His First Wife

“Excuse me,” a woman said, tapping my shoulder.

I turned to find a familiar face holding a microphone in front of me. It was a local black reporter who had a short, bright blond head of curls you couldn’t miss in any crowd.

“Monica McPherson?” I said, noticing that there was a man holding a camera behind her. “From the news?”

“Yes, it’s me,” she said, smiling and pulling me away from the crowd. “I was wondering if you had anything you wanted to share about the recent changes at Grady with our viewers.”

“Me?” I asked, looking at the camera and wondering why in the world she’d selected me out of all the other people out there. I didn’t know anything but what Aunt Luchie had told me. Surely there was someone else out there who would be a better representative than me. “Well,” I said into the microphone, “I’m sure there are other people who can add a bit more information.”

“We’re not on camera yet,” she said. “But we’re looking for someone like you—someone who’s involved but really representing the voice of an everyday Atlantan.”

“Really?” I asked, trying to recall if I’d put on lipstick before I left the house.

“Great,” she said quickly.

“Great what?” I was reaching into my purse for my compact.

“We’re on live in,” the camera man said, and I was wondering what he was talking about, “three, two, one.”

“This is Monica McPherson reporting to you live from outside Grady Memorial Hospital,” I heard Monica say.

I looked back up from my purse to see that she was speaking to the camera.

“Community members are here protesting the recent decision for the century-old hospital to turn into a 501 (c) (3) nonprofit,” she went on. “I have here with me—” she put the microphone in front of me.

“Me?” I asked, knowing I must look like a crazy person. Now I knew how they got so many people to look completely insane on the news. She nodded. “Oh, I’m Kerry Jackson.”

“Tell us how you feel about the recent decision.”

“I think it’s bad,” I said. “And that the new plan would make it so that more people without adequate health care will suffer. These people didn’t do anything wrong and we can’t accept any plan that might even allow them to be displaced and left without a safety net.”

Monica nodded and a few protestors gathered behind me, clapping their hands in support. I was amazed at how good I sounded. Surprising both Monica and myself, I snatched the microphone and looked directly into the camera.

“Rich or poor,” I said. “We must protect one another and that has to start with making sure each American has access to health care. We won’t stop until Grady hears that.”

The crowd clapped and Aunt Luchie came over and gave me a hug right in front of the camera.

“You heard it here first,” Monica said after taking the microphone back. “More news on this story later. Maybe we’ll get Kerry to share more.”

“That was great,” Aunt Luchie said.

“Thank you,” I replied. I felt my phone ringing in my pocket and I was sure it was my mother calling because she couldn’t stop Tyrian from crying. I took it out of my pocket, and of course, her name was on the screen.

“Mother, guess what, I was just—” I said excitedly.

“Kerry, get to the hospital right now,” she cried. “It’s your father.”

PART FOUR

Resurrection

“I really need to confess a love I knew from a past life.... Love was so strong, I had to find this woman twice . . .”

—Abyss in “God Sent”

(Courtesy of Team Abyss, LLC)

Daddy