Silent Reality: Inspired by a True Story

By Zelda T Partee

Silent Reality is the second part of Eyes of the Soul. This compelling saga finds Terri in a life-sustaining arena of new hope and aspirations. Unexpectedly, her new journey jilts her into the reality that there are no guarantees in life. Feeling as though misfortune will trail her for eternity, Terri must quickly learn to face and conquer daily doses of diversities of different nature and proportions. To escape the barrier of envy, bullying, mistrust, and malicious manipulation set to destroy her by everyday experiences, Terri must reroute her path. She finds herself treading the thin line between sanity and insanity, love and hate, and victory and defeat. Once in the care of persons who enable her to escape her impeding barriers, she escapes from bondage as the silence of her hidden reality is unleashed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 7, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543482003

Zelda T Partee

Zelda T. Partee is a native of Baltimore and reside in Baltimore County. Aside from her 31- years as a practicing Licensed Nurse, she is a devoted mother and grandmother. Zelda is published in multiple editions of the Library of Poetry Anthology Series and have been recognized for Outstanding Achievement in poetry with the Editors choice award from 1997 through 2007. In addition, one of her works is published on CD with a choice selection of Poetry entitled The Sound of Poetry. She published her first book Soul Searching (a true-life) testimony of real life experiences and Spiritual growth in 2009.Aside from full-time employment in Geriatric Nursing, Zelda provides Nursing services to substance abusers, part time, which serves as her motivator to continue writing. Zelda serves Ministry in her church home on the Nurses Ministry Board, and contributes her Poetic creativity in Spiritual messages in the church Sanctuary.

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Copyright © 2018 by Zelda T. Partee.

Library of Congress Control Number:            2018901173

ISBN:                  Hardcover                            978-1-5434-8112-9

                           Softcover                              978-1-5434-8111-2

                           eBook                                   978-1-5434-8200-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 04/19/2018

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CONTENTS

Prologue

Acknowledgments

Part 1

Chapter 1 Crystal Waters

Live your life. I’m fine where I am.

Chapter 2 Unmarked Pathway

People work here?

Chapter 3 Storm of Life

I have cancer.

Chapter 4 Rose-Colored Glasses

It’s not a nursing home.

Chapter 5 Taken Up

Losing those who show me love

Part 2

Chapter 6 Never Go Back

We work together like family … …

Chapter 7 Revealing the Plan

He shoots me a confused glance.

Chapter 8 Saving a Soul

What’s harder, facing the truth, or …

Chapter 9 Training Day

Be better off walking off the job.

Chapter 10 Hopeless Situation

Going to explain this to my wife?

Chapter 11 Human Explosives

She’s crying hysterically and shaking.

Chapter 12 Hidden Identity

It’s not a female—he’s a male!

Chapter 13 Sentenced

She’s not seeing the inevitable.

Chapter 14 Rotten Core

Sliding into the mind-set of revenge.

Chapter 15 Fatal Affairs

Has accepted a ring from him

Chapter 16 Thin Line

I want to slam this phone.

Chapter 17 Lost Identity

The tear that’s rolling down

Chapter 18 Silent Escape

Must be felt from the heart

About the Author

To

those whose silence has kept them from the reality of what their life could be. A reality hidden away in their soul, manifested and lived behind the venetians of their dreams.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

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PROLOGUE

W  EBSTER SAYS SILENCE is defined as a lack of sound or noise, but for me, silence is the state of solitude when nothing is heard but the sound of one’s own inner thoughts.

Webster says reality is the true situation that exist, but for me, reality is the state of condition one perceives to bear significance in their life and existence. Some realities are dealt with silently and inwardly beneath the external facade of ones’ external. The conditions created by adversities may send one on a search for ways to deal with the reality of their situations.

Often, their silent and blind search leads them to self-destruction. Our society lacks compassion to console, patience to listen, humbleness to share, wisdom to teach, and willing hands and hearts to heal. On this journey, Terri experiences the going in, coming through, and out of the memorable acts of those who live within the confines of their silent realty.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A SPECIAL THANKS to the readers of part one, Eyes of the Soul . Your support and response inspired me to bring part two, Silent Rea lity .

In my thirty-two years of nursing, I have had the opportunity to serve those who have been affected by life’s adversities to the extent of damaging their total being. It is not only attributed to my clinical medical expertise but is also motivated by my Christian faith and divine inspiration.

