Platinum

by Aliya S. King

  “Sit down,” Ras said.

  Josephine put her hands out to balance herself. She didn’t trust her body to let her walk across the room to the chair. But she couldn’t sit on the bed. If she let her body rest in that position—flat on her back on a hospital bed—she might never get up again. She had to sit in a chair like a normal, healthy person. Although she knew she was neither.

  Josephine smoothed down her hair with her hands, sat down in the fake leather club chair, and crossed her legs. Ras sat on the edge of the bed.

  “The father … her boyfriend … ,” Ras said.

  “I thought he wanted nothing to do with her.”

  “He had a change of heart.”

  Josephine stifled a scream and just looked at her hands folded neatly in her lap. Those thin ivory hands, no scars on them, perfectly manicured, understated gold jewelry. They were not the hands that belonged to someone who felt the way Josephine did. She’d never understood until that moment how her great-grandmother had been able to kill a chicken with her bare hands in D.R. Now she knew.

  She wanted to slice her skin and make herself bleed, turn herself inside out, rotate her head three hundred and sixty degrees. Anything to frighten people into paying attention to her. Something to make them feel as hollow and empty as she felt inside.

  Ras coughed into his hand and then threw his head back, tossing his dreadlocks behind his back with care.

  “He got an apartment in Boston, told her to have the baby and go back there.”

  “What is he doing in Boston?”

  “He’s going to Boston University in the fall. He got an apartment in between his school and Harvard so they could both go to school and take care of the baby.”

  “How do you know all of this?”

  Ras broke eye contact with his wife. “I spoke to him.”

  Josephine stood up and took one step toward Ras. “You did what?”

  “He called my cell phone right before you got here.”

  “You let him! You let him take my baby!?”

  “There was nothing I could do, Josephine.”

  Josephine’s face crumpled. “I just know I’m heartbroken, Ras. I’m just …”

  “Don’t worry, ma chérie, we will have a baby. I promise.”

  Ras folded her into his arms and hugged his wife as she cried. “I know, ma chérie,” he said, as his wife’s body vibrated from the racking sobs.

  “This is your fault,” Josephine whispered into the sleeve of Ras’s shirt. He didn’t hear her clearly and continued to rock her.

  “This is your fault, Ras,” she said again. Her husband just held her tighter. Finally she pulled back to look him in the eye. She could tell that he knew exactly what she meant.

  “Don’t, Josephine,” Ras pleaded, his patience wearing thin. “Please don’t.”

  “I’m not supposed to have children with you. We’re cursed. My grandmother cursed us. And Marasa, your twin, she’s cursed us as well.”

  “Don’t start this shit, Josephine! I know you are hurting right now. I am too. Let’s be there for each other. Don’t bring this up. Not now.”

  “Fuck you!” Josephine yelled, snatching her arms away from Ras. “You fell in love with her.”

  “I never loved her.”

  “You liar. You loved her so much. Your twin. Ever since, we haven’t been the same.”

  The tears coming down Josephine’s face were now hot and salty. Josephine put her hand to her throat. Bile crept up her throat and she swallowed it back down. “I have to sit down.”

  Ras held her side and eased her down into the chair.

  “I did love her.”

  Josephine’s jaw dropped. Her eyes widened and then she slowly lifted her hand to her mouth.

  Ras closed his eyes and breathed in deep. “Maybe I didn’t love her,” he said, shaking his head. “But I had some very strong feelings for her. No matter how many times I said I wasn’t dealing with her anymore … I kept going back. I have no reasons. No excuses. No explanations. It just …”

  “No, Ras … I don’t need to hear this.”

  “Yes. You do. You’ll never let this go until I do.”

  Josephine tried desperately to catch her breath, shaking her head vigorously.

  Ras kept speaking, his voice a dull monotone. “At first it was just lust. And the excitement of someone new. We were on the road, far away from home. You didn’t want to come out to those rinky-dink cities to see me.”

