Tonya was confused. “I thought…well, I thought Hospice Nursing was to provide in-home care and rehabilitation.”
“Ahh.” Natsinet nodded, eyes still on the medical record. The tone of her voice and the slight change in body language spoke volumes to Tonya. In her world—the one of the professional corporation—that tone of voice while saying “ahhh” meant nobody told me jack shit I was going to be involved in providing twenty-four hour care nursing and physical rehabilitation.
“Is there a problem?” Tonya asked, keeping her voice neutral, friendly.
“No, no problem,” Natsinet replied. She looked at Tonya and smiled. “Many times there is miscommunication between the nursing facilities and the providers.”
“So, you’re only here to provide nursing care? You aren’t providing physical therapy as well?”
“No no no,” Natsinet said, her voice soothing. “I can do all that. I’m a board certified physical therapist as well as a Registered Nurse. Hospice Nursing gave me the impression that you’d hired your own physical therapist.”
“Oh.” How could that be possible? Tonya was very specific in her wishes when talking to Hospice Nursing. Despite that, she supposed it was possible that her instructions could have been misinterpreted. “This isn’t going to be a problem, is it?”
“Not at all.” Natsinet’s voice was warm, friendly, and she seemed more relaxed now, more in control. “Everything will be fine. Is there anything else I need to know?”
Tonya provided Natsinet with her cell, office, and home phone number, gave her a card that contained her home email address and told her to call her immediately if she was needed. As she picked up her purse and headed to the front door, she felt a slight pang of guilt; in a perfect world she’d be staying home with momma to nurse her back to heath, but she couldn’t afford it. Thank God for the generous donations provided by the NAACP. Leaving momma behind in her apartment, in the old neighborhood, wasn’t the ideal situation, but if being home helped momma emotionally perhaps that would help speed up her physical recovery. “I’m only a forty minute drive away,” she said, pausing at the front door. “I can stop in Friday after work.”
“That will be good,” Natsinet said.
“Okay. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Tonya closed the door behind her and paused for a moment on the front stoop of the apartment, which overlooked the street below. Everything’s going to be okay, she thought. Then, taking a deep breath, she headed down the stairs to her car.
Chapter Seven
She was lucky enough to find a parking space in front of the rowhouse Mike Simmons and his buddies were hanging out in front of, and as Tonya turned the car off she felt the heavy glares of dozens of eyes light on her. Appraising her.
She got out of the car, not in the least bit scared. Any other woman who hadn’t grown up in the neighborhood would have felt very nervous at this point and probably would not have even ventured out of the car. Not so with Tonya. Her current home might be in a middle-class suburb surrounded by White neighbors, but she still felt right at home in the old neighborhood.
‘Big’ Mike Simmons called out to her. “Hey Tonya, what’s good wit’ you, girl?”
“Big Mike!”
Tonya smiled as she approached the worn concrete steps of the row house. Mike was standing up, already heading down the stairs with a smile on his face. His homeboys took his lead and eased up on their menacing bad ass postures. A couple of them recognized Tonya and nodded to her, said, “”Sup, Tonya? You lookin’ fine as ever.”
“Yeah, girl. That suburban life is treatin’ you well.”
“What’s your fine ass doin’ ‘round here?”
“You best not be down here tryin’ to buy no rocks!” Big Mike asked.
She acknowledged the others, then turned to Mike, grinning. “Hell, no! My momma would kill me. Besides, you know I got better sense then that. I’m looking for you!” she chuckled.
Mike laughed and they embraced. “You lookin’ for me huh? So, how you doin? I heard you was livin’ lavish up in the suburbs wit’ all ‘dem White folks?” Mike asked.
“I’m doin’ okay.”
“Looks like you doin’ more than okay to me. I bet I make just as much bank as that bourgie nigga you got. If I moved up to the suburbs you think I’d have a chance wit’ you?”
“Pleeease. See, now why wasn’t you comin’ at me like that when I was livin’ down here? Back then all you wanted was them triflin’ ass hoochies.” Tonya surprised herself by how easy it was to slip back into her neighborhood dialect. Momma had taught her long ago that Black people had to live in two worlds: the business world, the world of proper diction and proper clothes, the world of White people; and the streets, the world where Big Mike and his buddies and all the people she’d grown up with, including Tonya herself, were from. Her mother had told her never to talk above her own people. “Talkin’ ain’t good for nothing but communicatin’. What good are a bunch of fancy words that nobody can’t understand? I didn’t send you off to college so you can come back talkin’ like you better than everybody else. When you with your people, you talk like your people.”
Tonya never forgot that.
“I must’ve been crazy if I wasn’t checkin’ for you back then. I must have been blind too.”
“Well, it’s too late now. I got a good man.”
“That right? He treat you good too? He keepin’ you satisfied? You know I’m sayin’?”
Tonya smiled and looked down at her feet bashfully, shifting her weight nervously from one foot to the other. Mike could see the way she lit up just thinking about her husband. Even a hardened thug like him couldn’t help but be touched by it.
“Yeah, he does.”
“Damn, that nigga must be doin’ somethin’ right ‘cause he got you completely sprung on his ass!” Mike laughed and it was such a warm friendly sound that it was hard to imagine that this man was responsible for every drug deal in the neighborhood and nearly every drug-related murder as well.
“Come on, don’t make me blush.”
“It’s good to see you though, Tonya. I’m glad to hear you’re happy. But, seriously though, what brings you ‘round here?”
She grasped his hands, looking up at him. Big Mike had been a handsome boy and he hadn’t lost those good looks. Unfortunately, his years on the streets and the hard living had etched their way into his face, creating age lines that made him look easily ten years older than his thirty-one years despite a body armored in prison muscle and a wardrobe and platinum jewelry straight out of a hip-hop video. “You heard about Momma, right?”
“Yeah, I did,” Mike said. Despite his intimidating size and his reputation on the streets, his tenderness, when it came out, was sincere. “I’m real sorry to hear about it. We all were. Your moms is a good woman. How she doin’?”
Tonya glanced at his gathered crew; a few faces were recognizable, others weren’t. Some of them nodded at her and uttered words of encouragement. She nodded back at them and turned back to Mike. “Not too good, but she’s goin’ to be alright. I got a big favor to ask you, though. It would really mean a lot to me.”
“What’s that, baby girl? You know I got your back.”
“Will you guys keep an eye on my momma’s place for me?”
“No thang. You ain’t even have to ask that. Wouldn’t nobody mess with her no way. Everybody around here got mad respect for your moms.”
“I know that. I know, and I appreciate that, but she’s gonna have in-home nursing care. She ain’t movin’ around so good after the stroke. There’s a nurse there now, light-skinned sista named Natsinet. I don’t know who else the nursing home will send, but—”