The Language of Flowers, page 2
Not about which hospital to send him.
Not about the right choice of action to take.
But rather who had more seniority. Who had the right seniority to offer advice in the first place. The names of Ivy League colleges and top residencies were thrown about, travels and patient records—basically oral CVs which had no place in an emergency.
Which was always a problem when there was too much ego, intellect and not enough sense.
Maya felt a nudge in the side and looked up at The Old Woman. Lena Olawu was really only fourteen but she looked sixteen with her shoulder length black wig (she owned more wigs than a drag queen, which was no surprise since Lena’s mother owned enough for two) and form fitted blue dress and silver tinted contacts plus she acted much older.
Some kids had an old soul. This one was possibly from another galaxy. She also happened to be one of Keeden’s favorite cousins. Maya tried her best not to hold it against her. “Do something,” Lena said, her eyes pleading for help. “They won’t listen to me.” She looked scared which she rarely did. This wasn’t the time to worry about protocol, tradition and hierarchy. She’d apologize tomorrow.
Maya stepped forward and raised her voice over the crowd and said, “Who has called an ambulance?”
3
The doctors stopped bickering, the sound of the camera clicks fell silent and everyone looked at her as if she’d spoken in tongues.
Maya rolled her eyes and silently swore. She hated the man but this was bad. “You must be joking. You all have your cell phones out but no one thought to use it to call an ambulance?”
“I thought she was going to do it,” one guest said.
“I thought he said he would,” another added.
“His condition is stable,” the two nurses said then preceded to tell her, in varying accounts (volleying like a ball in a tennis match), that he didn’t appear to have anything broken, the first preliminary observation was sound. Maya thanked them—silently thankful a few people had sense—then pulled out her cell phone. “Now I’ll call an ambulance.”
Doctor Such and Such adjusted his tie. “He must go to—”
“It doesn’t matter where he goes,” Maya said trying her best to keep her tone respectful, although she presently thought the person was an idiot. “He needs to go to a hospital. Any hospital.”
“No.” This one word came from the prone man. The man whose eyes were closed but whose words were spoken with such fierce command it silenced them both.
Keeden opened his eyes and glared at her. Just her! As if he blamed her for everything, and said, “I don’t need one.” He started to rise, but one of the nurses forced him back down.
“Don’t move,” the nurse said. Considering he was built like a ram, Keeden had no option but to keep still.
“I don’t need an ambulance,” Keeden said, his pain soaked voice belying his words. “Such fuss. I’m fine.”
“You hit your head.”
“I think he hit more than just his head,” Doctor So and So said adjusting her glasses.
“There could be internal bleeding,” Doctor Such and Such said clearing his throat.
Maya looked over at the young driver who’d managed to be subdued by her cousin. Cousin Jules, the one who could convince you to give him a kidney and persuade you that he was doing you a favor. The cousin with the welcoming grin and soft hands. It was a dangerous situation, but she was too preoccupied to warn her. She’d find out soon enough or she’d tell Jules to let her be later. He wasn’t the main focus now.
“If someone doesn’t get him off the ground in thirty seconds,” Maya said. “I’m calling an ambulance.”
“Come here,” Keeden said.
She hesitated, unsure he’d spoken. He lay as still as a statue with his eyes closed again. He looked almost peaceful.
“Now,” he repeated.
He didn’t sound peaceful. The tone made the hairs on the nape of her neck rise. She didn’t like taking orders from him, but people were looking and he was injured…so she pushed down her temper and bent over him. “Yes?”
“Closer.”
She knelt beside him, glad she’d worn an outfit with enough give that getting off the ground wouldn’t be awkward, and tilted her head close to his mouth.
He grabbed her wrist, his palm like fire against her skin, and said in a voice that dripped with venom, in a tone so soft only she could hear him, “Call an ambulance and you’ll be the one who needs it.”
Two threats in one day. How thrilling.
She tried to twist her wrist free. “What do you have against--?”
“I’m not kidding.”
His eyes remained closed but, damn him, he frightened her a little. She didn’t like being frightened of anyone. Especially him. Humor was her best defense. She tried harder to loosen his hold. “If you keep flirting like this I might get the wrong idea.”
His grip tightened enough to cause tears to spring to her eyes. The bastard was still strong. He had enough life in him yet. Or if he was dying he was determined to drag her down with him. “I mean it,” he said.
“Okay. Okay.”
He opened his eyes. Dark, probing eyes filled with anger but also hazy with pain. “Promise.”
And his voice had weakened too. It was no longer as fierce as it had been only moments before. It caused her heart to shift in sympathy. The thought revolted her. She didn’t want to feel anything for this man, let alone sympathy. Compassion was wasted on someone like him, but, to her annoyance, she hated seeing anyone in pain.
He may not want an ambulance but he needed care.
She bit her nails into his arm, causing him to wince and release her. “No, I’d never promise you anything,” she said, trying to regain her composure as she rubbed where his hand had been, angered that it still felt hot from his touch, “but I won’t call anyone. It’s your life hanging in the balance not mine.” She quickly rose to her feet before he could reply.
