by Xyla Turner
After explaining to the insurance company they made a mistake, they told me to call my doctor’s office since they were the one to have rendered the services.
When I called them they said, “Yeah, you came in three weeks ago to change your birth control.”
“Um, no I did not. Look at my records. I haven’t been on birth control in years,” I exclaimed.
“Ma’am, it clearly shows you were here. You saw Doctor Watson, and he even wrote a note saying he advised you not to change your birth control from Orthro to Yaz just because you saw a commercial.” The receptionist insisted.
What in the actual hell?
The only person who had been on Orthro, I knew, was Brittany. She’d been on it since she was a teenager because it helped with her acne.
“Miss…” I paused to wait for her name.
“Wheeler,” she provided.
“Great, Ms. Wheeler. Could you, by any chance, be referring to Brittany Wade?” I asked. “With two T’s.”
“Yes,” she replied hesitantly.
“I’m Bethany Wade,” I said. “Brittany’s mother.”
Silence met me on the phone.
“Hello?” I called.
“Yes, I’m uh, terribly sorry Mrs. Wade. Was looking at this because you gave me your insurance group number. Is she still covered under you?” Ms. Wheeler asked.
“Yes, she’s twenty-three,” I remarked.
“Ah, I see.” She seemed to calm down.
“The issue is my daughter is pregnant, so she can’t be on birth control?” I shared. “You’re saying she came in three weeks ago?”
This was the most confusing conversation I had in a while, and I was a damn lawyer. Weird conversations are my every day.
“Uh, let me have you speak to one of the doctors.” Ms. Wheeler rushed out and put me on hold with pop music playing in the background.
I paced around the living room as I waited for nearly three minutes before someone picked the line back up.
“Mrs. Wade,” a man’s voice called.
“Yes, this is Miss Wade,” I corrected.
“Right. I apologize for the mix-up with the files. Since your daughter is on your insurance, we can share some things that have happened on your insurance. No confidential conversations or anything like that. Do you understand?” he asked.
That was a smart way of dealing with not violating HIPPA laws by revealing a patient’s information.
“I understand, continue,” I tell him as my chest contracts and my blood pressure, I was sure had spiked.
“Brittany has been on Orthro for over ten years. She came in a few weeks ago because she wanted to change her method of protection. Against my recommendation, she decided to go with the new drug. She was given a pregnancy test and a thirty-day cycle to stop her current prescription and start the other,” he answered.
“Did you say, she took a pregnancy test?” I asked.
“Yes, we do not prescribe any form of birth control unless a pregnancy test is taken, and it’s negative,” he said as if I was a few fries missing from a value meal.
Holy shit.
A boulder settled in my stomach as it dawned on me the level of deception my daughter had weaved for me. Months.
She’d done this for months and I was none the wiser.
Her drinking and smoking flashed before my eyes. The damn roller coaster ride. I swore it was her but she would never do that, would she?
“Sir, please check the records again. Are you sure you’re referring to Brittany Wade with two T’s in her name. The last four digits of her social are 0098.” It was almost a plea.
“Yes, her date of birth is March third,” he confirmed. “Ma’am, I’m her doctor and I was the one to see Brittany.”
“Well, thank you, sir,” I replied. “I appreciate your help.”
“Good day,” he said and hung up.
My heart was racing as I grasped to comprehend why my daughter would carry on a charade like that. What was she going to do when she still continued not to show?
As quickly as unbelief set in, it was gone and replaced by anger. No… pure, unadulterated rage. Now, I knew why they say people see red when they become angry.
I stomped up the stairs, swung open the door to see a sleeping Brittany at three in the afternoon.
Ha.
She had the good life. Sit at home and do nothing but eat, drink and be merry all day.
Not anymore.
“Brittany, get up!” I roared. “Get your ass up!”
Her lanky body jumped up from under the covers and yelled, “What!”
Blinding rage coursed through my body.
“You’re not pregnant,” I yelled. “Are you?”
“I—I am,” she stuttered. “I’ve been going to the appointments.”
“I just got off the phone with the doctor’s office and they said you just switched birth control. You’ve been on the same one for years,” I said in the calmest voice I could muster up.
Her eyes went wide as she searched for answers out of thin air but none would come.
“I—uh, switched.” She grew confident in her lie. “There’s no crime for changing and wanting to be prepared.”
I nodded as I saw what type of conversation this would be.
“Brittany, in order to receive birth control, a pregnancy test is administered, and it must be negative. I’ve caught you drinking, smoking and I swear I saw you on a damn roller coaster. You’re not pregnant. You haven’t gained an inch and you flop around here like you don’t have a care in the world. So, just stop,” I told her. “Your game is up.”
Steel hit her eyes as she snapped, “Yeah, so what if I’m not? You didn’t want me having a kid, anyway. So, it’s a win-win.”
That was it.
Case closed.
She had nothing else to say.
“That’s all you have to say for yourself?” I asked for clarification.
“I mean, what?” My one and only child, well, young adult, asked in response to deceiving me for months.
