Dr. Spade folded his hands and gave me a penetrating, thoughtful look. “It’s not uncommon for women to continue getting their periods while they’re pregnant. The bleeding is not truly a menstrual period but rather early pregnancy bleeding.”
I felt like someone had just punched me in my gut. How could this have happened? I was careful. I always used a condom!
“But how?” I sputtered, already feeling the tears well up in my eyes.
“Well, you say that you used protection, but Crystal, you know that nothing is one hundred percent effective.” Dr. Spade leaned back into his chair before adding, “Nothing except abstinence.”
Noah
i know that!” I screamed. “I know that nothing is one hundred percent effective!”
I was more than upset and jumped up from my chair, sending it tumbling over.
All of the would-be writers closed their laptops and watched me with wary eyes.
“So what are you saying?”
Merriwether still hadn’t gotten down to the nitty-gritty of things, and we’d been sitting there for more than half an hour.
“Say it!” I bellowed.
By then Lloyd, one half of the husband-and-wife owners, had come from behind the counter and was standing behind me, urging me to calm down. He placed his hands on my shoulders and I roughly shrugged them off.
He was taller than I was and probably outweighed me by 150 pounds, but I didn’t care—I had enough adrenaline pumping through me to beat his ass, as well as every man and woman in that place.
“Tell me!”
Merriwether swallowed hard, snatched a glance over her shoulder again, turned wet eyes on me, and said, “We have a daughter.”
Crystal
i cradled my stomach all the way home. I cradled my stomach and laughed and cried in between the disbelief. I was pregnant. Two months gone. Due in January.
My God.
I walked dreamily past the doorman and didn’t even remember pressing my floor on the lit elevator panel. When the ringing sound of the phone finally brought me back to reality, it was one o’clock and I had been sitting on my sofa for more than an hour.
“Crystal, I’m down here at the doctor’s office. What are you doing home?” Kendrick’s panicked voice came at me.
I had forgotten all about Kendrick coming to meet me. My thoughts were wrapped up in receiving blankets, baby booties, and Pampers.
“Huh?” I said.
“I was out there waiting for over an hour. When you didn’t answer your cell phone I went into the building. Do you know that there are twenty-four gynecologists in that building?”
I didn’t know that. Why would I know that?
“Yours was number sixteen.” He laughed, but I could detect the annoyance in his voice.
“Oh” was all I could muster.
“Are you okay, baby?”
Suddenly Kendrick calling me baby didn’t seem as soothing as it had over the last three days.
In fact, it felt dirty. I was carrying another man’s child. “Baby” was not the appropriate name for me…at least not coming from Kendrick.
“I’m not feeling very well. Can I call you tomorrow?”
The silence was long and heavy.
“Sure, sure…” Kendrick’s voice quaked a bit. “Can I bring you something?”
“No,” I said, and abruptly hung up the phone.
Noah
daughter?”
“Yes,” Merriwether whispered.
“We?”
“Yes, us.” Merriwether emphasized that fact by moving her hand between us as if fanning a flame.
“No, no, that can’t be,” I said, shaking my head furiously left and right. “I am a gay man!” I screamed. The patrons chuckled, and I’m sure I heard someone say, “Like that means something these days. I guess he’s the only one who hasn’t heard of the down low syndrome.”
Merriwether’s eyes moved warily around the café before settling on me again. “Do you really want to discuss this here?”
I didn’t want to discuss this at all. Obviously she was lying, but why?
“What do you want?” I said, thrusting my fists into my hips and leaning forward a bit. “Money, is that what you want?”
Merriwether’s face went from embarrassment to confusion before finally settling on anger.
“Money? Do you think I been searching for your good-for-nothing low-down faggot ass for money?”
Someone in the background yelled, “Tell him, sister—we been independent for a long time…got our own goddamn money!”
I just glared at her. “Then what, then, because when I slept with you…a long, long, long time ago, I might add,” I said, making sure my eyes made contact with all of the faces that watched me, “I was confused.” I punctuated that with a head roll and a snap of my fingers. “But not too confused not to use a condom.”
It was Merriwether’s turn to roll her eyes and snap her fingers. “And that condom—broke!”
My mouth fell open and then clamped shut again. I pressed my index finger to my chin and thought back. Had it broken? I truly couldn’t remember.
“You were fucking me so hard, you didn’t even notice,” Merriwether added with a smug look.
Now I felt like an idiot. “Maybe we shouldn’t discuss this here,” I said, moving toward the door.
“Oh, no, let’s,” she said, blocking my exit.
Crystal
i walked into my bedroom and then back into the living room and then into the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator and then closed it again.
I did that at least ten times, or more, I can’t remember. All I knew was that I was pregnant. I was pregnant and I supposed I should be happy, and some part of me was, but there was a small part that wasn’t.
Well, it was obvious the child I was carrying belonged to Neville.
Neville, a lifelong bachelor and playboy. Not just a playboy, but a gigolo! He slept with women for profit…for money!
