Page 15 of Kaya's King
He bypasses me and heads into the bathroom where I suddenly hear my son’s giggles as he says something to him. “Beep beep,Mommy, you gotta move!” Noah exclaims waving his arms as he comes free flying out of the room being carried like a football by Specks as they race to his room, leaving his chair in the bathroom.
Slowly, I get his chair situated after rinsing out the sink then head into his room where I can hear Noah chattering away about the game, being able to swim, physical therapy, and the braces he’s got to wear right now. “Technically, Dr. Young says they’re called casts, but since we can remove them for baths and getting dressed, I think braces are more accurate,” I remark, walking into the room where Specks has Noah down to his pants and underwear, a pile of dirty clothes by his side.
“Show me how these work then,” Specks instructs, pointing to the braces on Noah’s legs. “The more of us who know how they work, the more help we can give you, Kaya,” he softly says when I hesitate. “That’s why you’re here now. You’re not alone, babe.”
Unbidden, tears well up because it’s been Granny and me doing all of the heavy lifting where it comes to Noah for so damn long now. Foster’s parents wanted nothing to do with me after he died because they blamed me for him getting a job out on an oil rig. Unlike my granny, who was only in the trailer park because it was what she could afford after my mom and I moved in, they exemplify the term ‘white trash’. Foster was never like that, though; he was always doing something, finding every odd chore he could do for others, even when we were kids, to earn money, and was insistent that we would get out of there and live a better life than where we were raised. While I wasn’t crazy about how they treated him, part of me was sad when they shunned me and by extension Noah after I told them I was carrying Foster’s baby and they’d be grandparents.
“Thank you,” I manage to blurt out through the lump in my throat. “Okay, Noah, you need to lie down on your back, remember?” Dr. Young and his nurse had us go through the bedtime itinerary multiple times, explaining it in easy enough terms that Noah would understand, so I’d be able to do it by myself.
As Noah makes himself comfortable, I place his pajamas on his nightstand then begin walking Specks through the proper removal of the braces. “That’s not too bad, is it, buddy?” he asks Noah once they’re off and set to the side where they’re easily accessible to put back on once Noah’s dressed. Noah continues to lie extremely still while I remove his shorts then quickly slide his pajama bottoms on. Specks then reverses the steps until the braces are back in place, then he carefully helps Noah sit up before grabbing his top and helping him put it on.
“I liked you helping me,” Noah says, grinning at Specks. “You’re stronger than Mommy but I think most boys are stronger than girls, aren’t they?”
Specks smirks up at me then looks directly at Noah before replying, “There are a lot of women who are probably stronger than I am, Noah. But most of the time, us guys are able to handle more physically than girls can simply because that’s how we’re designed. We protect them, that’s one of our most important jobs.” I squeeze my eyes as my mind conjures up how he’s sculpted beneath his clothes. It’s an inappropriate time to get lost in these thoughts, but I can’t help it, the man’s crawled beneath my skin and my imagination flies away from me whenever he’s near.
“Like I did with Collette tonight?” Noah asks.
“Exactly like that,” Specks says, ruffling Noah’s hair. “I’ll get out of y’all’s hair now because I’m sure you’ve got a bedtime routine.”
“Mommy usually reads me a story then gives me a kiss goodnight,” Noah helpfully supplies. “But do you do voices? She tries but sometimes isn’t very good at it.”
I can feel my face redden in embarrassment when Specks chuckles while nodding. As hard as I try, my theatrical voices are either in a low tone or high octave, there is no in-between. “I used to read to Tommy, and he loved hearing different voices.”
“Can he read to me tonight, Mommy? Please?” Noah cajoles, putting his hands together as though he’s praying.
His sweet begging has me giving in. I’ve never been able to resist my boy's pleading eyes when it’s something that can be easily accomplished. “As long as it’s okay with Mr. Specks, he can read you your bedtime story.” I hand Specks the book Noah’s currently obsessed with, one told from multiple cats’ perspectives. “He loves this one the best,” I tell Specks.
Before I can do so, I watch Specks adeptly get Noah underneath the covers before he opens the book. “Wait, let me get him one of his painkillers,” I interject, seeing the frown lines on my son’s face which tell me he’s in a lot of discomfort.
