by Pamela Yaye
Dr. Fitz-Simmons’s hands were warm. She pressed gently on top of Yasmin’s abdomen, before making her way down to the pelvic bone. Digging into her coat pocket, she produced a tape measure and stretched it vertically. “Just as I suspected, you’re measuring almost eight weeks. It’s too soon to detect the baby’s heartbeat, but you’ll be able to hear it when I see you next month.” Dr. Fitz-Simmons gripped Yasmin’s elbow and helped her up. “Start taking prenatal vitamins immediately and make an appointment to see me in a few weeks.”
“Dr. Fitz-Simmons, are you sure? There’s an actual baby inside of me?”
The doctor laughed. “I’m positive. But don’t hesitate to call if you have any other questions or concerns. I like to make myself as accessible as possible to my patients, especially the pregnant ones.”
Yasmin was quiet. She remained on the examining table, too scared to move, too scared to speak. Shaking her head, she stared down at her stomach. I’m pregnant? The thought was too overwhelming to comprehend. Feelings of uncertainty, fear and regret swarmed her mind. “I had a glass of wine last week. I didn’t know I was…is my baby going to be okay?”
“Don’t worry. One glass of wine won’t harm the fetus but no more alcohol from now on.” Dr. Fitz-Simmons smiled. “Try to get some rest while you still can. You’re going to need it.”
Hours later, the full impact of Dr. Fitz-Simmons’s words still played in Yasmin’s mind. You’re pregnant…I’m pregnant, pregnant, pregnant…The words echoed in her head, challenging her, taunting her, reinforcing their truth. What would her friends and family say? The smile in her heart spread to her lips. Her parents would be overjoyed. Their first grandchild. Her mom would proclaim the pregnancy a miracle and call South Africa to share the good news with their extended family. The Ohaji clan would be walking on air for the next seven months. But how would Rashawn feel?
He was single. A carefree, laid-back bachelor not ready to start a family. Most twenty-seven-year-old guys were thinking about what clubs to go to, not changing diapers and burping a crying baby. Would he be angry? Would he resent her? Yasmin would have to make him understand. She hadn’t planned this.
Yasmin locked the front door, wandered into the living room and plopped down on the couch. She pressed her eyes shut and took a deep, cleansing breath. In the darkness of her mind, she saw Rashawn. Memories of the afternoon they had spent at Clearwater Beach brought a smile to her face. They had strolled along the shore, splashed in the pure blue water and fed each other fresh fruit. Happy thoughts were replaced with guarded ones. What if he rejected her and the baby? What if he didn’t want to be a father? What-ifs plagued her mind, intensifying her doubts. Shaking off feelings of despair, she hung her head and stretched her hands across her stomach. There was a living, moving being inside of her. A child who would one day call her Mom. Her eyes pooled with water and a lone tear trickled down her cheek. It had been months since she had prayed, but Yasmin needed guidance now more than ever.
“God, please take care of my baby. I know children are a gift from you and I am thankful and deeply honored you chose me to be a mother. Help me, God. I’m scared. And God, please help my baby to grow strong and healthy in my womb.”
Someone cleared their throat.
Yasmin’s eyes shot open. For a minute, she and Imani stared at each other, communicating silently with their eyes. Then, her sister’s face broke out into a radiant smile. “You’re pregnant?”
The words touched the deepest place in Yasmin’s heart. Overcome with a sudden sting of emotion, she nodded. “My doctor confirmed it this afternoon.”
Imani screamed. “Oh. My. God. I can’t believe it!” She chucked her jacket on the armchair and rushed to her sister’s side. “Have you told Mom and Dad? What did Rashawn say? Are you guys back together now? Oh, my God, I’m going to be an auntie!”
Yasmin laughed. She had never seen Imani so excited.
“This is amazing! You never thought you’d have children and now…now you’re pregnant. How in the world did this happen?”
Tears filled Yasmin’s eyes, clogging her throat. Coughing, she rubbed a hand over her belly. “I know. I’m still in shock myself.”
