by J. Jakee
I rolled my eyes. “Irregular periods aren’t always a pregnancy symptom.”
“Then, why are you seeing your doctor on Tuesday?”
I smirked. “For the same reason you want me out of the office - to cover my bases.”
He crooned, “Here we go…”
“You don’t give a damn if I was pregnant! If you cared you would be here--,” I spat.
“Lower your voice…,”
“—The only thing you care about is hiding soon-to-be Mrs. Travis Beaumont from the company, so that you could play around in your little playground.”
Trav huffed, “I’m only saying that I make enough to take care of the family.”
“And, what if I’m not pregnant?” I challenged, with folded arms.
“You don’t need to work, Nola. You don’t like work.”
“You’re a hoe.”
Frustrated with my jabs, Trav threw his hands in the air, slapped them on his head, and blew air from his puffed cheeks.
“Let’s be honest with ourselves for once, Nola. Okay?” He droned, “You don’t give a damn if I was with another woman.”
My lips parted, but I didn’t dare deny his accusation.
“All you care about is that sorority, and spending MY hard earned money,” he said smacking his chest and putting an emphasis on MY.
“My sorority loves me more than you do. My sorority appreciates me. Initially, no I never wanted your money.” Until you dangled it in my face. “I wanted you!”
Trav spoke calmly and confidently, as assholes usually do, when he said, “I’m a busy man, Nola. If you can’t handle it, there are a sea of women fishing to be in your shoes. I told you this before the first date.”
Of course you did, Asshole. “Had I known you were also busy with skanks, I would have never said ‘yes’ to dating you!” I yelled.
I wanted to crush Trav’s balls, so bad. Just grip them from underneath his apron. Instead, I snatched the bud of the rose from Trav’s hand and smeared its petals into the floor with the tips of my Louboutin bootie and stormed off.
“See, you’re being dramatic again, Nola!” Trav called to my back as I picked up my package from downstairs and headed towards our bedroom. “Get some rest. Take a nap. You’ll feel better afterwards,” he said sarcastically.
I slammed our door without saying another word.
CHAPTER 3
“Nola. You’re not pregnant. You have gonorrhea.”
Four hours later, Dr. Keller’s voice still haunted me. Those horrifying words replayed in my head over and over again as I pressed my head against my office window. Outside were shades of cyan and indigo. Downtown Philadelphia was twenty stories below, coated with yesterday’s snow. The temperature had to be under twenty degrees. The wind howled giving bundled-up pedestrians a beating with its wintry whip. The sun had seemingly taken a personal day off, tucking its beams beneath the puffy clouds. My heart felt colder than that January afternoon.
Gonorrhea
My saturated eyelashes barricaded tears that weren’t allowed to crawl. I took a deep breath and massaged my shoulders. You’re victor, not a victim! …my father would have said. I swallowed hard, smoothed down my pencil skirt, and then my 3ct diamond engagement ring flickered. The sight of it sent me in a rage. I could have broken my hand with how hard I pounded it against the thick glass... THUD! After THUD! After THUD!
I should have felt pain, but I was numb. No one heard my loud banging. Even if they could, most of them would have sat stationary, watching with their mouths foaming of malicious satisfaction. Thirsty for more gossip-tea to sip to go along with their daily cubicle prattle of how I “screwed my way to the top and was granted a promotion solely for being the CEO’s future wife” and how I “got my knees dirty to score such a fancy office.”
Gonorrhea.
It was a tough pill to swallow - the diagnosis and the antibiotic alike.
Dr. Keller’s eyebrows wrinkled with concern. “Do you have any idea how you contracted it? …I mean, aside from the obvious.”
“My fiancé did this,” I replied somberly. I was blindsided by the STD but not the cheating, of course.
A month after Trav proposed, he stopped coming home. On the mornings he returned, I would listen to his mendacious tales of how stressful traveling for work has become, and how he just wished he could stay home with me and cuddle. One night while he slept, there were several missed calls from a number stored under “L”. When I called “L” back, she disconnected after hearing my voice. Moments later “L” called and revealed that she was a customer service rep from the fourth floor of the firm. Yep. A basic, hourly paid telephone girl.
