by Nikki Harmon
I shake my head. I look at him. Jackson. Familiar, friendly, loving me.
At the hospital, I am admitted and my belly is hooked up to wires. The doctors inform me that if the baby was harmed, there is nothing they can do. At 18 weeks pregnant, the baby wouldn’t be viable. But they want to monitor us for 12 hours anyway. My left hand is badly bruised and my wrist is sprained, but it was not broken. They ask me a lot of questions.
“What is your name?"
“Kim, Kim Thornton, Kim Thornton-Brooks” I answer looking at Jackson. He nods his agreement.
“How long have you been married?”
“Um, we got married right after graduation, um so it’s been two years?” Jackson nods.
“And what do you do for a living Mrs. Brooks?”
“I search around my brain for the answer. “I’m a teacher!” I’m relieved I find the answer. “I’m a science teacher. I teach high school, Masterman. I teach at Masterman.”
Jackson nods and smiles.
“What is your address?”
“We live on Lucretia Lane, 348 Lucretia Lane, in Mount Airy.”
“Do you have any children, Mrs. Brooks?”
“No,” I smile, “This is my first.” I cup my belly and say a silent prayer.
Despite many correct answers, it turns out I do have a concussion, so they dim the lights, no television, no screens of any kind, but I can listen to music. Jackson frowns when I ask for Billie Holiday but says he’ll try to find some for me. I lay back and sip water. He leaves for food and music. I close my eyes and try to settle my mind which is still … wavy is the only word I can think of to describe it. I am disjointed. I remember my life but it feels like a movie I’m remembering. I remember the highlights, the big emotions, the gist of it but it feels light and fluffy like a cloud that could be blown away with a big gust of wind.
Jackson returns with an iPod and Billie Holiday but I find I can’t even listen to it. It’s too much. We sit in silence watching the baby’s heart monitor until he falls asleep. I look at him. He’s always had a good face, a kind face, the face of a man you could trust. He’s been steady and faithful since 9th grade. I wasn’t always sure about him, but he was always sure about me. I broke up with him to date a couple of other guys. They were cute but immature and not too bright. I ran back to him and we held steady through high school. He went to Howard, I went to Temple and we dated other people but by senior year, it was clear that we were meant to be together. So, he proposed, I accepted and we married the fall after graduation. He became an accountant at a law firm, I got my teaching certification and we settled into a nice home in a nice middle-class neighborhood the following year. It’s been a good life. I love my students, though not the district. My mother cooks us dinner every Sunday, and now the baby is coming. Everything is perfect. Everything is perfect. I hope the baby is ok.
My mother comes to get us at the end of the 12 hours. The baby seems fine but I will have to take it easy for a month to give my brain a rest. I worry about missing work but the following week is spring break so I won’t miss too much school. We go home.
Chapter 19
I’m home a week, listening to audiobooks and cleaning the house when I get a call from Kendra. Kendra is that crazy friend that everybody has. She’s loud, she’s reckless, she speaks her mind and she don’t take shit from anybody. I’ve known her most of my life but I haven’t seen her since I got married. She’s not a big fan of Jackson. When she calls, I don’t recognize her voice through the tears. All I can hear is “It’s Jen, it’s Jen” and my heart drops like a stone. I have not seen Jen in four years. She was/is my best friend but after she became pregnant, she dropped out of high school. Then she just dropped out of sight. A year later she came home for a while and then took off again, leaving her little girl for her mother to raise.
After talking to Kendra, I take an Amtrak train to NYC. I left a message for Jackson on the kitchen counter. I know he will be pissed. I know he will not understand but some friends just trump all of life’s routines and all the best doctors’ advice. If she needs me, I am there. Period. And according to Kendra, Jen is as close to lost as a person can get without disappearing.
Four hours after our phone call, I find Kendra at a bar on 34th and 6th Avenue. She is nursing a beer and I can see the remains of a sandwich and fries. I walk up to her table and touch her shoulder. “Kendra?”
“Kim!” She hugs me and I can feel the relief in it. Jen and I have been friends from kindergarten but Kendra brought the energy and drama to our little group. Granted, she caused most of the drama but it bonded us together over the years. After we part, she returns to her seat, and I settle down across from her and motion to the waiter.
“I’d like a water, a ginger ale and can I see a menu, please?” He nods and goes off to retrieve my order.