Imani bent down until her mouth was just inches away from Yasmin’s stomach. “Hi, Peanut. It’s your Auntie Imani. We’re going to be very close. I’m going to sneak you money and toys and candy when your mom’s not looking.” Her light, breezy tone grew serious. “I can’t wait to meet you, Peanut. Your mom used to push me around when I was a kid, so give her a nice, hard kick for me, okay? Bye, baby. I love you.”
Yasmin smiled through her tears. “That was beautiful, Imani. Well, except for the part about him kicking me!”
The sisters laughed.
Linking arms with Yasmin, Imani pulled her legs up onto the couch and tucked her feet under her bottom. “I bet Rashawn fainted when you told him! I could only imagine—”
“He doesn’t know. No one knows, except for you. Not even Mom and Dad.”
“What are you waiting for?” she pressed.
“The right time. I just found out, Imani. I need to figure out how I’m going to break the news to him.”
“Rashawn should have been the first to know. I know you guys haven’t spoken in a while, but you’re carrying his child.”
“So, I should call him up and say, ‘Hi, how are you? Oh, by the way, I’m eight weeks pregnant.’” Yasmin laughed dryly. “This is not the kind of thing you discuss over the phone.”
Rolling her eyes, Imani nudged her sister with her elbow. “I never said you should tell him over the phone. You know where he is. Go see him.”
“I’ll tell him when the time is right.”
“When will that be?”
“After my sixteen-week checkup.”
Imani gasped. “Sixteen weeks!”
“The possibility of having a miscarriage drops significantly in the second trimester. I don’t want to tell him about the baby until I’m sure everything’s okay.”
“Why?”
Yasmin answered without hesitation. “Early in my career, I counseled a couple struggling with infertility. It was causing a great deal of strain in their marriage and they were considering getting a divorce. But finally, after years of trying, they conceived with the help of in vitro fertilization. You could imagine how excited they were when they discovered they were having twins. They told all their friends and family and the husband took out a full-page ad in the newspaper announcing the pregnancy. At ten weeks, the wife miscarried. She was devastated. And her grief was compounded because she felt like the whole world knew.”
“Peanut will be just fine. And even if something were to happen, wouldn’t you want Rashawn to lean on? Wouldn’t you want to know he cared and loved the baby just as much as you do?”
Yasmin sighed deeply, the veracity of her sister’s words softening her heart. She hadn’t considered his feelings in all of this. It had never occurred to her that Rashawn might actually want the baby. He was a natural with kids and there was no doubt in her mind that he would be a terrific father. “You’re right. I should tell him.”
“Hopefully, the baby will help you guys find your way back to each other.”
She paused, drawing a short breath. “I doubt it. As long as he’s boxing, I won’t be a part of his life.”
“I think he’s starting to come around.”
“How do you know?”
“Dean and I had drinks with him last week.”
Yasmin’s mouth fell open. “You did? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Slipped my mind?”
“Try again, Imani.”
“I knew you’d get mad, so I didn’t say anything.” Her lips shaped into an apologetic smile. “You’ve been real moody ever since the breakup and I didn’t want to upset you. See, I was being considerate.”
“Thanks a lot. Thanks for taking his side.”
“Hey, I’m not the only one hanging out with him. Mom and Dad had him over for dinner on Sat
urday and Eli goes to the gym a couple times a week.”
“Are you serious? You guys have been seeing him behind my back?”
Imani chuckled. “You sound like a whiny teenage girl.”
“I’m not whining,” she said, pouting. “I have every right to feel betrayed. You’ve been keeping secrets from me.”
“It’s your fault. You picked a great guy who we all fell in love with.”
“Whatever.” Then, “Did he say anything about me?”
“Did he ever! He spent the whole night talking about you. On and on and on,” she explained, rolling her eyes in mock annoyance. “After two hours of his babble, Dean and I had enough and called it a night.”
“How is he doing? Is he okay?”
“Why don’t you come with us to his place on Friday. Then you could see how he’s doing for yourself.”
“You’re going to keep seeing him even though I don’t like it?”
“Just because you’re not dating him anymore doesn’t mean the rest of the family should kick him to the curb.” Smirking, she reached out and rubbed Yasmin’s stomach. “I hate to break it to you, Sis, but now that you’re pregnant with his baby, he’s in the family to stay!”
