What You Won't Do for Love

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

A hard head makes a soft behind. That was the second to the last thing, Edward Price said to his only child, Eden. So make wise choices using your heart, soul and mind. The last thing he said, as his lungs rattled and he struggled to breathe was, Take care of people, especially your mother.

Back then, those were two difficult tasks to place on Eden’s fifteen year old shoulders, and eighteen years later, she was still struggling to comply.

Now, Eden stood, dressed in her favorite green scrubs in front of the vending machine, next to the nurses triage station at New Mercies hospital and contemplated her father’s dying advice.

She tapped her non-manicured fingers against the glass. She had achieved part of her father’s dying wish – she had become a nurse and lived to help people.

But she seemed to fail in the second part since she was behind in her payments to the run-down convalescent home her mother was living in.

As for the second to the last thing…

Should she get the Kit Kat or the Mars Bar? Tough choice. They both would give her a softer, bigger, behind which she didn’t need. God had already given bountifully in that area. It’s the reason Eden wore a medium scrub top and a large scrub bottom. Her blessing and her curse. Eden sighed, blew a stray strand of curly auburn hair out of her face and slid a dollar into the machine. She keyed in E6 – the granola bar.

Happy daddy?

But before the proper choice could fall, the emergency room doors glided open with a hiss and a young woman stumbled in with a semi-conscious older woman.

Help me! Before the young woman collapsed onto the yellow tile floor, she locked eyes with Eden and conveyed such a look of unknowable fear, Eden’s palms began to sweat.

Eden’s body became a cauldron of tension. Her heart revved into overdrive, adrenaline flowed and her hunger forgotten as she scrambled to get a gurney.

The Pit is hopping tonight! Another nurse exclaimed in response to the unusual number of critical cases, they had seen that night.

Can you tell me your name? Eden helped the young lady onto the stretcher as the rest of the team assembled. Working swiftly and at life-saving speed, they placed both women on separate gurneys.

As nurses checked her heart rate, blood oxygen, and breath sounds, Eden tried to get some information from her.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. The young woman ran her fingers through her greasy and stringy brown hair. Her words spilled lazily out of her mouth. Today’s my birthday. See? The woman tried to point to a button in the middle of her shirt, but her aim was off and her finger landed on her chin. The button read, ‘Keep Calm, It’s Michelle’s 21st Birthday.’ This isn’t right, she slurred. It’s my birthday! She squinted her eyes as the bright overhead lights swung into place and the medical team began to poke, pull, prod and place things.

Eden leaned closer and was almost knocked over by the pungent fumes. It was so strong it made her eyes water.

Eden turned to look over at the older woman, still unconscious on the gurney and saw another nurse scrunch her nose at the smell coming from her. In the pit of Eden’s stomach she sensed death was close.

Michelle, is that your name? Can you tell me what happened to your friend?

The young lady wobbled her head back and forth. Not my friend. That’s my mama. Michelle stretched her hand out. Mama! She wailed.

Eden exchanged a glance with her best friend, Kym Chan, a Physician’s Assistant. Kym held up a blood alcohol meter that read .092, several points higher than the legal limit. Eden glanced over at the mother, whose skin had a light blue tinge, on the other gurney. Her alcohol level was .291. Her body was drowning in alcohol.

Alright, what happened to your mother? What have you been drinking?

Her name is Grace, Michelle’s red eyes began to water as her face contorted into pain, and she’s amazing! Then, her face morphed again and Michelle smiled and blinked slowly. That’s the line she always gave cute guys.

What do we have here? An attendee physician walked in as she applied gloves to her hands.

A resident piped up, The patient presented with blue tinged skin, hypothermia, and traces of vomit around her mouth. It looks like a case of severe alcohol poisoning. The older woman’s blood sugar levels are non-existent, and she’s non-responsive to pain stimuli.

Michelle suddenly began to strain against the nurses attempting to start an I.V. She moaned again, and this time it was low, guttural and laced with regret. Eden knew she was going to hear that wail in her sleep tonight.

