Page 7 of Color Me Broken
Tasha nodded, mostly to shut her up. “Alright, mama Kenya.”
“Good. And don’t make me wheel yo ass down there myself, girl,” Nurse Kenya said, dead serious as she picked up the remaining salad off the floor.
The rest of the day blurred. Tasha worked on autopilot, pulling meds, wiping foreheads, comforting families, and charting like a machine. Her smile stayed fixed, her voice soft, her pace steady. Inside, the cramps kept pulsing, and the nausea came and went like a tide.
By the time the clock hit 4:00 PM, the "pulsing" turned into a white-hot serrated knife twisting in her abdomen. She leaned against the cold metal of the medication cart in the quiet hallway of the West Wing, her knuckles white as she gripped the handle. She was breaking.
She looked left, then right. The hallway was empty, and the only sound was from a distant hum of the industrial floor buffer.
I just need to get through the shift,she whispered to herself.Just one pill to stop the pain.
She swiped her badge, the electronic lock clicking open with a sound that felt like a gunshot in the silence. Her handstrembled as she pulled the drawer for the heavy hitters, the stuff that didn't just dull the pain but erased it.
She spotted some Oxycodones and, with a practiced flick of her thumb, she popped one pill out, sliding it into the palm of her hand. Her heart was hammering against her ribs so hard she thought it might bruise her chest. She knew it was wrong. But she was in pain, and the gift shop was closed for the day.
By six, the floor was still wild. A patient in 4C needed turning, a baby in 5A needed vitals, and charting was stacked up. Tasha kept moving, her feet aching, her body screaming for a chair.
Nurse Kenya stayed on her case, dropping off water, sneaking snacks, side-eyeing her from across the nurses’ station. Every time she’d start with,“Girl, you need to get checked out,”Tasha deflected with a joke or a smile. She had a talent for pretending to be fine.
When her shift finally ended, it felt like someone had peeled the weight off her back. She gave the rundown to the oncoming nurse, then clocked out and stepped into the night air. The city outside the hospital looked softer, dimmer, almost kind.
Nurse Kenya walked beside her, with her jacket in one hand. The lights from the parking lot made everything cinematic, like the moment in a movie when the lead finally gets a breather.
“Text me,” she said, bumping her arm. “Let me know how you feelin’. Her tone was gentle now, more concerned.
Tasha smiled, tired. “I will.” They both knew she meantprobably not.Tasha was stubborn that way. Always trying to be the strong one.
By the time she got into her car, the relief hit her hard. She sank into the seat, exhaling. She was glad that the night was coming to an end. She opened her phone and typed:
Tasha:
You up? I’m finally off. I’m on my way home.
She hit send and waited, watching the screen for those three dots to appear, but nothing. He didn’t reply. She rolled her eyes, muttered“whatever, Jue,” and started the car engine.
Traffic was light. The city lights stretched into streaks, reflections sliding across her windshield. The fatigue came back heavier, spreading behind her eyes. Her hand pressed to her lower stomach, that same dull ache whispering again.
By the time Tasha pulled into the driveway, all the lights in the house were off except the TV’s blue flicker bleeding through the curtains. His car was parked crooked, the door barely shut. Sign number one, he’d been out too damn long.
She slipped her shoes off quietly and eased inside. The living room smelled like Backwoods, liquor, and that cologne he always overdid when he hit the block. Juelz was slumped on the couch, one arm hanging off the side, chain glinting against his bare chest. A half-empty bottle sat on the table next to his dead ass phone.
Tasha stood there a second, shaking her head. “Mm-hmm… same story,” she muttered. She pulled the blanket off the recliner and draped it over him. His eyes blinked open halfway.
“Damn, I ain’t hear you come in,” he rasped, voice rough with sleep and liquor. “You just got here?”
“Yeah. Long ass shift.” She started toward the bedroom.
He sat up, rubbing his face. “Com’mere.”
She sighed but turned and walked back over. He pulled her between his knees, hands resting heavy at her hips, eyes soft but hazy. “Missed you,” he said quietly.
“Missed me, huh? It sure as hell don’t smell like you miss me,” she said, fanning the air. “You stink, Juelz.”
He smiled, that lazy grin that always chipped away at her irritation. “I thought you liked that smell.”
“Boy, move, you drunk.”
“Nah,” he murmured, standing and pressing his lips against her neck. “Just a little thrown off.” He swiped a hand between her thighs. Rubbing her center. “But not enough to forget how good my fat ma feels.”