I nodded again, and turned on my heels and went to my room. After turning on the computer, clicking around on a few websites, I called Bryce and shared, “Your daughter will be arriving at eight o’clock tonight. Please be at the EWR airport by then to retrieve her.”
I hung up the phone, grabbed a suitcase out the closet, proceeded to her room and began to empty her underwear drawers in the luggage bag.
“Mom, what are you doing?” Brittany exclaimed.
“Packing,” I said as I moved to her closet, grabbed jeans and shirts, tossing them in the bag as well.
“What!” she gasped. “How? Where am I going to go!”
“Don’t really know, but you’re leaving here,” I said calmly but my heart was racing as I held onto the handle of the carry on.
“You can’t do that.” Brittany was now standing up looking at me like a deer in headlights.
“Oh, dear.” I laughed with absolutely no humor. “That’s where you are wrong. I can damn sure do this. This is my house and everything in it belongs to me. That bed, hell, even these clothes. I have supported you for entirely too long and you treat me like a stranger on the street. I’m supposed to give and give while you take? Well, no more. I can kick you out. I am kicking you out because you are no longer welcome in my house. I booked a one-way ticket to New Jersey. Outside of that, you’re on your own.”
I closed the flap to the suitcase, zipped it up and put it on the floor.
“A cab will be here within the next twenty minutes,” I told her before I walked out her room with her luggage in tow. “Your father already knows.”
With that, I headed down stairs to wait.
Patiently, I waited downstairs as I prepared my dinner, poured a large glass of wine and sipped the contents, clutching the contents for dear life. I heard movement upstairs, but I remained in the kitchen.
After a few beeps of a horn, I yelled upstairs, “Brittany, your cab is here.”
&
nbsp; “You are not serious,” I heard her yell back. “Dad, do you hear her?”
At that time, my phone rang, and I was ready to hit deny, until I saw it was Cole.
“Hey, I can’t really talk now,” I answered with no greeting.
This must have sent him on alert. “What’s wrong?” his response made me calm him down.
“Nothing major… just trying to put my daughter in a taxi so she can go live with her father.”
“You can’t make me,” Brittany yelled. “I’m not going nowhere!”
“Then I’m calling the police to have your ungrateful ass removed,” I yelled back.
“Fuck, I’m on my way,” Cole exclaimed. “Bethany, calm down.”
“Oh, I’m calm. You don’t have to come, but she does need to go,” I responded. “I’m hanging up now, because I need to call the cops.”
I didn’t wait for him to answer, I simply hung up and called the police.
“Hello, I would like to have someone removed from my house,” I greeted them.
“Dad!” Brittany bellowed. “She called the cops on me. She’s lost her fucking mind.”
“Not yet,” I snapped back. “But if you stay here, I will.”
“Ma’am,” the police operator called. “What seems to be the problem?”
I took a deep breath and said slowly, “I’ve told my daughter she has to leave, she is refusing and I want her out of my house.” I emphasized, “Now.”
“How old is your daughter, Ma’am?” she asked.
“She is twenty-three.”
“Is she causing a disturbance or making threats? Harming anyone or holding someone hostage?” she countered.
“No, but I want her to leave,” I answered.
“Okay, ma’am. What is your daughter’s name?”
“Her name is Brittany Wade with two T’s,” I shared.
“Thank you. Units have been dispatched. Can you please stay on the line?” she asked.
“Sure, that would probably be best.” I had to agree with her suggestion because the quiet storm within me was on the brink of erupting.
Ten minutes later, Cole was knocking on the door and one look at me, he pulled me in for a hug. I almost laughed because it was one of those hugs I needed and did not even know. I held on tight even with the phone in my hand and we stayed there for a good five minutes.
“Angel, you alright?” he murmured against my hair.
“No,” I answered and nuzzled further into him.
Five minutes later, the police came and after explaining the situation to them, the two officers went upstairs to talk to her. Three minutes later, they descended with a crying Brittany who was in absolute disbelief about how her entire world was turned upside down.
“Mom, how could you do this?” she was sobbing. “I’m your only daughter.”
“Right,” I nodded. “However, somehow you felt abusing me was your job and I won’t take that from anybody.”
“I don’t wanna go,” she cried. “Please, Mommy.”
“Brittany, the sad part is I don’t want you to go, but I’m not sure how else you will learn. You can’t stay here. I have done all I can, but I am too old for this.” I shook my head. “I want the best for you, but you won’t find it here. I’m hoping you and your father can figure this out.”
She burst into tears and that made me cry too. I loved her with all my heart but the line between enabling her and supporting her had blurred along the way. Her help would not come from my catering to her every need.
Cole pulled me closer into him and ran his hand up and down my arm.
“It’s okay, Angel,” he coaxed. “It’s going to be okay.”
I nodded, but I knew it wouldn’t be okay just now. Maybe later, much later, but now, my daughter, whom I birthed, raised and who carried my last name. She was leaving, and that was not okay.
Chapter 10: Committed
Cole Magon
I knew Bethany was a ticking time bomb going through a lot of changes. I dare not mention anything about menopause. But, between retirement, Brittany, and even our new relationship, it was a lot of changes for any one person.
