Sorrow

Nathan

Amari takes a few steps towards the nurse and stops. I can see her hands shaking. She must have reached to the same conclusion as I have.

“My phone is broken. Is Mom okay?”

“Your…your…” the nurse stammers and Amari drops on her knees. She shakes her head, while tears roll down her cheeks.

“I am so sorry, Kid. She crashed again. The resuscitation was not successful this time. We lost her two hours ago,” the nurse explains.

“No. She can’t be gone. She can’t be,” Amari mumbles with her tears streaming down and I feel so helpless.

“The hospital informed your uncle when they could not get hold of you,” the nurse continues while I shake my head. Thomas and his family knew that Amari’s mother had died before the wedding, yet they still tied her to me to save their princess. They are the only relatives she has but they did not even inform her of her mother’s passing afterwards. They did not even wait to comfort her.

“I am so sorry, Kid. I came as soon as I could, but the guards at the door prevented me from coming in,” the nurse explains to my devastated wife, who rocks her fragile body back and forth. I can feel her grief and devastation. Not only has she lost her last family, but she is also now bound to me, a worthless disabled man.

“Take care of her,” the nurse instructs before leaving. I can only nod before gently tagging on my wife, who is still kneeling on the floor, weeping.

“Please come here,” I urge her, and she complies.

I pull her on my lap and wrap my arms around her. I can’t explain this overwhelming desire to protect her from her heartaches.

“I am so sorry.”

To my surprise she does not jump off me. I don’t know if it is grief, but she shows no signs of being disgusted by me. She buried her head on my shoulder and weeps for a good hour before recollecting herself and gets off my lap.

She quietly pushes me towards the street and hails for a cab. The driver curiously studies us before his eyes widen when he recognizes me. I have gotten used to this look. It is better than the disgusted one all the wealthy people give me. I really had no idea how vain wealth made us.

“You are Nathan Lord!” he exclaims while Amari helps me inside and tries to fold my wheelchair.

“It does not fold,” I tell her.

The old rusty thing can’t do much besides move forward. I curse myself for not telling her this before she used her energy to help me inside the cab.

“I am sorry. We will walk,” Amari tells the driver and helps me back to the wheelchair. I expect her to be mad or irritated with me, but she just looks sad instead.

“Take the cab, I will get to your place,” I tell her.

“We will both walk,” is all she says before she pushes me up the main street.

“I am so sorry about your mother and the marriage. You were tricked into this. You have my blessing to file for divorce,” I tell her. She stops pushing me and looks at me like I have grown horns.

“You think marriage is a joke?” she asks. “We just took a vow before God,” she adds angrily.

“I know, but you were tricked into this.”

I am already filled with guilty for the complications I will bring to her life before accomplishing my goals. She has enough problems, and I can definitely manage without her.

“Till death do us apart. That is a vow. You are not dead, neither am I!” she yells, and I feel like an ass.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to upset you. It’s just that I am a worthless, useless, cripple. I cannot do anything for you.”

Her eyes are now blazing at me. It’s as if I have insulted her.

“Are you all rich people so superficial? You are poor with a disability for heaven’s sake. That by no means make you worthless, useless or whatever you think you are!”

She is genuinely angry and feels insulted by how I view myself. Her response is the complete opposite of the reaction I have received from my so-called friends and fiancée.

“I am poor, and I know a lot of poor people. Majority of the world population is poor. We are not disgusting or useless or whatever you call us!”

I grab her hand. She completely misunderstood me. “I am sorry. I guess I am projecting what I have been called.”

I see her eyes warm up before she continues pushing me again.

It is about midday by the time we arrive at her apartment. The location is in a low-income neighborhood, but the area looks decent and safe. It is an upgrade from the shelter that was my home for the past four months.

We are at the entrance when a tall rough looking guy on a grey suit comes out of a car parked right at the entrance approaches us. It’s as if he was waiting for us, or more like her.

“The newlyweds. I guess congratulations are in order,” he smirks with a scowl before scanning me from head to toe with his murderous eyes.

It’s only been a minute, yet I already hate him.

Amari does not respond but continues to push my wheelchair forward.

This idiot rushes ahead and stands in front of me, blocking the way.

“Get the fuck away, James!”

I am taken aback by Amari’s reaction. There is clearly history between the two of them. Maybe an ex.

“Hey, chill. I am just congratulating you for marrying a useless cripple. What’s up with the hostility?” he asks with a smug.

“I don’t need your congratulations. Stay away from me or I will get a restraining order against you,” Amari warns and the bastard chuckles.

“I hear that he is impotent. What exactly do you plan on doing with him?”

I clench my teeth while he bursts out in laughter. “I can always help with that. We can’t have you die still sealed,” he adds, and I deduce that my wife is still a virgin, or at least that is what he thinks.

“I plan to do with my husband much more that I can do with a lying, cheating, manipulative bastard. I hear your girl got impregnated by your bestie. I would not be calling anyone impotent if I were you,” Amari hits back with a voice so calm, I can’t help but chuckle. That is going to hurt some egocentric maniac. My wife has a very interesting personality.

I see his jaw clench before he storms away.

Amari lets out a sigh and pushes me into the elevator. We get out on the first floor, where she unlocks the third door from the elevators.

Her apartment is a small, simple, and very neat. I can’t see anything lying around out of place. The open plan kitchen and the lounge are very basic, yet homely. There are two doors after the lounge, which she tells me is the bedroom and bathroom.

“Make yourself at home, I am going to prepare lunch.”

She does not wait for my response and heads to the kitchen.

“I will freshen up,” I say and push myself toward the bathroom but get stuck at the door. It is impossible for the wheelchair to go over the step going in. I climb out the wheelchair and crawl inside the bathroom. I feel useless when I discover that I can’t reach anything when on my knees. The cupboards are too high, so is the tap I need to turn to shower.

This sucks.

“I am sorry. I should have checked if you needed help,” she says and quietly helps me cut my hair and trim my beard before turning the water for me to shower. I hold her hand when she unbuttons my shirt.

“I can do that.”

It feels weird having here around while I shower. I guess I must get used to it.

A few minutes later, we sit on the kitchen island and eat chicken sandwiches. I feel refreshed and better than I have in four months.

“What are the funeral plans?” I break the silence and see her jaw quivers.

“She wanted to be cremated and her ashes sprinkled in the valley.”

I nod my head.

“Exactly like Daddy,” she adds with that voice that pulls at all my heart strings.

“The service will be held at our church this coming Friday,” she continues while I instinctively hold her hand. We sit, no one speaking for a moment before she asks.

“Anything I should know about you?”

“I am penniless.”

“Okay.”

I know that she needs money, yet her okay sounds genuine. I am ashamed to know that I would not have been so accepting if the roles were reversed.

“My back was injured in a car accident. I am impotent and no one knows if I can walk again,” I tell her the lie in my public medical records. She is by far the only person I feel guilty for lying to. I am not poor, quite the opposite really. Nor am I impotent. My back is injured, but it will recover with exercise and rehabilitation.