by Kendra Riley
“Your phone.” Dr. Langston removed and cleaned the probe before giving her some privacy.
Russell’s new contact name, Don’t Answer, popped up on the screen.
“What do you want,” she sniped.
“Hello to you too.”
“I’m hanging up,” she threatened. As his breath flowed through the speaker, she imagined him combing his fingers through his hair, his tell for when he was stressed or upset.
“Look, I know we’re not on the best of terms right now, but I just wanted you to know I’m moving to New York.”
“What?” She cleared her throat. “I mean, for what?”
“The company is planning a big real estate move. I’m sure you don’t care about the details.” Another breath flowed through the phone. “I’ll let you go.”
“Wait,” she stopped him. “Come see me when you get here. We need to talk.”
Chapter8
Nariah sat on the other side of her parents and brother gauging their faces for any sort of reaction to what she had just told them. After a few minutes, she said, “Is anyone going to say anything?”
“Who’s the baby’s father?” Maxwell, her father questioned. “Why isn’t he here delivering this news with you?”
“I haven’t told him yet.”
“He must be one of those hip-hop thugs, otherwise you wouldn’t be ashamed to bring him here,” her mother, Tyra, opined.
“It’s not that Mama. He’s busy. He’s a successful businessman, actually.”
“Even more proof that he has no morals or values. He chose to let you tell us alone. Don’t expect anything different for the rest of your pregnancy or the baby’s life for that matter. Why did you take so long to tell us; you’re ten weeks.”
“I was afraid,” she made circular motions with her hands, “of this. All the judgement, I can barely stand to be in here.”
“It should be like that. I told you about having random sex—”
The word grated on Nariah’s ears. Sex and anything associated with it had been a taboo topic in her family’s house. Her parents never talked to her and her brother, Jacoby, about it, leaving them to learn from their friends, TV shows, movies, and their clueless health teachers. She ignored their questions asking for the specifics of how she came to be expecting, leaving the room to escape the barrage.
In the kitchen, she could hear them bickering about how much it would cost them to take care of their new grandchild, seeming to forget that she had the means to take care of the baby herself, even if she had to do it by herself.
“How you doing?” Jacoby assessed, wrapping her in a hug. “I don’t care what they say, I’m excited about being an uncle.”
“Thanks Jay. I’m alright, a little scared.”
“Who’s the lucky,” he looked in the direction of the living room, “unlucky father?”
Nariah swallowed hard, crossing her hands over her chest.
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “He’s not a hip-hop thug like Mom said, is he?”
“The opposite. He’s a billionaire.”
“What?!” The burning sensation from his skin twisting prompted him to drop his volume. “What!”
“You know who Russell Haines is?”
“The up and coming tech superstar, everybody knows who he is. He’s supposed to be building a new hotel out here or something last I heard. That’s great, sis.”
“You don’t care that he’s white?” she asked, looking at him for the first time since entering the kitchen.
“It’s 2017, nobody cares about that anymore. I don’t anyway. And it doesn’t matter if you love him.”
“How do you know I love him?”
“Because you wouldna let him put his pink dick in you if you didn’t.” He used his shoulder to block the onslaught of punches and slaps she unleashed. He ran around the island, using the refrigerator door as a shield. “Did it look weird?” He laughed, running around the island once more.
“Shut up. That is not funny.”
“It so is. You hate vanilla ice cream, whoda thought…”
“Shut up Jacoby.” She gave up on chasing him after he ran out of the kitchen. She felt her stomach beginning to knot, thinking her baby was twisting and turning. As she was looking for information about how to prepare tea, Jacoby bounded through the doorway, their parents trailing behind him.
“Mom and Dad have something to say to you.”
Maxwell stepped forward. “We want to apologize. Pregnancy is a hard thing to go through by yourself and your mother and I want you to know you have our full support.” He nudged his wife to add her bit.
“You’re my only daughter. I didn’t want this for you this way. I wanted you to be married and in love. But like your father said, we love you and we’re here to help you any way you need. I apologize if you felt like we were judging you.”
“That means a lot Mama, thank you. You’ll meet my baby’s dad, father soon. He’s coming to New York. He’s moving here actually,” Nariah informed them.
“I’ll make sure my guns are cleaned and polished.” Maxwell hugged her first, kissing her cheek. He held her face in his hands as he apologized once more, pressing his lips to her forehead.
Nariah breathed easier as the excitement of being grandparents overcame them. They suggested names, Tyra beginning to plan the baby shower. Before they went overboard, she expressed her wishes to keep the news quiet, at least until they met Russell. She kept his last name hidden for fear of their reaction given their previous one. After all, she was still wrapping her head around it herself.
###
Nariah spent the next two weeks in isolation, only leaving her house to work with her clients. She ignored Russell’s calls, in addition to Olivia’s and her parents, responding every once in a while to her brother’s text. Her stomach had grown, making her feel as she did when she was younger, memories of being bullied tormenting her. It didn’t help that the morning sickness seemed to be getting worse.
