He said nothing, just continued to search my eyes.
On the way out I saw the cleaning lady bringing Azmir’s clothes in from the balcony. Shit! Does she know that they're soiled…with me? I shook my head of the thought. I had another long day to face. I couldn't waste my time worrying about that. And I was off to start my day. A new day.
While working out I fell into introspective thinking.
I’d meant every word I’d said to Azmir. I needed to work on me. Since my return from Jersey I couldn’t help but be haunted by my issues of trust and feeling unworthy of love. I didn’t want to do to Azmir what I’d done to Michelle, I didn’t want to fail his faith in me. I didn’t want to live or die alone. I felt empty and confused. Worst of all, I didn’t know where to turn to repair myself. Azmir was great but he was not a solution. I didn’t want to seek refuge or healing from a human being. I also didn’t want to put too much into one person. I needed help to accept Azmir, not make him some focal point or a sole reason to better myself.
One of my patients, Mary, would always come in talking about her church and the love of Christ, all of the typical and annoying banter of a holy roller who felt that Jesus was the answer for everything. Mary would always boast of her church, and of course, give the proverbial invitation time and time again. Suddenly, I recalled those patients that would come to the church as though it was a hospital when I was a child. I had become one of those sick people. No, I didn’t have substance abuse issues, neither had I been in prison. But my heart had been imprisoned by fear. I so desperately wanted to free myself of the strongholds that were on me. I decided before leaving my place for work that I would call Mary and finally accept her invitation to church.
It was that simple for me. I had to start somewhere.
~~~~~~~~~~
I’m at Smith, Katz & Adams headquarters for a breakfast staff meeting. I always got nervous during them and I thought it was because subconsciously, I knew I was not necessarily there based on my own merits but that of Michelle's...and most recently Azmir's unleashing of his voracious attorney. Ever since his involvement, I’d been rolled out the red carpet by the practice. I couldn't lie, the feeling was extraordinary.
“Morning, folks,” Dan Smith opened the agenda as everyone hurried off the food line and back into their seats to start the meeting. I was too nervous to eat—waiting for the other shoe to fall.
“Well, gang, it’s my personal misfortune to have to inform you that we lost John Ephart two days ago. He succumbed to a heart attack while away in Palm Springs.” There were countless gasps and mutters in the room.
Okay, so everyone is just as shocked as I am.
I withdrew for a minute, reflecting on my encounters with John Ephart. He was always a pleasant man when the leasing deal in Long Beach was underway. He didn't interfere much; only when asked. I recalled him patting me on the shoulders afterwards in the parking lot. He didn't say much other than “Great work, kiddo!” but it meant a lot to my raw nerves that were still settling.
Not another passing. Naturally, my thoughts ventured to Michelle. No death would ever compare to that loss. Snap out of it. Not here. Not now.