Black Girls Must Die Exhausted: A Novel for Grown Ups

by Jayne Allen

  “So, what’s up?” My dad crossed his leg at the knee and stretched his arm comfortably across the back of the sofa.

  I fumbled a bit for my most efficient words to tee up my question, but I found them soon enough. “I thought maybe you could help me understand something… about work,” I said.

  “Ok…”

  “When I got the promotion…”

  “Congratulations again, by the way. That is just so awesome!”

  “Thank you,” I said, probably a little too quick for wanting to get to the real issue. “So, right after I got the promotion, Chris, he’s our News Director—our boss—right after he announced it, he called me into his office.”

  “Hold up—I’m not going to have to get my gun, am I?” My dad said, half-joking.

  “No! No, nothing like that. Although, even I wasn’t exactly sure at first,” I said letting out a light laugh. “Chris called me into his office and told me that Scott Stone, my competition, had outworked me, but he gave me the promotion anyway.” I watched my dad’s eyebrows raise. “Right? And he said that he thought the station needed my perspective. Is that code for something racial?” I asked.

  “Did you ask him?” my dad shot back at me.

  “Actually, I did.”

  “And?”

  “He said I got the job because I was ‘unique.’”

  “Unique, hmmm…”

  “Yeah, unique. And then he said I didn’t deserve the position, but he believed that I could work my way into deserving it, and he wanted me to start asserting myself more and fighting to make my perspective heard.”

  “That sounds like good advice.”

  “It does?”

  “Sounds reasonable to me. The guy had his choice of who he wanted to promote, and he picked the person who he thought would make for the best stories, and highest ratings. At the end of the day, ratings are what it’s about right? I don’t think that somebody worried about ratings would be throwing someone in a prominent position on television just because they’re black, Tabby. Seems like it would be more so in spite of, no?” In spite of…

  “So, you don’t think it was just because I’m black—like it could have been some kind of diversity thing, or something…”

  “Tabby, if that’s the case, that would be the dumbest diversity initiative ever and you should find a new job, because that station is going under.” My dad said with a half flippant expression. “Nobody, and I mean nobody in business is risking their job or their company just to promote a black person. No way. If you got that promotion, it had to be ratings-driven. Plain and simple.”

  “I get it…” I said quietly, still processing the irrefutability of his words.

  “And, it sounds like this Chris, the News Director, might be a good mentor for you. He gave you solid advice.” I was silent for a while, debating if I should bring up Marc also. There was something still, even more pressing that I wanted to know. I sat there for a few minutes hesitating over the abrupt change of subject.

  “I know this is a completely different subject, but…you know when Granny Tab told me about your afro, she told me that you did it to try to impress my mom…” I said, smiling.

  “I don’t know if that part is completely true. I was trying to be cooool,” my dad said in the most uncool dad kind of way. I laughed.

  “I need to ask you something else…It’s pretty personal this time,” I said.

  “Whatever it is, I’ll try to answer,” my dad said earnestly.

  “What made you stop trying…with my mom?” My dad moved almost immediately from his relaxed posture, to a stiffened position. He brought his hand to his chin, rubbing it there while his eyes shifted to indicate that he was thinking. He let out a deep sigh.

  “I wouldn’t say that I or we stopped trying. It’s just that we reached the end of our…capabilities.” My dad said slowly, seeming to search for and then select each word with full intention.

  “But then, you had more capabilities with Diane?” I asked.

  “At first, I might have thought that with Diane it was…easier. It felt easier at the beginning. But looking back today, we’ve had to deal with the exact same problems, just over a longer period of time. Your mom needed changes I wasn’t ready to make. That I didn’t know how to make.”

  “And Diane?”

  “Diane…she…probably needed the same things. She just made me feel like…she made me feel like I couldn’t fail her. Like no matter what I did, it wouldn’t change her view of me. Does that make sense? I guess I needed that.”

  “Have…you ever cheated on Diane?” My dad recoiled as if I had physically pushed him. He took in a sharp breath. The surprise on his face looked almost like he had been attacked. His eyes narrowed at me, and then softened. Then he looked worried. And then, he finally spoke.