She had managed to fall asleep when her phone began ringing. It took every ounce of her self-control not to fling it against the wall. Olivia’s picture lit up the screen.
“Yes.” She held the phone away from her ear as an assortment of curses burst through it. When a gap of silence appeared, she voiced her displeasure. “You could have said hello first.”
“You coulda picked up the phone the other 30 times I called.”
“Stop being dramatic, you only called 20 times.”
“Not funny, Nariah.”
“Ooh, you must really be mad to call me by my government name.”
“I’m being serious right now.”
Nariah sat up at the seriousness in her voice. “What’s up? Are you okay?”
“Have you talked to Russell?”
“No, not since the ultrasound.” She followed Olivia’s instructions to turn her TV to the news, pinning the phone to her ear with her shoulder. “He’s not dead, is he?” Russell’s flawless features greeted her as soon as she reached the channel. She remained quiet, concentrating on the ticker at the bottom of the screen. Her heart threatened to stop as she read.
Tech giant Russell Haines’ past catches up with him as a woman claiming to be his mistress comes forward. Claims he is the father of her two-year-old son.
The announcement passed around four times before she blinked.
The phone slipped from her hand, Olivia’s voice fading as it landed in the sheets, disappearing as it got lost underneath her pillow. Her mouth hung open as her brain tried to rearrange reality. She forced it to connect all of his inconsistencies and unusual behaviors; the mysterious phone calls, the slip while rocking climbing, the sudden emergency that forced them to leave Florida.
Tired of crying, tears evaded her eyes. Heat stung the middle of her chest, her skin hot, sweat bubbling on her arms and forehead. Her mind and feet were numb as she walked toward the bathroom. She turned the shower to its hottest temperature. Steam engulfed the room in no time. The f
ire that was her anger protected her from water that otherwise would have burned her skin. She raked her fingers through her dripping locks, doing her best to straighten them; the first step in ridding herself of him. She scolded herself for not listening to her instincts.
Her hands fell to her stomach.
The action unlocked the plug in her eyes. There was no way she could escape him; no way she could escape an embarrassment she shouldn’t have to have been a part of. The water bouncing off the floor muffled her scream. She pressed her back against the wall, the tile quickly adjusting to her warmth. She slid down until the pebbled floor stopped her.
An indistinguishable amount of time passed before she turned the water off, remaining seated. Steam floated from her skin, evidence of the volcano billowing below the surface. The TV relayed the news, ensuring she knew she wasn’t dreaming. She paid no attention to the woman’s name or background, nor her version of how things had taken place.
She was too busy hating herself. Disgust made her tongue bitter, the taste inspiring a dry heave that she kept contained in her throat. The pain of her knees settling between the pebbles as she climbed to her feet was the only indication that she had the ability to feel. Forgoing drying off, she dragged herself into her bedroom and into bed.
Olivia was still on the phone when she found it. “I’m on the way.”
###
Olivia had arrived an hour earlier and hadn’t left Nariah’s side. She brushed her best friend’s hair out of her eyes before hugging her closer.
Nariah hadn’t said anything since she arrived, not having moved since she attempted to wash away the memory of his touch from her skin, his face from her mind.
“When’s the last time you ate?” Olivia asked.
“Yesterday.”
“I’m ordering Chinese.”
“I’m not hungry,” Nariah refused. “I’m not anything.”
“Stop being dramatic. This sucks, but it’s not the end of the world.” She could be heard repeating her order as she left the room for the kitchen.
Nariah hadn’t ever wanted a glass of wine so bad. She searched Google for the likelihood one glass would have any impact on her baby, the results favoring her craving. Olivia looked at her with bulging eyes as she poured a glass, her mouth dropping open as she lifted the glass to her mouth.
She snatched it. “What the hell?”
“It’s okay. I looked it up.”
“Don’t believe you. My nephew is not about to be reta—slower than normal because you’re feeling sorry for yourself.”
Nariah opened the bookmarked page before trading her phone for the glass. She inhaled the fruity scent as Olivia read. “Happy?”
“Alright, but no more after that glass,” she conceded.
“For this week.” She licked the remainder from her lips, savoring the last remnants of the potion. Though she did feel better, the drink sparked a craving for something sweet. “I need a favor.”
“Oh no, I know that voice. Whatever you want I’ll get it delivered.”
“Donuts from the Donut Plant,” Nariah rang. “I’ll pay.”
“I know you will. I’m getting two dozen. You know how I feel about the chocolate.”
Stomachs full, Olivia and Nariah lay in bed for the rest of the night tossing reasons back and forth about why men were no good and why they were done with them forever. Olivia disappeared into the living room, reappearing a second later, hiding something behind her back.
“Close your eyes.”
“Nope, don’t trust you. You could have a gun.”
“Maybe if you weren’t pregnant,” Olivia joked. “Seriously, close your eyes. And hold out your hands.”
When Nariah opened her eyes, a black leather journal rested in her palms.
“I know you don’t like talking about your feelings, tough ass, so I want you to carry that wherever you go. And write at least one thing every day.”