It was then that I read the GPS history on his phone and found hotels and restaurants, all of them within a 50 mile radius. A 50 mile radius! I immediately created a machination to marry him in spite of my findings, so I could eventually divorce him and snatch everything he owned or even dreamt about owning. I would make his family’s business mine. But game over by forfeiture.
This dirt-bag jeopardized my health, I thought to myself as my heart continued to freeze from the rage that was building up inside of me. After Dr. Keller broke the news to me at my appointment, I was flabbergasted and unable to think clearly.
“If you want, we can schedule an appointment now for you both to come in and get him tested,” Dr. Keller suggested.
I snatched my navy blue Chanel maxi handbag off of the examination table, and harshly replied, “His penis could rot and crumble to the ground.”
I let the trailing sound of my click-clacking Jimmy Choo heels drown out Dr. Keller’s voice as she called for me to come back.
“Nola…. Nola!”
I was so gone in my thoughts staring out of the window at nothing in particular, that I hadn’t noticed Marley had let herself in my office. She was carrying two plastic bags with platters of Pad Thai and Khao Pad. Dammit, I knew I would forget about Thai Tuesday this week. Anyway, it was something she made up months ago when she discovered we worked just a few blocks from each other.
Marley chirped from behind me, “It’s beautiful to view, but Lord knows it’s a monster to endure. That walk was brutal…Get over here. Let’s say grace!”
Before I turned around, I pasted on the biggest smile I could borrow for the next forty-five minutes and hid my problems in the back corners of my mind. I winced when Marley’s cold hands clasped tightly onto mine, awakening the pain I should have felt moments ago. Her cheeks were rouge, her nose and ear lobes were a winter-kissed pink, and the turquois knit scarf that I bought her for Christmas clung to her chin and neck. She was a pastor’s kid but not at all troubled like the stereotype holds. She rarely did anything without a prayer first.
Marley was a naturally beautiful young girl. She was pretty and book smart, which is why I didn’t mind having her around and being her mentor. However, she was also naturally plain, wearing only neutral colors and barely any makeup unless I coaxed her to add a bit here or there. If her hair wasn’t pulled up in that awful bun, then it was worn flat like it was that past Saturday, sweeping only the top of her shoulders. Since we were like the sisters that neither one of us had, on occasion I’d treat her to my stylist and doll her up with extensions that resembled my God-given and panache mane.
She dished out our lunch and without bothering to remove her coat, she plopped into the chair opposite of mine.
“Oh! And, please don’t get on me about my hair,” she begged, patting her messy bun. “It was a rough morning.”
Talk about it. “You get a pass today. At least there isn’t lint in it,” I said.
I reached into my drawer for a stack of napkins that she didn’t ask for as usual. She was a pretty girl, but she ate like a warthog. Marley grabbed the napkins and nearly knocked down a framed picture of my baby brother as she pulled her arm back. She was also clumsy.
“So, how’s the wedding planning?” was her typical conversation starter, but I hated that she asked today.
My eyes never left my plate as I murmured, “Fine.”
“Fine?” She dropped her fork and genuinely asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing worth mentioning,” I replied, trying to add more life to my voice.
Marley begged, “Aw come on, tell me.”
I would never.
I looked her in the eye - because for some odd reason, people thinks it’s impossible to lie looking directly at a person. It’s not hard to do at all when it’s practiced with your father who happens to be a prominent criminal defense attorney.
I told her, “Everything is good aside from a little bit of wedding jitters - normal stuff.”
“ Already? The wedding isn’t for another year… and a half,” she said as if she knew I was hiding something.
“The planning - I keep bumping heads with my coordinator. I need to fire her,” I lied.
Marley gave me a slow nod. Just as she parted her lips to probably badger me some more, there was a knock on the office door followed by the knob twisting.
