The Lover

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by Forrester, Nia


  The way he spoke and carried himself, the way he dressed and the concerns he had were so completely different from the guys she knew from her old neighborhood. He talked about visiting other countries, going to fine restaurants, the nuanced differences between luxury cars, and importance of well-tailored clothing. Ryann was enthralled.

  Much later, she would discover that Wade was only just learning about those things, just as she was. His beginnings were as humble as hers. The only difference between them was that he had a few years’ head-start. He was training himself to become part of the New Black Middle Class, so he would be ready to assume that place right around the time he collected his MBA. He was a poser.

  But Ryann didn’t know that then.

  “And it was serious,” Spencer said.

  Ryann shrugged. “I thought it was. We spent weekends together, we traveled together. Nowhere fancy, or too far away. Just to Florida, one time to Hilton Head. He was like a proper, grown-up boyfriend. My first.”

  Those days were good. There was no pretending they weren’t. Wade was into her, and she was into him. And together they scraped together their meager resources and explored, driving long hours in his beat-up car, to New York City, to North Carolina, to Philadelphia, to Chicago.

  They went to wine-tastings—there were always free ones in the neighborhood where Ryann’s university was located—and to outdoor concerts and street fairs. They wandered museums, and spent long hours in a nearby Barnes & Noble, reading and drinking tepid coffee, sharing a single, expensive sugary dessert, eating from the same fork.

  “I was with him for almost eighteen months when around the same time, I realized two things: one, I was pregnant; and two, he had been cheating on me with his study partner.”

  Her name was Jacqueline Rush. Even after all these years Ryann remembered the name. Because she had obsessively begun casing the GWU campus, trying to get a glimpse of the girl. This was only after Wade had confessed, and Ryann had pathetically told him she was willing to forgive him. But Wade didn’t want forgiveness; he wanted to be set free.

  “And so, we broke up,” Ryann said.

  She left out the most humiliating details, about how she had turned up at Wade’s to tell him about the pregnancy. It was to be her trump card. She was thinking that maybe that would sway him, change his mind about wanting to be with her. And she left out how Wade looked at her in horror and then, with something like anger, told her that she had to “take care of it” because a baby wasn’t something he could “help with.” Like the baby they’d made was a task, a chore, a problem. He even gave her the money to get it done, at the Planned Parenthood on 16th Street.

  “That’s it?” Spencer asked.

  “Yes,” Ryann lied. “That’s it. I told you. No big, dramatic story. He was a cheater and I was pregnant. And so there was no other choice. At least, there didn’t seem to be at the time. I didn’t feel like I could do it alone.”

  That true, but not the whole truth. Wade hadn’t left only because of Jacqueline Rush. There had been more. So much more. She had opened up to him, and let him in, in ways that she never thought she could with another person. She had told him things that she later wished she never had.

  When she learned that Wade and Jacqueline had gotten engaged, the grief had been debilitating. Men didn’t always get engaged because they met the love of their lives, Ryann knew. Even back then, she hadn’t been that much of a hopeless romantic. Sometimes, men married the woman they were with when they started thinking about marriage. She would have been that woman, had she not shared with Wade all the things she did. Jacqueline Rush had taken her spot. Or at least, that was what she believed at the time.

  “You know that you’re not going to have to do it alone this time, right?” Spencer asked.

  He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes fixed on hers. Ryann felt like crap for a moment, then reminded herself that she wasn’t lying to him, exactly. She was leaving out some things. But those things … they weren’t relevant anymore. They were in the past. No matter how much her mother tried to persuade her otherwise.

  “I know that,” she said. “I know I’m not alone.” But that felt like another lie.

  Spencer sighed and wiped a hand over his face. “You didn’t have to hide something like that from me.”

  He looked relieved, and Ryann knew it was because the story she’d told him about Wade was completely pedestrian. It had happened to a million women the world over. Pity it hadn’t happened that way for her. At least, not exactly.

