Читать книгу The Reluctant Savior - Krystan - Страница 13

chapter 4

Gabriel’s Dilemma

Dallas, Texas

July 7, 2002

Carmella winced as she struggled to help Mr. Wiggins sit up at the bedside. “Now, Sam,” she implored, “you know you got to help me out here, honey. You’re makin’ little ole Carmella do all the work here, sweetie. Come on now, let’s sit up straight and swing yo’ legs over the bedside for me.”

Getting Sam Wiggins out of bed was no easy task, as was the case with most of the patients Carmella cared for. Since she started nursing school a year ago now, she had been employed there at Shadyside Convalescent Center, a small rather poorly run nursing home in the Oak Cliff area, just south of downtown Dallas. Carmella worked there as a certified nursing assistant on the 3–11 shift to help pay some of her school expenses at TWU. Although she had a full scholarship to Texas Woman’s University, it seemed that living expenses always far exceeded her scholarship monies, so the evening job helped to make up for the shortfall. It was very hard physical work, though, as many of the patients, including Sam, were largely incapable of functioning independently. Mr. Wiggins had a stroke just following his 61st birthday and had lost most of the use of the right side of his body. His 260-pound obese body didn’t help matters either, making his care all the more challenging for the nurse’s aides, who were responsible for his physical assistance.

Carmella didn’t mind the nursing home, though, at least for now. She knew that if she was going to be a nurse, she had to know health care from the bottom (quite literally) up. It was kind of like paying her dues, she reckoned, giving her a better understanding of what usually happened to people as they got older—events that she was now committed to avoiding in her own life if possible. Even though she was only twenty, Carmella had experienced a lot in those few short years, especially the last year at Shadyside. The nurses and aides worked hard there, but even so, it was never enough. Just one patient like Mr. Wiggins could easily consume several hours of her time, and she often had ten or more such patients to care for. For now, however, Carmella forced herself to endure. She was taking her academic coursework in Denton, a smaller town about 30 miles to the north of Dallas, but she would be starting her clinicals on the nearby Dallas campus next year, a point at which she hoped to say goodbye to whatever learning experiences she was able to glean from Shadyside and move on to a more acute setting and, possibly, a job at one of the hospitals there by the campus.

Mr. Wiggins, with Carmella’s help, had finally managed to get his large, overweight body over to the edge of the bed, where he could transfer to the wheelchair. “Just sit there, honey, and let yo’ head settle while I put on your robe and slippers. It’s almost 5 o’clock and time for yo’ dinnah!” Carmella’s voice was encouraging as it heralded Sam’s favorite time of day: mealtime. Not that he needed the food or anything like that, but he looked forward to getting out of his small room and seeing some of the other patients. Residing at Shadyside was a lonely and largely depressing existence for him, and after two years there, he was fairly certain he would never leave or, worse yet, regain the use of his right arm and leg. He often wished that he had taken better care of himself, but it was all hindsight now. Very few choices remained for him other than to lie there in bed at the mercy of young women like Carmella and a few that were not so friendly. Sam actually liked Carmella. She was so young and relatively untainted by the world. He envied her, really, and wished that he could be her age again and start all over. So many things he would do differently! It was hard for him to accept that there was not much hope left for him. Honestly, he wished he would just die and hopefully move on to a better place. No such luck now, though, as Carmella’s voice brought him back to the here and now. “Sam! Whachu doin’ there, honey? I can’t stand here all evenin’ waitin’ for you to help me. Come on now and let’s get you into that wheelchair!”

With that last exhortation, Carmella pulled on the gait belt fastened under Sam’s arms and struggled to help him to his feet. With all his weight resting on his good leg, she deftly pivoted him and plopped his body into the oversize wheelchair. “Whew, Sammy, you just gotta be more help than that, or one o’ these days my back’s gonna plum give out and we both’ll be pickin’ ourselves up outa dat flo!” Carmella’s English hadn’t evolved much from the South Oak Cliff dialect of her youth, but Sam got the picture and actually liked it. He could think of a lot worse things than crashing to the floor with a cute young girl on top of him! Fantasies were about his only pleasure at this point.