  “I tried!” Josephine shouted. “I tried to come—”

  “I would never have you backstage at some college student center in Kentucky. My wife? No. I wanted you relaxed. Comfortable and at home.”

  “So you could do your dirt.”

  Ras nodded. “So I could do my dirt. And the first time I had sex with her, I cried afterward. There was something there … And I will not stand here and deny it to you. I knew I would never ever leave you. Not while I was taking breath on this earth. But for a while … I wanted both of you.”

  Hearing Ras explain this, so simply and straightforwardly, dried Josephine’s eyes. She was still dead inside. She could feel the dull thump of her heart inside her chest, ticking like a clock counting down her last seconds of life. The pain of losing her child was still a white-hot membrane pulsing over her body. But the shame of Ras’s betrayal had vanished.

  “The baby … ,” she said, looking into her husband’s eyes.

  “A girl.”

  She beckoned Ras to her side and he joined her, rubbing her arms and brushing back her hair as Josephine moaned softly and silently shed tears that collected in the crook of his elbow.

  There was a firm knock on the door, but they both assumed the door was locked and ignored it. Not until the door began to push open did Ras leave his wife’s side and walk over, one hand extended, to keep the person from entering.

  “Who’s there?” he asked, turning his face toward Josephine, who was staring at the wall and mumbling to herself.

  “It’s Alex. I’m looking for Josephine.”

  “No. Not right now.”

  Josephine heard Alex’s voice and stirred. Something about Alex’s voice was calm and comforting to her ear.

  “It’s okay, mon chéri,” Josephine said. “Let her in.”

  Ras pointed to a corner of the hospital room and gave Alex a look that meant Stay right there. He walked over to his wife and bent down to put his mouth as close to her ear as possible.

  “It’s not a good time for you to talk to her, my love. We need to get home and you need to rest.”

  Josephine shook her head. She sat up and turned her head toward Alex.

  “You see?” she said. “You see what I mean? All the money in the world does not mean shit. Ras can play for the queen of bloody England. He can tour the world. I can live in a mansion the size of a small town. And where am I right now?”

  No one said a word.

  “Where am I right now? Losing my sanity in a hospital because a teenager just ran away with my baby. How is that fair?”

  Josephine looked at Alex as if she really wanted her to answer. When Alex didn’t say anything, Josephine just clucked her tongue and continued. “What do you know? You spend a few weeks in our world? You still don’t know anything. It’s not glamorous. It’s real life! It’s real fucking life and it’s deep and it’s depressing and it’s real.”

  Josephine watched as Alex began to look down at the floor.

  “Ask me something,” Josephine said, pointing to the notebook poking out of Alex’s bag.

  Alex looked up. “Josephine, no. I honestly just came here because—”

  “Ask me something for your story. Here I am. Big juicy exclusive. Josephine Bennett speaks, on the evening of the most traumatic day of her life!”

  Josephine’s voice was just high-pitched enough to worry both Ras and Alex.

  “My wife is not well,” Ras said in a whisper. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Alex stood up.


  “You sit,” Josephine said. “I want to talk! I want to be interviewed about my awesome, glamorous life. Doesn’t it look outrageous!” she screamed. “Doesn’t it, Alex? Don’t you wish you could be me?”

  “I think I should go,” Alex said, knowing Josephine wasn’t listening to her.

  “Wait. Here’s a quote for your story: I wish I was flat broke. Living with my husband on the top floor of his parents’ home. I wish he still played guitar in Times Square for change. And I wish he’d never met Cleo and never got signed to a major label. I wish we had nothing but each other. I would trade every diamond I own, every home, every article of clothing, and every stupid fucking car to have our simple life back. All I would ask for is to be a mother. That is all. Write that down in your story.”

  Josephine closed her mouth. She wouldn’t speak a single word for three weeks.

  DR. HAMILTON SNAPPED HER GLOVES OFF AND SIGHED. “NOT YET, Beth.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Not one centimeter.” Beth’s doctor turned her back and scribbled something onto her clipboard. “Any contractions you’re feeling are Braxton Hicks. It’s false labor. This baby’s not fully cooked yet.”