She called the cops and my woman was always calm, cool and collected. However, I think it stung more than she realized to see her only daughter deceive her for months. What sent her over the edge was the cavalier attitude.
I could tell that was the case when Bethany retold me the story. Each time she got to that part, her eyes would grow as big as saucers.
It was an intense scene but her enabling father could now be on the front lines instead of the sidelines, telling people how to play. Now, he would see first-hand, it’s not easy raising kids and it damn sure isn’t easy dealing with the aftermath of a spoiled child who continues to act like one.
My only hope was to be there and support Bethany through the transition. It was good we were going away that weekend because she needed to be out her house for at least a short while.
Later that evening, Bethany received a text from her ex-husband letting her know Brittany made it. There was no snark or even a hint of sarcasm. Just a simple, ‘I got her’.
For the first night, I slept over Bethany’s house and held her. Nothing sexual but definitely intimate. The next morning, I had breakfast delivered and served it to her in bed. As I figured, she’d be a little out of it but Bethany would be okay.
We parted ways, and I was on my way to yoga when I received the call from one of Bethany’s partners, Mr. Adrian Comer. He shared that the partners unanimously voted to donate the necessary monies to my non-profit. After exclaiming my gratitude about their decisions, I told him I would have the information sent over right away. Then he said something that made me almost stop in my tracks.
“Do you talk to Bethany about her upcoming retirement?” Comer asked.
“Yes, we’ve discussed it,” I said. “Why?”
“Oh, nothing. Nothing,” he said. “We just wanted to gauge where she is with everything. We want her to be a partner but she’s made no indication she is interested. She would be an excellent candidate but the jury is out on whether she would. Has she mentioned anything like that?” he asked.
“Adrian, has anyone asked Bethany to be a partner?” I asked instead of answering his question.
“Well, no. We haven’t, but we like to be sure they will become a partner if we ask if that makes any sense.” He paused, then shared, “If Bethany left, we’d lose a lot of clients, which means a lot of money. That impacts the money we can give away. You get my point. I didn’t mean to keep you but just send that information over and we’ll get started. Have a good day.”
Then the phone went dead.
Son of a bitch.
He thought I would use pillow talk to persuade Bethany to do… what exactly? All this cloaked in a vague threat.
Fuck that.
***
When I arrived to get Bethany, so we could catch our flight to Colorado, she hopped in the car, beaming from cheek to cheek.
“What?” I exclaimed, finding myself smiling too.
“They asked me to become a partner!” Bethany squealed. “Can you believe it? Oh my gosh, I cannot believe it. I heard talk of it but that was just from Curtis. They pulled me into the office and asked me and oh my freaking goodness, Cole. What!”
She was bouncing around the car, causing it to shake and I kept my smile plastered on my face because I didn’t have the balls to tell her those fucking assholes were playing her.
“That is fucking great, Angel.” I kissed her on the lips. “Wow!”
“Yes, I can’t believe it, Cole. I’ve worked there for over twenty years and no one has ever mentioned anything about being a partner. Like, not one thing and now, three months before I retire. They offer it to me. It’s a whole damn process but imagine this.” She stops and frame her hands in front of her. “Shield, Comer, Delgado and Wade.”
Her eyes were so big, then Bethany squealed again, “Ahhhh, that sounds so good.”
Fuck.
After collecting her stuff, from her place, we drove to the airport and then made it to my property, all while discussing the options of her being a partner. It wasn’t until we had settled into the fire place -heated house with the threat of snow to cover the ground outside that evening, that I finally asked the question.
“Have you thought about starting your own practice?”
This stopped Bethany in mid-scoop of her beef stew, when she said, “Well, not really. I thought about it some years ago but I was looking forward to retirement. You know. Traveling. Seeing the world. I guess, I’m caught up with the idea of being an actual partner in a place that has basically been home for me, for over twenty years of my life,” she scoffed. “I am literally a ‘started from the bottom, now I’m here’ version of that organization.”
“Which,” I interject. “Makes you all that more valuable to the organization and more knowledgeable if you started your own firm.”
Her eyes widened at my comment.
“What?” I exclaimed. “Bethany, you’re smart. Talented. You’re good at what you do. It’s a testament you’ve made it twenty years. You have to be good. You could do anything you wanted. Your options include to retire and travel. Retire and start your own. Or stay and become a partner. All three options and you win.”
Her face morphed into a small smile as those brown eyes gazed at me on the other side of the kitchen table.
“You’re right.” She nodded her head. “The skies are the limits.”
Bethany looked at her food, then back at me before she said, “What are you doing in the next few years?”
My heart constricted. I wanted to say whatever she was doing; That’s what I wanted to do. Was she asking me? Was it a question of if I planned to be around?
Shit.
“Angel, I’ve been retired for a long time. I don’t need to work but I do for the various organizations as a consultant. A work when I want to work type of role. I’m content with that right now. I like having options. But, I can travel, I can keep doing what I’m doing or I can help my lady start a business. Only so I can spend time with her, of course.” I gave her a slick smile which she returned.