  “Let’s get some sleep,” Spencer said, standing. “That’s if you don’t mind me staying.”

  “I don’t mind,” Ryann said quietly.

  She let him lead her up to bed, turning off the lights as they went. When they lay down in her darkened bedroom, it took only moments for Spencer to fall asleep. And why wouldn’t he? It was very late, and his conscience was clear.

  “You think I don’t notice how you been missing my calls lately?” Rick asked. “All of a sudden, it’s like you ain’t got time for a brotha no more.”

  “That’s not true. I still …”

  “When you coming down?”

  “I don’t … I thought you said you didn’t even like it when I come down,” Ryann said, trying to deflect. “That it was too humiliating and difficult. That you didn’t like me going through that.”

  “That your way of telling me you ain’t coming?”

  “No. I just … Of course I’ll come. I just have to figure out a good time.”

  “Well you just let me know, Ryann. Because I’ve got nothing but time. Y’know what I mean?”

  His laughter was mean-spirited and bitter, and Ryann felt a stab of guilt in her bottom of her gut. Her hands were sweaty, suddenly, and she wanted to end the call but she didn’t know how to say she wanted to end it.

  She was afraid of how Rick would react. And if she made up an excuse, he would know it was an excuse, and would call her out on it. Better to just run down the clock, and talk to him until the tinny voice interrupted, and told him their time was up.

  “So, how things with whatshisname?”

  “Good. We’re good,” Ryann said.

  “I bet he all geeked about the baby, huh?”

  “Yeah, he’s happy about the babies.”

  “Yup. I keep forgetting that. Two. Damn. Nigga knocked that shit outta the park on the first go ‘round, huh?”

  Putting a hand on the large mound at her middle, Ryann rubbed it, not knowing what to say. She didn’t like talking to her brother about the babies, and that was a surprise. She had always believed that if she one day succeeded in getting pregnant, his joy would mirror hers. He had always told her as much—that he wanted her to get married, and start a family. But now, whenever he talked about this pregnancy, and about Spencer, he was snide.

  “Not happy enough to marry you, though.”

  The way he said the words sounded like a jab, rather than an expression of concern. But Ryann decided to pretend it was the latter.

  “Rick, I’m not looking to get married to Spencer. We’re right where we need to be.”

  “That right?” he said. “Then I’m real happy for you, Ryann. Real happy.”

  He had been saying that quite a bit lately, and each time he said it, it sounded insincere.

  The voice broke in, announcing the remaining time they had.

  “Come see me next weekend,” Rick said.

  Swallowing hard, Ryann tried to think of something to say that would be neither agreement, nor refusal.

  “Next weekend, baby girl. Say it.”

  “Next weekend,” Ryann repeated, her voice almost robotic.

  “Good.” Rick sounded satisfied. “A’ight. Lemme let you go.”

  Yes, Ryann thought. Please. Let me go.

  “It just feels like such a mistake.”

  “Why?” Ivy asked softly.

  “Because. I don’t know. You don’t know my mother.”

  “Yeah. So I’ve been p
ointing out to you for the past month and a half now,” Ivy said dryly. “I still can’t believe that Spencer is about to meet her even before I do.”

  They were in the Tyson’s Center Mall, where for the first time, Ryann was permitting herself to look for real maternity wear. Ivy had finally convinced her that it wouldn’t be some kind of jinx to prepare for the successful birth of her babies. Browsing through the racks at A Pea in the Pod, they’d already scored several dresses and slacks suitable for work, and now had moved on to Motherhood Maternity for less expensive, casualwear.

  “I keep telling you, my mother is no bargain. I wish you’d believe me.”

  “I wish you’d let me judge for myself.”

  “Please don’t stress me out. It’s bad enough I have to contend with Spencer being over there tomorrow.”

  Ivy sighed, and moved away from Ryann and toward a pile of cotton shirts.