  “That’s impossible. I couldn’t even walk. I’ve been doubled over in pain. I even timed them. It was every six minutes and—”

  Dr. Hamilton pointed at the clock. “I’ve been in here for seventeen minutes and no contractions.”

  “They slowed down. But I thought—”

  Dr. Hamilton’s face softened and she put one hand on Beth’s leg. “Sweetie, it’s stress, plain and simple. Go home. Take a long warm bath and try to relax. Take a Tylenol PM if you need to.”

  Beth closed her eyes and laced her fingers over her chest. Dr. Hamilton watched her chest heave up and down.

  “Where’s your husband?” the doctor asked, trying to keep her voice light and noncommittal.

  Beth did not open her eyes. “On his way,” she said, in a voice that she knew betrayed her.

  “Good. He can take you home.”

  Beth didn’t respond.

  “You can’t go home alone. I won’t allow it.”

  “I told you Z is on his way.”

  Dr. Hamilton opened her mouth to speak and then changed her mind. Instead, she stabbed at her paperwork with a pen, hung the clipboard on the front of the bed, and walked to the door. “Call the service at any time if you are having timed contractions less than five minutes apart or your water breaks.”

  She walked out and Beth stayed on her back, her eyes shut tight. She did not want to be pregnant for even one more hour, much less one more day. And she thought for sure this morning when she woke up that today was the day. She’d even called Z and left a message for him at Eden’s Nest that he should come home as soon as he could. Dylan had called. She’d said she spoke to him and that he was working out in the clinic’s gym. She’d said she told Z to call Beth right away.

  A soft knock on the door made Beth open her eyes.

  Kipenzi stood in the doorway. “Can I come in?”

  Beth nodded as her friend rushed to her side. “How did you know?” she asked, making room on her tiny bed for Kipenzi, who sat down next to her and grabbed her hand.

  Kipenzi jerked a thumb toward the door. “The nanny told Ian. Zander’s here too. He’s waiting outside.”

  “It was a false alarm.”

  “A what?” Kipenzi stood up and put her hands on her hips. “You sneaky bitch. You just wanted me to come down here and see you.”

  Beth laughed out loud, then clutched her belly. “Stop, Penzi. Don’t play. I can’t …”

  “Can’t what? Laugh? Whatever. I can’t believe I thought you were really in labor.”

  “I really thought I was.”

  “So now what?”

  Beth began to sit up and Kipenzi helped pull her to a sitting position. “Now I go home.”

  “Did Z … ?”

  Beth locked eyes with Kipenzi. “He’s not here yet. But he’s coming. He’s doing really well, Kipenzi. Really well.”

  Kipenzi pressed her lips together tight and hugged Beth. “I heard me and Z on the radio on the way over here.”

  Beth smiled. “Me too. I love that shit. The baby moves like crazy every time it comes on.”

  “I’m doing a farewell show at the MTV Awards. I’m gonna ask Z to perform with me.”

  “That would be hot.”

  “Yeah. Might have my husband do a cut or two as well. Don’t want him to feel left out.”

  “Did you say Zander is here?” Beth asked. “Why didn’t he come in?”

  “He said he didn’t need to see all your business.”

  “How is Zander?” Beth asked. “I can’t get through to him.”

  “He came by my place a few days ago. Wanted to talk to his auntie Penzi about some things he’s going through. It’s all good.”

  “Bunny is knocked up.”

  “How’d you find out?”

  “You just told me.”

  “Aw, shit. Beth, Zander’s gonna kill me if he thinks I told you.”

  “Is he gonna take care of it?”

  “We’ve got it under control.”

  “And what else?”

  Kipenzi made a dismissive noise. “He’s fine, Beth. Worried about that stupid book that girl is writing.”

  “Dylan told me the chick who is ghostwriting the book is the same chick I’ve been talking to for the Vibe story.”

  “Who? Alex?”

