Big Girls Do Cry

by Carl Weber

  “Just go ‘head and pee so we can go sit down and eat. We’ll be right here.” I pointed at the restroom sign, praying that she wouldn’t ask me to come in with her. I was so sick of her acting like she was carrying Baby Jesus. The woman was only four and a half months pregnant, and she’d already started waddling around like she was ready to drop her load.

  “Okay, I’ll be back.”

  I watched her walk away as I sat down on a bench. I didn’t know what was worse, the aching in my feet or the headache I was getting from being around my demanding sister. I know we offered her money to have this baby, but she was making us pay in more ways than that. You should have seen the way she could manipulate Rashad to do her bidding. And as if I wasn’t waiting on her lazy ass enough, he was downright ridiculous about it. If that woman got my husband out of my bed after midnight one more time to go out and get her a Cherry Coke Slurpee and one of those nasty 7-Eleven hot dogs, I was going to scream. I mean, this baby meant a lot to me and Rashad, but this shit had to stop. She was not about to run me or my husband ragged trying to satisfy her every whim. I was starting to feel like a victim of extortion.

  I know I sound ungrateful, perhaps even bitter. Don’t get me wrong; I was happy she’d decided to make the sacrifice and have our baby, but this situation was much deeper than that. I didn’t know I’d have these feelings of envy and, sometimes, downright animosity. I never thought I’d feel this way, but, yes, I was jealous of my sister—even though I was the one with the husband, the big house, and the fancy cars. I was jealous of her for being the one with the ability to get pregnant.

  What really made me angry about the entire situation was that deep down, she knew it. I could see it in her eyes and behind that smirk she tried to hide. She was playing this pregnancy, my emotions, and Rashad’s need to be a father to the hilt, and there was nothing I could do about it. But I could sure complain about it, and my mother was the perfect sounding board.

  “Momma, this is ridiculous. This is the fifth time she’s been to the bathroom since we left home. She is so spoiled.” I turned to my mother, who was sitting next to me. Her silence and the look she gave me spoke volumes. She’d been this way ever since last night, when the baby supposedly kicked. All she did for the rest of the night was watch and observe without a word, other than a few whispers to my father. That much silence was totally out of character for her.

  “What, Momma?”

  “I didn’t say anything.” She looked away.

  “You didn’t have to. Now, what’s on your mind?” I stepped directly in front of her, and she finally spoke.

  “Do you trust your sister?”

  I wanted to say, About as far as I can throw her, but I didn’t want to admit that to my mother, so instead, I said, “Yes. Why?”

  “No reason. Just wanted to know.”

  My mother never asked a question for no reason.

  “Don’t ‘no reason’ me. I know that look. What, you think I’m being too hard on Isis because she’s pregnant, right?”

  She hesitated, and I saw something in her expression that I’d almost never seen in my life. My mother looked like she was contemplating things before she spoke her mind. Finally, she said, “What I want to know is why, of all people, would you ask your sister to have your baby? I thought you took her in to help her start a new life. How did she end up having your baby?”

  Oh, boy, here we go. I had avoided talking in detail to my mother about this whole surrogacy thing, because I knew she would have something to say about it. She knew how much I wanted a child, but she also had very strong opinions about me and my sister. In fact, she was the one who warned me about taking Isis into my home in the first place. She just didn’t think it was smart with the history Isis and Rashad shared. It wasn’t like I disagreed with her, but my sister needed help, and I was not going to stand by and let her suffer. She needed to get out of New York and get away from Tony. Besides, no matter what history they shared, I knew Rashad loved me, and he would never do anything to jeopardize our marriage by crossing the line with Isis.

  Now, my sister was a different story. Like I said earlier, I didn’t trust her ass as far as I could throw her. Even though I didn’t say it out loud, I suppose my mother knew that, which is why she was asking how Isis ended up pregnant with our child. I wanted a child so badly that I was willing to take a chance on Isis, in spite of how complicated the whole situation was. I had to at least try to explain the depth of my pain to my mother.

