The purplish orange sun was slowly going down over the horizon as Montgomery Stamberg, a Construction Foreman, drove home in heavy 5 o’clock traffic. The 47 year old portly white man, a "little person", with a receding brown hairline was navigating the traffic and listening to local soft rock station on the radio when the buzzing of his cellphone caught his attention. It sat in a holder that was connected to the dashboard where he could easily see. On the screen appeared the picture of a puggy faced white woman who wore glasses and was sticking out her tongue. Her face was flanked on all sides by a mass black curls that filled the rest of the image frame. The word "Jas" appeared over it and a message was beside it. He split his attention from driving to read it. "Stuck in a meeting, won’t be home for dinner. Pick up something for you and Annie.", it read. It was simple enough for him to decide on being able to fix spaghetti for dinner and where the nearest grocery store was that he could stop by on the way home. Cheyanne noticed that it was getting late as she was finishing up her homework, and no one was home yet. She was sitting on her bed with papers and school books scattered all over it as if she was floating in a sea of things she was trying to understand. It was not uncommon for one of her parents to be working late, but both were an incredibly rare occurrence. She heard the buzzing of her cellphone on the bedside table. On the screen, she saw that it was her mother calling from her cellphone. “Cheyanne…” said her mother in peculiar tone. Chey only heard her parents say her full name when something was wrong. “Yeah, ma.”, Chey answered apprehensively. There was a silence passed for a couple seconds over the phone. “You’ll need to eat some of the leftovers tonight. We won’t be home in time for dinner.”, her mother finally said. “Is everything ok?”. There was another couple seconds of silence. “I’ll talk to you about it when I get home.”. Chey thought she heard noises in the background of wherever her mother was. It was overlapping voices of people talking with what sounded like P.A. system blaring announcements in the far distance. “Honey, I have to go.” “Ok, ma, love you.”, said Chey concerned. “Love you too”, said her mother before hanging up the phone. Chey did as she was told. She put together her dinner from leftovers of meatloaf, green bean casserole, and mashed potatoes that may have sat in the refrigerator for a little longer than it should have. She sat at the dinner table and was driven to take in her surroundings. The familiar setting of her house seemed cold and alien without anyone else around. The quiet, stillness was unsettling and stayed with her all the way to bed. She awoke to the soft strumming of a guitar as a man sang a sweet melody from her phone as the alarm that normally started her day. She rubbed her sleepy eyes as she poked her head out of her room door. In the ranch style home, it was always reassuring to see her parents’ room from her own. This morning her parents’ door was still in the same position it was in from the day before and the house was still. She had a sick feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. She went back to her cellphone and called her mother’s phone. The call rang until it went to voicemail. She hung up and called her father’s phone. The same occurred and she began to worry. She had no choice but to put it aside and get ready for school. It was the only natural thing to do at a moment where she didn’t know what to do. At school, she was distracted by continuous secret checks of her cellphone during class. She hoped that her parents would have left her a text, a voicemail, or had attempted to call her. There was nothing. When Chey got off the bus from school that afternoon, she saw her mother’s car was sitting in the driveway of her house. She rushed into the house to find the puggy faced woman, a "little person", of black curls standing just on the other side of the door. From the first glance, Chey could see that the woman looked exhausted and drained of sheer life. “Ma, what’s wrong?”, Chey asked fearfully as she drop her book bag on the floor. “It’s your father…”, her mother replied as if the words were having a difficult time coming out of her. Chey’s heart dropped, and her mother saw it in her expression. She had known something was wrong, and now her fears were real. Chey started to move and to speak, but, before she could, her mother grabbed her and held Chey tight to her own body. “He’s out of the woods now.”, her mother said, hugging her tight. Chey could feel the warm tears running down her own face, and her heartbeat thumbing in her ears. It was then she noticed the packed bags sitting near their feet. Montgomery’s shopping took less than five minutes, before he exited the grocery store holding handles of two plastics in one hand and fumbling with his keys in the