******************

Later that evening, Eden walked into Michelle’s and Grace’s room to update her chart. The daughter was sitting by her mother’s bed with her head lying against her chest. They had hydrated Michelle and the effects of the liquor in her system had begun to wear off. She looked more like the girl-next-door rather than a girl-gone-wild. Her mother had also been cleaned up. Now that her blonde hair had been pulled out of her face, Eden could see how much the two looked alike. More like sisters.

Glad to see you looking better, Michelle. How do you feel?

Michelle didn’t respond. She held her mother’s hand and tears rolled down her face. Eden read her mother’s chart and her heart sank. She had been praying for a better outcome.

They said she’s brain dead, Michelle whispered. But she just looks like she’s asleep. Like she’ll wake up any moment and kiss my forehead.

I’m so sorry about your mother. I know this isn’t easy.

Do you? Michelle turned to Eden and her eyes lingered on the gold cross around Eden’s neck. They want me to donate her organs, even her liver, to some strangers.

Eden remained quiet. She placed her hand on Michelle’s back.

What would you do? Michelle asked.

Eden had been asked that before by other patients facing this brutal decision. It was literally the worst choice one could face. Should you end the life of a loved one or hold out for a miracle? Logic backed by medical science said, End it. Faith, backed by hope said, Pray on it. Eden took a deep breath and silently prayed that she would never have to make that decision.

I’m sorry, I can’t say, Eden paused, is there someone else, another close relative-

Michelle shook her head. I have no one.

Eden could relate. Although, in three days, that would change. The glint from the ring on her finger assured her of that.

Her cell phone vibrated in her smock pocket, but Eden didn’t bother checking it. Has your mother ever mentioned what she would want you to do?

Michelle bit her lip and her eyes filled with tears. She nodded yes and Eden knew the answer. She sighed and continued to pat the young woman’s back.

Today is my birthday. I turn 21 today at nine-thirteen p.m. I know because, mom always kisses me on my forehead at that exact time. Michelle closed her eyes and Eden watched as a mix of emotions washed over her face; pain, fear, anxiety, regret. I was going to get twenty-one kisses tonight.

Eden looked at the digital clock on the wall. It was ten minutes after nine.

We’re not supposed to be here, Michelle continued. Her voice sounded hollow and far away. Eden called it, the echo of pain voice. She’d heard it many times now. My mom had this awesome day planned for us. That was how she was, you know, a planner. I used to hate that about her. She smiled lopsidedly at the memory. Grace probably had the same lopsided smile. It got on my nerves, you know? But, still she was my best friend. People always say that, but my mom really was my only, and best friend.

Eden picked up a box of tissues from the little, beige, hospital-issued, desk and poured Michelle a glass of water.

She gave up the wild life and parties when she got pregnant with me at seventeen. Michelle wiped a few tears away with the tissue. Never went to college. Never drank or got high and never went to clubs. Because she was going to wait-, Michelle’s voice cracked, until her daughter’s 21st birthday to do it all with her.

Eden’s cellphone vibrated again. She hoped it wasn’t her fiancé. Whoever it was would have to wait. She turned her phone off. Eden pulled a chair over to Michelle and began to pat her hand.

Do you think, it would be alright to play a song in here? Michelle asked.

Of course, as long as you keep it low.

Can you hand me my cell phone, it’s the white one, in that plastic bag. Eden stood up and rummaged through the bag.

Michelle took the phone and she began to scroll through her selections. We weren’t really religious, you know. Mom said, we were good people, and that was enough, but she loved to listen to old spirituals. Michelle’s eyes lit up when she found the right song. She said, these songs spoke to her deeply. They touched her in the depths of her soul. Michelle paused and clutched the phone like a life saver. Maybe, hearing one will… she looked at Eden, her blue eyes reflecting the longing and desperation in her heart.

Eden nodded and motioned for her to play it.

The twang of a guitar filled the room as the familiar melody roused recognition in Eden.

Oh Lord my God

When I in awesome wonder

Consider all the worlds

Thy hands have made,

They listened in complete silence for a moment. Another nurse walked by and stopped to listen with her head bowed.

