“Thank you. It’s just a little dinner,” she said, waving her hand as if this wasn’t a big deal.
“Well, thank you for having us,” I said as King pulled out my chair for me. The perfect gentleman, making all the right moves. My prayer was that this would put a spark once again in our relationship. All I wanted was for King to not be so stressed and for us to get back to where we used to be.
“Well, look who’s here.” Mr. Stevens’s voice boomed throughout the room.
King stood up to greet his father, and after they hugged, Mr. Stevens leaned over and kissed me. “Welcome to our home, Heiress. It’s so good to have you here.” He pulled out the chair at the head of the table, then sat down.
“Where were you, Dad?”
Before Mr. Stevens could answer, Mrs. Stevens waved her hand. “You know where he was. In his man cave.” She pouted a bit, and I couldn’t tell whether she was playing with her husband or not.
Mr. Stevens laughed heartily. “Yes, my man cave, son.”
King had told me all about the man cave, his father’s studio, which was a large room behind the garage.
“Well, at least you joined us,” said Mrs. Stevens. “I thought I was going to have to send a search party out for you.”
“Don’t mind my wife, Heiress,” Mr. Stevens said as he laid his napkin on his lap. “She hasn’t come to grips with the fact that I still have a career and hers died ten years ago.”
An uncomfortable silence hung in the air for a moment, and I could tell that Mrs. Stevens was about to say something, but she held back.
“So what were you up to in there?” King asked his father.
I pretended that my focus was on Mr. Stevens, but really, I was watching King’s mother from the corner of my eye. She sat across from me with her lips pressed together, as if she was fighting to keep her words, or maybe a scream, inside.
This was so interesting. In the year that I’d been with King, we hadn’t been around his parents enough for me to have their family dynamics figured out. It was clear that they certainly weren’t like my parents, who were always so loving with each other. At first, I’d attributed that to the fact that the Stevenses had a lot of money and my parents were working class. But there was more to this. I could see that now.
After we all filled our plates and returned to the table, Mr. Stevens asked, “So, son, how’s that new project coming along? Feeling the heat yet?”
I’d heard this discussion between King and his father before. Almost every time we’d gotten together, his father said something that I knew made King feel just a bit insecure. If there was ever a time when King was not the confident actor, it was when his father started playing “whose career is bigger.”
This made me wonder even more what kind of family this was. There were times when it felt like Mr. Stevens did want his son to surpass his accomplishments. At the same time, it seemed he loved pointing out that King had not yet achieved that level.
“Let the boy eat before you start pulling out the measuring stick,” Mrs. Stevens interjected before King could respond.
If I were keeping score, I would’ve given that one to Mrs. Stevens. If I were cheering, I would’ve stood on my feet right now.
Instead, all I did was cut through my chicken breast and put a forkful of it in my mouth so that no one could ask me anything.
For the rest of the time, either we sat there in silence or the Stevenses exchanged sarcastic retorts. The battle was between Mr. and Mrs. Stevens; King and I were just caught in the cross fire.
While his parents bantered, King paid most of his attention to me. As his parents exchanged verbal jabs, King was being so sweet. He gazed into my eyes, kept whispering about how much he loved me, and kissed my cheek in between bites.
It was weird. In the middle of this hostile environment, I felt like King and I were on our first date. I relished every minute of it, not only because I enjoyed this attention, but because I had missed it too.
I had completely missed this man I’d fallen in love with a year ago, and I wanted to get on my knees and thank God for bringing him back to me. Maybe it was because he saw his parents and he didn’t want to be like them. Whatever it was, I was thrilled to have King back.
After dinner, when his father asked him to go to the studio, I hated to see King go.
“You gonna be all right, baby?” King asked me.
But Mrs. Stevens answered for me. “Of course she’ll be fine. She’ll be with me.” With her hands, she scooted King away and then led me to her music room, where Anna served us tea.
I had never been alone with Mrs. Stevens, and I didn’t know what to expect. For a moment, I wondered if this was a setup. Had King set this up so that I could spend time with his mother?
As soon as Anna left us alone, Mrs. Stevens said, “The two of you seem happy.”
There it was again. The chance to tell Mrs. Stevens what was going on. But after this dinner, was there really anything to tell?
I carefully calculated my answer. “I love your son. We’ve had quite a year.” I took a sip of my tea, hoping that was enough for her.
“Dating King must be very different.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well, he’s certainly not your average guy.”
I nodded. “That’s true. It does take time to get used to it. I’m still trying to get adjusted to the attention from the media and the fans when we go out. And then there’s all the demands that come with the territory. Plus, I know it’s stressful for him, so I just want to make his life as easy as I can.”
Mrs. Stevens slowly lowered her cup onto the table. When she sat up and stared at me, I could tell that this conversation was about to get real deep.
She was silent for a while, as if she was contemplating exactly what she wanted to say. “You know, besides Marlaina, you’re the only girl that King’s ever introduced to me and his father.”
I didn’t know what I was supposed to say to that, so I just smiled.
She continued, “So, because of that and because I really like you, I’m going to let you in on a little secret.”