I come back into the room with a bottle of water and one of the pills in my hand to hear Noah confess, “I bet if my daddy was alive, he’d read to me.”
“I’m sure he would, buddy. And he’d be really proud of how well you’re dealing with everything too,” Specks acknowledges. I watch his assurance wash over my boy’s face and choke back asob. I think being around all the men in the club will be good for him since he’ll get good, wholesome, male role models.
So what if deep inside, I wish the man currently sitting on the side of my son’s bed could be more? A girl can dream, can’t she? Even if she’s got a fucked-up leg and a shit ton of baggage from her childhood that says she doesn’t deserve to be happy or loved?
Specks
I notice Kaya’s quiet and reserved as we head out of Noah’s bedroom, cracking the door slightly in case he wakes up and needs his mom. “Are you okay?” I ask as we make our way into the living room area.
She won’t meet my eyes when she replies, “I’m good, just tired.”
Disappointment briefly fills me because I was going to suggest we get a drink while I check in with my brothers to see if we have a new little Warrior yet. But I can see the exhaustion marring her beautiful face and the limp she tries to hide most of the time is more pronounced. “You’ve had an eventful few days and tonight was quite a lot to deal with,” I say. “Why don’t you go ahead and head to bed? I’ll stay in here and watch tv in case Noah wakes up and needs something.”
“You don’t need to do that, Specks,” she protests.
“Babe, you’re exhausted and need a good night’s sleep,” I retort. “Your grandmother is tied up with the little ones right now and besides, she’s in the suite next to y’all’s, not in here. So, she’s not going to hear Noah if he needs to get up and go to the bathroom. I’ve got this, okay? I don’t mind.”
“But why? I don’t understand, Specks,” she states. “Help me understand this, will you?”
Taking her hand, which is the first time I remember touching her, I’m shocked to feel a frisson of electricity course through me. I lead her to the couch and sit down beside her, her hand still clasped in mine. “Because I want to do this for you, for both of y’all, Kaya. I’ve been attracted to you since the day we met.”
“You haven’t acted like you were,” she accusingly rebuts. “In fact, there’ve been times I thought you hated being anywhere around me.”
I sigh, knowing my past has caught up with me. Deciding to be completely open and honest, I start talking. “You’ve heard me mention someone by the name of Tommy, right?” At her nod of affirmation, I continue. “He was my younger brother and he had cystic fibrosis. Kind of changed my whole childhood around because he had to have a sterile environment to keep from getting sicker. Anyhow, my dad was always away for work, so Tommy and I were left with my mom as our primary caretaker. She did the best she could under the circumstances, but she wasn’t a strong woman like you are where Noah’s concerned. She was submissive by nature and didn’t push for answers whenever something new happened with my brother because she wasn’t one to demand the doctors check this or that any time he got admitted to the hospital. She felt they were the professionals and knew what they were doing. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
She nods again but stays stoically quiet, allowing me to speak without interruption. “By the time I was sixteen, Dad was no longer in the picture at all since he couldn’t handle the stress of having a kid who was basically terminal. Haven’t seen or heard from him since, but that’s not the point. Tommy wasthree years younger than me, and he’d caught what my mom thought at the time was just a severe cold. She did all the at-home treatments and remedies, but he kept sliding downhill and getting worse by the day. When she got to her wits end, she broke down and called for an ambulance which transported him to a different town’s hospital than we normally used because there was a multi-vehicle accident on the highway and the emergency room department was packed which means they were closed to all incoming ambulatory emergencies. The doctors there didn’t know Tommy and had no prior diagnosis records on him so despite my mother’s insistence that he be admitted for treatment, they gave him a shot of steroids, two breathing treatments, a prescription for some antibiotics, then sent him home.”
I can tell she knows where this is going because her eyes begin filling with tears. Unable to help myself, I pull her into my arms, needing the physical contact as I finish telling her the rest of the life-altering story. “Shhh, it was a long time ago, my warrior queen, you don’t need to cry,” I murmur, my thumbs wiping the shed tears as they steadily fall down her face.