… And when I think of God

His son not sparing

Sent Him to die

I scarce can take it in

What am I going to do? Michelle’s voice cracked and she shrunk in her chair. They want me to sign these papers, but I can’t. Today is my birthday. She sounded like a wounded little girl, instead of a newly grown woman. I can’t. She covered her face with her hands and rocked back and forth, chanting, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

The clock read nine-thirteen and Eden swallowed back a lump of sadness in her throat, squeezed Michelle’s shoulder and began to rub and pat her back in the comforting way her own mom used to. This is why she became a nurse. To help people. Her dad saw her gifts for nurturing, empathy, and encouragement when she was young and he knew she would put them to good use one day.

Michelle cried a little longer and then lifted her tear stained face to Eden. You know, this is all my fault. My mom gave me a choice. We could go to Vegas and gamble and party and guzzle watered down mixed drinks, or spend all our money on expensive, exotic, liquor in fancy bottles with names I can barely pronounce and drink ourselves into oblivion. She shook her head. I actually said that. And now look. Now I have to choose what happens to my best friend.

Her shoulders shook and Michelle grabbed Eden in a tight hug. With her mouth close to Eden’s ear, she whispered, Please tell me, what would you do?

Chapter 2

Good evening, Washington sisters. Running was Eden’s way to clear her mind after work. And she had a heavy weight to clear tonight. After crying and praying with Michelle and encouraging her to speak to a grief counselor, she drove straight home but had been unable to leave work at the hospital.

Eden smiled, nodded, gave a little wave, as she passed two elderly women, rocking in the cool twilight air. She kept her legs pumping, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

Look here gal, how’s your mother doing? One of the sisters asked.

Sigh.

Eden jogged in place to maintain her heart rate and she backed up. She was so close to her house, she could see the yellow grass beckoning her. She squinted and shaded her eyes with one hand as the setting L.A. sun brushed the tops of the palm trees that lined her street.

Well, ma’am-

Call me Auntie Lou. The older woman admonished.

Yes, Auntie Lou, my mother could… use your prayers. Eden fought to breathe between words. Mom… has good days… and bad days."

Mmmmhmmmm… Pearl and I gonna pay her a visit when the church van comes by tomorrow. She’s mighty blessed to have a daughter that cares so much about her. You put her in a nice place. Real nice. She continued rocking and frowned. Eden kept jogging in place, sensing more words to come.

Albertina Lewis went through the same thing. She caught the ‘mentia’ and lost her mind. Lou shook her head and her wig turned askew. In the end, she became as wild as a jungle cat and her kids just let her roam the neighborhood…house coat flapping in the wind, it was a sin and a shame to see her go down like that. Didn’t have a lick of dignity to her name.

What’s that now? Pearl sat up leaned over to Lou.

Albertina’s cat?

No, we’re talking about Marlene Price, you remember her, the one who made pecan sweet potato pies that tasted like a hug from the good Lord, now she has the ‘mentia’.

Oooooh, rest in peace, Marlene. Pearl pulled a tissue from her bosom and wiped her eyes. Yes, rest in paradise. She was a fine woman, always spoke so highly of her daughter- Laurel.

No, Pearl. Marlene hasn’t passed. Lou pat her sister on her thigh. Turn your hearing aid up. This here is her other daughter, the real one – Eden, the nurse.

The nurse?

Yes, Laurel is the lawyer. This one, looks just like her mama spit her out - big booty and everything. Marlene’s daughter, Eden.

Pearl shook her jowls. I don’t recall her saying anything about an Eden. I would’a remembered that name-

You ladies have a good evening, Eden said over her shoulder. She’d had enough. I’m going to jog my big butt on home. Eden knew they shook their gray wigs as she passed, but had no desire to face the ugly truth – her mother favored her stepsister over her own flesh and blood.

Just a few more feet to go until she made it to the large corner house at the intersection of Third Ave and 33rd Place.

