Deisel, A Jamaican Love Story – Part 3

First Episode - DEISEL
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This fictional series contain the names of characters, places, events and a storyline that exists only in the author’s imagination.  Any resemblance to actual events, persons alive or not is a coincidence.

This publication is intended for readers who are twenty one years of age or older and was created only for entertainment.

All Rights Reserved. Reproduction, duplication or copying of any part of this publication in any form or by whatever means is strictly prohibited unless consent is given by the author.

Individuals pictured are models and are used for illustrative purposes.


Episode Three




“Mom, I don’t know, I don’t know.  They say she doesn’t look good,” I wailed in anger and desperation.   “Mom, she doesn’t look good!!!”  I walked toward this clear white wall at end of the busy corridor of the hospital in Mandeville.  I switched my galaxy phone to my other ear.   My mom had called after hearing what had happened about forty minutes ago.  Those abroad seem to hear our news much sooner than most of us here.

“I DON’T WANT NOTHING TO HAPPEN TO DEISEL!!!!” I growled, slamming my fist into the wall.

“Somebody, help this young man,” this lady uttered.  “Come on, people, don’t make him hurt himself.”

Yeah, right.  Most of my onlookers would have rather recorded my ordeal.  Never seen so many cellphones pointing at me before.  They were obviously waiting for me to jump through that hospital window if the worse had happened.  Then those heartless creatures would then press the [SHARE] button.

“Are you, still there, Elan?”  I had forgotten mom was on the other end of the line.

“I’m scared, Mom.  I don’t want to lose… Deisel.”  I was shedding tears.

“So, you say she ran across the street in Porus, and what did that bus do?”

“Mom… she fell in the road, mom and…”   Sob.

“Calm down, sweety.  Talk to mamma now.”

“Mom, mom…”  I tried to catch breath. “She fell in the road.  The driver… had to swerve to avoid running her over.”   The bus almost capsized after hitting that embankment.   Mom… It’s scary as…”
“Alright, Elan. Alright. At least she’s still breathing. That’s a sign of hope.”

“Mom, the doctors have been trying to revive her from that concussion but she’s not responding.” I wiped my now swollen eyes.

“Boy, you don’t know how to pray?  I didn’t send you to Sunday School for nothing, did I?”

“I’m scared, mom.  I’m scared.”   I could have felt the heat of my cellphone against my ear.  I switched it to the other ear.

“Still there, Elan?”

“Yes, mom.”

“Where’s your aunt?”

“How am I supposed to know.  She’s somewhere outside.  She doesn’t seem to give a…”


“Sorry, Mom.  I’m scared.  I don’t know what to do.”

I walked toward that room.  The door had still been closed.

“You love her, son?”

“Of course I do, Mom.  I don’t think I’m going to leave her behind in Jamaica. I’m changing my mind about coming up to live with you, Mom.  It’s all my fault.  Shouldn’t have told her I was going to leave.  All of this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Son, you can’t blame this on yourself.  Sometimes, things happen to give us the chance to really demonstrate how true love works.  And, what do you mean you’re not leaving her behind?”

“Mom, I’m serious.”

“Now, do you know how much of a headache this filing process has been, and not to mention all that money I’ve spent to get you to live up here with me?  Your mamma’s only trying to give you a better life, boy.”

I edged nearer toward that door, which had been closed for the past 15 or so minutes.  Now I could have heard my heart banging my chest plate.  “Listen, mom.”

“Now, you listen, Elan!  Sometimes in life, you’ve got to move on.  Love has a way of coming back for you.  It works.”

“So, why hasn’t my pop come back for you then?  Why mom?  You love him, don’t you?  Don’t you, MOM???”

“Elan.  Elan!!!!    Are you still there, Elan!!!!  Elan???”

That hospital door opened up. The scent of disinfectant and antiseptic grew stronger. This doctor exited the room.  I saw my phone, in three pieces, on the shiny red floor; I didn’t even hear when it crash-landed after falling from my hand.  I didn’t even remember I had been talking to my mom, seconds before.

The doctor looked at his wristwatch.  This nurse exited the room after him.  The doctor headed off in the opposite direction.  The nurse held her lips together even as they trembled as if they fought to keep her words in.   I could have felt every single strand of hair on my body sticking out of my pores. Goose pimples swarmed my hands like a flight of bees.  I blinked my eyes hard enough to keep me from becoming frozen.  I felt cold.  I felt hot.


Though young she appeared to be, her jaws sagged uncontrollably.  Her eyes now became watery, just as mine.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Elan,” she tried to hug.

“DEISEL!   NOOOO!!!!!”

In seconds, I was in that room.  No one could have held me back.  They tried.

“No, Deisel.  You can’t leave me here.   Deisel. No!!!!”   I saw the reflection of my desperate face through that closed window in the hospital room.

I held the cold hands of the only girl I’ve ever loved.  She lay there on that hospital bed, clueless to the pains and trauma around her.   Her eyes were closed.  Her face pale.

“Deisel.  Deisel,” I sobbed, running my hand through her now cold hair.  The staff waited to take her somewhere.  Wasn’t sure I’d see her again if they had pulled her stretcher through that hospital door.  If she only knew how much I missed her.  If she only had a clue the pain she’s putting me through.  The men pulled the stretcher.  The nurse sobbed.


“We’re sorry but…”

I held her cold fingers so tight, preventing them from taking her away.  I looked up toward the ceiling.  I closed my eyes.

“Please. Mi a Beg You.    I love her.  I love her.  I’ll do anything to see her eyes again. Anything.  She’ll be the only woman I’ll love if you give her back to me.  Please.  Please.  She’s apart of me.  If you take her, then how will I survive?  I’ll be incomplete, useless.”

I opened my eyes after praying, which I haven’t done in a while (since I was 8).  Nothing seemed to have changed.  Deisel was still unresponsive; the men were still waiting to remove her from the room.  The nurse had the collar of her uniform in her mouth.   Well, the only thing I noticed different in that hospital room was that the window was now opened. Who opened it?

The men started pulling that stretcher.

I held her finger again.

“Deisel. I promise, I’m going to marry you.  We’re going to have lovely kids, honey, a great family.  Then they are going to go to university.  I promise.  Do you believe me, Deisel?”

The men waited impatiently.  They must have thought I was an idiot, and stubborn.


Oh, no.  Oh, no.   Oh, yes.   I could have felt the pain in my fingers, the way Deisel squeezed them.  My head felt as if it was expanding, by the second.

“Nurse, doctor, she’s back.  Deisel’s back.  SHE”S BACK!!!!!”

“Are you….serious about what you’ve said, Elan?”  She barely opened up her eyes, frightening me, all of us in that room.

“Of course I’m serious.  You know I’m serious, Deisel.  I love you, Deisel,” I cried.”

“Love you too, Elan.”

And in came my aunt.  She just stood there.



The End Of Episode Three.

Come back next week for more.

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