other. He wasn’t sure how he ended up lying on the pavement, but there was a blinding pain in his head. There were repeated shocks of pain as he realized people were moving around him. He instinctively tried to cover his head, but something hit it hard. He couldn’t understand what was happening, until a foot stomped down onto the hand and grinded it into the asphalt. His mouth unconsciously opened and he heard someone screaming. It felt as if someone else was kicking at head, and another rummaging through his pockets. He swore he heard laughter. His assailants suddenly vanished from around him, and he found the screaming coming from his own mouth. Jasmine Stamberg arrived at the hospital just to be told to sit in the waiting room. She sat there surrounded by other people, but they did not exist to her. The seconds that ticked by were small eternities. A nicely dressed woman would eventually come out to her, and identified herself as the Clinical Social Worker that had called her. Jasmine noticed as they walked that she carried an electronic tablet under her arm. She led Jasmine to a quiet room where they sat. "Mrs. Stamberg," said the woman in a soft, warm voice. "Your husband was brought by EMTs a couple hours ago. He had multiple injuries to his upper body and right hand, but the technicians stabilized him." Jasmine felt like her chest was in a vice and the woman could see it. She gave Jasmine a couple seconds to settle herself. "He’s stable and being monitored.", she said it reassuringly with enough confidence that Jasmine noticed. The woman’s demeanor turned back to a more professional tone. Jasmine recognized it as a function of the woman’s experience and training in these matters. "There is a matter of urgency, I need to speak with you about. He is still unconscious. In monitoring him, they’re seeing growing pressure in his head. They are still investigating the cause." She paused allowing Jasmine to absorb, and Jasmine did as tried not to became emotional. "One of the reasons this can occur is due to a bleeding in the brain. If that is the case, there a number of ways to deal with it. There is a possibility that they may need to operate." She paused again for Jasmine’s sake. Jasmine took a deep breathe to steady herself, and waited for the woman to continue. "With any surgery like this, there are risks and, because you’re here, we have to get your permission." The woman brought forth the tablet with an electronic pen attached to it. She unlocked it by sliding her thumb over the screen and a document came up on it. Jasmine took it from her and wasted no time in signing where she was prompted with the electronic pen. After handing it back to the woman, the woman pressed a couple in screen buttons to submit it and nodded at Jasmine. "Once your husband has been giving clearance, they’ll take you to his assigned room. For now, we need you to wait back in the Waiting Room. Ok?" Jasmine only had the strength at the point to nod in agreement. The woman held the door for Jasmine as they exited the room. She gave Jasmine another confident, warm smile before they parted ways. Jasmine started back towards the Waiting Room, and detoured in a restroom on the way. She moved passed the other women and into the first empty stall, closing it’s door behind her. She put down the lid of the toilet seat and sat in it. She slowly rocked back and forth on it, letting everything sink as she waited. When she knew that other women had gone and no oneself was there, she let loose a furious scream that left her own ears ringing. When the moment had passed, she looked at her phone, and was startled by how late it had gotten without her noticing. She had to check on Cheyanne, but didn’t know what to say to her. She did not want to worry her daughter, especially when she still had no information on her husband’s condition. She called the Cheyanne’s cellphone, and, as it rang, she tried to make sure she was composed and not emotional. The phone picked up. “Cheyanne…” said her mother. “Yeah, ma.”, Chey answered apprehensively. Jasmine, hearing her daughter’s voice, felt as if her heart was breaking apart in her chest. She wanted to say something to her, and not pretend as if she didn’t feel as if the world wasn’t trying to come crashing down around her. She wanted to hug her daughter, and assure Cheyanne that things were not as dark as they seemed. Jasmine thought these things, but came to the feeling that she was trying to convince herself of them. “You’ll need to eat some of the leftovers tonight. We won’t be home in time for dinner.”. She made the decision to let her daughter stay oblivious to whatever this horror was that had invaded their lives for at least another day. “Is everything ok?”, asked her daughter. Jasmine started to open her mouth to speak, and choked on her words. She held the phone away from herself as she took a deep breath, and steadied herself. She brought the phone back to her ear. “I’ll talk to you about it when I get home.”