Page 3 of Kaya's King

I’m a little nervous about being a mother so young, but I’ve got my granny here to help me. Finally ready, I make myself some breakfast then sit down to catch some of the local news. Not sure why I do it except it’s a long-standing habit at this point. The weather is on now and I grimace, knowing that we’re in for another hot, sticky day. At least the dress code is relaxed at the tattoo parlor because I don’t know anywhere else I could get away with wearing a tank top and some denim shorts. I do wear close-toed shoes just because of the potential exposure to bloodborne pathogens, but other than that, I’m as casual as they come.

“We interrupt with breaking news. An oil rig currently out in the Pacific has exploded. The Coast Guard is on the scene, however, at this time, from reports we’re receiving, there are no apparent survivors.”

“Please say the name of the ship, please say the name of the ship,” I chant, my breakfast now forgotten and souring my belly as what I already ate congeals in my gut like a cement boulder.

“The Cassiopeia housed approximately one hundred and fifty crewmembers,” sources say. “A full list of the crew is pending notification of their families.”

Collapsing to the floor with tears streaming down my face I realize that life is once again throwing me a wicked curveball.

And I struck out.

CHAPTER

ONE

Kaya

Six years later

I humas I get ready for the day ahead. One of the best things that has ever happened to me was the day I went to a huge tattoo expo with Miguel. It was there that I met Loki, whose ability to tattoo over scars is phenomenal. I’m getting better at it myself but he’s the best of the best and has mastered the skill as far as I’m concerned. When he saw some of my prior work and also took a look at my portfolio, he offered me a position at his studio if I ever wanted to relocate and move to the East Coast. I’m stillworking on the design I want tatted on my leg, and plan to have him ink it on me at some point, once I work up the guts to ask him to, of course.

While I was content where I was living, when Noah’s pediatrician finally diagnosed him and figured out what was going on with him, he was quite frank about the limited treatment opportunities available in our area. So, I reached out to Loki, and thankfully, he remembered who I was. Noah, Granny, and I packed up our lives here and headed to coastal Georgia. Hot, hazy, and humid is a constant, but the warmer climate seems to be helping Noah somehow. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation; maybe the heat while we sit outside helps keep his muscles more limber, who knows? Whatever the reason, I’m glad we made the move because we’re both settling in, and Granny has found a local sewing community as well.

“Are you ready, monkey?” I ask my boy, walking into the kitchen. Since he insists on being as independent as humanly possible, I bought the mini boxes of cereal and put the right amount of milk in a smaller cup so he can ‘make his own breakfast’. I grin when I see he’s eating his Cheerios, a banana carefully sliced on top, likely courtesy of my granny who is sitting next to him at the table as well.

“Almost, Mommy. I have two more bites, then Granny says I have to put my stuff in the sink before I go brush my teeth,” he replies. I ruffle his hair and nod in acknowledgement.

“Sounds about right. That’ll give me time to have some yogurt and juice,” I state, heading to the fridge to gather my supplies.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you two?” Granny asks.

“I’m positive, Granny. Dr. Nelms forwarded all of his records to this new doctor already. Hopefully, he’ll have had a chance to pick a good plan of action.” I shake off the worry that has consumed me since we got Noah’s initial diagnosis last year right after he turned five.

Perthes Disease. I had no clue what it was when Dr. Nelms told me what was wrong with my son, Noah. All I knew was that my little boy was limping, complaining of his ‘butt’ hurting, and in general, constantly in pain whenever he had to be active. Keeping a little boy still so he doesn’t hurt himself worse is quite challenging, to say the least. Thankfully, Noah loves computer games, so Granny and I bought him an iPad and loaded it up with a variety of games. Some are academic in nature to keep his mind challenged, and some are just for fun.

It sure helps on the bad days when his pain is so overwhelming, all he wants to do is cuddle up to me and cry, which breaks my heart. My hope is this new doctor, who is supposed to be one of the best in his field, will help us, because I want my little guy to be able to run and play without continuous pain. To be a kid and do things others his age are out doing without fear that he’s going to hurt himself or do irreparable damage to his little body.

“I still don’t fully understand what it is that he has,” Granny mumbles. “Did we do something wrong when you were pregnant with him? It was such a stressful time for us, after all.”

“No, Granny, we didn’t do anything wrong. It’s a hip disorder that causes loss of blood flow. Then, the bone in that area dies but reforms and sometimes when it regenerates, it causes problems because the head of the femur doesn’t reshape properly. Dr. Nelms thinks that’s what happened in Noah’s case based on his current X-rays.”

“Well, if you’re sure you don’t need me, I’m going to check out the local farmer’s market. One of the vendors down there was talking about a local craft show coming up. I think I’d like to get a booth, even if you can’t help me design and sew things.”

“Granny, I don’t work all the time at the shop,” I exclaim. “Once Noah’s down in the evening, I’ll be more than happy to help you.”

“Well, I want to make sure we’ve got the money to take care of whatever he needs first and foremost.”

“Granny, we’ll be just fine.”

We will, too. I ended up with a rather large settlement after Foster’s death from the company he worked for but since I had grown up living frugally, I put the majority into several accounts and left them alone to grow.

“I’ve got health insurance for both of us now, plus whatever insurance doesn’t cover, I’ve got the money set back for a rainy day, remember?”

“Guess it’s just a habit, child.”

“I understand completely. Okay, Noah, you need to get hustling.” While he rushes off to brush his teeth, I quickly pack a bag of puzzles, books, drinks, and his favorite snacks. “Did he bring down his iPad?”

“Yes, it’s in his backpack, along with his stuffed bumblebee. He must really be worried,” Granny replies, a frown marring her face.

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