  “I…don’t want to lie to you Tabby.” Those words hung in the air with no follow up for too many critical seconds not to be a final answer. “Why do you ask that?” he said finally.

  “Rob cheated on Lexi. She found out just after her birthday. Some girl he met shopping.” I said it all in a deluge, sounding close to what I used to sound like as a little girl. “They’re separated, and have been over a month now.” My dad’s look of concern deepened.

  “And you want to know what? Do all men cheat?”

  “Marc and I broke up too,” I said in response to his question. “Not cheating. At least, I don’t think it was. He said he didn’t know what he wanted for the future with me. Evidently his dad is sick and his family is all screwed up. And I’m…I’m just confused. Everything that I was so sure of, just isn’t turning out to be what it seemed.” My dad shook his head, still saying nothing, wringing his hands now, and he leaned forward with his upper body supported by his thighs. He took another deep breath and sat upright.

  “Tabby, I can’t speak for all men. But what I will say for myself—what your mother needed from me was on the other side of some damage that she didn’t cause.”

  “And what about Diane?”

  “Diane didn’t necessarily have different needs. But, the timing was different. We almost split too. On several occasions.” I looked at him with the surprise of what I had just heard. They had? “I guess part of why we stayed together through it all was because we both felt that we had to.” I looked at him, waiting for him to continue. “And then one day, after the hell and fighting, and even packing up to go…you just know you’re going to make it. I’m not happier in my relationship with Diane because I’m with someone other than your mom. I’m happier because I’m someone other than who I was when I was with your mom. Do you understand that?”

  “Yeah,” I said, my voice almost a whisper. “I get it.”

  “Tabby, no matter what it is, work, Marc, whatever, stop doubting yourself so much. Just stay true to who you are and what you want. Why compromise? Nothing is ever going to be worth it if you have to. Not on that level.” He leaned over to give me a hug. Almost on exact cue at 30 minutes, we could hear the knock of 9-year old knuckles on the door.

  “Can I come in now?” Dixie yelled. “You said 30 minutes!”

  “So you wanna take Dixie home with you?” my dad said laughing.

  “Come on in Dixie!” I yelled at the door to my little sister.

  Chapter 25

  The first opportunity to truly feel thankful for my new office came when my computer screamed at me “Egg Freezing Consultation This Afternoon!!!” with a calendar reminder in the center of the screen. My appointment date with Dr. Young had finally arrived. Not that I had forgotten in the least. When I thought about Marc, I thought about Dr. Young. When I thought about Dr. Todd, I thought about Dr. Young. When I was at work and meetings got boring, I thought about Dr. Young. Dr. Young was my insurance policy when men and time, and my janky ovaries had failed me. In fact, without really knowing why, I had taken extra care in get
ting dressed this morning, all for this afternoon. I even wore red lipstick. I had been waiting on this appointment since that fateful day that I learned about the condition of my fertility, and the buzzer was running out on the clock. Dr. Young’s office was in a ritzy, high-end Century City medical building, complete with valet parking, which still didn’t make me feel any better about the price tag for the egg freezing procedure. For what I had heard of the costs, I expected a lot more handholding and expensive Danish interior design elements. Instead, I arrived at a relatively lackluster lobby to check in with the front desk clerk who seemed like she had never quite managed to fully wake herself for the day, even though it was late into the afternoon. Now, I longed for the overly perky assistant whom I spoke with on the phone.

  “Ms. Walker do you have your insurance card?” I handed it to her. “Thank you. I’ll just need to make a copy. Looking at your new patient report, it appears that you have infertility diagnosis coverage, but not infertility treatment coverage. That means today’s appointment will be covered, but any subsequent treatment you choose will be out of pocket.” It felt to me that a statement like that would be followed by an “Ok?”-type of question. Instead, the receptionist handed my insurance card off to another person and continued to look at her computer screen. I imagined the other side was continually running an escalating tally like an out of control old-fashioned cash register.

