Big Girls Do Cry

by Carl Weber

  By three in the morning, the contractions were coming eight minutes apart, and Dr. Collins told us to get to the hospital. Although this was my first baby, they wanted to be on the safe side because of my weight.

  It was still dark outside when we left for the hospital. At Egypt’s insistence, we had already done a dry run, so we knew exactly to the minute how long it would take to drive there. Rashad helped me to the car, and Egypt had to lug the heavy-ass suitcase that she’d packed for me. I loved every minute of the attention I was getting, until we got to the car and Egypt jumped in the front seat next to Rashad. If I wasn’t so uncomfortable from the contractions, I would have put up a fight. Instead, I just lay against my father in the back seat.

  I started having harder contractions on the drive. I was moaning so loudly it drowned out the sound of the radio.

  “Breathe, Isis,” Egypt ordered from the front seat. “Concentrate on breathing.”

  I felt like reaching around the headrest and choking her ass to death. How the hell was I supposed to concentrate on breathing when the only thing I could think of was the godforsaken pain I was in?

  “I’m trying.” I panted between the sharp pains.

  When we arrived at the hospital, they rolled me to the labor and delivery room right away.

  Egypt turned to Rashad. “I’ve got this, baby. You can go sit in the waiting room with the other fathers.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Rashad asked firmly. “Fathers don’t sit in waiting rooms anymore. You think I took those Lamaze classes for my health? I’m going to see my baby be born.”

  “Rashad,” she whined. I wanted to punch her in the face right about now. How could she deny Rashad the experience of seeing his own child being born? But I didn’t have to put my two cents in, because Rashad handled it on his own.

  “I’m not going to argue with you, Egypt. I’m going to be in that delivery room. You coming or staying here with your parents?”

  Although I was in pain, I felt like cheering him on. Egypt was always trying to control everybody around her, just like my mother. It was about time he put her in her place. I was relieved, too, because as the pain got worse, I was starting to get scared, and I was glad he would be there with me through the whole thing.

  Egypt said, “Okay, baby, I’m coming,” to Rashad, but she looked crushed.

  They both got suited up in cloth scrubs and masks. Everything happened in a blur after that. They put a monitor on me, and my contractions started coming faster and faster. I think I heard them say I had dilated to five centimeters when I first got there, but now I was to seven.

  I remember Rashad putting crushed ice cubes on my dry, parched lips, and I loved it. Oh, how I wished he was my husband at my side, but this was just as good. We could get married later on. Right now, I was about to have our first baby.

  A nurse took care of me at first, but when I made it to about nine centimeters, they called Dr. Collins, who showed up within a matter of minutes. As the labor progressed, the pains became almost constant and more intense. It felt like one long, continuous contraction. The pain was worse than anything I could have ever imagined. I tried to take my mind off it by imagining my life with Rashad once Egypt was out of the picture, but it hurt so much I couldn’t even concentrate. It got so bad that I wanted to kick Rashad’s ass for getting me pregnant in the first place.

  This labor went on for what seemed like forever, although later I found out it was only about four hours. I screamed, I hollered, I cursed out everyone in the room.

  “Oh, hell naw,” I said when Dr. Collins tried to examine me for the hundredth time. “My coochie is on fire. Get away from me.”

  “They’ve got to examine you to see how far along you are,” Rashad said, wiping my sweaty forehead with a towel.

  “Can’t y’all give me something for the pain?” I asked Dr. Collins. “This shit hurts.”

  “Isis, you’re too far dilated to give you anything,” Dr. Collins said. “It’s time for you to start pushing.”

  “You know we agreed no drugs, so the baby can come out alert,” Egypt interjected with her know-it-all self.

  “Fuck that shit! I’m the one having this baby, not you!” I kicked at Egypt’s ass, then looked at the doctor. “Give me some damn drugs! I can’t take this.” I was crying now. “Fuck! This is killing me! Get this baby outta me!”