“No drink? Trust me you will need a drink when I tell you this story,” Kendra says. I unbutton my coat and thrust out my belly. She gasps.
“I didn’t know! Oh, congratulations, Kim! When are you due? How are you feeling? Oh, if I had known, I wouldn’t have brought you up here.”
I laugh. “Due in August, feel fine except I’m getting over a concussion but that story is for another day. I’m glad you called and I would have come anyway so don’t sweat it, ok?”
The waiter brings the menu and my drinks. I take a good long sip. The water is ice cold and good. The baby makes me so thirsty! I quick order a Turkey Rueben and hand the menu back to the waiter. “OK, tell me everything,” I say taking another long sip of water.
Kendra sighs. “Ok, she’s back with that Alonso character and you will not believe what she is doing …”
∆∆∆
We pull up in front of the Venus Fly Trap around 10:30pm. Trying not to look quite as conspicuous or as awkward as we feel, we enter behind a small group of men and hope for the best. It is my first time in a strip club, but it looks just like the ones in the movies. There is a bar on one end, the stage on the other is shaped like a runway, with café tables and chairs in between and bordering the stage. The seating area is uncomfortably dark, lit only by the candles on each table. The floor is carpeted and the walls are papered with a matching paisley pattern. I reach out gingerly and touch the velvet accents. The sconces on the wall provide a minimum of light, just enough so you can see your way to the bathroom and private rooms in the back. We take a seat in a corner, not too close to the stage but far away from the lights at the bar. A waitress comes and takes our order as we wait for the show to begin.
A curvy toffee-colored woman comes out in a matching thong and bikini top with thigh-high black latex boots. She struts to the pole in the center of the stage and grabs onto it with authority. I see her bicep flex as she stands there waiting for the music. Old school house classic, “French Kiss” comes on and she hoists herself upside down on the pole and grinds while she slides around it. I can feel my eyes widen and my mouth drop open. I hear Kendra say, “Well, damn!” I try to fix my face, sip my drink and be cool but I can’t stop watching this performance. It is impressive. It is skillful. It is sexy as hell. I want to get out of here. I feel … exposed. My cheeks feel hot and I try to look away but I can’t. I don’t see Kendra looking at me until she closes my mouth and wipes at my chin. “Let me get this drool for ya.” She laughs. The dance and the dancer are done. She struts across the stage as people throw money at her. She smiles and waves as she walks back through the curtain. As the stage lights dim, a waitress runs up on stage and collects the money. Kendra laughs and pats me on the back. I laugh along with her and comment that she was “good, very athletic.” Kendra, I think, is not fooled.
And then Jen came out, clad in a scarlet red cheap Fredrick’s of Hollywood outfit with garter belts and fishnet stockings. She looks like a parody of a stripper right down to the fingerless gloves she pulls off with her teeth. It is hard to watch. I have never seen her dressed like this, dance like this, catering to the men in the front row, who throw money at
her. She saunters and shimmies and slides around the stage. I try to get a good look at her face but her huge curly wig keeps flipping around, concealing her eyes. After a minute, I knew it had to be intentional. I look around the room and think I recognize Alonso. He is by the bar, wearing a fedora, twirling a toothpick in his mouth, and watching Jen but talking to a man. The other man, a fiftyish looking black businessman is gesturing to Jen, Alonso is shaking his head. I get the distinct impression they are haggling over a price. I look back at Jen. She is walking her legs over her head. I might be imagining it, but I think I see a tear making a crooked trek across her face. Kendra is shaking her head and then drops it down into her hands. The song ends, and Jen stalks around the stage, gathering up the rest of her tips and shaking for more. She reaches us and almost misses us until I reach out with a 20-dollar bill. She spies it and looks up to see who is giving her such a big tip. We lock eyes and I see the shock of recognition. She backs up and tucks the money away. She sashays backstage, only looking back at us once. I’m trying to decide what to do next when just as she reaches the curtain, I see her crook a finger at us and I am relieved.
As the next girl enters, a big-breasted blonde woman in a leather corset, we leave our pay on the table and make our way to the restroom. Kendra takes the lead and sneaks us to an unmarked door past the bathrooms. The light hurts my eyes as we enter into the dressing room. There are three dressing tables on either wall with vanity lights and piles of make-up askew everywhere. And there is Jen, sitting against the wall looking at us.
