by Nikki Harmon
“Yeah, sure,” he says. “Be careful!” he yells after me.
“Ok,” I yell as I close the door. Whew.
Ok, step two: drive to Temple, park and wait. It’s a cold night and my car doesn’t warm up until I’m almost there. I turn onto Diamond Street and pull over next to the fire hydrant. Even at this time of night, there is no parking. I lock my doors, turn up the music and wait another seven minutes before I hit send on my text at 9:30pm on the dot. She responds with “lol that was quick! Meet me at Tiny Bubbles, next to Robin’s Bookstore on Thirteenth Street.” I text back, “ok”.
Driving down 12th Street, I start to feel excited and nervous about this meeting. I have butterflies in my stomach. It’s not until I’m crossing Vine Street that I realize it’s the baby. I swerve to the curb and turn off the car. I sit still and wait even though it’s getting colder. From somewhere I can’t quite pinpoint, there is a flutter, then another. I hold my belly, though it’s my heart that is expanding. Wow. I want to call Jackson and tell him. But I can’t. He’ll want me to come home. Another flutter. I am alone with my baby and he or she is moving, alive inside me. Wow. I breathe. I wait. No more flutters.
“I hear you, little one. I feel you. Can you hear me too?” No flutters in response. I start the car and pull back into the driving lane. I feel both blessed and burdened like Moses at the burning bush. Nobody else knows, nobody else can hear. My conversation with my baby is secret and private and special. I will share it with Jackson tomorrow. He’ll still be happy then, right?
After a few trips around the block, I find a space and park the car. I hurry down the street, past the bookstore with a dozen half-naked men on a half dozen book covers and enter Tiny Bubbles. I don’t see anybody who could be Amy so I order and pay for a Pumpkin Spice Muffin with green tea at the counter and take a seat by the window. At the table next to me are two women, one African-American and one Latina, having a friendly argument about the lack of feminism in superhero tropes. I listen and enjoy the points they make about the costumes and lack of technology employed by women superheroes – Wonder Woman with her bracelets and her rope, Storm and her “mother nature” talents … it gets me to thinking. I hardly notice when a thin white woman sits down on the stool next to me and clears her throat.
“Kim?” she says not too confidently. I turn startled.
“Oh, oh hi … Amy, right?”
“Yes.” At that moment, my hot tea and muffin arrive. I thank the waitress and she flashes her freckled dimples at me. I turn back to Amy who is waiting patiently.
“Not this time,” she says.
“What?” I say.
“Never mind. I’m so glad you contacted me, Kim. I wasn’t sure you would.”
I take a deep breath. “Amy, are you in some kind of trouble? When I saw the group of you at the Science Center, it just didn’t feel right to me and then I thought I saw you ask for help.”
“I did.”
“What’s going on? Was that some kind of secret club or hazing?”
She looks away. “I guess it is but it’s so much more than that. The problem is … we are in over our heads and need help … it’s so hard to explain.”
She stops and looks at me.
“Are you happy, Kim?”
I choke on my muffin. “Am I happy? What kind of question is that? I thought you needed the help.”
“I do, we do … but it’s going to change things for you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I just would feel bad if you are really happy … Are you happy? I mean, you are pregnant now, right?”
I look down at my belly, instinctively covering it with my hand. “Yes, I’m pregnant but what does that have to do with you?”
She sighs and opens her mouth to reply but closes it as the two women next to us got up to leave. They walk past us, smiling and nodding as they do so. I can’t help but feel like I have seen them somewhere before, have had a conversation with them before, but I shrug it off as the familiarity that comes with eavesdropping on someone else’s conversation. Amy is watching me as I watch them pass by the café window. Talking and laughing, they stroll out of the streetlight and into the darkness, I am left seeing myself in the window’s reflection. At first, I don’t even recognize myself and run my hand over my hair. Then I do and turn back to Amy. She is watching me.
“I think you are the only person who can help us, Kim. I don’t want to tell you much more than that, but I want you to know that by helping us, helping all of us, your life will change. We need you but I couldn’t live with myself if you weren’t clear on the consequences of doing so.” She breaks off a piece of muffin and plops it into her mouth.
