Jasmine

by Maggie Wells

  “Remember Eddie’s Christmas party?” I said.

  “Yeah?” Katrina said.

  “Good,” I said. “I’m glad you do, because I don’t remember a thing. I remember being in the pool with Eddie and the next morning I woke up in his bed. And then nine months later, this little one pops out. Surprise!” I didn’t mean to sound sarcastic. I loved Orchid with my whole heart. “That didn’t come out right.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Katrina said. “This is a big deal. It’s not really my place to ask but did you consider having an abortion?”

  “No,” I said. “I wasn’t raised that way.”

  “I get it,” Katrina said.

  “What happened that night?” I asked.

  “Do you remember the guy with the Bentley?” Katrina asked.

  “I remember the car,” I said. “But I don’t think I met the guy.”

  “You met him. He was passing out pills,” Katrina said. “Oxy or something. You weren’t the only one—a few girls passed out. The Bentley guy took a couple of the girls home with him.”

  “I took pills?” I asked.

  “No, you refused,” Katrina said. “I think you were actually trying to leave. You were getting out of the pool when Eddie took your glass. He must have slipped something into your drink.”

  ELEVEN

  “ARE THE OTHER GIRLS OKAY?” I ASKED. “ANY OTHER little bundles of joy show up recently?”

  Katrina laughed. “As far as I know, you’re the only casualty. But look what Santa brought you!” She snuggled her face in Orchid’s tummy. “I want one!”

  “How did you stay sober?” I asked. “Where were you in all of this?”

  “That’s just it,” Katrina said. “Eddie knows I’m eighteen months sober. I was sitting by the pool enjoying a ginger ale, watching the debacle unfold.”

  “How did I get upstairs?” I asked.

  “You were out cold,” Katrina said. “We didn’t want you to drown. Eddie bundled you in a big towel and we carried you up.”

  “We?” I asked, incredulous. “We?”

  “Look, you’re a big girl,” Katrina said. “How was I supposed to know that you weren’t using birth control? And maybe you were his girlfriend. What do I know?”

  “Girlfriend?”

  “Eddie has been with every girl in the show,” Katrina said. “Maybe you were his thing at the time. Whatever.”

  “You’ve slept with Eddie?” I asked. This conversation had become surreal.

  “Oh, c’mon,” Katrina said. “You knew that Eddie got around. He’s the reason I joined AA. That’s when I realized I had hit bottom.”

  “I’d heard rumors,” I said. “I can’t say that I knew that for a fact. Nobody warned me.”

  The waitress had delivered our order. I sipped my tea and contemplated this information.

  “What should I do now?” I asked.

  “Well, you could hit him with a paternity suit,” Katrina said. “You and Orchid would be set for life. You gotta admit, she has Eddie’s eyes.”

  Eddie had pale blue eyes—like a Siamese cat. Mine were hazel. Orchid definitely had his eyes.

  “Or you could just come in for an audition,” Katrina said. “See if he hires you back. I think you need to confront him.”

  “I can’t dance topless anymore,” I said. “My boobs are ruined.”

  “Just tell him that,” Katrina said. “Not that you’re ruined. Just that you don’t do nude anymore. See what he says.”

  Could I trust Katrina’s advice? She had helped Eddie carry me upstairs. If she were my friend, wouldn’t she have insisted on driving me home? Why would she want me to audition for Eddie? Maybe she enjoyed watching the “debacle unfold.” Maybe she wanted to watch Eddie squirm. Or maybe she wanted to watch him reject me.

  “Katrina, I need to know,” I said. “Did anyone else come upstairs with you—or after you? Is it possible that anybody else at the party could be Orchid’s father?”

  “You mean like a gang-rape, or something like that?” Katrina said. “No fucking way—Eddie isn’t good at sharing.”

  “You know, I gotta go,” I said. I dropped a five on the table and gathered up Orchid’s things.

  “Busy Mommy day?” Katrina asked.

  Okay, this chick was definitely not my friend. But she had confirmed for me that Eddie was definitely the father.

