My mind doesn't comprehend just how my heart feels,
I cry myself to sleep and drift to dream to realize its real,
I watch the knife take the life and enter through the chest,
the eyes come alive and pulverize in this final breath.
There is no limit to the pain or constant agony
because the truth depends on her more than the air you breathe,
The very thought of losing her made its final decision,
the heartache disappeared in the moment of my incension.
It was June 5th 1978. A Tuesday. Colombia Regional Hospital, in the small city of Ocala Florida, was alive with activity this day. The clock hadn't reached twelve noon yet, and Dr. Jean-Baptist St.Clair felt like he'd been working an eighteen hour shift. Although he'd only been on the clock for six hours he'd somehow managed to deliver five healthy newborns. Two of which, were identical twins. All females.
Dr. St.Clair stole away to his office for a quick five minute respite so that he could sign each of the five forms acknowledging the five successful births. He always waited until the last of his deliveries before he did the paperwork. Knowing that some deliveries came with unforeseeable complications, he purposely put off all his reports and signatures until he was certain all had gone without incident.
He removed one of the two files for the twins and put it in a leather briefcase that sat on the floor beside his desk. The anticipation had him perspiring. He wiped the thin sheen of sweat from his forehead, then picked up the other four files and gave them each a final scan. He was certain his accomplice had done her part and everything would be set up and in place when he returned to the paternity ward.
For him the morning was something of a special day. A day he could hold fast to as a memory worth retaining for the rest of his life.
The four fathers of the babies he'd delivered, Jason Colvis, Willard Hinson, John Hutchins, and Brady Flowers had all attended the same highschool with him. Although he'd never actually been friends with either of them, he remembered the type of guys they were. All of them were athletes. Jocks. Popular. He, on the other hand, had been a nobody. A bookworm that had seemed to make him a magnet for jocks to pick on.
Each day, in school, the jocks antagonized him and made fun of him whenever they caught sight of him. Jason had been the cruelest of them all. He'd bullied him the full four years of high school.
He took whatever they came with in stride, knowing one day he'd get the last laugh.
There were times when he wanted to drop out of school because Jason had harassed him so much, but he knew getting his education was the most important thing in his life. For him it had been a life or death situation. No compromise. And failure wasn't an option.
As for the mothers, he only recognized one of them. Keystal Carver was her name in highschool. Her chart now read, Keystal Colvis.
Before going to his office, he'd had the opportunity to stop by the paternity ward waiting room and speak with the fathers as each of them waited to see their newborns. Although he'd had to give one of them, Jason, bad news.
He spoke with each of them cordially for only a moment then hurried off to his office.
He knew all about their lives. He'd made it his business to keep up with each of them without their knowing. Only one of them had actually made a name for himself in the area of sports. John, or Big John, as he was once called, had received a full scholarship to the University of Florida. At 6'8, 268 lbs. he was The Florida Gators most impressive offensive linebacker, with five sacks his first year on the field. Yet, during his sophmore year he hyper extended his leg, and as a result, busted his knee cap. It ended his football career, but he excelled in his academics. After receiving his master's in science he was offered a position as a professor at a community college.
The others however, seemed to have landed themselves in the pool of mediocre living. Jason became a construction worker for a private own company. Willard became a cook in a cheesy restaurant. And Brady became a bartender in a rundown biker's bar. They had the lives he would've had if he had not possesed the willpower to persevere through homelessness, hunger, and physical abuse throughout his younger years.
He grew up in the foster care system. Somehow he always landed in an abusive home. I ran away often. In spite of it all, he managed to get through high school and obtain a full academic scholarship to a prestigious college, where he got his master's in the medical field.
He stood up from his desk, then looked over at the picture of his wife. It sat on the shelf next to his framed doctorate certificate. His other certificates of accomplishments hung on the wall. His plaques and trophies he kept at home.
Each time he looked at his wife, or even a picture of her, it saddened him. She had been diagnosed with cervical cancer a year into their marriage. Only after months of chemotherapy and a life changing surgery, was she back on her feet. With the removal of her uterus, he knew she wasn't the same woman mentally that he'd married. Although she put on a smile and tried to talk positive, he saw through the facade.
She'd wanted to have them a daughter before she'd been diagnosed with cancer. After the surgery he'd brought up the option of adoption. " It would mean so much to me, " she'd stated emphathically. Two months later the cancer had returned. It was spreading rapidly. It overtook her body to the point of her being put into a hospice three months after the diagnosis.
Dr. St.Clair didn't know how much time he had left with his wife, but he planned on giving her one last joy before she died.
With the briefcase in hand, he rushed out of his office and down the hall towards the paternity ward where his newborn daughter awaited him.
He felt liberated.
All he could think about was, how wonderful it was going to be to hear his wife name their daughter.
Then for a brief moment, he thought about the jocks. " One down and three to go, " he said to himself, then laughed heartily.
By: Eric ' E-Sharp ' Williams
copyright © 2020