The evening meal was a big time for socialization at Shadyside, and Sam, as token male, was the reigning king of the roost. The other 29 residents on his unit were all females, which he would have enjoyed immensely had he and they not all been in such a debilitated state. Nevertheless, his position was, at first glance, a somewhat-enviable one, at least from a gender perspective.

“Hiya Sammie,” came a sweet-sounding voice from across the room as Sam made his entry with Carmella propelling his wheelchair from behind. The voice belonged to Margaret Crawford, a feisty little 98-year-old widower whose primary problem was the fact that her body had unfortunately outlived her mind. “Are you just coming back from church?” she queried. “I heard the preacher say he saw you out in the audience today. I’m glad you were able to make it.”

Sam looked at Carmella and rolled his eyes. “Not even close,” he whispered. “Today is Wednesday, and I couldn’t get to church if I wanted to, which, by the way, is the last place I would choose to be. Where does she get all that nonsense?”

“Sammie,” Margaret continued, “did you give the preacher a big tip in the offering plate? Lord knows he needs it! He’s a big man! Maybe not as big as you are, but I’ll bet it takes a lot to fill him up!” she laughed. Sam knew that Margaret couldn’t hear even if he responded, which he rarely chose to do. This evening was no exception, as the only greeting he could muster was a perfunctory wave as Carmella wheeled him past on the way to his table.

Ruby, the toothless wonder, was at her place across from Sam, and had apparently already been served her pureed diet, which she was spitting on the floor as he arrived. God, he thought, do I have to endure this at every single meal? Most likely, he replied to his own question, as Ruby spat a large mouthful of green peas onto the freshly cleaned carpet, narrowly missing Helen’s foot.

Helen, a 57-year-old schoolteacher with Parkinson’s disease, rounded out the usual threesome at Sam’s table. As she attempted to move her foot from the trajectory of Ruby’s peas, her right arm twitched, sending her glass of tea directly into his lap.

“Incoming!” Carmella shouted playfully as the contents of the tea glass soaked into Mr. Wiggins’ housecoat and pajama bottoms. “That should simmer you down a bit, sweetie,” she teased the big man. “Don’t be upset, honey. She was just excited to see you!”

“Excited my ass,” Sam muttered under his breath. “These people are morons, every last one of them. I am the sovereign over a tribe of idiots! Carmella, get me a towel before this ice freezes my dick off!” he growled, referring to the contents of Helen’s glass now melting between his legs. “Jesus, just when you think it can’t get any worse…”

Sam’s woeful prognostication was interrupted by his vision of a tall handsome African American gentleman in a dark-blue suit who had just appeared over his right shoulder. “Mr. Franklin, am I ever glad to see you! The very sight of even one sane person in this establishment gives me almost enough courage to test tonight’s chef’s special. Let’s see…what is it now? Select cuts of local canine over a bed of yard weeds? Mmmmm, can’t wait to try it!” he mocked, fingering his fork like a baton and casting a derisive glance in the administrator’s direction.

Gabriel Franklin had worked hard to attain his present position as Shadyside’s administrator. The fourth child of Marcus and Shareen Franklin, he had always struggled for his proper place in the family. His father’s attention had gone mainly to his position as senior pastor of the Decatur Avenue Baptist Church, a medium-size, primarily African American church just outside the city limits of Denton, where Carmella was now attending college. What little energy that Reverend Franklin had left over by the end of the day rarely filtered down to the youngest child, Gabriel. As a result, Gabriel had to look for recognition elsewhere, primarily through his academic achievements and his athletic ability. He had been the first black quarterback in the history of the Denton Broncos and later received a full football scholarship to the University of North Texas, located just a short distance from his home. Regrettably, a rather-severe neck injury in his junior year resulted in several fused vertebrae and pretty much marked the end of a promising football career. By that point, however, he had managed to capture the heart of the Mean Green’s head cheerleader, Tamika Wilson, whom he later married the summer after they both graduated. As a result of his injury, Gabriel switched careers to health-care administration and went on to earn his master’s degree at UNT. He subsequently attained the administrator’s position at Shadyside and had been there ever since.

