...Than Ever Before

She knew something was wrong. It was morning so she couldn’t be tired, though she felt that way. She took a deep breath and decided she will ask her husband to take her to the hospital when she go back home. She will buy bread and milk real quick, ditch fruits that she can buy later.
She thought she will take the back alley to the grocery shop, which would be shorter distance from the parking lot. After she moved a few more paces, suddenly she felt a flush of heat. And everything was shiny and then blurred. The last thought that crossed her mind was she was falling on her face, how she wanted to change that, but couldn’t and she lost consciousness.

She opened her eyes and saw whiteness all around. She closed again and opened after some time with the hope things would look different. As she was closing her eyes again the thought bolted in her mind, her baby. She fell down, what happened to her baby. She was gripped by the fear, probably the biggest had ever known. She was very scared to open her eyes. For some reason her body felt numb and she could not feel her baby within.

She opened her eyes when she heard footsteps, she saw the nurse holding a white bundle. She let out a loud sigh of relief and tears erupted. The nurse smiled as she understood and came forward to show her the baby without any delay.
“It’s a boy”, nurse said reassuringly.
“What happened” she asked.
“You collapsed on the road, a man bought you here”. Suddenly it dawned to the nurse she had not cared to know the name of the man. All she knew was this lady was not related to this man, a white very beautiful women cannot be related to a black but he was still concerned and waiting outside to know if his unknown friend was fine.
“Do you want us to inform anyone, your family or your relatives?” the nurse asked.
“Can I meet him?” she asked sincerely.
“I will ask him to see you right away”, the nurse left the room, leaving the baby in the cradle. This was a usual practice in such cases, to reassure the worried mother of the presence of their babies.

A man with jeans and dirty black T-shirt entered the room after several minutes. He was in his early 40’s. He was unshaven with unkept hair. He was at the door, not wanting to step in.
“You ok?” he asked in a soft voice as if not comfortable being heard.
“Yes”, she said. He turned to leave.
”I really want to thank you for saving my baby”, she said, she wanted to talk and tell him how grateful she was.
“No problem” , he murmured. He wanted to leave.
“Can you please tell me your name? I will like to name my son after you. You gave him the life, I almost lost for him.” her voice very emotional.

“Don’t, I am not good.” The man said, suddenly very hurt her.
“Pardon me” she asked as she could not hear him.
”Don’t give him my name, I am not good.” His words were clearer this time.
“You saved him” she said loudly, they were having a conversation across the room.
“Ya”, he murmured and started to leave the room. She tried to get up to stop him so that she could finish what she wanted to say. Only that stopped him from leaving, as he reluctantly came back to the room to make sure she stayed in bed. She saw him closely now. He was probably younger than what he looked, his left ear pierced and eyes surrounded by dark circles.

“I don’t know how to say but I am so grateful to you for saving my little boy. I want to know your name so I can give my son your name, so that both of us can remember what you did for us.” she explained on her and her son’s behalf.
He neither looked at her nor replied. He was not looking at the baby in the cradle.
“What is your name”, she asked a little impatient.
“I am no good” he said.
“What is you name? its ok if you don’t want to share, its just a request.” She was suddenly conscience that she might be acting stubborn.

“I am a murderer, you cant call your boy with my name”, he said closing his eyes in pain. She was shocked; she waited for him to continue. Somehow she had more patience than ever before.

Not hearing a reaction, he opened his eyes and turned his face to look at her. He was surprised not to see any disgust.
“I killed a boy, my boy. When I beat my pregnant wife, I got myself drunk enough to kill my own son. My name is not good, if I kill my own family. ”looking with disgust at him hands.
“Me not good.” He said pouring out the grief of his heart in one go, it seemed for the first time.

“What was that you wanted to call your boy? I mean what you wanted to name ….” she asked. “James” he replied softly cutting her short, not sure of the relevance of the question.

“Then may be we should call him James. And you can be his godfather. You can come over and meet him. And when he grows a little old, you can play with him and never hurt him.” She said with clarity, confidence and maturity than ever before. He looked at the first time at beautiful crystal green eyes, and then slowly towards the baby in the cradle. Still unclear of what was happening.

The door was swung open by a tall good looking man, very anxious to see his wife. “What happened, you ok?” he asked as he barged in.
”I am fine, thanks to this gentleman”, she still didn’t knew his name. Her husband looked a little surprised to see a middle aged, poor, black man present in the room.
“He is the godfather of your son James.” She said answering her husband’s quizzing looks and giving a man reason to live, something very different, something better than ever before.

Happiness

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all I needed to buy happiness. Yes, seriously. A coffee. Nothing makes me feel better, refreshed and energized then a hot, bitter coffee in the cold winter of Chicago.
As I sat in the coffee shop, looking at the snow covered pavement and very limited number of people passing by. A high pitched voice of a girl, full of pain diverted my attention. She was very sad. Her parents didn’t seem to care for her. They never respected her views, plans or needs. They refused her a holiday at Europe. The captain of the soccer team at her high school, who I understood from her description, was the most amazing man alive on the face of this earth, was not attracted to her like many other not so good looking men. And then there was this new girl who had joined the school recently, and was challenging her status of the prettiest girl in school.
She spoke amidst tears; regularly blowing her nose into the tissues that her understanding friend was supplying her. I turned my head to look at a sixteen, may be seventeen year old, very beautiful young lady. Her green eyes and silky blond hair were beautiful and she was genuinely grieved.
Suddenly I thought about my life. It had been ages since I thought about my life; I hardly find time for it.
I never had parents. Some very kind nuns who found me in the garbage can along the roadside, in a city of kerala in India, decided to raise me. My upbringing included a lot of prayers and studies. I still remember when I was beaten with a cane, till I could not feel my hands, for coming second in class sixth. I always topped my classes after that episode. Though it was much later that I realized the reason of such treatment was my guardians understanding that nothing but education could salvage my life. They were so right. And god was so kind to give them this understanding.
My friends are many, though I don’t remember any of them supplying me any tissues. God made me an instrument to happiness for many of them when I treated their children in the city hospital. They remember me years after their kids got discharged from the hospital and some even after the sad demise of their kids as they believe I did all I could do, to save their little angels.
Vacation, I had 8 years back when I went to Uganda, as a member of team of doctors to help children hit by the civil war. I sat on the elephant back. I will be indebted to god for that trip. I meet both my kids there, whom I subsequently adopted and bought here with me.
And the man in my life, my husband. He was the fire fighter who saved me, after our ambulance rushing a patient to the hospital, met with a serious accident. Oh my survival was a miracle. God is so kind.
About being attractive, I don’t know if I am one and I don’t care to be one. When I first met my husband , I have metal equipment pierced in my chest and left leg, so I am sure looks can’t be important. But I want to be more useful, definitely. There is so much for me to do, I should be returning to the hospital. Grace the lord who let me help his people.
I turned around again to see the poor young girl in pain one last time, and said a small prayer for her. Then I took my crutches and as I leaned on them to stand up, I thanked god again. He has kept the price of happiness so affordable for me, one dollar and eighty seven cents.