A Rehearsal for Love

by Alexandra Warren

  “And that was all it took?”

  She shrugged with a little smirk that grinded my gears, making me wonder if my initial thoughts were possible. “I guess so. I mean, I still have to go to the doctor to know for sure, but I took multiple at-home tests with Amerie and...”

  “Shit. Amerie knows about this and didn’t say anything?” I could hardly imagine Amerie being able to keep news like this to herself.

  But it made sense once Malia explained, “She promised me she wouldn’t. Not until I got a chance to talk to you myself.”

  I wasn’t sure how to feel. Of course I wanted to be thrilled, excited about the opportunity to bring a child into the world with someone I deeply cared about. But everything about the situation felt so… fast.

  Still I managed to ask, “So what’s next? What do we need to do? Make an appointment, start working on a nursery, sign up for Lamaze classes?”

  Malia bit her lip and I knew that meant trouble. But I certainly wasn’t expecting her to utter, “Actually, I… don’t know if I… wanna... keep it.”

  It felt like the blood had stopped running through my veins as I tried to process what she said. I mean, she couldn’t be serious, right? A pregnancy bomb was one thing; something we could work through, recover from and find the blessing in. But an abortion took things to Hiroshima levels.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? Since when is that even an option?”

  “Excuse me?”

  I sighed, trying to choose my words carefully yet again though I felt myself on the verge of a real explosion. And I could tell Malia was too as she waited for me to speak with an incredulous look on her face.

  “Malia, this isn’t your baby. It’s our baby. You can’t just up and get rid of it cause you’re not in the mood.”

  My intentions were never to hurt her feelings, but I could tell she was offended as she stood up from the bed to reply, “It’s my body, Blaise. Are you the one that has to carry it for nine months? Are you the one that has to put their career on what could be a permanent hold? You’ve had your career. You’ve done it all. Why can’t I have my turn?”

  I hopped up too, meeting her stance as I explained, “We’re talking about a human, Malia! Not a fuckin’ puppy. You don’t get to just pick and choose. I understand how that shit may have gone down with your ol’ dude, but that’s not how it’s gonna work with me.”

  I knew my words probably came across as harsh, but I refused to continue holding back on this. Though I didn’t know all the details of the situation Malia’s mother had spoke of, I could easily imagine some random guy filling Malia’s head up with a bunch of bullshit just to let her down in the end.

  But that wasn’t me.

  He wasn’t me.

  Still, Malia managed to be upset, crossing her arms over her chest as she replied, “You have got to be kidding me right now. Ol’ dude? You don’t know shit about my past!”

  “Well apparently I should’ve inquired...”

  I regretted my words the second they came out. But I didn’t get a chance to double back on them before Malia was already spewing, “Maybe you should’ve!”

  Her chest was heaving, I had a headache, and this shit was just… way out of hand. But regardless of any of that, the bottom line was…, “Malia, I’m not letting you get rid of our child and that’s final.”

  She tossed her hands up as she fired back, “Jesus Christ, you’re acting like I’m your child. You don’t get to tell me what to do with my body. This is my choice. My decision. Something you will never understand.”

  I really didn’t want to get in the game of pointing fingers, but…, “You’re the one that doesn’t understand. I mean, do you even hear yourself right now?”

  “Of course I do!” She yelled before storming out of the room. But I was right on her heels, questioning her with every step she took.

  “Why do you wanna do this? Do this to yourself? Do this to the baby? Do this to… us?”

  Her final destination ended up being the guest bedroom where she frantically snatched up the random clothes she had scattered across the room and stuffed them into her suitcase that was still mostly packed from the tour.

  All I could do was lean against the door frame and watch as she replied, “It’s not about what I want to do. It’s about what I have to do. I have goals, Blaise. Dreams. And this - a child, a family, you - that’s not the chapter I’m in right now.”

  “Well it sounds to me like you need to rewrite the fuckin’ book. Start a new draft. Get a second opinion.”