“Your life, as you know it, will change.” She looks down at my belly and back into my eyes. “I don’t know how it will all end up, most of that will be up to you, but I want you to be sure.”
“Well, what is this is all about? Why do you need help? You seem fine now.”
“If I told you anything, it will already change everything.”
“How could I make a decision without all the facts? And if this is so dangerous, why don’t you call the police? Or the FBI or something?”
She just looks at me and shakes her head.
“I don’t know what you are asking of me.” I lean back in my seat and wait. She looks conflicted but she just bites her lip and doesn’t reply. I lose my patience.
“Look, I’m sorry for whatever trouble you are in, but this is just too crazy and I … I already have a lot on my plate. I think I should just go.” I pull out a couple of ones for the waitress.
“Kim, I know this seems crazy and maybe I should just tell you everything right now, but I can’t, I won’t. I will tell you this. You are caught up in this already and I don’t know if you can be unknotted from this tangle.” I stare at Amy for a moment, certain that she is sincere but certain that I don’t want to hear anymore. I look away and try to catch the waitress’s eye. Amy leans forward and lowers her voice so that only I hear what she says next.
“Have you ever felt like this life, your life is not exactly right? Like you are not exactly doing what you should be doing right now? Like maybe you should or could change it? Professor Patel …” My stomach flips and my head starts to feel fuzzy.
I cut her off. “Amy, enough. I cannot deal with all these riddles. It’s getting late. Tell me or don’t tell me, but I can’t deal in crazy. I have a baby coming and I’m applying for grad school and I have to teach in the morning. I’m tired. I’m going. Good luck.” And with that, I get up, stumble out of my chair, out of Tiny Bubbles, and somehow make it back to my car. I fall into the seat and shut the door. The silence helps. I close my eyes and exhale as I try to still my shaking hands. Batting off thoughts and questions like gnats on a hot summer evening, I fumble with my keys and seat belt but manage to start driving through downtown streets, looking for the right one-way street to get me on my way back home. My mind is buzzing but I refuse to let the thoughts gain purchase. I pass a group of college students waiting on a corner staring across the street. As I pass them, I notice another running across the street to join them. Through my rear-view mirror, I can see it is Amy arguing with someone. HONK!!!!!!
I slam on my brakes halfway through a red light, my heart racing. Some man is yelling at me through his windshield. I mouth an apology and reverse my car. He curses me all the way through the light. I don’t blame him at all. I try to slow my breathing down and concentrate on the road. Think. Slow down. Pay attention. Breathe. I turn on the classical music station and try to settle myself. Drive. Don’t think, just drive.
At home, Jackson is asleep, the news watching him. I get undressed and into bed. I kiss him on his cheek, turn off the TV and snuggle against him. He grunts and reaches a hand back to rest on my hip.
Safe and warm in my bed, I hold my belly, snuggle my husband and know it all for a lie. How did I get to this life? What am I doing here? I touch my straightened hair and turn on my be
dside light. I squint at my reading glasses on top of What to Expect When You’re Expecting on the nightstand. I look around the room and remember but don’t really remember decorating it. Who picked out that print? Was that me? It was, I think. Did I choose this comforter because it’s beige? I don’t think I like beige. Or do I? Didn’t I pick it because it went with everything and we weren’t sure what color the walls were going to be so we went neutral, right? Oh, this is my bed and I’m lying in it. I laugh but when I close my eyes, I see ghosts. I review what happened, meeting Amy at that cute café and how I knew exactly what to order, the waitress was familiar and pretty (what are you saying Kim!?!?), the two women talking felt like old friends and Amy said ‘My life but not exactly right’. That’s what it feels like. Or like I’m living someone else’s life. Everything will change. But what about my baby? I felt her today.