. The hospital P.A. system came on after notification beep, and loudly announced for a someone to report somewhere. Jasmine feared it would give her location away, and needed to end the call. “Honey, I have to go.” “Ok, ma, love you.”, said Chey. “Love you too”, said Jasmine before hanging up the phone. It was nearing 3 in the morning when Jasmine walked into the room assigned to her husband. She was told that they did have to operate, but it was successful and no complications. Her eyes fell on her husband laying in the hospital bed and surprisingly felt relieved. She could finally see his slow breathes causing the subtle rise and fall of the chest of his unconscious body. His head was wrapped in bandages and a device was on his hand that was holding his wrist, palm, and fingers in place. There were bruises and scratching on one side of his face. He was hooked up to IVs and a catheter bag and machines that breathed for him and monitored him. Tubes and wires ran from multiple parts of his body to bags and machines. She gently took hold of his left hand and put her lips to his ear. "I know you can hear me, Moe.", she said softly in his ear. "You always do." She stayed quiet for a moment and let a memory float into her mind. "Remember? The first time you told me you loved me? You said when you, at 13, first walked into my father’s house that something told you that someone was there waiting for you." She paused and recollected. "I told you were full of shit. That no one waits a decade for someone. But you still waited." A tear ran down her face as she slid her fingers between his and squeezed his hand. "Now, it’s my turn. I’m here and I’ll wait for you as long as it takes." She kissed his check as she carefully laid his hand at his side. She pulled up a nearby chair and sat next to him. It wasn’t long before she was leaning her head up against the bed, falling into an uncomfortable sleep from multiple levels of exhaustion. She was awakened by movement. At first she looked at her husband, but he was unchanged. "Sorry, ma’am,", said a male nurse as he was changing IV and catheter bags. "I was trying not to wake you. Got lucky the last time I was in here. You were gone to the world." A groggy Jasmine hadn’t gathered enough of her senses to understand what he was saying when she glanced at her phone. She jumped when she saw it was 11 in the morning and she missed a call from Cheyanne. "Not yet,", she thought out loud looking at the missed call notification. She looked towards her husband and spoke to him. "I need to go home first, but don’t want to leave you." "I’ll watch him for you,", said the nurse. "I’ll call if there’s any change." Jasmine looked at him and looked back at her husband. The nurse stopped what he was doing and turned his attention to her. "Ma’am, I’ve been here awhile. Seen alot of love ones here for those they loved. The thing they forget is that they can’t take care of someone if they don’t take care of themselves first." Jasmine looked directly at him this time. There was a genuine warmess to his smile. "You don’t need to worry, we got him." When Cheyanne saw her father the next day, she had no words. She simply froze with bags in hand as her mother sat the ones she carried in a corner. The image of this unconscious, bandaged man laying in a hospital bed didn’t register with her as her father. She stared at him. Her father, to her, never got hurt outside hitting his thumb whenever he had to use a hammer. At one point, her father was the brave knight that, right before bed, would leap into her closet to battle the hidden monster, so it wouldn’t brother her at night. When she was a little older, he switched to reading her fairy tales of demons who tried to steal children or hunters that faced a dragon billowing smoke and fire from its mouth to save a princess. At random, a memory came to her as clear as if she was there. It was the first time at the beach when she was 5 years old, staring out it at the ocean. It was so big, and the rolling waves looked like they would grab her and take her away if she got too close. She remembered her father taking her by the hand and they slowly walked in together. They stood in the waves with biggest smiles on their faces and nothing could hurt them. She felt a hand on her shoulder and realized her mother had walked over to her. "He’ll be ok. He just needs to rest now.", her mother said to her. Mother and daughter sat quietly in the hospital room for hours. There was only the sounds of comings and goings of people outside the room to be heard. They were both lost in their own thoughts and didn’t know what to say to the other. Jasmine looked over her husband and could understand what was done to him as someone’s hatred. She was familiar with the ugly side of their town. She felt it wasn’t a secret the things that