  Reaching into her bag, Ryann pulled out her phone and checked for messages. Nothing from Spencer. He was working today, even though it was a Saturday, because he was down one man, and because he wouldn’t be able to get as much work done now that the weather had cooled off. Jerrell, the guy who’d been his foreman on a couple of his sites was in rehab, detoxing from a drinking binge that could have resulted in a revocation of probation if he didn’t take care of it.

  The Coalition was footing the bill for a private, church-run facility because, Spencer said, Jerrell wasn’t someone he could afford to lose. He pretended it was all about business, but Ryann knew he took the successes and setbacks of every single one of his guys personally. She had teased him that even though he didn’t realize it, what he was doing was ministry.

  You’re your mother’s son after all, she said. Whether you like it or not.

  And he’d blushed. Spencer had actually blushed.

  Being tied up on job-sites all week long and into the weekend had left him little time to hang around the house with her, or to go to see his mother at his sister’s house. When Ryann saw him, he was preoccupied and stressed out, and when they spent the night under the same roof, there was precious little conversation, and even less in the way of lovemaking. Spencer was tired, and she still hadn’t cracked the Mystery of the Missing Orgasm, so neither of them went out of the way to get busy lately. They were beginning to feel like an old, married couple.

  Only now that he no longer had time to shower her with attention did Ryann realize how much she’d loved it. For weeks now, as she grew bigger and more ungainly, Ryann obsessively compared her pregnancy size to those of women on the internet who posted belly shots, she worried that she had gained too much weight. Maybe, she wasn’t sexy to Spencer anymore. Maybe the idea of sex with a pregnant woman was disgusting to him.

  Unaccustomed to feeling insecure about her appearance, Ryann decided that the shopping trip with Ivy was precisely what she needed. She wanted to be eye-catching again. And for sure, she didn’t want to wear anything that would prompt her mother’s criticism in front of Spencer when they went to see her the next day.

  Opening the messaging app, she typed out one word, and sent it to Spencer.

  Hey.

  When he didn’t respond right away, she shoved the phone back into her purse and went to see what Ivy was gathering up in her arms. She wasn’t going to last much longer in the mall. Her feet hurt, and her back ached and she was beginning to feel a little nauseated. Lucky her, there had been no morning sickness at all, and the only time she felt this way was when she needed to eat. The only problem was, lately, she needed to eat all the time.

  “I have enough shirts,” Ryann said testily when she saw what her friend had heaped into the shopping bag. “I need blouses. Cute stuff. Not that ugly button-down stuff.”

  “Button-downs are more practical,” Ivy explained, without looking at her. “When you have the babies and need to breastfeed, you won’t always be in a place where you can just hoist your blouse up. This way you can just undo a couple of buttons and keep it moving.”

  Ryann turned away from her friend, feeling silly. There was so much she didn’t know. Even Brittainy knew more about pregnancy than she did. Her assistant had no children of her own, but had two sisters with kids. She was the one who explained to Ryann that her swollen and itchy anus was perfectly normal. She still couldn’t even believe she had engaged in that level of over-sharing to begin with. But it had been that, or call Dr. Billingsley for the fifth time that week.

  “Oh my God, look at this halter dress,” Ivy said, from somewhere behind her. “It’s perfect.”

  Ryann looked. It was olive-green and had a satin sash-belt that would give it a little pop, and prevent it from looking frumpy. Ryann pictured it with her nude sandals, her toenails painted a complementary shade. Olive-green had always gone well with her complexion’s undertone.

  “I’m getting it for you,” Ivy said. “You’re going to look amazing in this.”

  Acting on a sudden rush of emotion, from God knew where, Ryann hugged her friend tight. “Thank you,” she said, with feeling. “You didn’t have to.”

  Ivy pulled back and shook her head, looking amused. “It’s only fifty-nine dollars, Ryann. It’s not like I’ll have to raid Jaden’s college fund.”

  They ate lunch at a restaurant inside the mall, and Ryann felt her mood improve once she was full, and had been off her feet for an hour. Laden down with bags, she and Ivy were making their way back to the parking garage when she heard her phone ring from deep inside her bag. By the time she fished it out, it had stopped ringing, and the screen showed that she had missed five calls, all from Spencer. Irrationally, Ryann felt her mood buoyed even further.