  She peeked up from her position bent over her suitcase with a look that reminded me of the one she had given her mother. One of irritation, disbelief, and... anger.

  “Why are you being such an asshole?!” She yelled as she zipped her suitcase and pulled it from the bed before dragging it past me out of the room.

  “Why are you treating this like an everyday occurrence? Or is this just what you do?”

  Shit.

  I shouldn’t have said that either.

  Malia froze in the middle of the living room, giving me a death stare as she replied with tightened eyes, “Just what I do? I can’t believe you!”

  “And I can’t believe you! I’m not gonna pretend like I don’t get it, but come on Malia. You have to recognize how irrational you’re being, right?” I was amazed that we could even be on such opposite ends of the spectrum; more specifically that I was the one lobbying to keep the baby and she was the one wanting to get rid of it.

  But apparently my question only made matters worse as Malia looked on the verge of tears when she replied, “Irrational? How am I being irrational? Because I don’t want to bring a child into my unstable world right now? I don’t even have a permanent place of residence, Blaise! I have nothing! I have no one! The only guaranteed thing I have right now is my career. And as fucked up as it is, I can’t have that and a baby at the same time. But you know what? That’s life. My life. Sacrifice after sacrifice. Give it all just to get something - anything - in return.” Then the tears really came. And as much as I wanted to comfort her, hold her, make her feel better, I could only stand there just… looking at her.

  So she made her way to the front door and stopped just short to add, “I don’t expect you to understand. But this… this isn’t about you, Blaise. This is about me.”

  “Malia…” I pleaded, not even sure what all I was begging for but knowing I didn’t want her to leave.

  Still, that wasn’t enough to stop her from pulling the door open and wiping her tears as she said, “Just… let it go, Blaise. Please. Just… let me go.”

  And then she was gone, landing the final blow to my heart as I watched the door shut behind her.

  &

  “You idiot! Do you know where she is? Is she alright? Does she have food? Ugh, I could kill you right now!”

  I pulled the phone away from my ear as Amerie went on and on about how much I had fucked up. And while I hadn’t understood my faults initially, the more she talked, the more it made sense.

  I was being selfish; thinking about myself and only myself instead of really considering Malia’s point of view which I now recognized as incredibly valid. I was a little older than her, more established, and had already exploited the gift of dance for my own personal advancement while Malia was just on the verge of her opportunity. Having a baby right now would certainly hinder that, even if the hindrance was short term.

  But still, I got it.

  I just wished I would’ve come to these conclusions before actually letting her leave to who knows where.

  I put the phone back to my ear just as Amerie was screaming, “Seriously, Blaise! What if she’s in a back alley, propping her legs up for someone’s burnt wire hanger? This is all your fault!”

  My face scrunched as I asked, “Back alley? Burnt wire hanger? Yo, what are you even talking about right now?”

  “You practically pushed her into getting an abortion!” She yelled.

  “What? How? I’m the on
e that forbid it.”

  “Which is exactly why she’s gonna do it. You can’t just go around tellin’ black women what they can and can’t do.”

  Though I knew there was a lot of truth to Amerie’s statement, I still had to defend myself. “But it was with good intention! I just… I want this baby, Amerie. And I want Malia. I want us. All of us. As a family.”

  She sighed in the phone, finally calming down to ask, “Well if you had to choose, which would it be? Malia or the baby?”

  “Both,” I answered without even thinking twice.

  “Blaise…”

  “Alright, fine. I’d choose Malia.” It almost didn’t even seem real to be thinking about life without her regardless of the fact that our relationship was so freshly defined. But she had engraved herself in my heart long before we even pursued anything.

  She was special.

  She was my light.

  And I wanted to stand in the sun, even if that meant we had to dim what, to me, felt like a brighter light in having a child together.

  “Well if you want her, you need to support her and her decision, even if you don’t agree with it.”