As I walk over, she sniffs something off a slip of paper. I suck in my breath but she just stares at me with her mouth twisted to the side.
“So, how did you find me?” she asks. I sit in the chair next to her and face her straight on. From behind me, at the door, Kendra answers.
“I found you. Actually, Mark, my brother, found you. He was here for a bachelor party a few weeks ago. He recognized you, but said he doubted if you recognized him.”
She looks over at Kendra, then she shifts her gaze to me and in that instant, I see the drugs take effect. Her face flattens out into a mask of blankness, her eyes widen and she lets out a soft sigh. I can do nothing but reach out and hug her. She lets me. She feels soft and weak, pliable, like a baby doll. Her skin is cool to the touch and almost dried out, like a vague memory of its youth. Close up, I can see faint scars scattered over her arms and legs. It breaks my heart. I pull back and she rests against the wall again.
“Jen, I don’t know what you are doing here or why but it’s time to come home. Your mom misses you. Your daughter misses you. I miss you. Please come with us, ok?”
Kendra adds, “I’ve got my car down the block. You can just walk out of here with us. We got you.”
Jen just shakes her head. “No, I can’t go. I’m sorry but this … I can’t leave.” She sniffs and closes her eyes for a few seconds. When she opens them, she seems to be seeing me again for the first time.
“Kim, it’s so good to see you! I missed you. Come give me a hug.”
I reach out and hug her again. She feels hollow, like a plastic replica of Jen. A door opens behind me and Kendra cries out, “Hey!”
“What’s going on in here? Jen, Bill is waiting for you in room two.” I turn and see Alonso. I remember him. He’s taller than I recall, with the broad shoulders and thick neck of a guy who spends a lot of time checking himself out at the gym. He’s still fine in that typical high cheekbones, full lips, wavy hair kinda way but the mustache makes him look like a smarmy salesman. “Do I know you?” he asks and tilts his head, stroking his goatee.
“I’m Kim, Jen’s friend from Philly. Behind you is Kendra, also Jen’s friend from Philly.”
“Uh huh. And what can I do you two for this evening?” he asks with an eye on Jen and an eye on his watch.
“We’ve come to take Jen home. I don’t know what you’ve done to her but this is not Jen, this is … this is wrong!” exclaims Kendra.
Alonso laughs. “Jen doesn’t want to leave, do you Jen? We have a fine life here, don’t we babe?”
He walks over to her, edging me out the way. He lifts her chin with his hand and kisses her on the lips. She closes her eyes in pleasure. When he pulls away she groans with yearning. Kendra and I were wrong. We thought the problem was a coke or heroin addiction but it’s not, at least it’s not the biggest problem. It’s him. He is her drug and he knows it.
He puts his arm around her and says, “Jen and I want to thank you for coming to visit. It sure was nice to see folks from home, wasn’t it Jen?” She nods and does not look up. “Now,” he continues, “We have to get back to work. You two are welcome to enjoy the rest of the show, Jen has another number at one am.”
He ushers her to her feet and steers her out the door. She stops to give a hug to Kendra and turns and waves good-bye to me. I lift my hand but they are out the door. Kendra and I look at each other. She walks over and sits down. We stare at ourselves in the mirrors. Never in a million years did I ever think that Jen could be in this situation. Stunned and speechless, we sit and stare in the mirrors. A dancer comes in and stops when she sees us. We apologize and take our leave.
Outside the club, we watch the men going in. Jen is in there. We walk to Kendra’s car and get in. She turns on the radio and Teddy Pendergrass croons to us.
Before I know what I’m going to say, I say, “I’m gonna stay here in New York.”
“What? Where?” she asks.
“I dunno.”
“Can you? Aren’t you a teacher?”
“It’s spring break and I have a two-week medical leave … the concussion I was telling you about … and I just can’t leave her here. I have to keep trying. I mean … look at this … this is unreal.”
“Yeah, I didn’t believe my brother at all when he told me. I don’t know why but he made me come down here and see. I only came so I could prove his dumbass wrong but when we got here and I saw her …
“Yeah … I wish I had known … I should have tried to find her before but I just got caught up …”.
“…In your own life. We all did Kim. Don’t feel bad about this. She chose to leave that baby for a reason. Maybe she knew something about herself that we didn’t.”
