Deal With It

by Monica McKayhan

  Mommy stepped in. “Oh, it’s his child. If my daughter says it’s his, then it’s his. She’s not like those little sleazy hoochie mamas out there.”

  I had to defend myself. “I haven’t been with anyone else. I’m not that type of girl.”

  “I’m sure that you’re a very nice girl, Tameka.” Mrs. Armstrong forced a smile my way. “But there are a lot of young ladies who literally throw themselves at Vance. He plays basketball—”

  “Well, you can rest assured that my daughter is not the type of girl to throw herself at some boy,” Daddy said, stepping in. “And frankly, I would like to know what Vance intends to do to handle this situation myself. He needs to step up to the plate and be a man about it.”

  “Is she going through with the pregnancy?” Dr. Armstrong asked. “There are other alternatives, you know.”

  “You mean, like murdering the baby before it has a chance at life?” Mommy asked sarcastically.

  “My son is in his senior year in high school. He has just received a full scholarship to college,” Dr. Armstrong said.

  “Prelaw,” Mrs. Armstrong bragged. “He’s going into Grambling’s prelaw program.”

  “That’s very commendable. Congratulations, Vance. You should be very, very proud.” Mommy smiled and was as sincere as she could possibly be. “And with all due respect, Dr. and Mrs. Armstrong, you seem like you have done a wonderful job with Vance. I’m sure he’s a very nice boy and all that. We’re very proud of Tameka, as well. She’s been on the honor roll since elementary school, and she had plans of attending college soon, too. But the truth is, they’ve found themselves in this position…and—”

  “We’ll be happy to pay for the procedure,” Dr. Armstrong said.

  “What procedure?” Mommy asked. “She’s having this baby.”

  There was complete silence. I glanced at Roni, and she seemed so uncomfortable and out of place. I felt sorry for her. Wished she didn’t have to be in the middle of my drama. She had enough drama of her own. And the way the fireworks were bursting at the dinner table, I wasn’t sure how things would end.

  “These are children,” Dr. Armstrong said. “What do they know about being parents? Absolutely nothing! I know my son is not prepared for fatherhood. I can tell you that right now.”

  “Neither was I at his age,” Daddy said. “But I did what I had to do when my wife was pregnant with Tameka. And we’ve been a family ever since.”

  “I can appreciate that, brother.” Dr. Armstrong turned toward Daddy, looked him square in the eyes. “But that’s not how we do things in the Armstrong family. He’s much too young to be a father, and we won’t support this.”

  “You don’t have to support it, but your son will take care of his responsibilities. That’s not optional,” Daddy said.

  “I might put it up for adoption after it’s born,” I said softly, afraid to speak. It was like our parents were the ones having a baby and not us.

  Dr. Armstrong stood. “Thank you for dinner, Mel. It was wonderful.”

  Mrs. Armstrong stood and followed her husband to the living room. Vance gave me a mean mug, rolled his eyes and then joined his parents in our living room, where they all found their shoes and slipped them onto their feet.

  “It was nice meeting you, Mel, and Paul.” Mrs. Armstrong smiled. “It was nice meeting you, too, Tameka.”

  “If she decides to keep the baby, we’ll arrange for a blood test once it’s born.” Dr. Armstrong shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll go from there. If it’s my son’s child, he’ll step up to the plate. He’s still going to college and all that, but he’ll do his part. If it’s his child.”

  “Oh, it’s his child.” Mommy placed her hands on her hips this time as our entire family joined the Armstrongs at the front door. “I believe my daughter.”

