Preacher's Wifey

by Dishan Washington

  “Yes.”

  “What are they?”

  “There’s only one. Is it too late to change my mind?”

  Chapter Six

  “Ms. Ward, you can elect to do whatever you choose. Just consider all the reasons you chose to get an abortion in the first place. If those reasons still exist, then I would advise you to follow through with it.”

  He had a point.

  “I just do not want to live with the guilt of killing my baby. What if I am unable to have any more kids? I will forever blame this abortion.”

  “We do understand those concerns,” the nurse said. “We have a list of counselors that we can recommend to you that will help you maneuver through your feelings once this is over. Trust me, I have been where you are—on that very table. I know it’s not a walk in the park, and I would be lying if I did not warn you of the many emotions you will have afterward. But it gets better. You are here because in your heart you know this is the right thing to do.”

  She, too, had a point.

  But although both of them had valid points, I still had reservations. My mind wandered back to the conversation I had just had with Ms. Helen. Did I want to end up like her? Did I want to run from the problems I had created with my very own actions? Did I want to keep killing innocent babies for selfish reasons? I knew that if I started, it would get easier each time.

  Dr. Carson glanced at his watch. “I don’t want you to think you are not important, but I do have other patients waiting for me. I know this is a difficult decision for any woman to make, so do you want to leave and take some time to think about it? Cindy can reschedule you to come back another day—after you have had more time to think this through,” Dr. Carson said. This time he actually sounded concerned.

  “Ms. Ward, before you answer Dr. Carson, I would just like to ask if you have discussed this with your boyfriend. I know it’s harder to make the decision when you have not had the opportunity to talk it out with your significant other.”

  Boyfriend? Why does everyone keep assuming I have a boyfriend and not a husband?

  “My husband and I did talk it over, as a matter of fact. He is the reason I am here,” I said as tears threatened to fall.

  “Nurse, please give me a moment with Mrs. Ward,” Dr. Carson stated.

  The nurse left the two of us alone.

  “I normally do not get involved in the psychology side of this, because it is not my place. So I hope you don’t mind the questions I am about to ask you. If you do, just simply say that and I will leave you alone. Do you mind if I get a little personal with you for a minute?”

  The tears were fighting to win, but I held them back. However, I knew where his questions were going to take me. Straight down teary lane.

  “Why in God’s name would your husband be the reason you are here?”

  I knew it. The million-dollar question.

  “He isn’t ready for a baby. And, to be honest, the more I think about it, I’m not, either.”

  “Is that the truth?”

  “Is what the truth?”

  “That you aren’t ready for a baby. Or are you just saying that to cover up how you really feel?”

  Dr. Carson really could have been a psychologist or a mind reader, because he was all in my thoughts. Was I that easy to read?

  “Doctor, my situation is complicated. It really is. There is no right or wrong answer in my scenario. So, as I said, I don’t think I am ready for a baby—especially because of the things going on in my life.”

  He studied me. His piercing gaze penetrated my eyes, causing me to look down into my lap. Those tears were pushing harder.

  “I see. Sounds like you are married to a jerk, if you ask me. But, hey, who’s asking me?”

  “He is not a jerk,” I said defensively. “That man has done a lot for me. He takes care of me, gives me anything I desire, and he is a good friend too.”

  “So why has he convinced you to kill your baby? What kind of man does that? What kind of husband does that?”

  He was starting to piss me off. I hadn’t minded the questions at first, but the insults were beginning to get under my skin.

  “No disrespect, but the same could be said about you. You kill babies for a living. Exactly how does your wife feel about that?” I shot back.

  “First of all, I am not married. Secondly, this is a job. This is how I make a living, pay the bills, and set myself up for the woman that I will one day marry and the family I will one day have. So let’s be clear about that. What I do for a profession has nothing to do with my own personal convictions about it.”

  “Obviously, you have no convictions about it. You do this every day, as if it is a normal thing to do.”