  “Dance class, auditions,” I said. “You know the drill.”

  “Call Eddie.” Those were her last words.

  I was not going to call Eddie. Not if he were the last man on earth. What if he wasn’t alone that night? What if he had invited other guys upstairs that night, and the paternity test came out negative? I wasn’t going to let him humiliate me that way. I’m a smart girl, I reminded myself. I can dance and cook and I’m great at math. Orchid and I would figure this out on our own.

  My bank balance was nearing zero, but I didn’t want to call Mom. She would just insist that I come home, tail between my legs, admitting defeat. I wasn’t ready for that. Every morning I got up and scoured Backstage.com, circling in red everything that I was remotely qualified for—dance teacher, paid extra. Most of the listings were for reality shows being shot in LA. I would barely qualify for TeenMom—hmmm, what about pitching them an idea: knocked-up showgirl? No! I would never submit Orchid to such humiliation.

  At least once a week, I saw something that looked promising and I would dash down to Mrs. Meacham’s apartment and beg her to watch Orchid for a few hours. She would resist but most days eventually capitulated to my promise of home cooking.

  Today was not one of those days.

  I saw the ad and thought, this is it!

  Wynn Theater is casting for its water ballet spectacular, Dream Sequence! Seeking male and female singers and dancers to join the cast of the hottest ticket in Las Vegas!

  I ran down the balcony and tapped on the door. “Mrs. Meacham are you home?” Tap, tap, tap. “Mrs. Meacham?” No answer. She had said something about visiting her daughter in Los Angeles. Shit!

  I gotta do this, I‘m gonna get this one. I was on the synchronized swim team in high school—we went to the nationals. I am perfect for this! I can do this!

  I ran back to my apartment and grabbed a diaper, lotion, and a clean onesie.

  “C’mon Orchid,” I cooed. “Let’s go baby. I know, I know,” I said to her protestations. “Help Mommy now. Let’s get you changed and ready.”

  Downstairs, I buckled Orchid into her car seat but she continued to whimper as we inched through traffic.

  “What is it, baby? “I asked. “You never fuss like this.”

  My mind was racing. Should I carry her in with me and ask someone to watch her while I auditioned? What if she started crying?

  “Don’t blow this for me, Orchid,” I said. “C’mon, settle down.” I started humming “Rock-A-Bye Baby” to see if I could coax her to sleep.

  Should I try to find someone on the hotel staff that would watch her for a couple of hours? I wondered if the Wynn offered a babysitting service for guests. What hadn’t I researched this before I had left the house?

  Finally we pulled into the parking garage of the Wynn. I wasn’t sure of my plan until I found myself navigating to an empty spot in a remote corner of the desolate third level and parked as far away from as I could from any other cars. This should be safe, I thought.

  “Here, baby, take your pacifier,” I said. “That’s a good girl. Mommy won’t be long. I’ll run in and kick ass and I’ll be right back.” I had checked the ambient temperature on the dash just before I turned the car off. Sixty-nine degrees. We’re in a parking garage—not in the sun. She’ll be okay, right? I laid a baby blanket over the car seat and covered her face. Any random busybody might look in and think that the car seat was empty.

  I glanced nervously around as I opened the door and saw nobody in sight. I gingerly closed the driver’s side door and stepped back. She was quiet—maybe she was nodding off at last. Then I clicked the lock butt
on on the remote. The car let out a loud beep, and she started to wail. I backed away from the car, hoping she would quiet down. I turned and ran toward the elevator. But I could still hear her crying.

  “What am I doing?” I said aloud. “I can’t do this.”

  I ran back to the car and unlocked the door. It felt really warm inside the car. Shit, I could have killed my baby. No job was worth that.

  “I’m so sorry, Orchid!” I unbuckled her from her car seat and opened my blouse to give her the nipple. She stopped crying and suckled loudly.

  I wept as I rocked her in my arms. Oh my baby, I thought. How could I have left you? What kind of a monster am I?