Fortunately, patients like Sam Wiggins were the exception rather than the rule there at the nursing home. The majority of the residents were either too ill or too demented to pose much of a customer service challenge. Gabriel Franklin, however, was as smooth as they come and responded to Sam with his usual aplomb. “Why, Mr. Wiggins, Chef Michael prepared tonight’s special just for you. A delightful roast, garden salad, and strawberry shortcake for dessert. I’m so glad you’re pleased with our menu choices!”

Gabriel Franklin was no stranger to long-term care or the challenges of dealing with the elderly and infirmed. It was no picnic working in this sort of environment, but he had done it for close to seven years, and now it was almost a game to him—seeing if he could lighten the mood a little and bring a smile to at least a few of the residents’ faces. Sam Wiggins was a particular challenge, but one that he nevertheless took in stride, accepting the gauntlet as it were.

It was just then, however, that Margaret, never to be outdone, chimed in, “Oh, look, it’s the preacher! Why, you must have made a special trip just to thank Sammie here for that generous tip he put in the collection plate today. Told me, as much as you ate, you really needed it just to keep food on the table. And, oh my, look what a nice meal you’ve prepared for us all! Isn’t God wonderful?”

“Oh yes He is, Margaret, yes He is! And I’m so glad you’re enjoying your meal! Perhaps your friend Sam here will do the same!” Gabriel was so smooth he could take almost anything thrown at him and turn it into something pleasant or funny. It was no wonder that the residents and staff there found him so nice to be around.

Carmella was equally charmed by his presence and added, “Why, Mr. Gabe”—almost everyone there called him that—“I didn’t see you a-comin’ up behind me. My, don’t you look nice tonight in that handsome blue suit! How is it we earned a visit from you so late in the day? I thought you would have been home with dat fine-lookin’ wife o yo’s by now!” Clearly, Carmella was also adept at diplomacy when she wanted to be.

“Well, now that you mentioned it, Ms. Brown…” Gabe paused for a moment, looking squarely at Carmella, “I do have a little late business to attend to. I also hoped that I might have a moment of your time…when it’s convenient, of course.”

Noting a well-disguised hint of anxiety behind his words, Carmella became a bit anxious herself. “You want to talk to me? Lord, what have I done now? Did that Marshall family complain about me? I told them that their mother hit her own arm in the shower. I didn’ put that bruise on her! No sirree! She did that all by herself!”

Seeing that Carmella was already a bit defensive, Gabriel quickly sought to diffuse the situation. “Heavens no, Ms. Brown. Actually, I wasn’t even aware of any bruise on Cora Lee’s arm.” Then with a twinkle in his eye, he added, “But since you brought it up, perhaps I should look into it!”

Carmella’s heart sank to her toes. “Oh Lord, Mr. Gabe. I went and done it again. When’ll I eva learn just to keep my big mouth shut? It was just an accident…you don’t need to go investigatin’ that or nothin’. Why don’t you just sit down here and have yourself a plate of this fine roast beef an’ salad we’re servin’ tonight? That’d tide you over till you git home an’ see what the missus got whipped up fo’ yo’ dinnah! Come on now, honey, you sit here in this empty spot and Carmella will take good care of you!” With the skills of a seasoned actress, Carmella suddenly exuded all the charm of a woman many years her senior—a talent duly noted by Gabriel and one that reminded him of precisely why he was here.

“Now Ms. Brown, that’s awfully kind of you, but I do have some business to attend to,” he replied, with Sam’s description of “canine and yard weeds” still lingering in his memory. “Do you think you could stop by my office for a few minutes when it’s time for your dinner break? I’m going to be here for a while, working on some accounting, and as I mentioned a few moments ago, I do have something I would like to talk to you about. And please relax…you’re not in any sort of trouble!”

“Well, Mr. Gabe, I eat my dinnah about 6:30, after the residents are finished and the dinin’ room’s cleaned up. I guess I could come by ’round then.”

“Great! Thank you, Ms. Brown. I’ll see you at 6:30, then,” Gabriel replied, seemingly quite relieved by her response. Obviously, he had something to discuss with her that was apparently of some concern to him.