Three threes. The number three meant something to her father, God rest his soul. It was his favorite number and one of the reasons he purchased a house on this block. But today, the number three held relevance to Eden too. This was her thirty-third year of life, she was suffering from her third night of insomnia, and on March third, which was three days away, her life would change - for better or worse.

The four-inch yellow grass sprouting from her front lawn, distinguished her house from all the others on the block and she aimed straight for it. Eden made a mental note to borrow her neighbor’s lawnmower. She couldn’t go off on her honeymoon and leave her front lawn in this condition. She groaned at the thought because she could hear her opinionated neighbor, Why isn’t your fiancé cutting your grass?

Because Desmond is on disability, that’s why.

Illegally.

And he can’t risk getting caught on camera doing manual labor by an overzealous insurance agent.

Before another sigh escaped her mouth because of the state of Desmond’s affairs, her stomach growled and she grabbed her pudgy midsection that refused to bend to the laws of thermodynamics. No matter how much she ran, she never lost weight in her belly, boobs or butt.

Eden’s soft and curvy body was a curse in the land where fat came to die. In Los Angeles, curvy parts were manufactured like plastic doll parts - not homegrown.

Because of her softness, Eden cast the type of appearance that made children love her instantly. A boon when young patients came through the emergency room, but hard to accept nonetheless.

When she entered her home and turned on the lights, the first thing to catch her eye was her wedding dress, draped in protective plastic, it hung like a ghost in a corner of the living room.

Eden scanned her living room. It was cluttered with treasures that her mother first, and now she, refused to part with. Dementia had robbed Eden of her mom, but the knick-knacks she left behind, served to trigger bittersweet memories.

Her house was littered with, clay figurines of little black people, dusty silk flowers, stacks and stacks of hardback books, (her mom refused to buy paperback because it was like synthetic hair - it just doesn’t feel right), never burned candles, and an odd assortment of bookmarks that her mother had obsessively collected. Eden fought the urge to clean it all out and drop it off to Goodwill.

Eden plopped on the couch and removed her shoes. She leaned back and paused to study the watermark on the ceiling that resembled a chicken leg.

Eden reached over to a side table and picked up one of the many clay figurines her mother had collected over the years. A little Black girl, dressed like a slave, sitting with her mother, praying.

She studied the figurine for a moment and ran her fingers over the hard stone. It was one of her mother’s most treasured pieces.

The praying figurine reminded Eden that she hadn’t spoken to God that day, outside of grace before meals and the occasional callout while navigating the hive-inducing L.A. traffic, and it was already approaching seven p.m. She slid off the couch and onto her knees.

God, we are only three days from D.N.A. Day a.k.a Dateless Never Again!

I keep forgetting last minute errands and Desmond is zero help. I know I told him that all he has to do is show up at the altar, who knew he’d take me literally. I love me some him, he accepts me as I am, and loves me despite the things I can’t give him, but sometimes, he’s more useless than a nightlight in Stevie Wonder’s house.

Father, I know the stomach-churning nausea, cold sweats, and nightmares are just textbook cold feet, but I would appreciate any intervention on my behalf. I want to feel happiness when I think of marrying Desmond, not anxiety and worry-

Eden felt a slight tremor, like the shake a mother gives a sleeping child. Followed by a roll and a harder shake. She steadied herself with her hands, trying to gauge if she needed to run for cover. The picture frames on the walls tilted slightly, a couple figurines toppled over, and the hanging light fixture swayed, casting long shadows on the wall.

An earthquake. L.A. has the hiccups again. That one felt like a 3.2 or 3.3 on the Richter Scale. Nothing major, but still… She turned her cell phone back on, in case she needed to use it, and then resumed her prayer.

I’m also thankful that I was able to pay the balance of the venue with my credit card. If they hadn’t upped my credit limit, I don’t know what I’d do. Please give me more peace and clear direction-

Ring, ring, ring.

Eden lifted her arm and glanced at her cell phone tucked into her arm band. The image of her best friend, Kym Chan stuffing her face with a cookie flashed on the screen. As Eden’s phone rang, an alert notification from Facebook also chimed on her phone.