  “I do have convictions. That is why I am not in there performing a procedure on another patient whose mind is made up. But I am in here with you, hoping to help you make the best decision for you.”

  “Whatever. You get paid to take lives. Only a cold person can take money with blood attached to it and walk around as if he or she deserves it.”

  I might not have been sure about getting the abortion, but I was sure about getting the hell up out of there. I held the robe closed as I got up to get my clothes. He reached out and grabbed my arm.

  “Excuse you? I want to put my clothes on and leave. This was a mistake,” I said, pulling my arm away from him.

  Suddenly he softened his tone. It was almost as if he could see straight through the mock defense shield I was desperately trying to keep up.

  “Allyson, you love him way more than he will ever love you. Can’t you see it? He doesn’t really love you. I am a man. When a man is in love with his wife, he wants her to have his child. He wants to see a beautiful product that was created from their love,” he said as he moved closer to me. “And as beautiful as you are, who wouldn’t want you to have their child?” he asked as he pulled me into his arms.

  He was so close, I could feel the heat from his words. I knew I should have gotten my belongings and run, but I could not pull myself away from his words—his embrace. The truth was I needed this.

  “You are so beautiful, Allyson. If I were your man, I would give you the love you deserve.”

  “How do you know what I deserve?” The tears had won and were now flowing freely down my face.

  “I am a good judge of character. You may not be a perfect woman, but you are a woman with a good heart. And you need a man who can handle it with care.”

  His words were like water to a dry and thirsty land. I knew it was naive of me to put any stock in what he said—I had seen his type before. However, just like in times past, I fell for his type.

  I used my right hand to brush away the falling tears, and my left to push away from him. I was becoming unglued and needed to pull myself together.

  “Thank you, Dr. Carson, for . . .”

  “Call me Seth.”

  Startled, I said, “Thank you, Seth, for being concerned. I really appreciate it. Can we move forward with the procedure, please?”

  He looked at me for several minutes before he spoke again. “Are you sure? If you want to keep this baby, then keep it.”

  “No, I am sure. Can we please just get this over with before my mind falls back into limbo again?”

  “I’ll get the nurse.”

  When he disappeared on the other side of the door, I unleashed all the tears. They crashed against my face like waves on the beach. Not to mention, those terrible cramps from earlier had returned. Great. First, pain in my heart, and now pain in my body. This day could not get any worse.

  After what seemed like a day, the door to the room opened again.

  “Allyson, we are ready to perform your procedure. May we come in?” Dr. Carson asked, and this time comfort laced his words.

  “Yes, I am ready.”

  The nurse opened the cabinets and took out everything they would need.

  “Mrs. Ward, please lie back. We’re going to draw some blood and perform an ultrasound. Once the ultras
ound is performed, I am going to examine your uterus,” Dr. Carson said in a professional tone. “Do you have any questions so far?”

  I shook my head no.

  They did as planned, and when the nurse rolled the ultrasound machine over to me, my heart starting beating faster. I decided I would close my eyes, because there was no way I could look at my baby on a screen and then kill it. No way.

  The nurse spread a cold blue gel over my stomach, and Dr. Carson rubbed the probe across it.

  “It is not uncommon for us to not be able to see anything unless you are further along than you think,” he said.

  “Okay,” I said, still refusing to look at the screen.

  He maneuvered the wand around my stomach in silence for a few minutes before speaking again.

  “As I thought, I don’t see anything in the sac. Not even a heartbeat.”

  “Are you going to the do the vaginal ultrasound?” the nurse asked.

  “Yes,” he answered. He grabbed another wand, a skinnier one, and put some gel on it. “Mrs. Ward, I am going to insert this inside your vagina. Open your legs and relax.”

  I followed his command, but with hesitation. After the moment we had shared earlier, I felt some type of way opening my legs for him.

  “Allyson, we have a slight problem. Well, not a problem to be alarmed about, but this abortion may not be necessary,” he said.

