lived in Pacific Palisades , California and I could walk to the beach from our house, which was something I loved to do with my father.
It seemed we always had a houseful of people: aunts, uncles, whoever wanted to come. And they all did, especially when my father was home. When my cousins were there to play with me, I could do something other than worry about my daddy. I don’t know why I worried about him so much. It wasn’t until much later that I found out that he was one of the biggest, most notorious dope dealers
“No, I’m not in any pain. Thank you.” At least not the kind of pain you think , I thought, as I wiped away my tears.
“Shall I sit them here by the others?” she asked, handing me the card that came with the flowers.
“Yes, that’s fine.”
“Okay, sweetie. Give me a buzz if you need anything. Breakfast should be in soon,” she stated, as she walked out of the room, closing the door. I opened the card and it read:
As I sit here and watch you sleep
I ask myself, ‘what are you doing here?
I just met this woman a few days ago,
and yet I’m willing to sit here and keep
vigil with her friends to make sure that
she’s okay.’ I guess there are some situations
that I should not question, and this has
definitely got to be one of them.
I know that there was no place that
I would have rather been than spending
whatever time I could getting to know you
and getting to know the people closest to you.
Thank you
Deon
I was wondering the same thing, but I didn’t want to question it either. I just knew that it felt good to have him here. I put the card down on the table beside the bed and closed my eyes. My sleep was tainted with perversion this morning, which left me completely drained. So, I decided to try again.
“Simone, wake up. It’s 12:00 in the afternoon,” I heard my mother demand.
“What, damn it?” I was sleeping good and here she comes, bringing her ass in here like someone requested her presence.
“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by to see what’s going on here…and you better watch who you are cursing at, Simone.”
“First of all, you don’t have to do me any favors by coming here. Second, as you can see, I’m fine. Thanks for asking. Now you can leave.” No one could have more of a bitch for a mother than I do , I thought, as she traipsed around my hospital room.
“I wish I wouldn’t have called you. What’s the real reason you came here, anyway?” I knew there had to be a reason for her coming here because she wasn’t here to check on me. She couldn’t be more insincere.
“Don’t talk to me like that, Simone Marie Johnson. I see that you’re fine and I’m sure you don’t need anything. Someone has already sent you flowers and you haven’t even been here a good 24 hours,” she said, in her annoyingly proper voice. “What you do need is some light in this room,” she said, as she opened the blinds. She must’ve lost her damned mind. I was fuming as I squinted from the sun’s rays.
All she’s ever done was make my life hell and she waltzes in here like I need her ass now. Hell, when I needed her, she was emotionally void. A deadbeat parent! I don’t know what made me call her in the first place. Maybe hitting my head in the accident impaired my judgment. Or maybe I thought that, for once, she would show that she loved me and cared about me like a mother should. After my father was killed, instead of growing up with a single parent, it was more like I grew up with no parents.
When I was a little girl, my father was everything to me. Julius “Juju” Johnson was gone at least four nights out of the week and whenever he came home, he was always bearing gifts. He would buy my mother beautiful jewelry and bring me the prettiest dresses any little girl could dream of. We lived in Pacific Palisades , California and I could walk to the beach from our house, which was something I loved to do with my father.
It seemed we always had a houseful of people: aunts, uncles, whoever wanted to come. And they all did, especially when my father was home. When my cousins were there to play with me, I could do something other than worry about my daddy. I don’t know why I worried about him so much. It wasn’t until much later that I found out that he was one of the biggest, most notorious dope dealers
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