I turn out the light and fall into a troubled sleep, half-waking up sometimes to call out strange names. Who is Mabel? I get up to pee early in the morning and open the closet door instead of the bathroom. Jackson hears me get back into bed and he turns to me. My back is to him but that doesn’t slow down his ardor. He reaches around and holds my breasts, fingering my nipples. He kisses the back of my neck. He lowers his boxers and nudges himself between my legs. As I lift my nightgown and open my legs to fit him inside me, I let out a sigh. He takes his time stroking inside me, there is no rush. He squeezes my nipples until I moan. It feels good. I forget my confusion of last night and lose myself in feeling. He moans and calls my name. I reach back and pull him tight to me as he reaches climax. He holds me tight afterward kissing my neck and cheek. I grab onto his arms and pull them tighter around me. I am safe here. I am loved here. I’m not sure I want to change this. Even as I think that, even as I revel in his embrace, I’m watching the clock, counting the minutes until his alarm will go off and I will be free to go.
Chapter 22
After marking my last papers of the day, I text Amy what I have been thinking (not thinking) all day, “I want to know more.” She texts back an address in North Philly and a time, 7pm. I sit in my car and text Jen to call me right away. It takes five long minutes but she calls me back. She sounds very rushed and out of breath.
“What is it? Did you get in?”
“Huh? Oh, MIT. I won’t know for a couple of months.”
“Oh, then what’s so urgent?”
“I just wanted to tell you that something crazy has come up and I … I can’t tell you what, don’t exactly know what to say … but ...”
“You’re leaving Jackson!”
“What? No! Well, maybe but why would you say that?”
“I knew it! Honey, Jackson is as nice as they come but he don’t light your fire. I have never seen you be anything …"
“Jen, I don’t want to talk about Jackson right now. He’s fine. I wanted to tell you that something else, something important but weird has come up and I’m not sure what’s going to happen but I love you and I want you to come back home.”
“Kim, first, what are you babbling about? Second, we have a deal. You go to MIT and I will go to beauty school in Philly. While dancing of course …”
“Wait, what? You’re supposed to give up dancing!”
“Well, how will I pay for it nitwit? Listen, that’s the deal. I will stop dancing when I graduate and get a job. By then, you should be on your way to NASA.”
“Fine! That’s not what I called you for anyway.”
“Yes, you love me and want me to come home. I already know that. Love you too honey!”
“I felt the baby move.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. I remember how that felt.” She goes quiet. “I have to go now Kim. Congrats on the baby. Good luck with whatever new thing you are talking about and let me know about Jackson, ok. Be careful, ok?”
“Ok, Jen. You too!”
“Ok, bye!”
“Bye.”
I hang up and look out the window. I text Jackson and tell him I’m going to visit my parents. He responds that he’ll pick up some Chinese for us and will see me at home. I start the car.
∆∆∆
As I pull up to my parent’s house, I can see my little brother coming out of the house with a couple of friends. He’s twelve now and thinks he’s so grown up with his iPhone and Jordans. I park and get out, happy to have found a space.
I wave him over, and he gives me an embarrassed hug but a genuine smile, so I’m satisfied with that as he saunters off down the street. My mother answers the door, gives me a one-arm hug and rubs my belly at the same time. After I kiss her hello, she bends down and starts crooning to the baby. Then she waves over my sister Maya, now ten, to look at my belly. Maya is shy but she glows when my mother reminds her that she is going to be an auntie. She runs off to draw a picture for the baby. Satisfied, my mom heads into the kitchen and starts bustling about, straightening up things and bringing out dishes.
“So, you staying for dinner honey? Walter should be home soon with steak sandwiches for the family, but I’ll share mine with you.” You saw Lil’ Walt, right? Ain’t he a trip, out there by himself with his friends? I told him he has a half-hour until dinner. Let’s see if he can mind his mother. How are you feeling baby? Heavy yet? Or still feeling pretty good?” She pauses wiping the table and looks at me.
“I’m fine, Mom. I’m doing just fine. And Jackson is just fine too. Everything is good. Oh, guess what? I felt the baby move yesterday!”
“You did!” she squeals. “Ooh! That’s my grandbaby, a high achiever. She’s going to be smart just like you!”
“Thanks, Mom.” I smile to see her so happy.