It was Trav. Marley perked up at the sight of him. To her and to everyone as a matter of fact, he was perfect. He was tall, dark… very dark, comely, stylish - always clad in Boogi-Milano suits and Hermes ties – and fiscally successful. He was a bossed-up realtor who used to spoil me with attention and affection. He was the same knight who snatched my title of Intern and labeled me lead Marketing Coordinator for Beaumont Real Estate, the soon to be franchise.
Shortly after we began dating, Trav put me in his condo, a high-rise nestled in that famous big blue building that scrapes the central city sky. He supported my addiction to designer EVERYTHING, and he kept me for almost 3 years before he proposed. To most, we were a power couple, but in reality, only he had the power. Without him, I was simply a 28-year-old college graduate with mommy’s, daddy’s, and granddaddy’s money and a little bit of my own. To Marley, I was the epitome of where she wanted to be and who she wanted to become within nine years. However, she had no clue. None of my sorors had a clue.
Marley beamed and said, “We were just talking about you! Well, not you per se but the wedding.”
Trav nodded with effrontery, and I nearly spat fire. The sight of him boiled me.
“Marley could you excuse us for a minute?” I asked while rapidly tapping my fork against my plate as a method of anger containment.
As soon as Marley shut the door behind her, Trav opened his arms for an embrace. I tapped my fork and continued to pierce his with my icy stare.
He finally dropped his arms and said, “Well… what’s up? Are you pregnant or not?”
“No, I’m not, but I hope L and all these other women know how dirty you are.”
“Nola, let’s not do this here.”
Right then, my fork became a dart, and his head was the target. Unfortunately, he ducked. I leaped forward, reaching for Marley’s fork. Our platters crashed to the floor, and he raced over gripping both the fork and my wrist. He squeezed so hard that the veins in my hand rose.
“Have you lost your mind? Do you know what I could do to you?” he spoke through clenched teeth. “You’re lucky if I don’t choke the life out of you!”
I spit on him. A thick, gooey wad of phlegm smacked him in the area between his nose and the top of his lip. He jerked away almost slipping backwards on Pad Thai.
Trav seethed, “You nasty, cunt!” He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, “YOU’RE FIRED!”
He nearly knocked Marley down as he flew out of my office and charged down the hall. She was alarmed as she stood with her mouth wide open while she watched Trav disappear.
“What in the world just happened?!”
I grabbed my purse and my coat. “I’m driving you to your office.”
“Is everything ok?” Marley asked, still trying to make sense of the mess.
“Everything is perfect. Work just has him stressed.”
Marley’s eyes fell to the Pad Thai mess. She wailed, “But, what happened to my lunch?!”
CHAPTER 4
After I dropped Marley off, I spent the rest of the work day at my favorite Moroccan Restaurant smoking a hookah, stuffing my face with their signature appetizer, and sipping two dry martinis. By the time I got home, I was enervated from contemplating my next move. I had no job, yet somehow I needed to find a place to live, since living with a man whose face I just spit in would be tricky.
Sharron spoke, “Hey, Nola.”
Trying to avoid conversation and to keep her from spotting my disheveled appearance, I didn’t bother to make eye contact with her this time. With my fur opened, exposing my now untucked and halfway unbuttoned shirt, and my hair pulled into a sloppy high bun, I pressed the elevator button and looked down at my shoes.
I moaned, “Hey, Sharron.”
“I have your stuff,” she replied.
I threw my head back and groaned as I approached her desk, “I am so tired. I don’t even remember what I ordered. How big is it?”
I nearly tripped over garbage bags and boxes as I made my way over to her desk.
“Jees! Someone moving out?”
Sharron raised her eyebrow, and scratched her now wavy and burgundy wig. She spoke through clenched teeth. “Uh yeaaah… you?”
I felt my heart leap from my chest and crash to the floor somewhere in between the gigantic black trash bags. I heard her, but I didn’t hear her. When I asked her to repeat herself, it looked like Sharron’s lips moved in slow motion.
“All of this is your stuff,” she said.