She pointed to Doctor Such and Such. She was their best hope, she worked at the nearest hospital, she wasn’t the most senior but she was good at following directions when it was put in an authoritative tone. She was basically a pleaser. Maya needed that now. Someone who wouldn’t argue. “You take him,” she said. Before there was an outcry she asked the nurse to go with Doctor So and So because when the nurse reached his full height people knew best to get out of his way. So she’d managed to get her nemesis off the ground and on the way to a hospital while another guest had enough sense to call his parents to let them know what had happened.
She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank you.”
Maya jumped when The Old Woman, Lena, appeared by her side. Even in heels it annoyed her that she had to look up at a teenager. The kid was nearly a foot taller than she was in spite of Maya having braided her hair high in a bun on the top her head. But Lena looked shaken. Maya awkwardly wrapped an arm around her waist. “He’s going to be okay.”
Lena wiped her tears. “He’d better be otherwise you’ll be charged with murder.”
“He’s not going to die.”
“Not from lack of trying.”
Maya removed her arm. Traitor. “Not you too.”
“Everyone knows how much you hate him.”
“Not enough to face a prison sentence.” Besides she’d done the math more than once and he wasn’t worth even the cost of involuntary manslaughter. Cool, sustaining hatred was enough.
“I know,” Lena said with a small smile. “I just wanted to say it.” She sent Maya a considering look before she said, “It’s a shame you hate each other so much.”
She walked away, remaining the enigma Maya thought she was. She was too young to know their history, too naïve to understand the depths of contempt.
Their mutual hatred wasn’t a shame. It was a way of life.
4
She probably should have skipped the reception. She’d wanted to but encouraging texts from her mother such as:
You’d better make an appearance or your grandmother will haunt you.
You’d better be here soon or I’ll find you.
And
You must be there for you sisters. Try to be a good example. I’ll tolerate you being a shame to us but not a disappointment.
Gave Maya little choice but to arrive at the lively ballroom where people were dancing and drinking with abandon. There were enough people enjoying themselves at the reception to make the bouquet tossing disaster briefly leave her thoughts.
Fortunately, there were enough people who hadn’t been at the wedding ceremony so her humiliating event was not widely known—yet.
Maya took a small plate of canapés from one of the waiters and was about to take a bite when a lethal-looking leopard dressed in a fire engine red gown (one of the three outfits her sister would change into throughout the evening) pounced, baring her teeth.
She snatched the plate from Maya. “What are you doing here?”
Maya popped the canapé in her mouth. She held up her forefinger, hoping for her sister’s patience. It was rude to talk with one’s mouth full.
Her sister pinched her lips so tight she looked as if she’d sucked a lemon and fastened her mouth with super glue.
Maya, used to her sister’s temper, calmly swallowed before she said, “Why am I here?”
“Yes,” Gwen barely managed to say.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you ruined everything,” she said, her words briefly drowned out by the laughter of the crowd and the booming voice of the DJ.
Maya gestured to the crowd. “If this is ruined, sign me up.” She grabbed a champagne glass.
Gwen snatched it from her. “How could you do this to me?”
Her sister could be dramatic and selfish considering she wasn’t the one who’d had to be taken to the hospital.
“You act as if you don’t even care.”
Maya sighed, eying the champagne glass in longing. “About you or about him?”
“Is everything a joke to you?”
“No, your day isn’t over yet and he’s going to be fine.”
“My wedding day would have been perfect if not for you.”
“It would have been perfect if you hadn’t tossed the bouquet at me.”
Gwen gasped, resting a hand on her chest. “You’re blaming me for this?”
“Not entirely—”
A large hand rested on Gwen’s shoulder. Maya looked up and saw her new brother-in-law. He’d also changed into a red kaftan and they looked like a matching set. “At least apologize,” he said.
Maya shot him a glance in no mood for a scolding. He meant well and was trying his best to appease his new wife, but Maya wasn’t ready to help him practice what would have to become a lifelong skill. “Stay out of it. We’re family now. I don’t have to be nice if I don’t want to. And right now I don’t want to.” She rested a hand on her chest. “No offense.”
“No offense taken,” he said before he took the precariously held champagne glass from his wife’s hand and wisely turned on his shiny black heel and left.
“Now you’re insulting my husband?”
Maya gestured to him smiling with one of the guests. “Does he look insulted?”
Gwen pinched the bridge of her nose. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“Relax, no one here even knows what happened.”
“Some do.”
“Not enough.”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Maya began to reply before she spotted the other leopard eying her, the female leopard’s bright red lipstick unmistakable as well as the leonine gaze she shared with her daughter. “Blame Mom. She said—”
“I don’t care. I don’t want you here.”