  “I think we need to go talk to your Daddy,” I said. I sat in the car and nursed Orchid until she was sated and had fallen asleep.

  TWELVE

  I WASN’T SURE HOW I WAS GOING TO GET TO EDDIE. IF I couldn’t get through backstage security at Bally’s I might have to go to his house.

  I parked at Bally’s and approached security. I was relieved to recognize the guard on duty.

  “José, how are you?” I smiled and waved.

  “Miss Jasmine, we haven’t seen you in a while,” he said.

  “Well, yes, I’ve been a little busy having a baby.” I turned sideways so he could see her face.

  “What a beauty,” he said. “Just like her Mommy.”

  “I have a meeting with Eddie,” I lied. “Is he in his office?”

  José checked the log. “Yes,” he said. “He should be. He hasn’t left the building.”

  “Thanks!” I said. “I don’t have my ID. Can you log me in as a visitor?”

  “Just need your photo ID,” José said. “And hers.”

  I must have registered a look of panic.

  “I’m kidding!” he said, laughing. “It’s good to see you. Are you coming back to work?”

  “I hope so,” I said. I handed him my driver’s license. “That’s what I’m here to speak with Eddie about.”

  “Well, you have a nice day,” José said, handing me back my license.

  My heart was in my throat as I entered the hallway to Eddie’s office. I stood outside his door practicing what I was going to say.

  Hey, would you like to meet your daughter? Or how about, What exactly happened the night of your Christmas party?

  Just then the door swung open and a man walked out. Early forties, wiry, well-dressed, I figured this must be Kent. He nearly plowed into us.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Kent said. “I didn’t see you there. Do you have a meeting with Eddie?”

  “Hi, I’m Jasmine,” I said. “I was in the show last winter. I wanted to pop in and say hi to Eddie.”

  “Sure,” he said. He poked his head inside Eddie’s office. “Eddie, Jasmine is here to see you.”

  Oh shit, I thought. Here we go.

  “Thanks,” I smiled at Kent as I walked through the doorway.

  “Close the door, please,” Eddie said to Kent. Kent shut the door and I stood there facing Eddie with Orchid strapped to my chest like a fortification for my heart.

  “Jazz, I’m surprised to see you,” Eddie said. “Have a seat.”

  I sat down on the couch and adjusted Orchid in her Baby Björn.

  “How can I help you?” Eddie asked.

  What do I do now? I thought. Ask for a job or ask for child support? Both?

  “Here’s the thing,” I said. “The last time I saw you, I had just woken up naked in your bed.”

  His expression was blank. What was wrong with this guy? Was he going to pretend the party never happened?

  “The Christmas party?” I asked. “Remember?”

  “Mm-hm,” he said.

  “Then Geri fired me in February, and right after that, I found out I was pregnant,” I said.

  “Congratulations,” he said.

  Obviously I needed to spell this out for him. “Eddie, I’m pretty sure she’s yours,” I said. “I haven’t been with anyone in three years and I’m assuming we had sex that night?” I don’t have the courage to use the word “rape,” I thought. I need his help. “Although I don’t remember anything after I got into the pool with you.”

  “Well, if you don’t remember anything, why do you assume we had sex?” he asked.

  Was he kidding? Did he need a lesson in the birds and the bees?

  “Let’s review,” I said. My voice took on an edge. “I woke up naked in your bed in December, I gave birth in September. I believe we had sex.”

  “How do you know she’s mine?” he asked.

  “Well, she has your eyes,” I said. “Which would be obvious to you except that she’s asleep and I’m not going to wake her up. Or we could just get a paternity test.”

  Eddie’s eyes narrowed. He took a long time to respond. “Sure, we can do that,” he said. “And if she is mine, I will file for full custody and I will win. You got pregnant while working as a topless dancer. You probably don’t have two nickels to rub together. What kind of home could you provide for her?”