I dropped my maxi handbag on her desk and frantically ripped through one of the bags. Dresses and suits were balled up but on a hanger. All of them were definitely mine. I untied another bag and found more of my clothes and some coats. I opened a box to discover some of my shoes and boots. There were six garbage bags and eight boxes total. My body burned, and my chest rose and fell rapidly. Then, my voice boomed through the lobby.
“THAT BASTARD!” I screeched.
Sharron flapped one hand, and raised a finger to “shhhh” me with the other.
“He has my Vera’s, House of CB, and Zimmerman dresses crammed in a garbage bag. IS HE CRAZY??!!” She didn’t have a chance to respond as I said, “Sharron, please watch my things while I run up and trash up his place!”
She buried her face in her hands and then dragged her hands down her face. “He changed the locks, Nola.”
If my eyes were bullets, her face would have been shot up. I snapped my head back, “What did you just say?”
“I saw him leave with a locksmith,” she said quietly.
***
I swapped my heels for my Ugg Boots and loaded my things into the Range. Sharron began helping me before I could even ask.
She stuffed the last bag onto the back seat and asked, “Are you okay?”
I said nothing.
She continued, “If this happened to me, I would have lost it.”
I quietly loaded a box into the trunk, then grumbled, “I’m fine.”
“Are you gonna cry?” she asked in a sincerely concerned tone.
“I don’t cry,” I replied frankly.
“You need to. It’s not good to hold pain inside. It’ll bubble over at the wrong time.”
I slammed the trunk shut. “If there were any truth to that, I would have combusted over twenty years ago.” I took Sharron’s hand. “Thanks for helping me. Here’s a tip.”
Sharron looked down at her hand. Her eyes nearly popped out of her face when she saw that she was holding onto my engagement ring.
She smacked her gums, stuck out her tongue. “You know Im’ma pawn this, right?”
***
“What do you mean your condo caught fire? Where are you?” Marley asked in a panic.
I calmly replied, “FeliciTEAs.”
“Your condo caught fire and you are sitting somewhere sipping tea?”
“I was shaken up and needed to calm my nerves. The good thing is that I was able to get my stuff…” I looked at my loaded SUV, through the la
rge window in front of me, “all…of my stuff.”
Marley sighed through the phone. “Yes. Glory to God. Where is Trav?”
“Trav is gone.”
Marley shrieked, “What?!”
I pulled my phone from my ear to protect my eardrums. “Calm down, child. He’s not gone as in death. Gone as in away… for a couple of months. Business. You know how that goes.”
Marley gasped, “Ooooooo. So that’s why he was so upset earlier. He’s gonna miss you!”
Yeah… sure… whatever. I sipped my cherry flavored green tea and slouched. FeliciTEAs was crowded as usual. It was packed with students, avid readers, writers, corporate folks, and anybody who needed free Wi-Fi and that country-styled living room feel. I loved it there and everything about it. The delicious yet becalming scent of premium teas, the multiple sofa and coffee table set-ups throughout the shop, the shelves and shelves of borrowed books along the wall, and the randomly, but maybe strategically, placed wall décor that read, “Welcome Home,” “Sip. Chat. Reminisce,” and “Love is Unmeasurable” which were all probably meant to make a store full of strangers feel like family.
Marley sighed again. “Sounds like you’re having a tough evening. If you need to stay with me for a while, you know you’re always welcome.”
Marley lived in an apartment out in Delaware, quite a distance from my parents. Although I’ve only been there twice, I knew staying with her wasn’t going to be an option. She lived like a freshmen college student with lights on in every room—even on a sunny day—mix match table and glassware, and clothing thrown every which way. No thanks! Plus, the thought of having to live with my mentee was depressing. She was my mentee - not a good look!
“Thanks, but I have it under control.”
“Yeah. I guess I am being silly. I’m sure Trav has a hotel booked for you already.”
I rolled my eyes and said, “You know Trav.”
“You are so blessed, Nola.”
I rolled my eyes again.