  “The truth?”

  “Truth.”

  “I was desperate. Rashad wanted a baby, and the doctors told me I couldn’t have one. The only thing he’s ever asked me for, and I couldn’t deliver. Without this baby, our marriage might not have lasted another year. So, I did what I had to do. And I’ll continue to do what I have to do until this baby is born.”

  “I understand that, baby, but you couldn’t think of anyone other than your sister?” She reached out and patted my hand, giving me a sympathetic look. I was confused. Was she worried about Isis’s mental health, or was she saying she was worried about me?

  “There was no one else, Ma. We tried to get Tammy to do it, but she couldn’t, or wouldn’t. And I’ve heard too much in the news about strangers reneging on the deal. I’d just die if anyone ever did that.” I sighed. “So, no, there was no one else.” Then, just to cover myself in case it was Isis she was worrying about, I said, “Besides, we’re paying her thirty thousand dollars to have this baby.”

  My mother’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re paying her?”

  “Yeah, it’s what we would do for any other surrogate, so why shouldn’t we do it for her? Plus, if she gets to be too much of a pain in the ass, I always have that thirty thousand to hold over her head.” I let out a small laugh, hoping to lighten the decidedly somber mood, but Ma wasn’t having it. She still looked concerned, and it was starting to scare me.

  “What is it?”

  She glanced in the direction of the bathroom. Isis was still nowhere in sight. “Well, I hate to be the one to say this, but watch Isis. She’s my child and I love her, but she’s always been determined to get what she wants.”

  “What are you trying to say?” I think I knew what she was getting at, but I wanted to be sure.

  “Your sister’s mind is very fragile since her breakdown over Tony, but she’s far from stupid. There’s a lot missing in her life, and she’s looking for something to fill that void. She may be sick, but she’s still a woman, and—”

  “What do you mean, she’s still a woman? You think she’ll try to come on to Rashad, don’t you?”

  “I think your sister’s a woman. And women have been known to do some crazy things to get a man, including getting pregnant. So watch your sister and your husband. The two of them are just a little too close for my taste.” There was a seriousness to her words that I hadn’t heard since she warned me not to let Isis move into my house. I, however, refused to worry like she did.

  “Ma! Rashad is so over Isis.”

  “Now, Egypt, you know I love Rashad. I loved him since the day your sister brought him home fifteen years ago.” I felt a tightening in the pit of my stomach. Why’d she have to go mention their relationship? I was much happier just pretending that chapter in our lives never happened.

  “But you know the one thing that’s never changed about him?” she asked.

  “No, what’s that?”

  “He never stopped being a man. And a man is always going to be a man. Same way a woman is always gonna want a man.”

  “You don’t trust either of them, do you?”

  “I don’t trust any woman, and I damn sure don’t trust no man. That’s why I stayed married for forty years and all my girlfriends are alone.”

  I just stared at my mother, dumbfounded.

  “But Rashad would never—”

  “Did you hear a word I said?”

  I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. You know what? I think I have to go to the r
estroom too.”

  She left me sitting alone on the bench, speechless and wondering if I should start watching Isis and Rashad a little closer.

  Loraine

  31

  I pulled into my driveway after a really fun day of Christmas shopping with Jerome. My trunk was filled with so many shopping bags that I was embarrassed to even think about what my American Express bill was going to look like. Oh, well. Sometimes you have to go all out for the people you love.

  Speaking of the people I loved, Leon and I were starting to put things back together with the help of Dr. Marshall. She’d said that we both had to take responsibility for how our marriage was going, and I was trying to do my part. I wasn’t entirely past the panties thing, but I was trying not to let it consume me the way it had been. I’d reached a point where we could have a discussion without me bringing that subject into it, and I hoped that someday it would be a nonissue. To cement my commitment to fixing our marriage, I’d called Terrance and told him I could never see him again.