As Mr. Franklin walked off toward his office, Carmella couldn’t help but wonder what he wanted with her. He had said she wasn’t in any trouble, so that was a relief. But whatever could he want? Although he had been administrator there for some time, she hadn’t really had much contact with him for the most part, other than occasionally seeing him around in the halls. He was a handsome man, at least to her. She guessed he was in his mid-thirties, and she recalled him mentioning that he had graduated from the University of North Texas with a master’s degree in Healthcare Administration prior to joining Shadyside. As young and pleasant as he was, she suspected that this was his first administrative position, but she wasn’t sure of that. He knew that she was studying to be an RN, because he had asked her about her career plans when they had first met. Maybe the nursing home had come up with some sort of financial assistance program he wanted to discuss with her—that would be nice! She was tired of struggling to make ends meet. Oh well, guess I’ll find out soon enough, she thought to herself as she continued helping the residents with their dinner.

*****

It was 6:40 when Carmella next looked down at her watch. She hadn’t stopped since Gabriel had left, and was just now finishing with the dining room cleanup. “Oh no!” she shrieked as she realized the time. “If I wadn’t in trouble before, I prob’ly am now,” she mumbled, grabbing her purse and quickly touching up her hair and makeup. Gotta look my best, at least, she thought as she headed down the hall to his office.

Gabriel had been nervously fidgeting and pacing in his office since his conversation with Carmella, now an hour and a half ago. This is probably a really bad idea, he thought to himself. But…Carmella is so cute and smart, and who knows what I might end up with otherwise! She could use the money, too, I’m sure. I don’t know…this is really risky. I don’t have any better options, though. I’ll at least talk with her about it. Ummm, maybe not. What if she tells someone? I’d be out on my ear for sure. Maybe I shouldn’t. It’s 6:40 already…where is she?

Just then, his vicissitudes were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. “Mr. Gabe, you in there? Sorry I’m late!” came Carmella’s voice from the hallway.

Looking a little nonplused as he opened the door, Gabriel quietly ushered her in, quickly closing the door behind her. “Thanks for coming, Carmella. I was hoping that you would.”

“Why Mr. Gabe, when you tell Carmella to come, you know she gonna be here. Sorry I’m a little late…just got busy in the dinin’ room there for a while. What is it you want to talk to me ’bout?” Carmella was dying with curiosity at this point, and needed some resolution to the uncertainty that he had created earlier that afternoon.

“Well, Carmella, this is extremely difficult for me to discuss. Can you promise me that you will keep this conversation to yourself and no one else? I could lose my job in a heartbeat if this were to get out. Can you help me out here, or would you rather not?”

Carmella was really puzzled at this point. “Mr. Gabe, I don’t much know what you goin’ to say to me, but ’less it would cause harm to someone, I’m sure I could keep a secret. You ain’t gonna ask me to blow up the president or nothin’ like that, are you?” she queried with a smile and a hint of a tease.

“Oh no, nothing like that! Just something very personal that I wouldn’t want to go beyond you and me.” There, he had given her a hint. Now he would watch her response carefully to determine if he should proceed or abort the mission.

Carmella mulled that over for a moment, then smiled coyly and asked, “You wantin’ to have sex with me or somethin’ like that, Mr. Gabe?”

If his skin wasn’t brown, Gabriel would have turned an embarrassing shade of red with her unexpected directness. He quickly stammered back, “Oh no, Ms. Brown, at least not in the way you’re thinking, I mean.”

Now it was Carmella’s turn for pause. This was just too bizarre. “Not in the way I’m thinkin’? I didn’ know there was but one way to have sex. Wait a minute…you not wantin’ to put it somewhere it don’t belong, now are you, Mr. Gabe?” Carmella replied, eyes widening. If HER skin wasn’t brown, she would have paled considerably with that remark. “I’m really gonna have to go if that’s what’s on yo’ mind!”

Oh my god, Gabriel thought, this has gone from bad to worse! Embarrassing to humiliating! “Absolutely not, Ms. Brown. Please just take a minute to hear me out. We have gotten way offtrack here. Let me back up and start again!”