  “Yeah, you know her?”

  “I just met her. She’s doing a story on Jake for the Times. She wanted to talk to me and Jake about Z and the tour and stuff.”

  “What happened? What did Jake say?”

  “Beth,” Kipenzi said, patting her friend’s leg. “Not now. I definitely don’t think you should talk to Alex anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  Kipenzi shrugged. “She’s helping to write a book about your husband cheating on you. That’s not reason enough?”

  “I don’t care about Cleo’s book. I care about this Vibe story.”

  “But why? Why do you care?”

  “Right. ’Cause what do I have to say?”

  Kipenzi dropped her shoulders and rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  “Y’know, I used to manage Z.”

  “No shit, Beth.”

  “Jake too. When they were both running around selling crack. And then spending the night in the studio. I was right there. I bagged their shit up in the morning, booked the studio time at night. A white girl from West Virginia was their backseat girl and manager while you were at finishing school or taking ballet or whatever.”

  “See. This is where it gets fucked up every time, Beth. I don’t go there with you. And I don’t know what your problem is. But I’m sick of it.”

  “I’m sick of you thinking that what I go through is not worthy of being discussed. I’m the one who told Z to put Jake on his first song. Without me your man wouldn’t have a career. I think people should know that. I want to speak. I know she’s gonna write whatever she wants to about me anyway.”

  “True.”

  “Might as well give her some facts.”

  “I haven’t found that to be a good strategy for dealing with the media.”

  “I just feel so …”

  “Invisible?”

  Beth looked up at Kipenzi and nodded.

  “I’m supposed to be one of the most recognizable celebrities in the world,” Kipenzi said. “There are about fifty people outside the hospital right now who are waiting for me to walk outside so they can take my picture.”

  Beth looked down at her lap.

  “And I can guarantee you there are some nurses giving quotes to some journalist right now, giving out confidential information on who you are and why I came to see you.”

  “I know.”

  “And I’m still invisible too.”

  “You are so not invisible—”

  “I’m not
? I don’t have to come into a restaurant twenty minutes before Jake and leave ten minutes after him? I don’t have to vacation with him as far as possible from the States so we can escape photographers with telephoto lenses? I don’t have to straight-up deny it when people ask me about him?”

  “No,” Beth said. “You don’t have to do any of those things. You choose to.”

  “I don’t choose to. Jake does. I don’t care anymore about who knows. But he thinks it’s best to continue the way we always have. Deny, deny, deny. It’s fucked up. But what am I supposed to do? Force him to tell Barbara Walters we’re married?”

  “My husband will tell everyone and anyone who asks that I’m his wife and that he loves me. Even the groupies he sleeps with.”

  “Which one of us has it better?” Kipenzi asked.

  Beth and Kipenzi stared at each other. “You do,” they said in unison.

  Kipenzi turned her head toward the door, where the sounds of a commotion seeped through. The door cracked open and Zander’s brown face poked through.

  “Come in here and give your mom a hug,” Kipenzi said. “She’s not having this late-ass baby yet.”

  Zander went over to his mother, bent down, and buried his face in her neck. Beth choked back tears and rubbed her oldest son’s back.

  “You want me to get Dylan to send a car to take us home?” Zander asked. Beth nodded. Zander took out his cell phone to make the call.

  “I better go, girl,” Kipenzi said. “They’re gonna have a red carpet leading from your door to some movie premiere in two minutes if I don’t leave.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Kipenzi leaned over Beth and kissed her on the forehead. “I love you, girl,” she said. “And if you need anything, call me.”

  Zander, sitting in a chair in the corner of the hospital room, read a text message. He waved his cell phone in his mother’s direction. “Daddy’s about to call you right now,” he said.

  As soon as Beth sat up, the phone at her bedside rang. “Z?”

  “You okay, baby?” Z asked.

  “Yeah. False alarm.”

  “I think I’m ready, Beth. I think I’m ready to come home.”

  “Don’t rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Saturday. I’m coming home on Saturday.”