Could I have a baby by a male prostitute?
I walked back into my bedroom and went to stand at my window. I could clearly see the inside of Central Park, littered with people, but especially women and their children. There were baby carriages everywhere.
Would I be one of those women in seven months?
I placed my hands on my stomach again.
Wasn’t a baby something I’d always wanted?
Yes, it was, but not this way. I never wanted to be a single mother. I wanted to be married. I wanted the house, the husband, and the white picket fence.
This is not at all the way I planned it. Not even close.
The tears began to spill then, and I didn’t know if I was crying from joy or sadness…I think it was a little bit of both.
Chevy
yeah, it’s me. Who did you think it was, God?” The bum who had harassed me on the train just the other day was now seated in a pew, peeling a tangerine.
I rose to my feet and brushed at my pants. I felt like an idiot. Here I was, thinking that JC was actually speaking to me…I was so embarrassed!
“Looks like you’re homeless to me,” he said, and reached down and pulled my bag up from the floor. “Or behind on your dry cleaning,” he said with a laugh.
I took a step toward him. “Those are my things—give them to me!”
“No problem,” he said, and tossed the bag at me.
After peeling off two slices of the fruit and shoving them into his mouth, he dragged the back of his filthy hand across his lips, burped, and said, “So how’s things?”
“Fuck you,” I spat, and stormed down the aisle toward the doors.
“Hey, hey,” he called after me. “This is a place of worship. Have some respect!”
“Fuck you!” I bellowed again.
“God speaks to and through all of us,” he yelled. “Even the homeless, lost, and displaced!”
I slammed out of the church and hit the sidewalk running.
Geneva
i had just dialed the first thre
e digits of Crystal’s telephone number when Eric walked in. I was going to tell her off and then advise them which one of my body parts she and Deeka could kiss before damning them to hell.
“What are you doing back here?” I asked, and then my mouth fell open. Deeka was right behind him.
I slammed the phone down and picked the sugar bowl up from the table. Without a word, I flung it across the room. It barely missed Eric and shattered against the wall just centimeters from Deeka’s right ear.
“What the hell, Geneva!” Deeka screamed, rushing toward me.
“Get out!” I hollered. “Both of you, get out!”
I really don’t know what happened after that. The events are still blurry, but I do know that both Deeka and Eric tackled me, throwing me down to the ground.
Charlie was screaming, “Don’t hurt my mommy!” in the background, and I was calling my man and my son every cuss word in the book!
When it was all said and done and I was somewhat calm, Deeka had a long scratch on his forehead and Eric had a busted lip.
Noah
i have my… our daughter out in the car, waiting to meet you,” Merriwether said.
I couldn’t move, but about five or six patrons jumped up and rushed the large pane windows.
“W-what?” I said, astonished. “She’s here…outside, here?”
“Out in the car.”
I looked over her shoulder. There were a number of cars parked on the street. My eyes slowly scanned each one of them. And finally fell on a dark blue Honda Civic, where I saw an older woman sitting in the backseat, smiling down at something…at someone.
Merriwether was smiling too, her hand extended to me. “C’mon. She’s beautiful.”
I walked as if in a dream, my hand tightly clasped in Merriwether’s. The owners of Bread Stuy, Lloyd and his wife, Hillary, urged the patrons to give us some privacy, gently grabbing people by their elbows and pulling them back inside the coffee shop.
My heart was beating a million miles a minute by the time my feet hit the sidewalk, and I could feel the perspiration streaming down my armpits and sides and pooling on the waistband of my jeans.
“Mama, roll down the window,” Merriwether said, making a winding motion with her hand.
The older woman looked just like Merriwether, except her hair was a lustrous silver color.
“Well, hello, Noah,” she sang, her rosy cheeks glowing. “I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.” She extended her hand.
I think I nodded my head; my body from the neck down was numb. I wanted to smile, but my mouth wouldn’t stop twitching.
“This is Destiny,” Merriwether said as she yanked me closer to the car.
This wasn’t happening, it wasn’t happening. I was dreaming—yeah, that was it. I was dreaming and…
My eyes lit on four curly pigtails wound with pink ribbons.
I closed my eyes.
Wake up, wake up! I screamed in my head. This is a dream!
“Open your eyes, Noah,” Merriwether demanded, and gave my hand a painful squeeze.
And I did, and found myself looking down into the smiling face of an angel.
“Hi,” the angel said to me, “my name is Destiny. What’s yours?”
Crystal
i’d picked up the phone to call Neville a number of times, but each time I chickened out and hung up.
I’d spent the entire night twisting and turning, grappling with the turn my life had suddenly taken. My appetite was gone, but I forced myself to eat some oatmeal. It was only right; I couldn’t very well starve my child, now could I?
My child? God, that sounded so strange, but so right!
A smile tickled the corners of my mouth, and something warm wrapped itself around me. Suddenly I was filled with happiness; the worry lying heavily on me just a minute ago had magically disappeared.