As long as you stay away from my backside, I guess that’s fine, Carmella thought, keeping her back to the door and contemplating a quick escape should the need arise.

“You see, Ms. Brown, this is very personal and difficult for me to talk about. It might be easier if I gave you a little history regarding my predicament. As you probably know, my wife’s name is Tamika, and we have been married for seven years now. All that time I have wanted to have a family, and so has she, but try as we might, nothing seemed to be happening—no pregnancies, no babies. Finally, about a year ago, we went to an infertility specialist, who checked us both out and discovered that Tamika has some sort of scar tissue that I can’t remember the name of right now that was affecting a part of her reproductive tract. Anyway, I checked out fine, but at least according to that doctor, Tamika would never be able to have any children. Well, as you can imagine, we were both devastated by that news. Tamika has been depressed about it ever since, and now has gotten to where she doesn’t even want to have sex anymore. My eldest and only brother was a missionary, but died a couple of years ago in some sort of uprising in Somalia where he was working. Neither of my sisters are interested in having children, so it’s kind of up to me to carry on the Franklin family heritage. So you can imagine how disappointed I was to learn of my wife’s inability to have children. We have talked some about adopting, but that seems to be quite expensive and, for me at least, also doesn’t solve the issue of the Franklin family heritage. I guess it’s an ego thing with me, but I really don’t want be the one who broke up the family lineage. So what I wanted to discuss with you—and this is the really awkward part—is that I have been looking around for a surrogate mother; you know, someone who’ll carry my baby and then turn it over to my wife and myself to raise. I haven’t really discussed this option with my wife, as she already feels badly enough about herself, and the thought of me impregnating another woman would most likely send her over the edge. I was thinking I could do it without anyone knowing about it, then tell her I had found someone who was pregnant and wanted to give the baby up for adoption. As long as she didn’t find out the particulars, it would be a win for everybody. Since you came to work here last year, I’ve kind of had my eye on you as a potential candidate, and it’s taken me all this time just to work up the nerve to discuss the possibility with you. Obviously, if you were to tell anyone about what I’ve just shared with you, it would have devastating consequences for me—I’m sure I would lose my job and, most likely, my wife too. It’s just really important to me to carry on my family genes, so that’s what has finally given me the courage to talk with you. I find you to be a bright and attractive young woman and think our offspring would be a really fabulous person, be it boy or girl. I’m wishing for a boy, obviously, as that would fulfill my duty to carry on the family name. So, hopefully you can see that I really had no perverted intent, like our conversation seemed to be indicating, and I’m very sorry if I have offended you.”

Carmella’s head was spinning with all this totally unexpected revelation from Mr. Franklin. Nothing much actually surprised her about men, but she had to admit that he certainly had. She really was so stunned that she couldn’t manage to even get her thoughts together. Finally, she managed to stammer, “Mr. F-Franklin, I really need to s-s-sit down. That ok with you?”

“Absolutely. I’m really sorry for dumping all that on you with no warning, but you were misinterpreting my initial efforts to such a large degree that I just had to clear it up!”

“Yeah, I was gettin’ worried there for a minute. Not that I hadn’t had guys try for my back door before, but certainly not with no warning right outa the blue!” She managed a weak smile back toward Gabe. “I must say, Mr. Gabe, you did really catch me off my guard!”

“I’m sure. Believe me, it’s taken months for me just to get up the courage to talk with you. I wasn’t sure that I was even going to bring it up, but the way the conversation got started, I had to say something quickly. I guess it’s just as well I got it off my chest all at once,” he sighed, looking completely drained. “I think I’ll sit down too, if you don’t mind.”

“No sir. You just sit right down and let me try and make some sense out of what you just said.” Carmella looked down at her lap and fidgeted with her high school ring, which she wore on her right hand. She really couldn’t quite come to grips with the fact that the administrator of the home where she had worked for the past year had just asked her to have his baby. That sort of thing only happens on TV, she thought. And he must really be desperate to risk his career and his marriage in hopes of fathering a son. That seemed a little far out to her, but then again, she wasn’t a man, and carrying on the family name wasn’t even a remote concern of hers. She sat in silence for a minute or two longer, then looked up at Gabe and asked, “Now Mr. Gabe, just how do you see this idea of yo’s workin’? I got classes to go to, work to do, and no money to go and have some baby. Lordy, I tried all my life to avoid bein’ in a mess like that. Not that I couldn’a been a couple o’ times, but luckily that just didn’ happen. I’m sure you’re smarter dan I am tho’, so I’m listenin’.”