  The only thing that calmed me down was Rashad. “Come on, Isis. You’ve been brave so far. We don’t have much further to go. All you have to do is breathe. I’ll help you.”

  “Okay, it’s time,” Dr. Collins said.

  Rashad stood near my head and placed his strong hands on my shoulders. “Breathe, Isis. Pant, pant, push,” he coached, just like we’d been taught in the Lamaze class.

  Egypt was shouting the same thing, but I ignored her. Rashad was the only coach I needed. Just his presence was soothing. He stayed calm as he coached me to keep pushing through each contraction.

  All of a sudden, I felt a burning pain, like I was splitting in two.

  Through a haze, I heard Dr. Collins say, “The head is out. We just need one more push for the shoulders, Isis.”

  Rashad left my side and went down to the end of the bed. I didn’t care that he could see all up in my coochie, with everything hanging out. It wasn’t like it was something he hadn’t seen before. Then again, he’d never seen it stretched this wide.

  “Oh my God, I can see the head! Push, Isis, push, and he’s going to come right out!” Rashad shouted.

  I was in so much pain I thought I was going to pass out, but with Rashad’s encouragement, I gave it one more push. I let loose one long, piercing scream, and then, just like that, I felt something slip out of me, and all the pain was done.

  Suddenly, I heard a cry. A sweet, wonderful baby cry.

  “Oh my God, look at him!” Rashad was so excited. “You did it, Isis! You did it!”

  I felt a rush of love for Rashad at that moment that was so intense, I started to cry. I know I had told him that I was having the baby for him, but until now, I hadn’t realized just what that meant. We had been through an ordeal together, but it was worth every second of pain, because the outcome was a beautiful baby boy who was part of each of us. The joy on Rashad’s face was something I would never forget.

  Rashad bent down to kiss me, but then my beautiful fantasy was shattered. Instead of embracing me and telling me he loved me, he only gave me a quick peck on the cheek before he stood to face Egypt. He wrapped his arms around her, and the two of them started crying.

  “We did it, baby,” he whispered to her, and I wanted to die. Mercifully, Dr. Collins interrupted their moment.

  “We’ve got to cut the cord.”

  “I want to cut it,” Rashad said.

  Dr. Collins handed him the scissors.

  “Let me see him,” I said, sitting up and reaching my arms out for my baby. “Let me see him.”

  The doctor placed the baby in my arms, and again my eyes filled with tears. This time, it wasn’t love for Rashad; it was for this beautiful child I was holding.

  Egypt must have noticed that I was getting emotional, because she moved next to me and hovered over the baby like she was getting ready to snatch him up. If I could have made her disappear into thin air, I would have done it in a second.

  “I’ve got to weigh him,” the nurse said. I don’t know if she noticed the tension between me and Egypt, but she sure stepped up at just the right time. I handed the baby to her, and she took him to the scale.

  “Eight pounds and ten ounces. He’s a big one.”

  While she finished washing the baby, checking his Apgar score, and wrapping him in a blanket, I felt like an outcast. Rashad and Egypt stood there gazing at each other and then at the baby as if I weren’t even there. As if I had nothing to do with the baby’s birth. My hormones were so scrambled up, all I could do was lie on the table, shivering and crying quietly. This was not at all how I’d imagined things would be.

  The
nurse finished what she was doing and then turned to carry the baby back to me. That’s when Egypt staked her claim.

  “Nurse, that’s not a good idea,” Egypt said.

  The nurse stopped in her tracks. I’m sure this wasn’t a situation she encountered every day. “Excuse me?”

  “She’s our surrogate.”

  The nurse glanced at me as if she felt my pain.

  “I just want to see how he looks. I want to make sure he has all ten fingers and toes,” I pleaded with outstretched arms.

  Egypt’s reply was cold as ice. “Don’t worry. I’ll check for you. Dr. Collins, can you please tell her to give me my baby?”

  The nurse turned to the doctor, and he nodded.