She removed the phone from its holder. She had multiple alerts.

Eden cleared her throat. Hello?

Has your phone been off? Kym asked.

Yeah, I think I turned it off when I was sitting with my last patient, Michelle. Eden said a quick prayer for Michelle. She planned to do that every time the broken daughter came to mind. What’s up?

Open your Facebook page. Please.

Just tell me what’s happening. Eden’s fingers tapped nervously on her thigh. Did somebody announce another divorce? Or did my favorite celebrity overdose? It wasn’t Idris, right? My boo says no to drugs." Eden laughed.

Eden Elizabeth Price, listen to me. Pull up your Facebook. Please. I can’t say it out loud. You have to see it for yourself.

Kym Chan was a hard-nosed Physician’s Assistant that nearly ran the ER. She had worked with Eden for years and was the ying to Eden’s yang. The flame to Eden’s cool breeze. Few situations rocked Kym’s boat because she preferred to be the boat rocker. So, it surprised Eden a bit that she noted shakiness in Kym’s voice.

Fine. I’m logging on to my computer. Eden blew a ringlet of hair from her face, walked over to her ancient PC and jiggled the mouse to clear the screensaver.

Are you on your page yet? The tremble in Kym’s voice hadn’t gone away.

Eden bit her lip. A pinprick of fear formed at the base of her stomach. What could have the indomitable Kym Chan shaken?

Hello? Are you still there? Eden switched the phone from one ear to the other, as if that would help her hear.

I’m here. Kym sighed. I wish I could shield you from this.

From what? Eden was getting a little annoyed. There’s a lot of background noise. Are you still at the hospit-

Eden clicked on her Facebook homepage. She saw fifty-nine notifications and fifteen messages. She normally didn’t get that many in a week. She scrolled down to a picture that she was tagged in.

Correction, pictures.

Eden’s heart thundered against her ribcage. Her lungs deflated like a balloon with a hole in it. The hunger she’d previously felt, was replaced with a punch to the gut.

On screen was her future husband, her fiancé of five long years, her on-again/off-again boyfriend since college, Desmond Francis Carter, hugging a skinny, blonde woman.

The next picture was of Desmond kissing the same blonde. Was he was giving her an oral exam - with his tongue? Next, Desmond at the beach with blondie. Desmond at the Laker game, court side with the chick. Desmond laying in his bed with his arms around the half-naked skank. There were at least ten pictures in all. And only three people were tagged. Eden Price, Desmond Carter, and Waverly Richmond.

Waverly?

Eden had just added a friend named Waverly Richmond last week. She’d assumed she was a patient she had helped at the hospital. Eden’s warm and bubbly bedside manner made her a favorite amongst the staff and patients. She was always making and adding new friends on Facebook. But now she realized this Waverly was no friend.

Do you see it? Kym’s voice broke the menacing silence that filled the room. I don’t hear you breathing.

Eden wasn’t breathing. She wasn’t blinking or moving. She sat frozen in shock. The only thought going through her head was that the invitations had already been mailed out. One hundred and twelve of them, each labeled with a fuchsia LOVE stamp. One hundred and twelve invitations that had been hand addressed with a gold calligraphy pen. One hundred and twelve people had opened those ill-fated invites. Eden had received seventy-two R.S.V.P’s, two of which she received in the mail this morning, each with their own LOVE stamped envelope.

She looked at the stack of envelopes. It was now a painful monument to a wedding that was not going to happen.

Chapter 3

Suddenly, something felt foreign on her finger. Her engagement ring. She had always dreamt of wearing a rock so big, it gave her back problems. She had settled on a cubic zirconia because -she told herself- the rock is fake but, the love is real. Desmond promised an upgrade as soon as he got his tax refund.

Eden, breathe. Eden heard the code blue alarms and knew Kym would have to get off the phone. I’m clocking out in thirty minutes, sooner if I can. Just…don’t do anything…crazy.

Eden let out a slow, low breath. I… won’t,