Gabe struggled with the courage to lift his eyes and meet Carmella’s inquisitive gaze. “Yes, Ms. Brown, I have thought a lot about it, and I think I have a plan that would be win-win—that is, beneficial to us both. First of all, I know how hard you are working to become a nurse and how important that must be to you. Kind of like me being a father, I imagine. I think that maybe we could come up with something that would offset the inconvenience of you being pregnant for nine months. I see it like this: If you were to agree and become pregnant sometime soon, you could have the baby over your summer break. You’re not doing clinicals yet, so you still could attend classes during your pregnancy with no delay in your schooling or risk to the baby or yourself. I would be willing to cover all your childbearing and prenatal expenses plus pay you a nice monthly stipend so that you could concentrate on your studies and not have to work. I’ve checked into what you make here every month, and I would be willing to double that for the next nine months. If all goes well and I am fortunate enough to have a son—I know that’s really up to chance—I would also throw in a $5,000 bonus when the adoption is complete. I would also be willing to give you a $1,000 bonus up front just for trying to become pregnant. If we are successful, then the plan will go into effect. If not, then we part friends and both move on with our lives. The safety net for me is that all payments are in cash and untraceable, and I will vigorously deny everything. If anyone else becomes aware of our little deal, our agreement will be terminated immediately. How does that sound to you so far?”

Carmella twisted the ring on her finger and thought for a moment. “Let me see if I got what you said, Mr. Gabe. You gonna pay me a thousand dollars just to have sex with you. I keep my job and nothin’ else changes until I get pregnant. After that, I quit work and you pay me twice what I usually earn—I guess ’bout another two thousand a month—till I have yo’ baby around summah time. You pay all my doctor bills and any fees to have the baby. If it’s a boy, I get a $5,000 bonus, you and yo’ wife adopt the baby, an’ life goes on. You or I never tell her or anyone else where da’ baby come from—I mean, that you was the daddy, right? I just got pregnant, you found out about it, and suggested to yo’ wife that you all adopt the baby. Is dat about right, Mr. Gabe?”

“Yes, that’s pretty much it, Carmella. What do you think?”

“I really don’t know what to think right now, Mr. Gabe. Lucky for you, I got a little behind in school with work an’ all and won’t be startin’ my clinicals for another year. For sure, if I did agree, if I ain’t pregnant by end of September, I keep the thousand and the deal is off, ’cause I gotta be in the hospital next fall and can’t be stoppin’ to have no baby! I would enjoy not havin’ to work for a while, but bein’ pregnant, tryin’ to go to school, and all the gossip goin’ on…I just don’t know about that. Maybe I’ll think about it fo’ a while, dat ok wid you? An’ don’ worry, I won’t tell nobody. Carmella can sure keep a secret!”

Gabriel looked like the world had been lifted from his shoulders. At least she hadn’t rejected him outright and said she would keep his plan to herself. He thought he could trust her. He had to trust her, actually. It was a huge relief just to get it all out in the open. Plus, he was attracted to her, and if she did agree…no, he couldn’t go there now. “Certainly, Ms. Brown. I am very pleased that you are willing to consider my proposal, and I hope you were not too taken aback by what I had to say. I’m sure you weren’t expecting to hear what I had to tell you, but it was certainly less troublesome than what you originally suspected, don’t you agree?” he concluded with a slight smile.

“You got that right!” Carmella added. “I was keepin’ my back to the do’ afta what you first said,” she smiled. “I gotta get on back to work now, Mr. Gabe. I’ll catch up wi’ chu in da next day o’ two.” With that announcement, Carmella opened the door and quickly disappeared off down the hall.

Gabriel hoped with all his heart that she would agree, and better yet, bear him a son.