  Egypt walked over and took the baby from the nurse’s arms. I don’t think I ever truly hated my sister until that exact moment as I watched her kissing and cuddling my child. Rashad walked over to her and placed his arm around her, and I almost couldn’t see through my tears.

  He turned back and looked at me. “Thank you, Isis.”

  I couldn’t even answer. I turned my head away and felt the tears dripping down my face.

  The doctor directed the nurse to bring Rashad and Egypt to another room with the baby. I, on the other hand, would stay on the cold-ass table so the doctor could deliver the placenta and stitch me up. As Egypt left the room with my child, all I could ask myself was, What in the world have I done?

  Loraine

  45

  “I am so jealous.”

  “You should be,” Jerome said with a smirk. “By this time tomorrow, I’ll be pissy drunk from Bahama Mamas and as black as the ace of spades from sitting under the Caribbean sun all day. What’s not to be jealous of?”

  “Have I told you how much I hate you lately? Because I do!” I was being sarcastic about hating him, but I really was jealous.

  We were sitting at our usual Friday night happy hour table at T.G.I. Friday’s. Jerome was waiting for a car service to come pick him up, because he and Big Poppa were sneaking away to a private villa in Jamaica for Easter week. I knew I shouldn’t be too jealous, though, because I was also going away, with my new boo, Michael. We weren’t headed to a tropical island; we were headed for a weekend in Roanoke, in a romantic cabin up in the mountains. I couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning.

  “That’s my ride,” Jerome said, gulping down the last of his cognac. “Well, Raine, I guess I gotta go. Tell my man Mike I’ll see him when I get back. And you have a good time in the mountains.”

  I couldn’t help but pout a little when Jerome stood up and kissed me on the cheek to say good-bye. I loved my friend so much.

  “I will. Have a good time.” I was sad to see him leave, but I really did hope he had a great trip.

  After he was gone, I sat alone and nursed my Long Island iced tea for a little longer. I wasn’t ready to go home and be alone. But as I looked around the bar at all the people talking with friends or trying to hook up with strangers, I realized I was already alone, even in this crowded place. I thought of Michael. Maybe I could call him and ask him to have a late dinner with me.

  That idea disappeared quickly, too, because I knew it wouldn’t be fair to Michael. He had a lot of work to do tonight if we were going to leave for Roanoke in the morning, so it probably wouldn’t be a good idea if I was around to distract him.

  Things were moving fast between me and Michael, much faster than I would have expected. He was telling me he loved me on a consistent basis, and I was starting to do the same. He’d even started talking about when we got married, like it was a certainty, and he was constantly asking me when my divorce would be final. I already had my lawyers working on the papers. It was time to push Leon to the side and get on with my life.

  At least that’s what I thought, until a man approached me with some information that would change my perspective on quite a few things.

  “Excuse me, miss.” I turned around and was startled to see a rather handsome white man with salt-and-pepper hair sitting in Jerome’s seat.

  “Sorry,” he said with a friendly smile. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, and I meant it. I didn’t feel threatened by this guy. He was wearing a suit, probably some professional just out for a few drinks after work. He wasn’t really my type, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to be nice and have a polite conversation for a few minutes.

  “Loraine, right?”

  Now that made me pause. If he knew my name, then we must have met somewhere before. I hoped he wasn’t a client, because I was going to look like a complete idiot if I couldn’t remember his name. Upon giving him a second look, he did seem vaguely familiar, but I had no idea why, so I couldn’t even play it off like I knew him.

  “Yes. I’m sorry. I’m drawing a blank right now. Have we met?”

  “Well, no, but we have a mutual friend.”

  I’d had enough alcohol at this point that I didn’t even bother to censor my reaction. Client or not, his choice of words just set me off. “Mister, last time someone told me we had a friend in common, she ended up telling me it was my husband and she was sleeping with him.” I drained the last of my drink. “Please don’t tell me you’re sleeping with my husband.”

  He chuckled. “No, I can assure you I’m not sleeping with your husband.”

  “Thank God for small favors.” I laughed along with him. “So,” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me, “if it’s not my husband, then who is this mutual friend?”

