Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 22709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
“I lost her in a car accident about a year ago. She was driving home from work and was hit by a drunk driver. They rushed her to the hospital - the very one she worked at - but her injuries were too great. I’m just grateful I got there in time to say goodbye.”
I reached across the small table to take his hand. I didn’t care that we were surrounded by other businessmen; they were all focused on their phones or laptops, anyway. But even if they weren’t, Jamal needed my support, and I didn’t care who saw.
“She said she was at peace; that she got to see me come so close to achieving my dreams, and that she knew her son would change the world. She told me that my success was worth every long night cleaning up after patients to scrape money together for my schooling; that I was her legacy. She made me promise that I wouldn’t quit; that I would finish school and get the career I dreamed of, and that she dreamed of for me. It was tough. After she passed it was hard to keep pushing forward. I just wanted to stop and grieve, but the world kept spinning. The hospital posted her job the very next day. Class kept on schedule, and tests kept coming. There were times I wanted to quit, but I pushed myself for her.”
I squeezed his hand and blinked the moisture from my eyes. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been. But I know she was so proud of you.”
Jamal surprised me by chuckling. “Oh yeah. My whole life, she told anyone who would listen to her about my accomplishments; if I got on the honor roll, if I was reading at a higher grade level, if I got an A on a test…” He laughed again. “It got me into more than a few fights over the years.”
That one had me scratching my head. “How so?”
“Well, like I mentioned earlier, I grew up in a pretty rough neighborhood, where it was more important to be tough than smart. I got picked on a lot for having my nose buried in a book or working hard at school. Plus, because my mom bragged on me a lot, some of the other kids in the neighborhood caught hell for not studying as hard or getting as good as grades as I did, so they took that out on me as well.”
“I’m so sorry,” I offered, feeling like it wasn’t enough.
But Jamal merely shrugged. “It’s okay; it toughened me up. After a couple of fights, I learned how to defend myself. Once I started fighting back, I wasn’t such an easy target, and they left me alone for the most part. I made a couple of close friends, but mainly stuck to myself.”
Jamal gave my hand a squeeze before letting go to unwrap his sandwich. “But enough about me,” he said with a smile. “I want to hear your story.”
I also unwrapped my food and took a bite while I thought about where to begin, settling on, “It’s like you and I have lived opposite lives. I grew up on the north end of town, where status is everything. The only fights I ever witnessed were the neighbors bickering about who had the nicer house, car, or boat.”
Any time in the past I'd tried to open up to someone, I always got the same sarcastic “Wow, how horrible for you,” or “Must be nice,” comments. But I saw no judgement or resentment in Jamal’s eyes. He just listened intently as I continued, “Don’t get me wrong; I know I was fortunate. We never had to worry about money or meals, but everything just felt so…” I circled my hands as I came up with the words, “Stuffy. Sterile.”
He studied my face for a moment before asking, “In your neighborhood or your home?” He was insightful about the things I wasn’t saying.
“Both,” I shrugged. “Neighbors never grew close because they were constantly trying to outdo each other. And I have never been close to my parents because they were gone so much.”
“Even when you were young?”
I nodded through a long sip of my soda. “They’re both art dealers. They travel all around the world collecting big-ticket paintings for their clients. They’re currently cruising the Mediterranean in their search. When I was little, they hired a nanny to keep an eye on me until I was old enough to stay alone.”
I huffed a laugh. “You talked about your mom’s cooking; I never saw my mom prepare a thing. Even when she and my dad were home, the nanny stuck around to cook the meals and keep me busy so I didn’t bother them.” I didn’t want to whine, but it felt so good opening up; especially to Jamal. He listened to me, and at some point, had even reached over to offer a touch of support as I’d done for him.