Press play.

________________________

Light kisses massage my face, my eyes closed, my breathing slow, soaking it all up like a spoiled sponge. The radio plays something soothing from another Brooklyn artist that has recently been taking the industry by storm. Her voice is velvet, her harmonies cohesive, I try not to admit how much I like her to myself. Trevon's chest is a rhythmic rise and fall. I open my eyes briefly and watch the raindrops plastering the window and rolling down into the car window pockets. I skim my thumb against the back of his hand, our fingers stay intertwined and his palm pressed against my own is warm. I push my chin up and he turns his attention from the storm outside, to me, easily. He lightly pinches my chin and eases my lips up to meet his. His kiss is slow and holds a world of meeting. I feel it in my core and immediately want to pull him closer for another but my body protests. We had sex all morning. Will I ever not want more of him?

He bites his lips with his eyes set on my own and I sigh distracted. He turns away, a smile on his lips. Trevon brings my hand to his lips.

"Why are we cabbing it to Brookdale Hospital again?" He questions through the back of my hand.

"There are 7 gift baskets in the trunk for the Doctors and nurses who took care of Ma and Flex after the whole...thing." I say turning my attention back to the window.

"That's lit babe, real nice." Trevon responds quietly. He kisses my forehead but then I get a glimpse of his face and it is disturbed.

"We never really got to talk about that in detail." He begins.

"Stop." I mumble quiet. The car is silent as the raindrops massage the car top. I spend the next couple minutes fighting off memories of Ma and Flex in their hospital bed. I battle with telling Trev anything more than he already knows, just because I feel that I myself have not confronted exactly what that entire experience has done to me. Sometimes I think about it and I'm fine, other times I'm not sure. Just the thought of the hospital is enough to infiltrate my good moods. We don't speak until we are close. He allows me the silence.

A few minutes later the car pulls up to the front entrance of the hospital. It looks exactly the same. Huge and grey. Brookdale is spelled out at the top in large white letters, slightly rusty with age. The emergency entrance at the side have ambulance parked on the street, ready to go at a moments notice. Doctors stand by the door, talking to paramedics, clipboard in hand, firm looks on their face. I don't think I will ever visit a hospital after this.

The driver parks the car in front of the main entrance and, helps Trevon and I take the baskets inside. When the trunk pops, I take the first two baskets, my eyes set on the lighter basket with not much goods in it. Trevon watches me and smiles light.

"Weakling." He mumbles.

I smile but I can feel that it doesn't reach my eyes. Trevon's eyebrows furrow and he presses his lips into a hard line. The driver takes two baskets and Trevon holds three. Together we walk through the automatic doors into the large lobby of the hospital. Sprinkled with people, loung chairs and Doctors pacing to their next room. No one really pays attention to us. I keep my hoody over my head, it looks like I am just protecting myself from the rain and not hiding my identity.

I make my way up to the security desk, a brown skin man with short hair and many muscles, stand at the table in his full blue suit.

"Hi, my name is Chanel." I greet so only he can hear me.

The brown skin man's face turns from something serious to something calm but surprised. He blinks a few times.

"Wow, I know who you are, how are you? How is your Mother and Flex?" He questions. I look to his badge and it reads Malik Williams. I don't remember him being here when the incident happened but I'm sure the news traveled. The news and paparazzi were outside for at least 48 hours straight.

"They are doing really well. That's actually why I'm here. I brought the Doctors and nurses some things. I hope that's okay." I say setting the baskets down on the table. Trevon and I line them up so that they can nicely be displayed.

"No problem. Did you want to give them the baskets yourself? You can go upstairs if you like. I'm sure they would love to see you." Malik smiles.

I smile back kindly but my stomach knots. The very essence of this place makes me a little nauseous. Only because I spent nights worried and crying here, only because I almost lost so much in such little time. I look at Trev, who watches me carefully, attempting to read every emotion on my face. I don't know what he sees, I don't know what I've shown him, but with just a glance, his eyes snap up to Malik.

"Do you mind if we just leave them here? The names are written on the cards to the side." He informs politely.

"Not a problem. I will make sure they get them." Malik says.

"Thank you." I say to the kind security guard.

He nods respectfully and speaks on his radio connected to his chest. Malik turns the cards towards him.

"Hi Mady, please send down Dr. Ben, Nurse Watson, Nurse Henry, Dr. Evette, Nurse Jerome, Nurse Williams, and Jerral Smi-" Malik stops mid name.

His eyebrows furrow and he looks at me confused.

"Jerral Smith? The security guard?" He questions oddly, moving the radio from his mouth.

His radio beeps and a lady responds through the static.

"What was that last name Malik?" She asks.

I nod.

"Yea that ones for Jerral." I confirm.

"Jerral Smith in security. Send him down." Malik says more sure.

"Copy." The person on the other end responds.

Jerral Smith, I remembered his name because it would be so unforgiving to forget it. It isn't often that I break down into tears, right in the arms of a man that I have never met in my life. It isn't often that someone responds by rocking you in their arms back to normal then quoting scriptures from the bible. It seems odd now, when I think about that night where the pain was so overbearing that I couldn't eat or sleep. It seems even a little funny that Jerral responded like I was his own child in pain. I've never experienced such an act of compassion from a complete stranger and he didn't care for a second who I was or how famous I am. I was a child to Jerral. His own child. And in that moment, he seemed to care for and love me more than I cared for and loved myself.

"Thank you again." I say to Malik as we head out.

Trevon takes my hand in his and I realize that my hands were shaking. They settle with his contact. His thumb massages the back of my hand. Like he was telling me through his simple touch to calm down. The urgency to leave the hospital grows strong, even as I am close to the door exit. We return to the car, parked right in front. Trevon opens the door of the cab and I climb in, he shuts it and runs to the other side, his hoody bobbing up and down and then falling off as he enters the car. We both have wet spots randomly dispersed on our clothes. An umbrella would have been a smart idea.

The cab driver fiddles with his phone, pulling up the quickest route back to the house. Trevon and I look straight through the large glass windows of the main entrance of the hospital. I see Jerral smiling as he picks up his basket. He laughs hearty, his mouth wide open, his head back, looking at it. It makes me smile, big. He doesn't even know what's in there, he seems to just be happy with the gesture. I watch as Jerral turns the basket around in his hand and finds the card with his name on it. The car roars to a start, the cab driver pulls out of the hospital driveway and I can no longer see Jerral. I wish for a moment that I got to give him another hug, that I got to truly explain how much what he did meant to me, but it's all on the card.

"What are in the baskets?" Trevon questions, pulling me close to him.

"Chocolate, grapes, apples, apple cider... stuff like that." I answer.

Trevon continues to stare into my eyes.

"What was in Jerral's basket?" His voice is soft. I direct my attention to the water droplets rolling down the window.

"50K." I answer.