  Dr. Armstrong buttoned his trench coat and wrapped his colorful scarf around his neck. “The offer still stands if she’s interested in the procedure. I’ll be happy to pay for everything. I understand there’s even a pill that the women are taking now. It doesn’t even require a surgical procedure or anesthesia—”

  “Good night, Dr. Armstrong,” Mommy interrupted. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

  As Mommy ushered Vance and his family out the door, I wondered if things could get any worse than this.

  thirty-five

  Vance

  Dinner with Tameka and her parents had been a nightmare. This whole pregnancy situation was turning my life upside down. The ride home from their house was the longest ride ever, with my father giving me the third degree from the driver’s seat and my mother continuously asking, “How did you let this happen, Vance?” As Ledisi’s “Alright” played in my dad’s CD player, I focused on the words for the first time. I had never paid much attention to my father’s music, which consisted of jazz and old-school, boring music. But as I listened to Ledisi, I knew that she had to be talking about me as she sang the words, “This life can make me so confused, but it’s alright…I just wanna run and hide…”

  The situation that I had found myself in made me confused, and I wanted to run and hide. I wanted to fall asleep, and I hoped that when I woke up, things would be different. But the nightmare was endless. Tameka’s pregnancy was real, and soon the entire world would know. It wasn’t enough that her parents and now my parents knew. Soon all our friends would know, all our instructors and possibly my basketball coach—the whole world. I flipped open my phone and decided to send Tameka a text.

  Thx a lot, I told her.

  I felt as if Tameka and her mother had set a trap for me, and I’d walked right into it. If she’d had my back, she would’ve warned me. She would’ve given me the opportunity to tell my parents in my own time and in my own way. But instead, they’d robbed me of that opportunity, and I was angry. Hurt. Here I was, hanging on to life by the skin of my teeth—hanging on to a rope that was close to breaking, while I swung in the balance. The next nine months of my life would be a mystery. And if the DNA test that my parents had insisted on turned out positive, the next eighteen years of my life would be drastically different from the picture I had in mind. I had college and basketball on my mind, not Pampers and formula.

  Three weeks before senior prom and my girlfriend was pregnant. And who knew how big she might be by the time the prom actually came around. A lot could happen in a few weeks, and that compounded my problems even more. I wasn’t even sure if we would still be a couple by then, wasn’t sure if we were a couple at the moment. Situations like this should come with a manual, a step-by-step guide to help a guy like me know exactly what to do. But like my dad always said, “if life was easy, it wouldn’t be life.”

  Sorry, Tameka responded. Is that all she has to say? Sorry?

  Meanwhile, my life was suddenly in total and complete chaos.

  After my father pulled the car into the garage, I was the first one to hop out. I limped upstairs to my room. I needed to get as far away from my parents as I possibly could. I shut my door, locked it. Pulled open my dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of sweats and a hoodie. I changed out of the slacks and dress shirt that I’d worn to Tameka’s earlier. Slipped the sweatpants on and pulled the hoodie over my head. Placed a pair of gloves on my hands and headed toward the front door. I hopped down the stairs and into the middle of the street. Crutches underneath my armpits, I moved as quickly as I could. The wind hitting me in the face, I kept moving until I reached the end of the block. I immediately turned around and moved in the opposite direction, back toward the house. Cleared my head.

  In my room again, I sat on the edge of the bed, still shivering from the cold. I didn’t bother to turn on the television or stereo. Instead, I sat there in complete silence, just trying to find some order in my life again. When I heard the light tap on the door, I knew it was one of my parents.

  “Baby, can I come in?” Mom asked.

  She didn’t wait for an invitation before she pushed the door open and came in. After shutting it behind her, she jo
ined me on the edge of the bed.

  “How you feeling?” she asked.

  “Confused,” I said truthfully.

  “I know, baby.” She grabbed my hand in hers. “But if it’s any consolation, I want you to know that I think Tameka’s a sweet young lady, and I believe that the baby is yours.”

  “So do I,” I whispered.

  “I understand why she doesn’t want to end her pregnancy, too. Abortion is not the cure-all for every pregnancy. She has to do what’s best for her,” she said.

  “What about what’s best for me, Mom? She’s only thinking of herself,” I argued.

  “No. She’s thinking of her baby, and I have to admit, that’s commendable. As hard as it will be for the two of you, she’s willing to be a real mother and stand up for her child. She’s going to endure the most pain in this, Vance. Soon her stomach will grow, and her body will begin to change. She’ll have mood swings and crying spells. She’ll go to school, and everyone there will know that she’s pregnant. And they’ll judge her…”

  “They’ll judge me, too,” I insisted. “Everybody knows that she’s my girl.”