That made me smile. As close as I was with my parents, I’d always hoped that the parents of the man I married would love me like a daughter. King and I weren’t anywhere near ready to get married, and Mrs. Stevens had said she liked me, not loved me. Nevertheless, this was a good start.
“To be a Stevens woman takes patience, understanding, and sacrifice. The men of this family can be passionate, to say the least. I guess that’s why most of them became actors. They need women like you and me in their lives to keep them grounded.” She paused, and the way she searched my face, I could tell that she was trying to figure out if I understood her point. “I’m guessing you already know, since you have been with King for a year, that this isn’t a cakewalk.”
This felt like my chance to say something, even if it was only something small. So I tested the waters with, “Yes, ma’am. King and I have had . . . our moments.”
With those words, the challenges of the past few months once again flashed through my mind, and again, I rubbed my arms. Then I took a deep breath. King had been so different tonight, and I felt like this was a real change.
Mrs. Stevens said, “Well, sometimes as women we have to put up with a lot to receive a lot.”
I didn’t respond, since I wasn’t sure if I believed it or not. So I just took another sip of tea.
“So does King know?”
I squinted. “Know about what?” I had no idea what she was talking about.
“About the baby,” she responded nonchalantly, like she had just asked about a puppy or something.
Now I was even more confused. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Stevens, but what baby?”
It was her turn to look like she was confused. Then she leaned back and laughed as if I’d just told a joke. “Oh dear, you must know that you’re pregnant. It’s written all over you.”
Pregnant? Me? I had no kind of vibe I was g
iving off. What was she talking about when she said it was written all over me? But one thing was for sure.... I was not pregnant. I didn’t want to be pregnant. I wasn’t ready for kids.... Heck, I didn’t even know if I wanted to have babies. Right now all I wanted was for me and King to get back on even ground.
“I guess you really didn’t know,” she said.
I shook my head. “No, Mrs. Stevens, I’m sorry. But I’m not pregnant. King and I aren’t even trying to have a baby.”
She nodded. “Yes, you are. I have a sixth sense about these things.”
I wasn’t going to sit here and argue with her. I wasn’t going to tell her that there was no way . . . except . . . I began to think of the feelings I’d been having. And the throwing up. When was the last time I had my period? I tried to recall.
“If I were you,” Mrs. Stevens began, “I’d make an appointment with a doctor just to be sure before I said anything to King. Because if my son is anything like his father, he’ll want proof . . . that you’re pregnant and that it’s his.”
“That it’s his?” I said, almost insulted. Who else’s would it be?
Before I could say anything more, I heard King’s voice right before he and his father came into the music room.
“Hey, babe.” King kissed my cheek. “Are you ready to go?”
I was more than ready, and I nodded. After that little chat with his mother, I couldn’t leave fast enough.
“I have an early call in the morning,” he said to his mother.
I jumped out of my chair and went into the hall in search of Anna so that I could retrieve my shawl and purse and King’s coat without having to wait. I wanted to get out of that house as fast as I could.
King and his parents met me at the door, and we said our good-byes before King and I both made a dash toward the car. I didn’t know what had gone on with King and his father, but if it was anything like the talk I’d had with his mother, then I understood why he was running as fast as I was to escape.
Once we were in the car, King turned on the music. And though he held my hand when he could, most of the ride home was silent. I was fine with that; his mother had given me a lot to think about, a lot to figure out.
I took a sideways glance at King. What if I was pregnant? What would King say? What would we do? I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. I didn’t want to think about that. But, really, that was all that was on my mind.
Chapter 15
I felt as I was sitting on death row, ready to be executed. This was just the doctor’s office, but I swear, I felt like I was going to die.
I had never been a fan of doctors’ offices, but today was especially horrid. From the way the waiting room was packed with women, a couple with crying kids, to the way I’d had to wait for more than thirty minutes past my appointment time before I was called in. Then there was all the explaining, the prodding and the blood tests, which always came with long needles, which I hated.
Yup, this was death row for real.
I’d done everything I could to postpone this visit for as long as I could. But by week three of spending most of my time hugging the toilet, I figured it was time to face whatever had my stomach so upset.
Maybe this was nothing. Maybe this was just a stomach virus, and all I would need was some kind of antibiotic. At least that was my prayer.
I’d prayed to God all night for a stomach virus. That would certainly be way better than what Mrs. Stevens had told me.
I swung my legs over the edge of the examining table as I waited for the doctor to return.
“Please, God . . .”
Just as I started that prayer, Dr. Robertson and a nurse finally returned. He held an electronic tablet in his hand, and my first thought was that this was so cool. . . . The medical field was going digital.
For a moment, I focused on the doctor’s hands, wondering what kind of tablet he had. But I couldn’t keep my eyes away from the doctor’s gaze forever, and when I finally looked up, he spoke to me.
“All right, Ms. Montgomery. Your results are back.”
I held my breath and counted silently, One, two, three . . .
“It looks like you are indeed pregnant.”
Four, five, six . . .