And deep down Yasmin knew she was right.
Chapter 25
“Jab! Jab! Uppercut!” Brody hollered, pounding the mat with his fist. “Attack! Attack! Attack! Go in for the kill, champ!”
Rashawn threw a left hook. His sparring partner stumbled back against the ropes. They traded punches, but the round belonged to Rashawn. He was stronger, faster and every punch hit its intended mark. Terrell bent his shoulders, hit Rashawn between the legs and when he fell to his knees, lifted his arms in victory. “Take that, bitch.” Terrell smirked, swaggering over to his corner. “I own this ring!”
Incensed, Rashawn leapt to his feet. When Terrell spun around, Rashawn punched him in the face. Blood oozed out of his nose, staining his white muscle shirt.
“What’s with the sucker punch?” Terrell yelled, touching his fingers to his nose. “What, you can’t take the heat?”
Brody stepped between the two fighters. “That’s enough for today, guys. I can’t have you killing each other days before a title match. It’s bad for business,” he joked.
Rashawn took out his mouthpiece. “I should kick your ass for that little stunt you pulled. Try it again and the medics will be carrying you outta here.”
“Bring it on, tough guy.” Terrell beckoned with his bloodstained hands. “These punk fighters might be scared of you, but I’m not. I’m from Harlem, son. We eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast!”
“I don’t make threats. I let my record speak for me,” Rashawn said, bending down and stepping through the ropes. “I’m out of here, Brody.”
Minutes later, Rashawn was strolling out of the front doors. Storm clouds sailed across the deep-blue sky but the air was warm.
“Champ, what was that about?” Brody demanded, following him outside. “You guys have sparred before. Why’d you let him get to you today?”
“Terrell’s dirty but he’s always crying foul.”
“Don’t sweat it.” He patted Rashawn’s back, a proud smile on his face. “You were looking good in there, champ. You ready for Garcia?”
“I was born ready.”
“You’ve got this. All you need to do is keep your eyes on the prize.”
“I’m straight.”
“You’re about to move into the big leagues, champ! This is gonna be the biggest payday of your career. “
Rashawn pitched an eyebrow. “It’s never been about the money, Brody. The first time I ever put on a pair of gloves I made a promise to myself. I was going to be the world champion no matter the cost.” He shrugged. “That’s what I’ve been working for all these years. What I’ve sacrified for. The money’s a bonus.”
“I hear you, champ. I hear you.”
Kori poked her head out the door. “Pops, the phone.”
“Don’t you see I’m talkin’? Who is it?”
“Mancinii. Said he has something to run by you.”
Brody had stars in his eyes. “Keep him on the line! I’ll be right there,” he gushed, his words rolled into one long sentence. “I gotta take this call. Come back inside when you’ve cooled down.”
“Naw, I’m done.”
“Done? But we still have weight training to do and—”
“I’m going home.” Rashawn pulled his car keys out of his pocket. “I’ll be in early tomorrow. I can work on my conditioning then.”
His face brightened. “That’s what I like to hear! All right. Take it easy.”
Forty-five minutes later, Rashawn pulled into the parking lot of A Better Way Counseling Services. He found an empty space behind a suburban truck. It eclipsed his Mustang but not his line of vision. He cut the engine and waited.
Any minute now Yasmin would emerge from the clinic, looking as gorgeous as ever. It didn’t matter where he was, every day at six o’clock, he drove over to her office to catch a glimpse of her. Seeing her lifted his spirits and reminded him of all the good times they had. The boat cruise. Feeding each other chocolate fondue. Making love on the balcony.
Rashawn rubbed a hand over his face. He had a very vivid picture in his mind of the night they had met. Yasmin had been a vision, positively stunning, a Nubian queen. And these days, he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing her face. It didn’t matter if he was lifting weights, shooting pool or at a club with the guys, she was there. Having her in his life had made him a more thoughtful, more loving man, and he’d finally discovered the power of true love. But as quickly as it came, it was gone.