“You supposed to be my therapist now?”
“I charge by the hour. I’ll give you a discount since you’re my bestie and all.” She began stripping off her clothes as she made her way to the bathroom. “Is my extra pair of clothes still in the basket?”
“You have your own drawer now.”
Olivia poked her head out of the door, steam spilling into the room from behind her. “Guess I should move in huh?”
“Hell no. I don’t like you that much.”
“Love you too.”
Nariah turned the TV off, listening to the sounds of the loft; water slithering through the pipes, the squeaking ceiling fan, the neighbors arguing on the other side of the wall. She matched its breath, the connection grounding her, reminding her that she wasn’t alone. She opened the journal, a message waiting on the first page.
Dear Sis,
This will be quick. I know things haven’t been going your way, but I want you to know I’m here for you and always will be. I don’t care if we have different dads...and moms ;), but I’m closer to you than anyone I’ve ever met. You’re not alone in this. I can’t take his place or do some of the things he can do, but I can promise my presence. I love you Nariah, even when you’re being a stubborn hard ass! This journal is my ears when there are things you can’t tell me. It is my eyes when there are things you can’t show me. It’s me when you feel you can’t trust me with what you’re feeling, which I hope is never. You’ve been my best friend since the day we met. I hope I’ve been as good a friend to you as you’ve been to me.
Love Your sis,
Olivia
P.S. I was gonna get you a cool pen, but them shits is expensive. Maybe for Christmas lol
She turned to the next page, a stray tear landing in the corner. She started with the date.
Entry #1:
Mood: Numb
Title: The day I found out love isn’t real
Thought I met the man of my dreams. Turns out he was imaginary just like the visions of our future. Sucks when something doesn’t go as planned. Here I am, pregnant and alone, well Olivia’s here. I don’t know what I’d do without her. I shouldn’t have slept with Russell him. I won’t say or write his name again. Need to change his name in my contacts to No good fuck boy. That’s not nice, but it’s how I feel. I’m carrying his child.
Ink spread where her pen rested.
I’m gonna be a mom and it scares me. I never thought about having kids before. I never thought me and kids were compatible. We get along great when they don’t belong to me. Each time I rub my stomach…I don’t know. I guess I better get my head around it within the next seven months. Wow. Seven months and he’ll be here. Don’t know when I’m gonna tell Russell him. I won’t be like the baby mamas who keep the kids away from their dads because the relationship didn’t work out. But the relationship is over. I can’t deal with liars.
Another pause, another ink blot.
I just wish he would’ve been honest with me. Maybe we could have salvaged what we had.
Lesson learned: Listen to your instincts. They never lie.
She closed the book as Olivia reemerged from her cleansing.
“Have I ever told you how amazing your shower is?”
“Only every time you use it,” Nariah scoffed.
“Do you like it?” she asked, nodding to Nariah’s lap.
“Yeah, already made my first entry. I kinda feel better. She listened to Olivia’s rambling with one ear as she reread what she wrote, feeling the entry was an accurate depiction of her emotions at the moment.
Chapter9
Another two weeks flew by, Olivia using her paid time off to stay the first week, coming straight to the loft and spending the night the second week. Both Nariah’s stomach and appetite had grown, not to mention the randomness of her cravings. Her weird snack of the week, was pickles and ice cream. With her permission, Olivia served as an intermediary between she and Russell, relaying his pleads and her denials back and forth. It was closing in on the time that she needed to tell him about his child, his newest chi
ld, and get the truth about the news story. Some more damaging details were due to come out.
She picked at her nails, while the phone rang.
“Hello.”
Nariah double checked the caller ID to make sure she called the right person. “Russell?”
“I’m here.”
“You sound terrible. I mean, how are you?”
“Haven’t been out of the house in days,” he confessed. “Can’t get away from the paparazzi. How are you?”
“Definitely better than you.” His chuckle caught her off guard.
“Well I’m glad to hear that. That makes me feel a little better. Nariah, I’m—”
“Are you in town?” she asked, cutting him off.
“I will be this weekend. Why?”
“You’re not the only one who’s been keeping secrets. We need to talk when you get here.”
A rustling sound entered the background, the phone going silent. “I’m flying out tonight.”
“What about the company?” she questioned.
“I’m on administrative leave. There’s nothing for me here. Can you pick me up from the airport?”
It was four in the morning, an autumn chill nipping at her ears and neck. When she saw him coming, she slipped back into the car, putting the heat on full blast. Angie Stone and Dave Hollister were singing the ills about being over thirty and trying to date. The trunk slammed, the car shaking before he joined her.
Russell bopped his head to the sultry tune.
“Look at you, a white boy with rhythm,” she teased.
“I got black somewhere down the line. Who is this?”
“My girl Angie Stone and my man Dave Hollister.”
He pulled out his phone, singing the chorus between the letters he typed. A final thumb press was an exclamation point to his task. “Downloaded.”
“That’s another unspoken black rule: you don’t jack songs while in the presence of the person that introduced you to it.”