  Waiting until she was settled in the passenger seat of Ivy’s car to call him back, she realized she no longer needed to hear from him. All she wanted when she sent that text message was to know that he was thinking about her. Five calls had given her ample evidence of that, and now she would be fine if he continued with his work day, and just came by later, as usual.

  But, not wanting him to worry, she made the call anyway.

  “Couldn’t text you back,” he explained when he answered. “Had my hands full. You good? Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Fine. Just wanted to check in.”

  “Okay. Got some good shopping done?”

  “Yeah. And maternity wear is a racket, by the way. They charge way more for pregnant women’s stuff.”

  “More fabric, maybe?” Spencer offered.

  Ryann laughed. “They don’t charge more for women who are just full-figured, so no, I don’t think it has anything to do with the fabric.”

  “Ah, yeah, you’re probably right ….” Spencer sounded distracted, and in the background, Ryann heard hammering. “Anyway, whatever you spent, I got it.”

  “You do?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Of course. But look, I gotta …”

  “Okay, sure. I know you’re working. See you later?”

  “Yup. Later.”

  He hung up without waiting for her to respond and Ryann looked at the phone for a moment, feeling the unexpected sting of disappointment. Hadn’t she just been thinking that she didn’t need to speak to him?

  “What’s up?” Ivy asked from next to her. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. He’s busy. Couldn’t talk long.”

  Ivy said nothing for a few moments, concentrating on maneuvering into the long line of traffic leaving the garage. Then Ryann saw out of the corner of her eyes as her friend glanced in her direction. Once, twice, and then a third time.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Ivy said, her voice soothing. “It’s normal to feel like this when you’re pregnant.”

  “Feel like what?” Ryann tested.

  “Needy, and craving his attention. It’s par for the course. That’s how it is for women.”

  “And for men?”

  “They work their asses off,” Ivy shrugged. “That’s their way of nesting. Preparing to provide for their family.”

  Family.


  ~26~

  “She isn’t going to care, Spencer. Believe me.”

  “Maybe not. But I can’t see bringing her a cake from Shopper’s Food Warehouse.”

  “So we’re going to get a forty-dollar one from here?” Ryann shook her head in disbelief. “It’s a waste.”

  “Okay, it’s a waste. So humor me,” he said, heading in the direction of the bakery.

  Once Ryann had finally confirmed the date he was going to meet her mother, he made sure he worked overtime to clear the decks. Spencer wanted to be completely focused when he went to meet the woman who had produced the formidable Ryann Walker. First impressions were everything. So, bringing her a cut-rate cake made with crappy ingredients was not in the cards.

  He had been so focused that when he picked her up, he’d forgotten to tell Ryann just how damned good she looked in that long, green dress. Even now, with the protrusion of her pregnant belly, she was striking and turned more than a few heads. Walking into Whole Foods with her next to him made Spencer puff up with pride. He watched as women and men alike looked at Ryann, their eyes skimming her from head to toe, taking in her beauty, and then the belly.

  ‘Yeah,’ he thought, when their gazes eventually drifted over to him. ‘That’s right. My woman. My babies.’

  He’d taken her hand when they walked across the parking lot. But now, he was rushing a little ahead of her toward the cakes, not wanting to be even a minute late.

  “We’re only staying an hour,” Ryann said from behind him while he looked over the selections in the display case.

  “Yup.”

  “I mean it. She doesn’t like long visits anyway, so that should be more than enough.”

  “I heard you.”

  Exhaling deeply, as though she didn’t quite believe him, Ryann tapped him on the shoulder. “Going over to get some smoked salmon and mussels,” she said.

  After a few minutes trying to decide between a strawberry-and-cream, and a chocolate cake, Spencer settled on the chocolate and beckoned over the attendant, pointing out the one he wanted.

 

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