  “Do you have an estimate of what the out of pocket costs would be?” I asked.

  “The doctor will go over your treatment plan during your appointment and then the billing manager will discuss pricing with you just after,” she said in a rehearsed and robotic tone, while continuing to type. Again, I felt the absence of a missing “Ok?” at the end of her phrase, but I was starting to get the sense that this would be a theme. I followed the instructions to take a seat and used the opportunity to discretely study my waiting room cohort, while hiding my own face behind a magazine that I was only pretending to read. There were two hetero-couples in the room, and then two women, each alone, like me, and a man sitting alone as well. I wondered for a second why the man sitting alone would be in an IVF clinic, and then I remembered that Dr. Young also collected male “contributions” at his office for sperm banks. I wondered briefly if the guy sitting there could be my baby daddy. He looked nothing like Marc, which maybe now was a good thing in my book. I studied his height, his physique, his eyes, his nose, and his mouth…ah, he wears glasses? Hmmm, does that mean my baby would have bad eyesight? Books or burrito? My mind wondered, thinking back to my conversation with my mother. It was impossible to tell based on the simple LA-type of casual dress he wore, but my eyes landed on the book bag at his feet, which told a different story. Ah, books! I allowed the slight feeling of hopeful vindication to wash over me as I heard my name being called through a newly-opened door near the receptionist’s desk.

  “This is your first time seeing Dr. Young?” The nurse asked, while she escorted me to my exam room.

  “Yes, and I’m a little nervous,” I said.

  “Oh, don’t be. You’ll love Dr. Young. He’s a real character,” she said following with a giggle. I removed everything of my wardrobe except for my red lipstick, replacing it with paper garments that made for easy access to all of my so-called private regions. Dr. Young came in after a little wait, accompanied by another female nurse, a new face. He was a relatively short, late middle-aged man with thinning hair and an obvious inky-black dye job. He wore his white doctor’s coat over khakis and a button down, and sported wire rimmed-glasses. I presumed by both his facial appearance and his last name that he was Chinese. His still-slightly choppy English confirmed my assumption.

  “Ms. Walker…Tabitha, is it ok if I call you Tabitha?” Dr. Young asked. Finally, someone in here asks me if something is ok with me.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “So, you’re here to do the egg freezing? Or you’re here to get pregnant?” Whoa Doc, hold on. I’m here for options, not insemination.

  “Just the egg freezing option. I’m not ready to get pregnant just yet.”

  “Hmph,” Dr. Young said, looking up at me over his glasses, while he continued to study my chart.

  “Bad numbers. You need to start right now, do you know that?”

  “Dr. Ellis said…I mean…yes, I was informed that I needed to take immediate action,” I said, feeling a rising level of panic.

  “We’ll run some tests if we can today. You start in two weeks with your next cycle. We’re going to aim for 20 eggs total. So you…you’re probably going to have to do 2 or 3 times.” Two or three times? Again, this was a moment where I was expecting to hear, “Ok?” at the end, but it never came.

  “Um, Dr. Young, when do we discuss how much all of this costs?” I asked.

  “The Billing Manager will discuss with you. My job is just to make babies,” he said, smiling. “Are you currently using birth control?” Shit.

  “Umm…no. Not currently.”

  “No birth control?” He looked up at me again over his glasses. I felt my face flush.

  “No, no birth control. I was taking the pill and then I…stopped.”

  “You’re using condoms then?” Dr. Young asked me.

  “Um,” I said, stalling for a better answer. “Um, some of the time?” I said, trying not to lie.

  “You trying to get pregnant?” Obviously…not?

  “Well, eventually, but not necessarily right now.”