PART 1

CHAPTER 1

Crystal Waters

I AWAKEN TODAY in a bedroom I once feared. After lying on the floor of the sanctuary for seven days, battling with my personal demons, I am thankful, but still there is emptiness deep in my soul. I reach over and touch the photo of my son that’s been lying face down for months. As I’m turning it over, contrary to what I’m expecting, there’s no flutter in my stomach or pain in my chest. I feel a smile grace my face.

I know where you are son and whom you’re with. I thank God that I can bear the hurt now, but I still miss you.

Somehow looking at his face speaks peace to my soul, and tears no longer fill my eyes. Standing his photo face up doesn’t grieve me as I answer the phone.

Hello.

Good morning, daughter. Praise the Lord for this new day. How are you?

Good morning, Mother Scott. I’m fine.

It’s a shock to hear her voice this early on a Saturday morning.

Don’t forget you are blessed and favored by God, daughter. Yes, you definitively are.

Yes, I realized how much when I woke this morning.

Daughter, you must be baptized as soon as possible. Baptism is scheduled for the fourth Sunday of this month at 3:00 p.m. You must be prepared.

What do I have to do, Mother?

You will need white undergarments, including a slip, a waterproof head covering or swim cap, and be prepared in your heart to go under the water. Until then I want you to read these scriptures. You have a pen near?

Yes.

"Okay, write these down: Hebrews 6:12, Colossians 2:12, Ephesians 4:5, Romans 6:4, Luke 12:50

Mark 1:4."

I am silent at this point, waiting for the right response to come without effort.

Are you still there, daughter?

Silence prevails over the phone line.

Yes, I heard you. I’m just taking it all in, Mother.

Good and the last thing is leave early so you’ll be on time. If there’s one thing I can’t tolerate, it’s lateness.

I’ll be on time. Don’t worry.

I’m hanging up the phone feeling like phase 2 is beginning now, and I am just a willing participant, not knowing what to expect.

Am I ready for what’s next, or do I need more time? More time for what, the devil to try and enter any open door in my life again? Oh well, how much harder can this be? After what I’ve already been through, I should be running and jumping into the baptism pool and refusing to come out of it.

I pray this is the end of the dramatic stage of giving my life to Christ and taking this Christian walk for the rest of my life.

Oh, this phone! It’s so busy this early in the morning!

Hello.

Hello, my sister, this is Rev. Marie Whalen. How are you this morning?

Good morning, I’m blessed, thank you, and you?

Blessed as well. Just checking to see how you slept last night and to remind you that the fourth Sunday is communion and baptism. Are you ready?

I just hung up with Mother Scott who called to remind me and give me instructions on the protocols. Should I expect numerous calls this morning concerning my baptism?

No, dear, usually the assistant ministers call or the missionaries, but I was asked by Pastor to contact you.

Thank you for looking out for me anyway Reverend Whalen, but I’m good.

You’re welcome. If you need anything or just need to talk, don’t hesitate to call. I’ll be talking with you soon.

Okay, goodbye and thanks again.

Whew! It’s like eternity getting off this phone this morning. I should turn the ringer off!

I’m compelled to read the scriptures Mother Scott gave me ASAP with the intention to forget the battle I’ve been through these last seven days.

Sunday

2:30 p.m.

Never have I felt colder than I feel at this moment, putting on the baptism garments. The church building is very old, and the basement floor where I’m getting dressed holds a still and penetrating coldness. The other factor of my decreased body temperature is my own effort to refrain from letting my anticipation turn to fear as I take the initial step into my Christian walk.

Are you dressed, Sister Terri? They’re waiting for you, a missionary from outside the door is calling.

Okay, on my way out.

No, hold on a minute. We need to have prayer with you before you go out.

I’m surrounded by five missionaries, and maybe it’s me, but prayer seems to last a very long time before I hear, In Jesus’s name we pray. Amen.

Walking to the fellowship hall, I’m hearing the church members singing, Take me to the water to be baptized. I see two other persons already seated on the front row in their baptism garments.

Good, I’m thinking. I’m not the only one. Maybe it won’t take long. I’ve got to stop shaking.

I’m hearing Pastor’s voice in my left ear as if he’s inside my head asking me the questions of confession and commitment to God. Before I can count the minutes, I feel the warm water engulf my body and face as I’m holding my breath. My heart is pounding as I come up from the water, and a chill embraces my body while a blanket is being wrapped around me. I feel the tears fill my eyes, tears of joy and relief, and now I’m walking away from my baptism with the confidence that I belong to God, and I believe that the devil will never have credence in my life again.

New Year’s Day

12:17 a.m.

The congregation line is so long that it’s circling around the sanctuary to the front of the pulpit.

Pastor and the associate ministers are all in place to anoint, pray, and give special intercession for those who request it.