“Maybe. But I’m not giving up on her, not yet.” I pull out my cell phone and call Jackson. He’s also stunned by the news. He’s known her since high school, too. My decision to stay does not go over too well. He’s worried about my health, the baby, my safety, the cost, etc. All valid concerns but I’m staying anyway. Kendra calls her brother and asks if he knows anybody who will put me up for a week. While we wait for him to call back, Kendra asks me if Jackson will let me stay.
“What do you mean ‘let me’?” I ask.
“Oh, I just thought, being a ‘man of God’ and all that that he would be all kind of “my wife needs to ask permission’ kind of stuff.”
“No, he’s not like that at all. Don’t you remember him from high school?”
“No, not really.”
“He’s really a very nice guy. He’s smart, understanding, kind, funny.”
“Oh,” she says, squinting at me.
“What?”
“I just didn’t think you were that into him. I thought … didn’t you … oh never mind … so you and Jackson are about to have a baby. That’s so exciting Kim. I’m really happy for you.”
“What about you, Kendra? Are you still married?"
“Yes and no. Rob and I are separated, but we have kept our businesses up and running. We still have some real estate investments and co-own three gym franchises.”
“Oh wow, that’s great. Where do you live then?"
“That’s the tricky part. Technically I live in Miami and keep an apartment in Philly that my sister sublets but I stay with my new boyfriend here in the city.”
“Oh, wow, sounds like a very exciting life you have Kendra.”
“It does, doesn’t it? I would ask if you could stay with him but it’s a tin
y studio. He’s a personal trainer at one of our gyms. And I’m flying back to Miami tomorrow and won’t be back for about a month. He’s going through a divorce too …”
Her phone rings. Mark found an ex-girlfriend in Brooklyn whose roommate is away for a few weeks and could use some extra cash. Grateful, I let out a sigh. Kendra gets the address and drives me to a big brownstone on a tidy residential street. She wishes me luck and hugs me goodbye. I promise to keep her updated. As I get out of the car, I begin to have second thoughts about this decision. What am I doing? Staying with a stranger when I just had that fall … and something was weird about it … but I can’t get the empty feeling of Jen’s body out of my mind, so I pray I’m doing the right thing, climb the front steps and ring the bell for #3. I hear a loud buzz, push open the heavy door and wave goodbye to Kendra.
My hostess’s name is Lacey. Mid-thirties and efficient, she greets me and shows me to the back bedroom. She is just finishing up changing the sheets and attempts to straighten up but it is just a token gesture. Whoever lives in the room is a collector of everything and there is not one surface that doesn’t display, hold or contain some item of contemplation. Even the empty tea light holders look arranged just so. It’s not dirty, just cluttered beyond all reason. I thank Lacey and we exchange cell phone numbers. She gives me a key and a little speech about personal space and respecting other people’s property. I’m not even offended. She’s taking a big risk too. We are both wary but hopeful that we haven’t just made a big mistake. We say goodnight and she clips down the hall to her bedroom. It’s late, almost one am and I’m tired. I use the bathroom, swish water in my mouth, send Jackson a text and go to bed.
In the morning, I get up at 10am and Lacey is gone. She left a note saying I could help myself to one bagel, two eggs and, coffee. I do just that and feeling refreshed, I explore the little apartment. I adore all the artwork and books and music. I have only lived at my mother’s house and then I moved in with Jackson. I wish that I had had my own apartment. Would it have looked like this? There are flyers to events and old Village Voices in stacks. Somebody is into South American folk art, maybe the same one who bought all the abstract art as well. I go back into the bathroom to shower (black soap!) and get dressed. Something in Kendra’s voice made me bring an overnight bag but I will need to get some clothes, at least underwear if I am staying the week. Back in “my” bedroom, I sit on the bed and try to make sense of the room. Colorful posters cover the walls, incense holders, pictures of women everywhere, books, magazines, a corkboard covered with buttons and posters. I begin to notice a theme. I wonder if I’m in a gay woman’s room. I pick up one of the books, yup, it’s lesbian … erotica. I put it down fast. My heartbeat speeds up. I put my hands on my belly and sit down on the bed. Oh, this is crazy, calm down Kim. One crush does not mean anything … everybody has crushes, ok two crushes if you count Meer, maybe three because there was that girl Savvy … ok, whatever. That’s all in the past. I’m married and pregnant and I’d better get some clothes. I hop up, grab my coat and purse and head out to look for a Conway’s to get some cheap gear.