  “Not right now? Then you must use birth control!” Dr. Young brought new animation into the room. “Do you know that 50% of pregnancies are unplanned?! How do you think they happened?” He looked at me, and I sat mouth agape, unsure if he wanted me to answer. I was just reclaiming control of my speech when he continued on his own. “No birth control! No condoms!” He said with his arms in the air. “If you use no birth control, no condoms, you walk down the street, the wind blows, and poof! You get pregnant! A bird poops on your shoulder and you get pregnant! You want to get pregnant walking down the street?” He said with full passion this time, waving my chart in his free hand and a pen in the other. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and I was completely unsure if he expected an answer. After a long silence with him continuing to look at me, I assumed that I was supposed to respond this time.

  “Um, no, Dr. Young, not walking down the street,” I said, watching the nurse behind him roll her eyes slightly and cover her mouth to stifle a laugh.

  “Then you must use birth control.” He sternly turned his attention back to my chart. “Ok, see you in two weeks. We get eggs now, make a baby later. But you don’t make a baby. Use protection.” And with that, he handed my chart to the nurse and walked out of the door. The nurse used that opportunity to release a light spray of laughter that she had obviously been holding in. I sat in stunned silence, feeling a strange mix of emotion, like I had just been scolded by my father.

  “Dr. Young, he’s a character,” the nurse said.

  “So I’ve heard.”

  Heading out of my appointment, it was time to see the fateful Billing Manager to determine my financial fate.

  “Dr. Young said that he wants to get you started right away. Do you have an idea of how you’ll be financing?”

  I had planned on draining the marrow out of my savings, but if there were other options, I wanted to know. “I was planning on using savings, but are there other options?” I asked.

  “Well, some people use savings, or have family to help. Some people go into different kinds of debt, second mortgage on their home, credit card debt, personal loans…” the Billing Manager said, with complete disaffection for the major life events that she was describing.

  “People have to mortgage their home?” I asked, feeling my eyes widen.

  “Well, if that option is available to them, yes, sometimes,” she said, not at all sharing my shock.

  “Well…how much…does it co
st?” I asked.

  “Here’s a list of our plans.” She slid a photocopied piece of paper over to me. I studied it. It appeared that each round, taking into account medication and the cost of the procedure and office visits was a minimum of about $12,000. Shit. And evidently, with my numbers, the medications could run even more expensive than what I calculated. Two or three rounds? That was $36,000, or more! That meant that I was in for my savings and then some. The savings that I had worked for years to build. But I had no choice, and no time to think of missed vacations and meals with friends and wardrobes that I wore well past the point of replacement. “You make a deposit today of $2000 to make your appointment for two weeks from now.” I was becoming used to the drill in this office. I reluctantly handed over my credit card and watched my dreams of a starter home being swiped away.

  We made my appointment for two weeks later and I left Dr. Young’s office in a mix of relief and sadness. I had saved for years for a completely different purpose. Now, my entire savings would go into a bank of an entirely different type. And, to top it all off, I needed to go buy condoms. In these days in my life, especially lately, you could never know which way the wind was gonna blow.

  Chapter 26

  Leaving my appointment, I debated going back to work, but this level of sticker shock needed special attention from my friends. Waiting for my car from valet, I shot out the “bat signal” to Alexis and Laila.

  Me: Leaving Dr., about to be broke. Happy Hour?

  Lexi: Oooh! Egg freezing apt? How did it go?

  Me: Terrible, need cheap drinks ASAP.

  Laila: Cheap works for me too. I’m game.

  Laila responded? I was glad—she had been extra MIA lately.

  Lexi: Come to my Open House? Lots of free drinks.

  Me: And random ppl?

  Lexi: No, will be over early. Leftover wine is fair game.

  Laila: Address?

  Laila’s message sealed the deal. Driving over, I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony, thinking that I had just received confirmation that I was going to have to empty my savings and here I was on the way to an open house. I wondered when I’d be able to again find myself in a position as a buyer. Los Angeles was expensive, and rent for my downtown loft wasn’t cheap. Even with a promotion, my salary was just barely covering the gulf of my expenses. If Granny Tab wasn’t living at Crestmire, I’d think about living with her all over again. Unfortunately, she’d decided to sell the condo to pay for the cost of Crestmire, not wanting to lean on my dad and Diane in any way. Not that they ever offered to help.