The line is moving forward while my eyes are fixed on the pages of my Bible as I read passages in the book of Psalms 37, scriptures that I can’t seem to pull away from. In the back of my mind, I’m thinking on what prayer request I will have when I’m in front of the pastor. Strangely enough before the thought can come, I’m in front of him, feeling his hand upon my forehead, full of holy oil.

What is your request, Sister?

The only thought in my head at this moment is the vision of my son lying in his casket at twenty-eight years.

Pastor, I can’t stop worrying about my son’s soul since he’s gone from this life. It keeps me from sleeping at night and disrupts my peace of mind.

Pastor is praying as I’m speaking. Some moments later, I’m waking up but with one small problem, I’m on the sanctuary floor with a white cover on my torso and legs. One of the ushers is standing over me with her hand stretched out to me. I’m cold and I’m shaking.

Oh no, this is not how I want to start the next year of my life!

Come, Sister. Let me help you up. It’s going to be all right now. God is surely in the house tonight.

Standing to my feet, I remember the smile I just saw on my son’s face, and I can still hear his voice in my ears over the singing and praying all around me, saying, Mom don’t worry, I’m fine. I love you. I’ll see you again.

I’m crying, and passing by the congregation, I can’t help but to share the experience I woke from.

I’ve seen him. My son is with the Lord, and he’s fine. Thank you, God. Thank you, God. You are so awesome. I love you, God.

The tears won’t stop streaming down my face. As I pass people in the aisle, they are looking at me as though I’m from outer space. It doesn’t matter because I know what I saw and heard moments ago is real, and it is the love and favor of God that has allowed me to have and keep this moment in my heart for life.

Walking out the church door to my car, I am assured that nothing can separate me from the love of God and my life’s path will be as clear as crystal waters.

CHAPTER 2

Unmarked Pathway

2 Years Later

S TOPPING BY MOTHER’S home is a God-sent relief from all the disturbing and gut-wrenching events I encounter at work. Rather than going straight home, though I’m a little tired physically, mentally, and emotionally, I enjoy the refreshing spirit of optimism I receive when I’m in her company.

People are beginning to tell me that I am changing from the person they once knew. They’re accusing me of being short tempered and irate. Well, what do you expect when I spend eight hours of my day, five days a week being challenged emotionally and mentally by troubled patients? Not to mention that the staff can be even more challenging. It’s tiring seeing workers talking on their cell phones and engaging in their own personal pastimes while neglecting their assigned duties. Like a sponge, I’m absorbing all the grief from sick and troubled clients while simultaneously trying not to internalize the experience. Maybe unknowingly, I am changing though I try hard to separate myself from the work experience once I’ve left the job.

This morning, I’m feeling as though I’ve just escaped the devil’s camp. Mother opens the back door before I knock. I can smell food cooking as I enter.

Good morning, praise the Lord, daughter.

Good morning, Mother. How are you feeling today?

God is good and faithful.

How was work, daughter?

Interesting and draining as usual.

Meaning what actually? You work with the sick in mind and body, don’t you?

Yes, to say the least. Sometimes I wonder why I put myself through the torture of this job.

Is it that bad?

Exactly. We had to call security and actually sit on an ‘out of control’ client last night.

Oh my! What was their problem?

He was withdrawing from heroin and craving for more narcotics, which he wasn’t scheduled to receive, so he began banging on the nurses’ station window with his fist, swearing and threatening to knock the door down. Male staff held him down until security arrived, and then I administered an injection to calm him.

Daughter, you to need to consider another line of nursing.

I have quite often, but every time I see success in substance abuse treatment with the clients, especially the females and expectant mothers, I feel compelled to stay on. I guess I’ve convinced myself that I can make a difference. I am probably fooling myself.

Not true, God has a plan for everyone. We just have to pray that the direction he shows us is the path that we take, and not our own.

Well, after working in this field for over five years, I feel someone has to care about them. Some of them are not treated as they should be by many who call themselves professional. It’s awful how the clients are prejudged, undermined verbally and sometimes physically abused.

I understand what you’re saying, daughter, but be wise and know your limitations with them. Now I guess I’d better be getting ready. Don’t want to run into lunch-hour traffic. I won’t be long getting dressed. Make yourself at home.

Watching Mother leave the kitchen has me wondering how she felt listening to a few gruesome details of my job. Well, one thing’s for certain—it feels good to have someone to talk to who will listen but also respond with an unbiased opinion. After all, there’s never any gratitude or appreciation coming from the job. The reward is in the reality that God has ordered my steps to this home where I found a friend and a confidant since the loss of my son. Now the void which once haunted me is filled by a blessing greater than I had expected.