  “They won’t judge you as harshly as they will her,” Mom said.

  “It doesn’t have to be this way, Mom. She’s making this way too complicated. She wants to carry this baby, and for what?”

  “For life, Vance.” She looked at me square in the eyes. “She’s making the choice for life. Twenty years from now, when your son or daughter looks you in the eye, they’ll know that you chose life for them. And they’ll thank you.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  “You will, son. Maybe not today. Maybe not even next month, but you’ll understand it one of these days,” she said. “But for now, you support that girl. You treat her with respect. She’s the mother of your child.” Mom kissed my cheek, stood and headed toward the door. “I’m here for you. If you’re ever feeling confused again. If you get depressed or just want to talk.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said. “I do have a question.”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “What do I do about senior prom? It’s in three weeks,” I said. “Do I take somebody else?”

  “I can’t tell you what to do, Vance,” Mom said. “But I’ll leave you with this thought. Think of all I just said about what Tameka will be going through over the next several months. Ask yourself how she would feel knowing that you took someone else to the prom, knowing that she didn’t get in this situation by herself. Then make your decision. Do what’s in your heart, sweetie.”

  She left me with a lot to think about, but with things in perspective again, I felt better. Life was really about choices, and I had some to make. I just needed to make sure they were the right ones.

  thirty-six

  Indigo

  My feet on the edge of the bed, I wriggled my toes and then smashed my heels against Jade’s leg. She pushed them away.

  “Get your feet off me, Indi.” Jade frowned. “They smell like corn chips.”

  “My feet don’t smell like no corn chips, girl!” I laughed and wriggled my toes in Jade’s face. “They smell like rose petals.”

  “Whatever, Indi,” Jade said. “Guess who invited me to the senior prom?”

  “Who?” I asked, my eyes steady on her as she actually blushed. “I know it’s not Kendall Keller.”

  “Yes, Kendall Keller, and I’m going, too.”

  “That’s cool, I guess, as long as you don’t take any pictures.” I laughed.

  “Not funny. Kendall’s a sweet guy. Besides, he got a job and a car.” Jade relaxed on my bed, her knees pulled to her chest as she painted her toenails. “I don’t care what y’all say. I like him.”

  “I never said anything bad about him. I just can’t stand the pop-bottle glasses. Can he get some contacts or something?” I asked. “He’s actually kind of cute without the glasses.”

  “There’s more to him than just looks, Indi,” Jade insisted.

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “Like he plays basketball. He’s smart. He’s nice,” Jade said.

  “I know. I’m just messing with you. Kendall is nice,” I said. “Is he going away to college in the fall?”

  “He’s staying here. Going to Georgia State. So we might kick it a little bit next year, too,” she said. “Marcus will be a senior next year. Which means y’all got one more year left to hang out. And then he’s off to college somewhere. What’s up with that?”

  “Don’t remind me,” I said sadly. “I’m trying not to think about it right now.”

  “Well, you better start thinking about it. You don’t want something like that to creep up on you. You want to be prepared.”

  “I’ll be so lonely when he leaves,” I said.

  “No, you won’t! You’ll still have me to hang out with. I’m not Marcus, but I’m still your best friend.”

  That was good to know. After all the drama that Jade and I had gone through, I’d felt lonely without a best friend. But upon hearing Jamina’s story, my heart had immediately changed. It was a story of best friends fighting over something stupid and one of them ending up dead. That was not the ending I wanted for me and Jade. Jamina wished that she’d had a chance to change things, to go back and switch the events of the story around, to make things different before they came to a tragic end, but in life you didn’t always get another chance. But Jade and I—well, we’d had a second chance, and both of us had realized it. And what we’d been fighting over was even more stupid than what Jamina and her friend had fought over.

  I’d been jealous. I could admit it now. I’d wanted to be the captain of the team, and when my best friend got the spot instead, I’d hated her for it. I’d been selfish, and it had taken a fight at Macy’s and community service to show me just how much. Jade was a good dancer. But besides all that, she was smart, she was a team player and she had character—all the things that Miss Martin was looking for. There was a lot I could learn from her.