  The way Amerie spoke made everything sound so easy. But deep down, it still felt like the exact opposite; especially when I considered the lack of control I had over the situation just for being the man.

  “Why don’t I have a say in the livelihood of my child? Shits not even fair.”

  “It’s not. But it’s life, Blaise. Now you need to go find her and apologize.”

  I had already tried that route long before I reached out to Amerie, and…, “She’s not taking my calls.”

  Amerie only groaned, “Of course she isn’t.” Then the line went silent as we both thought of a new plan.

  “How about I give her a call, and then I’ll… pull you in on three-way?”

  This time it was me groaning as I replied, “Amerie, this isn’t middle school. What do you want me to do? Mute my phone?”

  She smacked her teeth and I could imagine the smug look on her face as she asked, “Do you wanna get her back or not?”

  As much as I didn’t want Amerie getting lodged in the middle of our situation, and as corny as I thought her little idea was, I knew going through her to get in touch with Malia was practically my only option. Well, it was either that or hire a real search party.

  “Alright, Amerie. Just… don’t make it obvious, alright?”

  “Shut up, Blaise. Now hold on a minute.”

  I listened as she clicked over and her line went back silent for a moment. In my head, I started going over everything I wanted to say to Malia. The plan was to get all of the information I could of her whereabouts while also admitting my fault, give her a proper apology, and then decide on a course of action for the future because our future together wasn’t something I was leaving up for debate.

  We had to be together.

  And I planned on doing everything in my power to make sure that would happen, even if it didn’t happen by the end of our conversation.

  It seemed like I was waiting for forever by the time Amerie finally clicked back over just to say, “She didn’t answer.”

  “Fuck. Now what?” I asked as I ran a hand down my face, beyond exhausted with this situation.

  “Now you hit the ground. Maybe go talk to her friends, family…”

  I cut her off, almost embarrassed to say, “I don’t know her friends or family other than one of her co-workers who tried to hit on me and her mom who hates me.”

  “Well, damn. I don’t know what else to tell you then.”

  I let out an annoyed sigh. “Thanks for nothing, Amerie.”

  She smacked her teeth again as she replied, “It’s not my fault you decided to be a selfish asshole to the sweetest girl I’ve ever met in my damn life. I mean come on, Blaise. I can hardly imagine her raising her voice at you.”

  “Well she did. Pretty damn fluently too.”

  “And you deserved it. I wish she would’ve slapped your ass while she was at it.”

  “Anyway. If she calls you back, let me know, alright?” I could imagine Malia being more apt to return Amerie’s call long before she even thought about getting back to me.

  And Amerie rubbed that fact in my face as she replied, “Maybe. We’ll see.”

  I knew she was only teasing, pushing my buttons because she could. But I still felt the need to scold, “Amerie...”

  She let out a heavy breath. “Alright, alright. I got you, Blaise. And keep me posted on your end, please. I’m sure she’s fine, but I’d still like to actually hear it.”

  As much as I wanted to assure her that I would be able to report back sooner than later, I wasn’t so sure. Still I managed to offer Amerie a weak, “Will do.” Before hanging up the phone and brainstorming ways to get Malia back on my side.

  Malia

  I pretended that I was treating myself to some luxurious, spontaneous staycation as I slipped deeper into the lukewarm water of the jacuzzi tub, resting my head against the ledge and closing my eyes. But once they were shut, all the thoughts I had been avoiding came rushing to the forefront.

  Blaise and I arguing.

  Our baby.

  Dance.

  Missing out on dance because of the baby.

  Losing Blaise for not having the baby.

  It felt like I couldn’t win no matter which route I took. But as I looked at my options and began to weigh the pros and cons, there were certainly ways I could cut my losses.

  While getting an abortion would’ve allowed me to continue down the path towards my dance dreams right away, having the baby really just meant I’d have to work a little harder to get back on that path once he or she arrived. And I wouldn’t be doing it alone. Blaise was obviously ready and willing to be apart of the journey. I mean, what was the worse that could happen?