Next Day

Today is a day I could be fired on the spot for my reaction to this situation, but instead I’m thinking of my job, which is my only means of support. This woman is screaming in my ear, and I’m about to lose my patience.

Why don’t you just admit that you made the error and sign this paper?

The words of this employee are becoming the lid opener to Pandora’s box as I’m thinking to myself. Out of all the errors I’ve seen this fool make on this job, how in hell can she stand in my face and accuse me of a transcription error that’s not even in my handwriting? She must be tripping!

I’m going tell you for the last time, Ms. Arletha, that is not my error or even my handwriting. Now please step back out of my face. I’m not enjoying the scent that’s choking the air out of me right now.

I know this woman understands the English language, so why is she playing dumb? I’m stepping back each time she steps toward me, waving her finger in my face.

Either you sign this error or else!

Or else what? I can’t believe her obnoxious behavior.

I’ll take it to the director of nursing.

You can take it to heaven and back for all I care. I’m not stupid enough to sign for something I didn’t do just so you can cover up for someone who sits and talks on their phone all shift and makes multiple errors. You’ve got about two seconds to remove your finger from my face, or you’ll be leaving in front of me with missing fingers!

My bluff must be working because this short heavyset woman is moving back from me.

Well, I’ll just do what I have to.

Whatever. You may be some important queen in your country, but here in America, I don’t have to bow down to you. Just remember the next time you feel like pushing up on me, get your facts straight or stay out of my face!

I’m watching her stomp out of the nurses’ station like a two-year-old child. God, Mother Scott is right, I do need to consider other employment. I don’t think I can handle too much more of people who think themselves higher and mightier than others, yet they’re the laziest and most uninformed that ever practiced medicine. I don’t know how any registered nurse can mistakenly give lantus insulin for the pneumonia vaccine. The scariest part is that sooner or later, she’s bound to kill someone. Stranger still, there is no reprimand even with all the clients who need to be sent out to the hospital. Because of their reaction to insulin, they shouldn’t been injected with it. Well, I guess some people have a monopoly on others because for the life of me, I can’t understand why she still has her job. Good, only three hours left to go. Maybe I can do the rest of this admission paperwork in peace.

Listening to the conversation around the bend from my workstation, I recognize Arletha’s voice.

Well, that’s okay. She can try me if she wants, but if I don’t like someone, I will spit in their food.

On that note, I’m making my way to the employees’ refrigerator that’s stationed behind my work area to remove my lunch and drink. Even though it’s against the policy to put employees’ food in the medication refrigerator, that’s where my food will be until the day I leave this job. It’s right next to me in my station and away from her hateful behavior.

I have a free day after work today. Mother doesn’t need my assistance, and it’s a good thing. I am emotionally and physically drained. The CEO of the company, Mr. Robertson, must see frustration on my face and in my body language as I’m leaving the building.

Hello, Ms. Terri, rough day?

That’s an understatement. Don’t know how much longer I can hang here for such a small salary.

You’re full-time here, right?

Yes.

Well, I have another site, closer to the city, that’s detox and dual diagnosis long-term if you are interested.

Does it pay more than this location?

I guess it depends on your experience. I suppose you can negotiate your rate.

I see him reaching in his pocket and handing me a business card.

When you get there, tell them I sent you. See what materializes. I know you can beat the salary because this is funded by the state, so your benefits outweigh your salary. That program is more diverse and is funded by private organizations with some government funding directed to the methadone programs.

Thank you. I’ll look in to it, Mr. Robertson.

Driving away, the only positive thought in my head sitting behind my migraine is, How happy I would be if this was the last day I had to pull away from this godforsaken, depressing, dark, dingy and mildew-infested psych and drug rehabilitation building.

Two Hours Later

To get away from it all, my favorite pastime is soaking in my favorite bath salts and fragrances. This relaxes me to the point of body prune-ship. My skin’s wrinkled, but it no longer aches. This is where a husband would come in handy for a body massage. Oh, well, save that idea for later. Right now, I’m good just pouring me a glass of wine and finding a good movie to fall asleep on. The last man I invested my time in, unknowingly at the time but eventually I discovered, also had a young girl half his age. He wasted his time trying to convince me that he was trying to get her out of his house. Really? She’s half his age, so he’s holding on to her, drama or no drama. What man wouldn’t?

Sipping wine from the glass tops off my relaxation.

Next Morning

Well, I’m awake to find the television looking back at me. Can’t remember what