near?
âI wasnât trying to seduce you!â Averyâs anger at his audacity brought her senses back. âYou arrogant jerk! You kissed me.â
âYou knew that was going to happen,â Carter accused. âEvery time you slap me, we end up kissing or making love. You know the effect youââ
âWhat?â Avery asked. âThe effect I have on you? Thatâs my fault? And what effect would that be, Carter? To make you want me and then hate me?â
âHow is that different from how you feel about me?â Carter took a step back, because while his mind was in control, his body still wanted her.
âI donât hate you, Carter.â Avery sighed, looking him in the eyes. âI love you. Iâm sorry that we couldnâtââ
âDonât show me your pity,â he exclaimed. âDonât tell me how sorry you are that you couldnât love me enough.â
âI canât do this again,â she said. âI canât keep explaining to you that my choice wasnât about how much I love you.â
âDonât waste your time,â Carter said, feeling the resentment boiling inside of him. âQuote your scriptures to yourself. If you really loved me, you would have chosen me.â
Avery tried to control her emotions, feeling tears begin to creep into her eyes. She had cried so many nights over this, but she couldnât let him see her do it. Not anymore. âI did love you, Carter. I still do, but Iââ
âBullshit,â he responded, and was gratified with the angry expression that took over Avery in response to his dismissal of her feelings. He wasnât going to be her fool again. âItâs not going to work anymore. If you insist on neglecting MY daughter in favor of everything else, Iâll see to it that you donât have that choice anymore.â
As he stormed out of the gallery, Avery let herself go and tears began streaming down her face. She ran behind the counter to grab a Kleenex and push the bell that rang in the back room, asking for help at the counter. Her coworker was on break, but Avery had to get some air. She knew what Carter meant by taking away âthatâ choice. He meant taking away her custody, and there was nothing that Avery feared more in this world.
Â
âYouâre doing a great job, Darryl.â Leigh was warmed by the proud smile of the twelve-year-old boy sitting on the patientâs table in room 5 of Hope Clinic in South Central Los Angeles.
âI feel good.â Darrylâs dark brown face lit up, showing his bright white teeth. âI was outside playing for like five hours yesterday.â
Leigh looked at Aliyah, Darrylâs thirty-year-old mother, sitting in a chair a few feet away. Aliyah shook her head with a laugh.
âIt was only two hours,â she said. âAnd not more than that.â
âIâm sure it felt like five hours,â Leigh said as she turned back to Darryl.
Four months ago, the diabetic preteen showed up at Hope Clinic very weak. The normally active boy broke into an exhaustive sweat after only twenty minutes of activity. After years of struggling, Aliyah had finally gotten off of welfare and was working as a part-time receptionist at a veterinary clinic. Unfortunately, the new job didnât include health insurance, so she came to the clinic.
Leigh diagnosed him easily. A drug he had been taking to manage his diabetes had turned on his kidneys and was damaging them. They were degrading fast, and if he hadnât come to her when he had, they would have likely failed. There was no way Aliyah would have ever been able to afford dialysis, which is what he would have needed to stay alive.
However, switching his medications, Leigh was able to stop the damage, and his kidney filtration rate was back to normal. It was the minimum of normal, but he was on his way. It was such a small change but meant the
Legs McNeil, Jennifer Osborne, Peter Pavia