  We’d continued the joint marital counseling sessions, along with Leon going by himself twice a week, and things were definitely improving. I have no idea what they talked about during their private sessions, but it really seemed to be doing Leon some good. Lately, he was beaming with confidence. In a lot of ways, I felt like I was getting the old Leon back.

  The upshot of all this was that Leon and I were beginning to communicate. He was one of the smartest men I’d ever met, but he never seemed to think things through during the past few years. Now, not only was his construction business starting to do well again, but he and I also talked every day about every subject imaginable. To me, smart men have always been sexy, so you can just imagine what Leon’s looks and his more recent stimulating conversation were doing to me. I was feeling Leon in a physical kinda way for the first time since the thong incident. Funny thing is, we still hadn’t had sex yet. There was a lot to be said for all this delaying of sex, because I was getting horny as hell for my husband. Hell, I wanted him so bad lately I’d started masturbating in the shower thinking about him. And from what I’d learned in our last meeting with Dr. Marshall, he was doing the same.

  No worries, though, because tonight was the night I planned to make wild love to him. I’d gotten the okay from Dr. Marshall, so while I was shopping, I picked out a nice sheer negligee. I planned to have scented candles burning and soft romantic music playing in the background. I couldn’t wait until he got home from visiting his family in Charlottesville, because it was going to be on!

  I stopped my car in front of the garage, hitting the trunk-release button so I could retrieve my shopping bags. When I stepped out of the car, I noticed a woman parked on the street in front of our house, getting out of her car. I didn’t recognize her, so I figured she was visiting one of my neighbors—that was, until she started walking toward me.

  “Excuse me, Loraine?” She placed a hand on her hip, looking more aggressive than friendly. Who the hell was this woman throwing all kinds of attitude my way?

  I quickly gave her the once-over. She was a pretty, well-dressed, brown-skinned woman, probably in her early thirties, with shoulder-length flat-ironed hair. She was tall and heavy like me, but much curvier in the hips and chest. Her figure reminded me of mine when I was her age.

  “Yes, I’m Loraine. And you are?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve heard so much about you that I feel like I know you. Let me introduce myself. My name is LaKeisha Thomas.” Just by the way she popped her gum as she spoke, I knew she wasn’t the classiest woman I’d ever met. As Jerome would say, her ghettoness was hiding behind some nice clothes and a few proper words. Now that I knew her name, my only questions were how did she know mine, and what did she want?

  “Nice to meet you, LaKeisha.” I was trying to remain civil with her. For all I knew, she was a soror—one with no class, but a soror no less. I reached in the trunk and pulled out a few of my bags. “What can I do for you?”

  She stepped toward the car. “You want me to help you with those?”

  “No, I think I can manage.” I closed my trunk. “So, LaKeisha, how can I help you?” This woman was starting to concern me. She was a little too forward for someone I didn’t know and who wasn’t giving up any information.

  “I just thought we should meet, since we have so much in common.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? What exactly do we have in common?”

  She took a step back before she spoke, all attitude again. “Leon.”

  Leon! Right away, this bitch set off bells and whistles in my head. She was right up Leon’s alley: a big girl with big titties and a big ass. Dear Lord, this could not be happening to me. Not after all the therapy and counseling we’d been through. I was burning up inside, but I tried to play it cool. No way was I going to lose it right in front of my own house for all my neighbors to see.

  “How exactly do you know Leon?” This time, I didn’t just give her the once-over; I gave her the complete stare-down, burning her image in my memory in case I needed to describe her to the cops later.

  “I think we both know how and why I know Leon. He’s my man. We been together almost five years.”

  I placed my free hand on my car, because my legs almost gave out.

  “I beg your pardon? He’s your what?” It didn’t take long for me to regain my composure. I let my bags go and took two steps toward her, closing the space between us. This bitch was looking for a beat-down.

  “Look, I’m not trying to start no trouble.” Her attitude disappeared, and her voice was about as humble as they come as she lifted her hands defensively. She was scared, just like she should have been, ‘cause I was gonna knock her head off. “I’m not trying to disrespect you either. I just want to talk about this like ladies.”