  I hoped he couldn’t read the panic on my face. I had nearly abandoned my baby in a parking garage. Maybe it was even captured on the security camera. I would have gone to jail and they would have taken her away from me. He was right—what judge would rule that I was a fit parent? Man, this guy was good—of all the possible scenarios I had considered, I never figured he would threaten to take her away from me. I took a deep breath and decided to play the sympathy card.

  “Eddie, you’re right,” I said. “I need to get back to work so I can provide for her. Can you get me a job in the show?”

  “And we drop the paternity question?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said. I felt ashamed.

  “Talk to Kent,” Eddie said. “Maybe he’s looking for a temporary replacement. I’m not casting any new positions right now. Kent will know what’s available. Good to see you, dear. Best of luck.”

  I knew there was no point in talking to Kent. Eddie would never let him hire me back. The story might even get back to Katrina and the others that I had threatened Eddie with a paternity suit and he had countered with the threat of a custody suit. Shit, my name was surely going to be mud in this town.

  I was fighting back tears as I passed through security and waved to José.

  “Did you get to see Eddie?” José asked.

  “Yes, thanks,” I said.

  “Take care,” he said.

  I will take care, I thought. I will take care of you, Orchid. I will be the best mother that I know how to be. But how will I take care of you?

  When I got home I tucked Orchid into her crib and logged onto Facebook.

  My girls were all there.

  Aleecia: Kyle’s mom’s boyfriend threw him out of the house. Can you believe that?

  Luci: I believe it. My mom threw me out!

  Jasmine: Has anyone considered giving your baby up for adoption?

  Candace: My mom made me interview with an adoption agency

  Jasmine: And?

  Candace: The baby-daddy has to agree to the adoption. It’s complicated

  Jasmine: And what if the baby-daddy doesn’t want anything to do with the baby?

  Isabella: Maybe not so complicated, right?

  I logged off of Facebook and Googled adoption agencies. I discovered a website called AdoptionServices.org and filled out the “contact us” form. And then I waited.

  THIRTEEN

  THE NEXT MORNING THERE WAS A TEXT MESSAGE ON MY phone from a Dr. Victor Bergen: Call 800-943-0400 to schedule a confidential intake session. We will be happy to help you find a shelter, find financial, medical, and nutritional assistance programs, help you to find the perfect loving home for your child, or help you in some other way. Our primary concern is to make sure you and your baby are safe and healthy.

  I steeped a pot of herbal tea and re-read the text message several times. Then Orchid woke up and I changed, nursed, and bathed her before returning to my phone to read the message yet again. She was lying in her
playpen, gumming her stuffed bunny, when I placed the call.

  “Hello, how can we help you?” the voice said.

  “My name is Jasmine Walker,” I said. “I got a text from you.”

  “Hello, Jasmine. My name is Caroline,” the voice said. “Would you like to schedule an appointment to discuss our services?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Are you available to come in today?” Caroline asked. “Around two?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  I jotted down the address and put my phone down. I sat there for a long time watching Orchid gurgling and smiling, content with her toys and basking in the benevolent sun streaming through the window. The website said they offered financial assistance. All I really needed was someone to look after Orchid while I auditioned. I was glad I had placed the call.

  After Orchid had her nap, I bundled her into her car seat and headed across town to the address Caroline had given me. The office was on the second floor of a tan brick building behind a Methodist church. I parked in the visitor’s lot and buckled Orchid into her Baby Björn.

  “Let’s go, baby,” I said.

  Upstairs, I checked in with the receptionist.

  “I have an appointment with Caroline,” I said.

  “I’m Caroline,” the receptionist said. She stood to greet me. “You must be Jasmine. And who is this little one?”

  “Orchid,” I said.

  “How old?” Caroline asked.

  “Two months,” I said.

  “Perfect,” Caroline said. “Let me show you to the consultation room. Dr. Bergen will be with you shortly.”

  Perfect, I thought. What did she mean by that?

  The room was furnished with a round table and four chairs. In the middle of the table, there was a speaker phone, a box of Kleenex, and an electronic console. There was a large flat-screen TV on one wall and the other walls were decorated with paintings of children at play. I paced around the room, nervously.