  I’d never actually get back in good enough shape to dance?

  I’d get paralyzed by the epidural?

  I’d… die?

  Shit.

  Get back to the pros.

  I lifted from the tub so that I could reach my phone and do some research about dancing during pregnancy while I soaked. But once I picked it up and turned on the screen, I was immediately hit with a slew of missed calls. I scrolled through my call log and noticed that while most of them were from Blaise as expected, there was one from Amerie that included a voicemail.

  “Hey, Malia. It’s Amerie. I was just calling to… check in on you; see how you’re doing. Give me a call when you can. Or a text. Or something. Please.”

  I glanced at the phone as if she was really on the line, trying to figure out why she sounded so worried. I suppose it had something to do with her being the only one other than Blaise who knew about my pregnancy. But her worry made me worried, so I quickly fired off a text.

  “Hey Amerie. I’m fine. Just relaxing. Thanks for checking on me. - Malia”

  Her reply almost came instantly. “OH MY GOD! Thank goodness! You had us worried sick, girl. - Amerie”

  Us?

  No wonder she sounded so worried in the voicemail!

  Blaise had already gotten to her.

  I could only imagine the version of our situation that he had shared with her, probably making me sound like some terrible person for even considering an abortion.

  Or maybe he hadn’t.

  Maybe he had finally come to his senses about it, and was ready to have a reasonable, unbiased discussion. Maybe I should return his call and…

  No, Malia.

  He was clear, he was stern, and there was obviously no changing his mind regardless of the fact that I was already beginning to change mine.

  &

  “Congratulations, Ms. Philips. It looks like you are indeed pregnant. Still relatively early too which is a good thing. That means we can get you the best care and resources if you do decide to go through with the pregnancy.”

  I sighed, smiling at the monitor that showed the faintest hint of flutters from the ba
by’s heartbeat.

  My baby.

  Scratch that; our baby.

  I still hadn’t talked to Blaise, but I knew he was getting updates on my wellbeing through Amerie even though she never admitted to actually being his informant.

  I didn’t care either way.

  Of course I wished he could be here, share this moment with me. I wished he could be holding my hand and asking the doctor questions that only a man would think to ask like if pregnancy sex was safe or not.

  I missed him.

  But I couldn’t forget his words, couldn’t forget his accusations, couldn’t forget how insensitive he had been. And that was plenty for me to get over his absence in the moment.

  “So, have you discussed options with the father? I understand that you two are not married.”

  I watched the doctor wipe the gel she had used for the ultrasound off of my stomach as I answered, “Correct. And we’ve… talked.”

  If I can even call it that...

  “Have you considered giving the baby up for adoption? There are many wonderful couples waiting for the exact blessing you’re carrying, Ms. Philips.”

  The question caught me completely off guard, but I was quickly reminded of my location; Planned Parenthood. It was their job to give me all the information, options, and alternatives possible so that I could make an informed decision. And while I wasn’t exactly a rookie at this particular process, I still understood protocol.

  “Uh… actually, I’m gonna keep it,” I answered, a lot less confidently than I imagined.

  It wasn’t that I wasn’t proud of the answer, or excited about bringing a healthy baby boy or girl into the world. I was just… afraid. Afraid of my incompetence. Afraid of regretting my decision later. Afraid of failing. But I couldn’t let that hold me back from the best thing that would ever happen to me. Sure, dance was important to me. Hell, it was everything to me.

  But a child…

  A child would be around long after I could no longer walk, let alone dance.

  The doctor’s face lit up as she said, “Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy to hear that, dear. Go ahead and get dressed, then we can chat about how we’re going to move forward. I’ll get you started on some prenatals today, and I have some awesome recommendations for OB-GYNs.” Then she left me in the room to change out of the gown back into my regular clothes.