by Tyree, Omar
Queen stopped and stared at him. He was beginning to sound ridiculous.
“No, I wear that gown behind you.”
Bryant looked behind him at a light blue medical gown on a hanger rack in the corner.
“Oh.”
Men, she thought, have no idea.
Dr. Cara Sinclair walked into the room, a slim, trim black woman in her late forties. She had a silver mane of hair and flawless brown skin in her white lab coat and dark blue heels.
“So, Queenie, you’re here to find out if this is the big one.” She looked at Bryant and asked, “Is this the guy?”
She was all lighthearted and jovial about it.
“Yeah, he’s the one,” Queen confirmed as she slipped into the patient gown.
“Is he ready to be a father?”
“We’ll soon find out.”
Bryant felt like a tranquilized lab rat as they talked around him.
“By the way, I have a name,” he announced.
“Oh, you do? Well, what is your name?”
“Bryant Thompson.”
The doctor stuck out her hand to officially greet him. “Well, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Thompson. Are you anxious?”
She was so breezy and alert that he searched for words to match her wit.
“I’m curious is more like it.”
“You are? Curious for a boy or a girl?”
“Curious for anything? We just want to make sure first.”
She nodded. “I see. Well, Queenie, how long ago was your last period?”
“October.”
She winced. “The end of October?”
Queen shook her head. “The beginning of October. So I took a home pregnancy test last night, and it came out positive.”
The doctor nodded. “Well, let’s take a look see. We’ll be right back in a minute, Mr. Thompson.”
In a flash, they left him there alone in the room as he sat and thought about the possibilities and consequences of fatherhood.
Garrett and Gwen get married in February, and if Queen is already pregnant, we might want to do it in April before she starts showing too much, he figured. But what would my parents say about that? Do they like her that much?
“Damn,” he grumbled. We would beat Garrett and Gwen to a first child.
The problem was, Garrett had known Gwendolyn for years. They had gone to college at Maryland University together. Bryant had known Queen for less than a year, but there they were at the doctor’s office discussing a boy or a girl.
Bryant shrugged. “Well . . . that’s the way the ball bounces sometimes.”
He wasn’t particularly upset about it anymore. He had gotten over that the night before. Now it was time to make mature preparations.
I’m finish grad school after next semester, and she has two more semesters. That means we can both pull in good money soon. But would she be able to work with a brand new baby or go on materiality leave?
“Shit, I need to step up with my investment game,” he realized.
Maybe this could be a good thing. It gives me new motivation.
By the time Queen reentered the room with the doctor, which seemed like forever, Bryant was ready for any and everything. He had it all mapped out in his head.
“Well, Mr. Thompson, are you ready for the news?” the doctor asked him.
“Bring it on.”
Queen smiled, reading his enthusiasm with intrigue.
“Well, it looks like you could be a father by mid to late July. So let’s just say . . . July the twenty-first. And we won’t know if it’s a boy or a girl for a couple of weeks yet. Sometimes it takes longer than that if you even want to know.”
Bryant could even think about the gender at the moment. He was more concerned about the date. An actual delivery date solidified everything for him. It felt like the beginning of a new life, and it was.
Bryant shrugged and said, “July twenty-first it is then. He’ll see about everything else later.” He felt as if he had been shot by a new burst of energy. He was growing up into a real man.
Queen heard his definitive response and smiled even harder.
She told herself, It looks like it’s gonna be a good day after all.
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFF
When Bryant told his boy the shocking news, Garrett set the roof on fire.
“What? Are you crazy? I mean, Queen is sexy, man, but you had way more qualified and deserving girls than her, and you knew them longer. Are you sure you wanna go there with this girl? How’d you even let that happen?”
They were having drinks down at the Harbor Sports & Grill after eight o’clock, and watching basketball on TNT.
Bryant said, “I thought you liked her.”
Garrett stuttered over his glass of beer. “I was, I was startin’ to like her. But this . . . come on, yo. That’s like the classic set up. You start spending extra time with a girl. She starts sleeping over. You stop wearing condoms. And whoop, there it is! She got you.”
Bryant had to laugh at it himself. It was what it was.
He said, “Well, look at you, man. You getting married in a couple of months yourself.”
“Yeah, but we walked through this. We didn’t run. But you seem like you trying to do an Allen Iverson and crossover right to the hole.”
Bryant laughed again and said, “He is a franchise player though.”
“Yeah, on a losing team.”
“That’s how they all start off when you get a new guy. If you’re already winning you don’t get a franchise player. You know that.”
Garrett said, “Look, all I know is that in real life, you don’t wanna draft no chick at the bottom. You wanna draft a girl at the top, because that’s where you’re trying to go. But when you draft girls from the bottom . . .” He stopped and shook his head. “Those are the kind of women who take you to the bank when they find out that can’t handle the lifestyle. Now you tell me I’m wrong.
“What does your investment company teach you?” he asked. “What are you learning in grad school about that? Different levels of money don’t mix well.”
Bryant had no argument for him. Even the middle-aged bartender, a robust white man with wild, uncombed hair, nodded while overhearing them.
“That sounds about right in my book,” he commented, filling another drink for a customer.
Bryant said, “Well, what about all the guys who marry their high school sweethearts and stay put for forty-something years?”
He said it loud enough for the bartender to be a part of it.
The man nodded, agreeing with him. “That’s a valid point.”
Garrett shrugged. “Yeah, but she’s not your high school sweetheart. That girl didn’t go to high school nowhere near us. And if you’re in high school together, then most likely, you’re from the same economic community.”
It was another valid comeback. The bartender waited a minute for Bryant’s response. But he was too slow with it, and there were drinks to serve at the bar. So the man moved on.
With Bryant and Garrett alone again, Bryant stated, “Sometimes, man, you just gotta step up to the plate and be a man about it. I mean, she’s a good, hard-working girl. She wants to succeed just like we do.”
Garrett looked into his face and said, “I hope you know what you’re doing to yourself, B. And you can talk that old-school, step-up-to-the-plate shit if you want, but that shit don’t work no more, yo. These new women wanna get paid. That’s why Gwen and I are signing a prenuptial agreement. We both understand what’s fair. And you already know, Gwen’s family has their own money. But what are you gettin’ involved in with this girl?”
It was more than just the alcohol talking. It was common sense to look before you leap. Queen Tillis was from a whole different side of the tracks than they were from, giving Bryant a lot more to think about.
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