“Oh, you don’t mean that,” Maya said used to her sister’s exaggeration, especially if Maya inadvertently took attention from her. She’d say things like: I wish you’d never moved in with us (when Maya got an A on a test and Gwen a B plus). I wish you’d never been born (when Maya had gotten notice of a scholarship on Gwen’s birthday). Minor things like that.
“I do mean it,” Gwen said. “Every word. People are talking about you instead of me. This was supposed to be my day.”
“It still is. You look gorgeous by the way.”
“Shut up,” Gwen said unable to hide her pleasure. The moment quickly passed. “You ruined my wedding.”
“You’ve said that already. Saying it twice doesn’t make it true.”
“It is true.”
“If I’d stood up and said I was pregnant with the groom’s child or that he had a secret family in Nevada then that would have ruined your wedding, but the ceremony was perfect.”
“Until you destroyed everything.”
Maya inwardly groaned. Her sister was determined not to forgive her. She was not going to get over it and let it pass. So there was no point in arguing. “I did warn you.”
Gwen’s brows shot up. “And this is how you get back at me?”
“It was an accident, truly.” My goodness, did she really look dangerous enough to kill? Why wouldn’t anyone believe that she hadn’t done it on purpose? If she’d wanted to hurt Keeden she would have found a slower less public way.
Gwen motioned to the exit, the large diamond on her hand catching the light. “Go home. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want anyone to see you. I don’t want you in any pictures. I want you gone.”
Maya glanced at the mother leopard. “But Mom—”
“I’ll take care of Mom.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll never forgive you.”
“Fine,” Maya said unfazed, but annoyed and hungry. “I guess I’ll just take back the ten-piece essential cookware set I bought you.”
Her sister’s eyes lit with greedy desire. Maya knew how much she wanted it.
“Did you really get it? You’d better not be lying.”
“I’m not lying.”
“How could you afford it without a job?”
“My side hustle as a Nigerian prince has been lucrative.”
“No need to be a smartass.”
“Then don’t insult me.” Maya took a step forward towards the gift table. “Of course if you hate me so much and will never forgive me, there’s no reason to give you my clearly imaginary gift.”
Gwen grabbed her arm, stopping her. “Leave it,” she said with thinning patience. “I’ll forgive you tomorrow.”
“Such generosity. Thank you.”
“Go.”
“Can I at least get something to eat?”
“No.”
Maya held up her thumb and forefinger. “Not even something really small like a—?”
“Go Maya.”
She shrugged. “Okay. Enjoy the rest of the evening.”
“I will once you’re gone.”
5
“Let me do your makeup.”
Maya let the soothing voice of the older woman on her cell phone screen sweep away her anxieties, the only bright image in her darkened room.
She leaned back against her headboard and listened to the soft sound of a makeup brush gently sweep against the microphone.
“You’ve been taking good care of your skin.”
At one time called whisper videos, the subculture of autonomous sensory meridian response (ASMR) videos was where Maya felt she belonged. In this world there was a mother like figure who told her she looked nice. Who did her hair and told her she was proud of her. A world where she wasn’t blamed for every unfortunate event.
Unlike other groups on the internet the ASMR world wasn’t infested with trolls but people, whether creators or comments, who wanted and were eager to support each other. Most people thought it was sexual, but only a small fraction of listeners and creators were focused on that sector. Instead the art form created a safe haven.
And she desperately needed one.
Most times she used the videos to help her unwind, sometimes they helped her to fall asleep. She liked the soothing voice, the soft sound of a comb brushing through hair, even nails lightly tapping against a coffee mug.
Here she felt safe.
Here she wasn’t constantly reminded that she’d failed so many dreams, that she was a disappointment.
“Here, let me put some eyeliner on.”
Only a year ago, she’d thought her life was in order. But then the small liberal arts college where she’d been hired as an art professor lost funding and despite a wide search she hadn’t managed to find another job.
Then nine months ago she’d been forced, due to financial necessity, to leave her lovely Pennsylvania town and move back to the family house in Maryland when her landlord raised the rent of her townhouse by fifty percent (because he could).
“Let me do your hair.”
Maya blinked back tears. As much as she pretended it didn’t hurt, it did. It hurt to be the butt of jokes, to be so different than everyone else even when she wasn’t trying. Just like her flower hatred, few cared about how much she’d loved being a professor and what a loss it had been to her.
Art didn’t register in her household—except when it came to Keeden. He was a true artist: A rich, globe-trotting, world renowned artist.
But she didn’t want to think about him. She didn’t want to have nightmares.
The day had been nightmarish enough.
She’d returned home from the reception, changed into leggings and a large T-shirt, heated up leftovers (jollof rice and chicken), then called one of the doctors and learned there wasn’t much more to report about Keeden’s condition.
He was still breathing and that was enough for her.
She finished the video then set the cell phone down, the glow of the screen illuminating the side table where a book about finance sat. She might have to retrain and gain new skills if she didn’t find employment soon. As much as the thought galled her.
She didn’t remember falling asleep. But she must have because she woke up the next morning to someone moving her back and forth like a rolling pin.
