CHAPTER SIX: FRIENDS and Neighbors
1397 Words
Tina drove into her neighborhood and froze at the sight of an ambulance, lights flashing, parked beside a police car in front of her neighbor’s house. She didn’t even remember closing her car door before she was running toward the scene—just in time to see her neighbor being carried out on a stretcher and loaded into the ambulance.
Fear and confusion churned inside her. She grabbed the nearest paramedic.
“What happened? Why are you here? Is she alright? Why is she bleeding from her head? Why isn’t she moving?” The questions tumbled out in a breathless rush as she tried to push past him toward the ambulance.
A policeman strode over quickly, stepping between her and the vehicle.
“Jeez—calm down, lady. She’s going to be okay,” he said, holding his hands up as she tried to maneuver around him.
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” she screeched. “And get your hands off me!”
The officer raised his hands in surrender but didn’t move from her path.
“I just saw Mrs. Adrian carried out on a stretcher looking pale, and you want me to calm down? You calm down!” She tried again to get past him.
“I understand your agitation,” he said evenly. “But if you don’t mind me asking—who are you?”
“I’m her neighbor. What happened?” Her voice shook.
“We got a call about an elderly lady who fell in her garden. We arrived a few minutes ago. Looks like the cut on her head came from a gardening tool. We’re taking her to the hospital to run some tests.”
“Oh… she’s diabetic,” Tina said quietly, twisting her fingers as her nerves rattled.
“I see,” the officer said thoughtfully. “That could explain why she collapsed. Thank you—that helps us.”
The paramedic was already climbing into the ambulance.
“Which hospital?” Tina shouted.
“St. Luke’s Memorial!” the driver called as the vehicle pulled away.
“She’ll be fine,” the policeman said gently. Tina collapsed against him, trembling as he patted her awkwardly on the back. “She’ll be alright,” he repeated.
Please be alright, Tina prayed silently, holding back tears. Mrs. Adrian wasn’t just a neighbor—she was a mother, a friend, a confidant… and her cookie supplier.
“Go inside, rest a few minutes, then head to the hospital. Will you be alright? I can drive you if you’d like,” the officer offered.
“I’ll be fine,” she said huskily, managing a faint smile. “Thanks for letting me cry on you.”
“Don’t mention it. Besides, it’s not every day a beautiful woman throws herself at me,” he teased, winking and waggling his eyebrows.
She laughed despite herself. “You’re nutty. Thanks—I appreciate it.”
“Take it easy, alright? Have a good night,” he said, walking her to her car before leaving with his partner, who gave her a brief smile.
Tina dragged herself inside and went through her night routine on autopilot, her thoughts fixed on Mrs. Adrian. She whispered another prayer before bed.
Saturday morning was bright and sunny, but to Tina, it felt dull and heavy. Her heart weighed her down. The image of Mrs. Adrian lying pale and still—first on the stretcher, then behind hospital glass when the doctor refused her entry—haunted her.
“I told you to leave the flower beds. I said we’d do them together when I got home,” Tina muttered in the sunroom. “But no—you had to do it yourself.”
With a sigh, she threw herself into cleaning. She dusted, scrubbed, and polished until the house was spotless—not because it needed it, but because she needed something to keep her mind off the hospital.
Soft music played from her speaker as she worked in her bedroom. Then something shiny caught her eye: a butterfly hairpin with crystal wings.
It had been a gift from Iyke, her ex-fiancé, on their first Valentine’s Day together. She remembered seeing it while shopping for his mother’s birthday and loving it instantly. She hadn’t bought it—worried he’d be intimidated by her spending habits—but when she returned, it was gone.
On Valentine’s Day, he’d handed her a huge box. Inside was another box. And another. Five boxes in all before she reached the last one—and there it was: the hairpin she’d been longing for. She’d thrown herself into his arms and kissed him passionately, knowing then that he truly understood her.
But the sweetness of that memory soured. Iyke. The man who’d betrayed her with her best friend—a friend she’d treated like a sister. Being the only daughter in a family of three towering, overprotective brothers had been lonely. Her brothers were wonderful, but they made dating nearly impossible. Iyke had been different. He’d taken their overbearing ways in stride, dated her for three years, proposed… and then ruined everything.
A throat cleared.
She looked up through blurry vision and saw Tate standing there.
“Tina… hell, are you okay?” he asked, kneeling beside her.
“Oh, Tate, I’m fine,” she said quickly, wiping her cheeks. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Your door was open. I thought something happened. Then I saw you crying over… that. What is it?” He nodded toward the hairpin in her hand.
“Oh, this? Just… a gift from home.”
“Why are you crying then? Bad memories?”
“No. I just… miss my family. My brothers. Even though they drive me to drink.” She forced a laugh.
“T, what’s really wrong?” he asked gently, taking her hands.
“Nothing. Really. I’m fine. Just homesick.”
“Where’s home?”
“Nigeria.”
“I know that,” he said with a small smile. “But where exactly? What tribe?”
“Oh, so you’ve been doing research?” she teased.
“Yes. Since you won’t answer me.”
“I’m Igbo.”
“Guessed it. You look Igbo,” he said with a smirk.
She raised a brow. “So why are you here?”
“I brought you fruit. Went to the farmer’s market and saw bananas—thought of you. And, well… a few other things.”
She peeked into the bag. “A few? Oranges, strawberries, kiwi, mangoes, apples—Tate, this is too much. Are you trying to make me bake you fruit tarts?”
“Pretty please—with a chemical formula on top,” he begged, clasping his hands.
She laughed. “Fine. I’ll bake. I’ll even make apple pie.”
“Yes!” He fist-pumped, then kissed her cheek.
“Don’t thank me yet. You’re doing the peeling.”
“Anything you say, my liege.”
“Ok, peasant, get to work.”
As they prepared the fruit, Tate asked, “Why’d you stop bringing baked goods to the office?”
“Just busy. I bake to relieve stress, and lately… no stress.”
He snorted. “I was afraid you’d develop a twitch after that moisturizer launch.”
“Mark nearly drove me insane,” she said.
“Guy’s brilliant but a total jerk.”
“No, a douchebag,” she said, grinning.
They laughed over past office memories, then fell into a comfortable rhythm. Tate’s gaze lingered on her, his heart twisting. She was so beautiful.
“Tina… are you still going to the party with me?” he asked quietly.
“I am. But Tate…” She took a deep breath. “Please don’t take this wrong—I like you, but not romantically. You’ll make someone an amazing husband someday, but… I’m not her. I’m sorry.”
His face fell, but he nodded. “Thanks for being honest.”
“Are we okay?” she asked softly.
“Yeah. Not great, but I’ll live. You just owe me lots of baked goods while I recover.”
“That’s emotional blackmail,” she said, swatting him.
They finished baking, fought a ridiculous flour-and-peel battle, and stuffed themselves with pie before Tate left, promising to pick her up early for the party.
- Writer