  “Well, sister, if you didn’t want trouble, why’d you come over here? And if you weren’t trying to disrespect me, why did you just tell me you were sleeping with my husband?”

  She backed up some more, keeping her mouth shut.

  “So, why are you really here?”

  “I don’t know. I thought maybe if I saw you, I’d get so mad I’d be able to leave him alone.”

  “And? Did it work?”

  She just stared at me silently for a few seconds, and my heart sank. I guess we both knew her answer. She couldn’t give him up; she was in love. Part of me understood why, especially after the past few weeks.

  “I should go,” she said. “This was a bad idea. I’m sorry.” She took a few more steps backward, then turned toward her car. I wanted to run after her and beat the shit out of her, but if I did, I was sure I’d end up killing her. Neither she nor Leon was worth it.

  “You love him, don’t you?” I shouted.

  She stopped, turned around, and nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Hold on a second.” I walked toward her without aggression, stopping about ten feet from her so she would know I wasn’t going to attack her. “You said he’s your man? Prove to me that you’re sleeping with him.”

  “What do you want me to tell you?” she asked with a twinge of confidence.

  “Tell me what Leon’s ass looks like.”

  Without hesitation, she said, “He’s got long scars across it from where he got beat as a child.” That was enough confirmation for me to know she was telling the truth, and it made me nauseated just thinking about it.

  “You know what, LaKeisha? You can have him.” I took off my rings as I walked toward her, handing them over. Believe it or not, she took them and stuck them in her pocket. This woman had no class. And to think I’d just started wearing those rings again.

  “I just want to know one thing. Why’d you leave your nasty drawers in my house?”

  “I—” She stopped for a minute, looking a little confused. “I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  I could have smacked her for that. I guess from the look on her face she could tell.

  “I should leave.”
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  “Yeah, I think you should.” And with that, I walked away from LaKeisha, picked up my packages, and went in my house and slammed my door.

  I climbed up the stairs and sat on the edge of my bed to ponder my situation. I was crushed. I don’t think I’d ever been that hurt, and I’d had my share of low moments in the past year. My first thought was to call Leon and curse him out. I changed my mind, though, deciding I didn’t even want to hear that bastard’s voice or his lies. Did he ever really love me?

  Instead of calling Leon, I dialed Jerome’s number. Thankfully, he was still at home.

  “Hello.”

  “You alone?” I said through the tears that spilled as soon as I heard my friend’s voice. I guess when it comes down to it, big girls do cry. “I need to talk.”

  “Sure. You all right? You wanna come on over?” Everyone should have at least one friend like Jerome.

  “No, I’m not all right. I could use a drink. Actually, I could use a couple drinks. You still have that bottle of Grey Goose?”

  “Yeah, I still have it.”

  “I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.” I hung up the phone and wiped my eyes. That cheating bastard of a husband didn’t deserve my tears.

  Isis

  32

  I’d been up in my old room for the past fifteen minutes, listening on the other end of the phone as Egypt’s boss, Loraine, boohooed about how her husband, Leon, had been cheating on her. To be totally truthful, it was never really my intention to listen to their conversation in the first place. I’d actually picked up the phone, because I needed to make a call. I had no idea I was going to be entering a conversation in the middle of drama central, but the first few words I heard were so good, I couldn’t put down the phone. It was like listening to a Jerry Springer episode.

  Evidently, some woman Loraine’s husband had been messing with had been leaving behind her panties in Loraine’s house as a calling card, which, I might add, was a stroke of genius if you’re trying to piss someone off. That’s letting a bitch know that not only was I up in your house, but I was also up in there fucking too. To top that off, the woman strolled right up to Loraine’s door and made it very clear that she’d been sleeping with her husband and had no intentions of stopping anytime soon. I didn’t know who this woman was, but we needed to sit down and talk, because I was impressed. I’d confronted Tony’s wife, Monica, a few years back, but things didn’t go nearly as well as they seemed to be going for this mystery woman.