Page 29 of Twisted Revelations

“I know it hurts, baby. Was your granny able to pick up your medicine this week?” she questioned the little boy.

A weak, “Yes ma’am,” fell across his lips as she rubbed his curly head of hair. She placed a kiss on his cheek. “Try to get some rest. I’ll come back and check on you, okay?” He shook his head this time, a frown of pain etching his face.

She cast a glance in my direction before she headed for the door, pain and defeat prominent in her expression. Her watery eyes were filled with a depth of sorrow that touched me, and I was forced to stop myself from gripping and pulling her into my arms to make it disappear.

Once we were outside the office, she left the door cracked and started back toward the main common area of the center. I gripped her shoulder, stopping her.

“What’s wrong with that little boy?” I inquired, my face pinched in concern for the child and her.

“Cancer,” she whispered. “He takes treatments every other week, but…” She shook her head, warding off the grief of the situation. “His grandmother says the treatments aren’t working. The cancer’s too aggressive. They are too poor to opt for better care, so he has to take what the government pays for, which is usually test drugs, some that haven’t even been approved by the FDA.”

Her hopeless gaze flashed back toward her office. “He loves to come here and interact with the other kids. He and his grandmother live in the Maplewood Projects, so this is one of a few places he can come and play and not get caught in the mess the streets are always stirring up.”

My hand closed around hers, hating to see her so discouraged. She was a different person, not the feisty alpha female I’d been introduced to. “I’m sorry, Laura. I wish there were something I could do.”

She jerked her hand away from mine, the crease in her forehead turning from sorrow to anger. “What are you sorry for? None of this is your fault. This is life. Some of us have to face more of the harsher sides of it. We live through what gets dumped on us and make the best of it in the process.”

She pushed her finger into her chest. “I take what I have or what I’m given and do my best to make what is needed, especially here,” she declared, forcing a smile onto her face. The pain. The defeat. The sorrow. She made it disappear, swallowed it for the kid’s sake before leaving me standing in the middle of the hall with my mouth agape. Glaring at her back, I realized that I’d never been so proud of someone.

Spending the day with Laura and the kids at the center was an eye-opening experience. There were teen boys and girls, gymslip mothers with their babies, preteens, and a woman who’d come in seeking sanctuary away from an abusive man.

Laura refused to allow the woman to stay around the children but provided her help by calling someone who’d come and picked her up. The woman had been so grateful that she’d cried and kissed Laura’s hands. I was getting a lesson in life I didn’t know I’d needed.

Laura had introduced me to several of the center’s volunteer workers. I’d listened in on enough of her and Beverly’s conversations to understand money was always tight, and they, along with a few others, received meager paychecks.

I’d overheard her speaking briefly about a new sponsor the center had picked up, and the conversation had piqued my interest. My family donated money to multiple charities each year, but we’d never delved into what our donations did for people. We’d never taken an active interest in what the money was being used for.

My mother always said everything happened for a reason, and I was certain that this was one of those times. I was supposed to meet Laura and I most certainly needed to experience what went on at the centers. I needed to encounter the kinds of problems people faced that people like me had the ability to help solve but were ignorant about. This was a situation I’d never have understood if I hadn’t encountered it first-hand.

I’d faced hard times, but I’d never known how bad others had it because I’d always had an endless supply of money at my disposal. Laura and Beverly’s centers would receive a boost from an anonymous donor. They just didn’t know it yet.

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