“Congratulations,” the doctor said, with happiness just dripping in his tone.
Seven, eight, nine ... I didn’t know why I was counting. Maybe it was to keep my mind from accepting this truth. Because once I accepted it, I’d have to face the fact of how horrible it would be to be pregnant.
Ten!
I was going to stop counting there because no matter what, now I had to face this.
I asked, “Can you tell how far along?” I was surprised that question even came out of me. This was impressive; I was able to think when all I wanted to do was die.
“I can’t tell you that. Not until we do an ultrasound, but you’re at least eight weeks.” With a stylus, he began making notes on the tablet, and now my mind overwhelmed me with questions.
How was I going to tell King? Was he going to be happy about this? Would he ask me for proof, like his mother said? What about my parents? How was I going to tell them? Did I want to tell them? I didn’t even want this child, did I?
I felt like I was drowning in this uncertainty, and tears filled my eyes. It was clear.... I was in no way mentally or emotionally ready for a child. I was still learning how to be a woman and learning how to have a relationship with a man. There was no way to bring a child into this mix.
As soon as the first tear spilled from my eye, I lost it. I began to cry uncontrollably.
“Wait, Ms. Montgomery,” the doctor said as the nurse handed me a tissue. “I know it’s overwhelming, but everything will be okay.”
The nurse moved from behind him and came to the side of the examining table to comfort me. She rubbed my back, while the doctor sat on a small round stool and rolled right up to me.
He said, “So I take it that you’re not happy with this.”
I shook my head.
He paused. “Well, you’re very early in your first trimester. You have lots of options.”
Those words made me cry louder.
“No, no,” he said, as if he was upset that he’d made me more upset. “You don’t need to talk or think about any of that today. You have time. I just wanted you to know.”
I tried to gather myself. There was no need for me to be acting like this in front of this white man. This was a personal situation that I needed to handle myself. With King. Maybe.
The doctor said, “Go home, get some rest, talk it all over with your partner, and then you can decide what you want to do. All right?”
I nodded.
“The nurse is going to give you some things to read over,” he said as he scooted away from me before he stood. He nodded at her before he said, “Just give us a call when you make your decision, okay?”
I was able to squeak out an “Okay.” I took a deep breath, then added, “Thank you, Doctor Robertson.”
I waited until I was alone before I jumped down and put my jeans back on. I could have done this before. There was no need for me to stay undressed. But as I waited for this news, I just couldn’t move.
Well, there was no need to sit and pray now. The facts were the facts—I was pregnant.
As I walked out of the examination room, the nurse met me with three pamphlets.
“Read over these,” she said as she stuffed the pamphlets into my hands. “And then call us when you decide either way.”
“Should I make an appointment?”
“No, not yet, because we’ll need to know what you want to do.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “Just take your time, think it through, and then let us know.” She paused and looked me in my eyes. “Make sure you do what you have to do for yourself, okay? This is your decision,” she said, sounding so motherly. “No one else’s. Just yours.”
By the time I made my way to the parking lot and slid into the car, I expected a flood of tears to co
me. But nothing came.
Still, I sat there, not really wanting to go home. Not until I had thought this all the way through. I thought about calling Blair, but this was one thing that I couldn’t share with my best friend. Not until I talked to King. He deserved to know first.
As I sat and thought, my thoughts became clearer. Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe my being pregnant could bring King and me closer together. We hadn’t ever talked about having a family; we hadn’t even talked about getting married. But we could figure it out together, right?
King had just finished shooting, so at least the timing of this was good. He didn’t have the stress of the movie, and tonight we planned to celebrate our anniversary again, which was three weeks ago.
So that was what we were supposed to be doing tonight. And we would celebrate two things, I guess. At least we’d be able to sit down together and talk about what we wanted to do.
This was going to be about my approach . . . how I decided to break this news to King. So I started the car and sped over to the Santa Monica mall. As I got closer, I began to feel better and better about this. Why shouldn’t King and I have a baby? We were going to be together forever, right?
At the mall I was glad that at least one thing worked in my favor. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and so the mall was relatively empty. I was thankful for that, especially since I looked a mess. I didn’t usually go out of the house this way, but I’d been feeling so bad, and this morning it was all I could do to put on enough clothes to make it to the doctor. So my loose T-shirt and my Levi jeans were the very best that I could do. And the bun that I’d wrapped my hair in was totally a mess.
My mood changed when I came upon a baby store and walked inside. The feeling of motherhood hit me, and I was overwhelmed with the love that could be entering my life.
Maybe I can do this. Maybe I can be a mommy. Those were my thoughts as I wandered through the store, checking out the clothes, which looked like they could fit a doll. I strolled by the onesies and the bibs and the shoes and the pacifiers, the cribs and the strollers. This place was like a baby heaven.
I stopped in front of a display of unique baby rattles. This was it! This was what I wanted. This was what I needed to tell King that I was pregnant. I smiled as I held one of the rattles in my hand. I could see King and myself tonight as I presented him with this gift, wrapped, of course. And from there, we would decide what to do.
Strange Addiction Page 10