  “So what you wearing to the prom? Have you and Kendall even talked about colors?” I asked.

  “Green.” She stood and went to the mirror, walking funny because her toenails were wet, picked up my lip gloss and started rubbing it on her lips.

  “Green what?” I asked.

  “Green,” she said. “That’s the color we’re wearing.”

  “Nobody wears green to the prom,” I protested.

  “Green is cute, Indi. I saw some cute green dresses at Macy’s and Parisian. There’s a lot I can do with green.”

  “Green is the color of spinach and sweet peas. Oh, yeah, and baby doo-doo,” I said. “Everything disgusting.”

  “Uh, excuse me! Green is the color of money.” Jade smiled as she put eyeliner on her eyes.

  “Okay, maybe I can picture that. A sexy green dress with the back out. A little low in the front, showing some cleavage.” I laughed. “If you had some.”

  “If I had some cleavage?” Jade asked, her hands now on her hips. “Oh, I got some cleavage right here.” She undid the button on her polo shirt and showed me her chest.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t see anything,” I teased.

  The truth was, she had way more cleavage than I had. Mine was still stuck in puberty somewhere, refusing to come out. But Jade, she had just enough. Just enough breasts, just enough hips and just enough booty. She was the right height and the right size. And she liked Kendall Keller, and he liked her. She didn’t care who had a problem with it. She didn’t care if people liked her clothes or her hair, or if they talked about her behind her back. She was Jade—uncut.

  And she was my best friend. Today, tomorrow and always.

  thirty-seven

  Tameka

  A bag of potato chips in between my legs, a bowl of ice cream waiting for me on the coffee table and fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies wrapped inside a paper towel, I gorged. I took a sip of Tahitian punch and stared at the television; tears filled my eyes as the woman on the Lifetime television movie
cried for her missing child. Someone had stolen her baby from the hospital, and she was delirious trying to find him. I didn’t even know my child yet, but I knew that I would be delirious, too, if my baby was missing.

  A Saturday night, and Daddy was at work. Mommy and Roni had decided to catch a movie at the theater. I had passed. Wasn’t feeling much like myself, couldn’t fit in any of my clothes anymore. My face was fat, and my hair wouldn’t go right, and I was depressed. The senior prom was taking place this very night, and I hadn’t received so much as a phone call from Vance, let alone an invitation. Hadn’t heard from him since our disaster of a dinner with our parents. I saw him at school, but he was always in a hurry—to get somewhere. I was tired of crying, tired of thinking.

  He was probably picking up Darla Union at her house at this very moment, placing a corsage on her wrist and posing for pictures in her mama’s living room. He and Darla deserved each other. They both cared only about themselves. But I didn’t care. Something inside me had changed. I had a baby inside me who needed me, and whether Vance was around or not, I had a responsibility to it.

  Speaking of responsibility, our family doctor had warned me about eating too much junk food and not enough healthy foods for the baby. He’d suggested a daily dose of broccoli, carrots and fruits. Feeling guilty, I gathered the potato chips, cookies and ice cream and took them to the kitchen. After washing the ice cream down the garbage disposal, I opened the refrigerator in search of the vegetables and fruits Mommy had stocked the shelves with. She’d gone crazy with fruit juices: there were so many bottles of V8 Splash, she had to store the excess in the pantry. And the fruit basket on the kitchen table was overflowing with oranges, bananas and apples.

  Dressed in a pair of sweatpants and an oversize Atlanta Hawks jersey, a silk scarf tied around my head, I poured myself a tall glass of tropical-flavoredV8 Splash. I bit into an apple and spit the peel into the trash can. I put a chip clip on the bag of potato chips and placed them back in the pantry. It was time I started thinking about the baby. I needed to make sure he or she had a healthy meal every day. I had even decided that first thing the next morning, I’d start taking those humongous prenatal vitamins that the doctor at the free clinic had prescribed. I wasn’t sure how I would get something that size down my throat, but I had to at least give it a try. The baby needed vitamins.