  Without answering, he reached down to his briefcase and pulled out a manila envelope, which he placed on the table in front of me.

  I looked down at it, but all I saw was a blank envelope. I had no idea what was inside. I gave him a questioning look, wondering if maybe I should have been a little more cautious when he first sat down.

  “I’m sure you’re gonna wanna see this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Take a look for yourself.”

  I put my hand on top of the envelope but then hesitated for a second. I was dying to know what was inside, but I was also a little scared. Then I realized I’d already been faced with the worst surprise of all—a visit from my husband’s mistress. This guy told me that he didn’t know my husband, so this couldn’t be that bad, could it?

  I would soon find out how wrong I was.

  I opened the envelope and pulled out the contents. The picture on top made my stomach lurch like I was about to throw up all the alcohol I’d consumed.

  “Is this some kind of a fucking joke?” I asked him as I waved the photo of LaKeisha in his face.

  “No, but you know who she is, don’t you?” He was totally calm in spite of my growing agitation. I guess he hadn’t figured out yet that I was gonna fuck him up if he didn’t come up with some explanations in a hurry.

  “Yeah, I know her. She’s the bitch who’s fucking my husband.” I sat back in my chair and glared at him. “And who the fuck, exactly, are you?” A warning bell was beginning to ring in the back of my mind, like I was seconds away from figuring out how I knew this guy, but I still couldn’t quite put two and two together.

  “I’m the guy who’s going to get you and your husband back together.”

  Now he really had my attention, because nothing short of finding out that Leon was Jesus Christ reincarnated could get us back together. I still had no clue what was going on, but there was no turning back at this point. No matter how loud that alarm was ringing in my head, I couldn’t walk away before I heard what he had to say.

  “Take a look at the next picture.”

  I leaned forward and flipped to the next photo, which almost made me fall out of my chair. It was a picture of Jerome handing money to LaKeisha. With shaking hands, I quickly flipped through the rest of the pictures. There were a few more of Jerome handing her money, and the rest were of the two of them talking over what looked like lunch at the Tobacco Company, one of his favorite spots.

  “That’s Jerome,” were the
only words I could manage.

  “Any reason why he’d be giving the woman who is supposedly sleeping with your husband a wad of cash?”

  “No … I mean, I don’t know.” Nothing made any sense.

  “I do. He was paying her off.”

  “What? Why would he be paying her off?” And then it dawned on me that I still had no idea who the hell this guy was. “And how would you know anyway?”

  “Oh, let’s just say that I’ve taken a special interest in Jerome.”

  His vague answer set off those alarm bells again, but I was too busy trying to wrap my head around the images I’d just seen to worry about how I knew this guy.

  “Okay, so let’s just say you didn’t Photoshop these pictures. I still don’t understand why Jerome would be talking to that bitch.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe to break you and your husband up?”

  It took no time for me to reject that theory. “Jerome’s my best friend. He wouldn’t do that.”

  “You sure?” he asked, still as calm as could be.

  I stared at him, challenging him to prove it.

  “Take a look at the dates on the photos. I took these pictures of her and Jerome the day before Thanksgiving. That Saturday, she showed up in front of your place.” He handed me some more pictures. Each was of me and LaKeisha.

  At this point, I was speechless.

  “Put the pieces of the puzzle together, Loraine. That man gave that woman money, and then she came to your house. Do you really think that was a coincidence?”

  The truth swept over me like a tidal wave, and suddenly I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Jerome and I had been through hell and high water together, and it tore me apart to realize that he could somehow be involved with everything I’d been going through. I still wasn’t sure what the implications were, but I knew that my whole world felt like it had just shattered.

  “Look.” He stood up to leave, having already inflicted all the damage he could. “There are a lot of things Jerome hasn’t told you. All I’m going to say is that your husband’s an innocent man. He doesn’t know that woman.” He looked down at the pile on the table. “You can have those pictures. I have plenty of copies.”