“I’ve always wanted you to be married and happy, and now you’re having a baby. I couldn’t have asked for more. You have the perfect life, Kim. I hope you know that.” I try not to let my smile waver. I try not to let her see my disappointment. As a kid, all I wanted was to work on spaceships. I wanted to travel into outer space, to explore strange new worlds, to build robots, and to learn about the universe. I wonder if she remembers any of that. I wonder if she ever noticed. She goes back to bustling around the kitchen while Maya comes in with her picture – she and I and the baby in a grassy field with flowers.
“It’s beautiful, Maya. A beautiful picture,” says my mom. Maya beams under her approval. I thank her and tuck the picture under my arm. I hug them both good-bye just as Walt comes through the door with Lil’ Walter behind him begging for some video game. I hug and kiss the guys on my way out, closing the door behind me. I start to walk to my car then turn back to look at the house. I should have said something. I should have told them that I love them. I should have given them something of mine. But I can see their silhouettes through the curtains sitting down to their Friday night meal and hear laughter through the stone walls. They will be fine. I get out my phone. It’s 6:30pm. Time to get moving.
Chapter 23
I pull up to the address and check the number on my phone again. The building is an old stone and brick warehouse with an ancient wooden loading dock. There is a faded sign on the front that I can’t quite make out, but it might say Starkly’s or Sharky’s or something like that. It’s dark and there is not another car in sight. The streetlights are dim and the only movement on the street is an old stray cat wandering down the sidewalk. I’m a few minutes early. I decide to wait in the car. Click. With the doors locked.
After a minute, I see a person walking down the street towards the building, then another coming down from the opposite end. A dark car pulls up and lets out three people who walk to the building and then takes off around the corner. I’m trying to determine if these are the students from Temple when a loud rapping on my car window startles me. It’s Amy. She waves me out of the car but puts her finger to her mouth to indicate that I should be quiet. I get out and press the door closed behind me, but even that sounds loud out here and everyone turns to look at me. I shrug and follow Amy to the front stoop where everyone else has gathered. A short guy pulls o
ut a key and opens the creaky front door, everyone slips inside with one person running up behind us. She shuts the door behind us and you can hear everyone exhale at the same time. They all head straight to the back of the building and enter an inner room with no windows. I follow. Someone flicks on the lights and we all blink from the glare of it. There are a few murmured greetings but most are subdued as they take off their backpacks and stow them away in various corners. As I become adjusted to the light, I can see several couches and chairs, a few tables, a file cabinet and crates and crates of notebooks. There is also a retro grey boom box, a small refrigerator, and stacks of water bottles. Everyone relaxes into a seat, someone turns on the radio to an indie rock station and most grab a bottle of water. They all end up looking at me. Most are smiling.
“I knew you would come, Kim. I always had faith in you,” says the guy who opened the door. He is Asian, maybe Korean, with a punk haircut and an easy smile. I learn later that his name is Mun-Hee but he goes by the moniker, Manny.
“Do I know you?” I ask. He laughs.
“You did and you will again.” I hear someone suck their teeth in the corner.
“Stop sucking up to her, Manny. You are so pathetic!” An Indian woman with a short asymmetrical bob and an intense stare crosses the room and extends her hand to me. “I’m Sujatha. I wasn’t so sure you would come but I’m glad you did. We need you.” I return her firm handshake and look around at the others.
“I’m at a clear disadvantage here. It seems like everyone knows who I am, but besides being Temple students, I don’t know you.” One by one, they raise their hands and state their names. Amy takes the lead, then Manny who is looking pretty smug. Then there is Marcus, an African American with an intentional nerd look – glasses, braces, polka-dotted, no… those are planets, bow tie. He is sitting with a Latino guy who looks familiar to me but it isn’t until he says his name, Ramon Montana, that I know him as Savvy’s little brother. Small world. The last two students are huddled over the stacks of crates, looking through the notebooks. The first, short, white and prematurely balding raises his hand, grins and introduces himself as Liam, the other looks over his glasses and grunts something like “Grayson”. He is skinny, tall and pale with a raggedy looking beard. I recognize him as the one who was yelling at Amy last night. I guess he hasn’t gotten over it yet.