His gaze fell on the clock. Yasmin was late, but he didn’t mind. She was worth the wait. The night she’d seduced him brought a lazy grin to his mouth. An image of her straddling him flashed in his head. Visions of her, wet, naked and aroused, tortured him. The memory would stay with him forever. Sucking on her nipples, using his fingers to stir her need, undressing her with his mouth. They had made slow, easy love that night. Swept up in the beauty of the moment, they had satisfied their desire for each other until sunrise. Rashawn knew he was a good lover, but it was Yasmin who had taught him the art of lovemaking. It wasn’t about duration or technique as he once had foolishly thought, it was about giving. The unselfish giving of yourself and not asking for anything in return.
He imagined himself at home, lying in bed with her, caressing her long legs. She would kiss him gently, then hungrily. They’d tear off each other’s clothes, their desire mounting with each kiss, each stroke, each touch. Before his thoughts could carry him away, he changed the channel in his mind. He was losing it. And that wasn’t cool.
Rashawn glanced around the parking lot and noticed that Yasmin’s SUV wasn’t parked in its usual place. In the eight months they had dated, she had never missed a day of work. Not even when he’d tried to bribe her with back rubs, foot massages and bubble baths. Where was she? The only way to find out was to go inside. He slid out of the car and stalked toward the clinic, his mind racing a thousand miles an hour.
He pushed open the door. His mouth gaped open when the woman behind the desk waved. Gone was the outrageous weave, heavy makeup and tight miniskirt. Niobie’s hair had been cut, she was wearing a conservative but stylish blazer and her face was free of the thick eyeliner and bold-red lipstick. Her transformation had shaved years off her appearance. “Niobie?”
“Hey, Rashawn. It’s been a long time. How have you been?”
“Obviously not as good as you! For a minute there, I didn’t recognize you.”
She smiled. “Thanks. I’ve been getting that a lot lately.”
“I bet. What happened? You finally marry an old sugar daddy?” he teased.
“No, nothing as scandalous as that.” It was, but Niobie wasn’t going to share the torrid details. It didn’t matter how many times her counselor told her it wasn’t her fault, she knew deep down it was. And according to Cecil Manning, she had b
een a willing participant that night. If Ms. Duke hadn’t produced pictures of her injuries and eyewitness reports from Dr. Ohaji and the night clerk at the hotel, he would have gotten off scot-free. But thanks to Ms. Duke, Cecil had made a large donation to a women’s shelter, promised to undergo counseling and had to compensate for her pain and suffering. It wasn’t enough to buy the mansion in the hills Niobie had always dreamed of, but it helped to change her life. One day she would have her palatial home with the Lexus out front, but she’d buy it herself.
The sound of Rashawn’s voice nudged her from her thoughts. “Come on, Niobie. Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“I had an awakening of sorts,” she explained. The memories of that night made her eyes water, but she swallowed her tears. “I, ah, came into some money and with the help of Dr. Ohaji, I got my act together. I enrolled in night school, paid off my debts and moved into a better neighborhood. And this is just the beginning. I’m going to be somebody one day, you just wait and see!”
“Go on, Niobie. I’m scared of you!”
They shared a laugh.
“Where’s the boss?” he asked, his gaze sliding to Yasmin’s office door. “I was in the neighborhood and figured I’d stop by to say hello.”
Now it was Niobie’s turn to make jokes. “In the neighborhood, huh? Well, neighbor, if you must know, Dr. Ohaji took the afternoon off.”
He tugged at his baseball cap. “How’s she been?”
“You mean besides missing you?”
“Yasmin misses me?” he asked, his voice lit with surprise. “I mean, that’s cool. We had some good times, you know?”
“You should give her a call.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
“I’ll think about it. I have a big fight coming up. I gotta stay focused.”
“I hear you, but you should try and hook up with her before you leave for Vegas. Dr. Ohaji would like that.”
He considered Niobie’s advice. Regular visits with her family made him feel close to her, but it wasn’t the same as being with her, talking with her, laughing with her. He missed watching her get dressed in the mornings, missed kissing her, missed the way she wrapped her arms around him while he was sleeping. Rashawn spoke with a smile. “I guess I could make some time for us to have lunch or something.”