This was my life, I was a grown woman, and I needed to start behaving accordingly. I was going to have this baby, no matter what Neville said. I didn’t need him to raise this child. I had me, my mother, family, and friends…all the love anyone could ever hope for.
I reached for the phone; I would call Neville, make the announcement, and advise him of my intentions.
Just as I my hand touched the slim black shell of the phone, it rang, startling me into a fit of giggles. “H-hello,” I answered, trying hard to hide my laughter.
“Crystal!” Noah screamed.
Oh, good. Neville should be the first one to know, but Noah would most likely be the constant father figure in this baby’s life, so why not share the good news with him first?
“Hey, Noah, I’ve got great news—”
“I’ve got great news!” Noah screamed back.
“Well, your news can’t be better than mine,” I said, falling back onto the down pillows on my bed.
“I bet you it can!” Noah’s voice was spilling with excitement. I assumed that Cupcake and her family must have moved out.
“Well, let me tell you mine first,” I said.
“No, no, me first—you’re not going to believe this!”
“No, Noah, let me tell you my news first. My news is totally unbelievable!”
I took a deep breath and then spouted, “I’m pregnant!”
And at the same time Noah shouted, “I have a daughter!”
We both went silent and then said, “What?”
“I said, I’m pregnant, Noah.” I was sitting up now. Surely I’d heard Noah wrong. “What did you say?”
“I said, I have a daughter. I’m a father, Crystal!”
Noah
when that little girl looked up at me and spoke, I saw in her face generations of Bodisons—men and women.
She looked so much like me, it was as if Merriwether had had nothing at all to do with her.
Destiny looked like I had carried and birthed her myself!
I gotta tell you, I went weak in the knees. I’d only just met her, but I was already head over heels in love with her.
“My word, she looks just like you,” the grandmother said.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I muttered as I reached for the door handle. I had to have her in my arms.
She was short-limbed like me, and we had the same fair skin and curly hair. (Of course, my curls were chemically induced, but still…)
“Hello, Destiny,” I said as I lifted her from the seat. “I’m Noah. I’m your father.”
Just saying those words brought on a shower of tears.
“You got a boo-boo?” Destiny asked, touching my tear-streaked cheek with her stubby fingers.
“No, no,” I blubbered, pressing her close to me. “I got you and that makes me happy beyond belief.”
Behind me, the patrons of the coffee shop erupted in applause.
I looked at Merriwether. “Thank you, thank you for this gift.”
We all piled into her Honda and went back to my house. Cupcake and her crew were loitering as usual, but I didn’t even notice them. My eyes were for Destiny and Destiny only.
Once settled inside, I popped open a bottle of champagne (and filled a glass with OJ for my baby) and toasted the grand occasion.
After a few sips, I turned to Merriwether and said, “Of course, I want to be completely involved in Destiny’s life, and I’m willing to pay child support—even for the years I didn’t know about her.”
My eyes were welling up again.
“I would like shared custody as well,” I said, smiling proudly over at Destiny.
Merriwether gave her mother a careful look before setting her champagne flute down onto the table and saying, “Well, about that, you see…”
Chevy
i spent Sunday and Monday night in the park. My mind, too busy for sleep, teemed with memories of my childhood, my teenage years, and my present-day life.
I looked down at my filthy clothes.
I was homeless; there was no doubt about that. I had to come to the realization. I had to finally accept the truth about my circumstan
ces and my life up to this point.
Who was I to blame? Every time I tried to point the finger at someone or something else, I looked down at my finger and it was pointed right at me.
I sat down on a bench and cried my way through the night. When I finally stopped crying it was Tuesday morning and I was a new woman.
The hallways were buzzing with La Fleur employees. I strolled as casually as possible toward my office, but my filthy appearance called attention to me.
When I reached my office, the door was slightly ajar. I eased it open and walked in to see LaTangie seated behind my desk.
“Can I help you?” I asked sternly.
“No, I think it’s can I help you?” she replied with a smirk.
“Look, I don’t have time for your games today, LaTangie, so get your ass out of my chair and the hell out of my office.”
LaTangie let out a long wicked laugh and then pointed at the nameplate on the desk. It said LATANGIE FOX.
Reaching for the phone, LaTangie barked, “No, you get your ass out of my office before I call security!”
In a strange way I felt relieved. I looked around the office. I wanted to commit it to memory—it had been good while it lasted.
LaTangie gave me an awed look. “Are you really that stupid, Chevy?” Laughing, she pressed the button for security. “You don’t work here anymore. You didn’t show up for Anja’s Memorial Day party, the most important event of the year. What were we supposed to do?”
We?
“We didn’t know if you were alive or dead or working somewhere else,” she said, chuckling. “Only God knows who would have you in their employ, since you’re such a fuck-up!” she roared joyfully.
I guess she must have pushed a button I didn’t know existed. Or maybe the weight and stress of the last week—shit, the last ten years—had finally caused me to crack, because before I could stop myself I was sailing over the desk.
Heat Page 18