happened a little too frequently. There were stories from people she knew and the ones that appeared in her morning paper. The paper told of gay men getting pulled out of their cars, school brawls started by white kids writing the word "nigger" on a black kid’s locker, or a disabled woman being raped and beaten in her own home. She had felt, for a long time before this, that there was a level of allowance for going after the "others" in the town that stopped short of something being fatal. With those things in mind, Jasmine still couldn’t make sense of it when she looked at her husband. She wondered why and found the reason easily enough. She always thought about it as "something that happened to other people", not someone she loved. When Cheyanne looked at her father in the solumn quiet, she kept thinking about being at home alone or at school, and not knowing her father might be gone. There were myriad of different emotions churning around inside her. It is when she looked at her mother that one powerful emotion suddenly solidified itself. It came upon her so suddenly, so intensely, it initially scared her and took her a second to fully understand what it was. It was anger. She had never truly been this angry at anyone. She couldn’t understand why. There were many thoughts that ran though her head. The only one that made any sense, in that moment, was the one telling her to put some space between her and her mother. Cheyanne got up without a word spoken, and felt that anger like it was sitting on top of her bones. It was so real, it seemed to weigh her down as she walked towards the door. Her mother noticed when she walked passed the call room’s bathroom door. "Annie?", her mother asked, wondering where she was going. "Need some air...", she managed to mutter, fighting the desire not to speak. She opened the door to a nurse who was about to open it on the other side. "’Cuse me, honey.", said a matronly, older nurse. Cheyanne continued passed her without missing a beat. Jasmine could see that her daughter was having a hard time, but didn’t know what to say to her. She feared not having the right words to say, and making a situation, that was already hard on her daughter, worse. "Hello.", she said to Jasmine. "Hi.", responded Jasmine. The nurse’s presence reminded Jasmine of the male nurse from that morning who she felt she gratitude towards. "Ma’am, do you know of a male nurse who was working this morning? I wanted to thank him, he was really kind to me.". Jasmine could see the woman was visibility pondering the question as she entered the room. "Don’t think any of the guys were on shift this morning", she answered. "I can check the rounds chart, but don’t remember seeing any on there.". Jasmine tried to remember his features to describe him, but it was hazy. She saw the nurse in front of her had a name tag, but couldn’t remember the male nurse having one. She concluded the futile effort, contributing her lack of memory to how tired she had been that morning. "Well, hopefully I’ll get to see him again.", said Jasmine as the nurse nodded, smiled, and went about checking machines and bags. Cheyanne walked the halls of the hospital that was mostly empty as it was getting late. She heard her own footsteps in the lonely hallways. The quiet was only broken up by the occasional television or people talking in a passing patient’s room. When another person would walk passed her, she felt as if they were on the other side of thick, opaque glass. Even still, she could see their facial expressions. They all had some form of unconscious contentment on their faces. It upset her. It just didn’t seem fair, and didn’t understand why. She understood they were not responsible for what happened to her father, but somewhere inside it didn’t matter. Cheyanne eventually found her way back to her father’s room, and her waiting mother sat up in her chair. "Annie", said her mother. Cheyanne didn’t acknowledge her. "You want me to take you home, so you can sleep in your bed? I’ll call you if anything changes and you can stay home tomorrow or go to school if you want?" This got Cheyanne’s attention, because the thought of leaving was an almost obscene suggestion. "No", she addressed her mother bluntly. Her mother could sense an anger in her daughter’s tone. "Annie, he’s resting, whether you’re here or not won’t change that.", her mother returned sternly. "No!", shouted Cheyanne with her fill anger on display. Her mother stood in response to properly address her daughter. "Cheyanne! You-" "Annie, don’t argue with your mother...", interrupted a weak, low voice. Cheyanne and her mother both turned towards the hospital bed to see Moe Stamberg looking at them with his eyes half open. It was as if the dark cloud lifted from the room. Jasmine felt all the air leave in her massive sigh of relief and Cheyanne completely broke down into tears.

Next Chapter: The Beautiful Things