The Love You Need

Well folks, it’s been a loooong six month wait.  A wait that ends this week with round 2 tests at the doc’s.  I’m in cool spirits, with confidence in the Love I love….

—–

Krystal watches her from the waist up.  A trepid view of her at work between two knees. Gentle was good, painless divine.  Determined to interpret every wrinkle in her forehead, every squint of her eyes, she gave Krystal nothing to wrap her wits around.  Not until that moment.  The moment that shattered silence into a million pieces on the exam room floor.

Somehow, even before the first word left the doctor’s lips, Krystal knew.  After today, she would never be the same again.

Life had taught Krystal many things.  When it comes to words…the ones that warm the ears, prick the heart, and rock the soul…sometimes the position one is in, at that moment, heightens the very intensity and relevance of the words spoken.

Snapping off the left, then the right latex glove, Dr. Harmon smiles and lays it on her.  “Mrs. Ashe, you have got to make sure…you get the love you need.”

As if all the air had been sucked out of the room, Krystal couldn’t breathe, let alone speak.  How do you respond to something like that? “Okay” seemed inadequate, almost juvenile.  “I will” felt utterly ridiculous.

“…the love you need.”

Like reams of Polaroids scattered in her mind, Dr. Harmon’s words were worth a thousand pictures.  Nine hundred and ninety-nine of them told tales of toil, near hits distracted by attractive counterfeits, scenes of searching for even the slightest resemblance of love — neatly packaged with Krystal’s name affixed to the label.

Beyond that batch of madness, one Polaroid remained.  The first one ever taken.  Still under-developed in a film of dark grey, waiting patiently to be fanned and shaken.

“…the love you need.”

Krystal didn’t need her legal training to see it.  She clearly recognized the inherit assumptions supporting Dr. Harmon’s statement.  Get the love I need?  Heck, do I even believe the love I need exists?  And if it does, does it cry out for me, does it need me as much as I need it?

As if her thoughts had echoed to the grave, Krystal could hear Grandma Josephine, as clear as the days she sat in her Big Mama chair with her light blue house dress, rubbing her feet together.

“It?!  Chile, donchu mean Him?  If you believe in God, you believe in Love.  God IS Love, baby.”

Somehow, even before the first word left the doctor’s lips, Krystal knew.  She would never be the same again, not after fanning and shaking the first and last Polaroid.  Krystal realized — her last and only real hope had been waiting first in line.

(c) 2008.  Ashe.Selah