  “Huh? I do not understand.”

  “You are bleeding. This could be nothing, or it could mean you are in the beginning stages of a miscarriage. Not that a miscarriage is any better, but since you were having reservations earlier about having an abortion, this may be to your benefit.”

  Huh? Miscarriage? Was this a blessing or a curse? After what seemed like the longest five seconds ever, I breathed a sigh of relief. He was right. I would much rather be having a miscarriage than an abortion. If I was losing the baby on my own, then it was a sign this baby was not supposed to come into the world in the first place.

  He inserted the wand, and this time I looked at the screen. To me, everything looked black and fuzzy. I strained my eyes in hopes of seeing something more, but it was no use.

  “I do not see a heartbeat. Do you?” he asked the nurse.

  “No, sir. I don’t see one,” she replied.

  He moved the wand around some more, which produced some discomfort.

  “I am pretty confident—about ninety-nine percent confident—that you are indeed having a miscarriage.” He removed the wand. “We can go ahead and perform a D and C since you are here, and remove any remaining remnants of the pregnancy from your uterus. You will more than likely bleed for a few days, maybe even longer, and you might experience some period-like cramps.”

  I’m already experiencing beyond period-like cramps. Tears of relief and sorrow merged and trickled down my face. I was happy that I was not going to have to live the rest of my life carrying the guilt of having killed my first child. On the other hand, knowing that my baby had died all by itself was heartbreaking. My body had defied me.

  The nurse walked over, handed me some tissues, and I lay there, numb, as they performed the D and C. I was lost somewhere in thoughts of Byran, our deceased child, and Dr. Carson when he let me know it was done. It was over. The baby’s remains had been sucked into a vacuum-like contraption.

  “Other than anything emotional, how are you feeling?” he asked.

  “I feel fine,” I stated solemnly.

  “Okay. Well, everything is taken care of. You can get dressed and stop by the discharge desk and get your discharge information. I am going to prescribe you a pain medication just in case you need it,” he said as he stood. He extended his hand toward mine. “It was a pleasure serving you, Mrs. Ward. I do hope everything works out for you.”

  “Me, too, Mrs. Ward,” the nurse said sympathetically.

  “Dr. Carson, can I speak to you privately for one second?” I asked.

  The nurse cast a questioning glance at him to make sure it was okay for her to leave. After nodding his assurance, she exited the room.

  “What can I do for you, Allyson?”

  I slowly sat up on the exam table, swung my legs over the edge, and reached my hand out for him to take. He took it, and I pulled him closer.

  “You can make me forget,” I said as tears once again began to sting my eyes.

  He leaned down and kissed me passionately, and our lips welded together as the kiss deepened. If I did not know any better, I would have thought he meant it.

  I would have thought he loved me.

  But I knew that was not the case.

  Nobody loved me.

  Chapter Seven

  Was I seeing things? Was a pregnant woman walking out of my house, holding my husband’s hand?

  I opened the door to the car and slowly stepped out.

  This is not what it looks like. This man does not have his pregnant mistress at your house. No, he is not that stupid.

  Byran looked as if he had seen a ghost when he saw me approaching them. Was he so caught up in this woman that he totally missed me driving up and then sitting in the driveway?

  “Allyson, um . . . this . . . this . . . is Shatrice,” he said, stammering.

  I exhaled and was grateful her name was anything other than Leah.

  She extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Allyson. I was just leaving.” When I looked at her hand as if she had leprosy, she quickly realized I was not in the mood to be cordial. Giving up, she turned to Byran. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Be safe getting home,” he told her.

  The lady walked by me and went to her car.

  She was about my height, with a bad weave, and nothing about her wardrobe said designer. Her clothes looked as if they had come straight out of the clearance section of Value Village. She was not an ugly girl, just plain. Not Byran’s type at all, which convinced me even the more that she was not the woman.

  “Is she a relative?”

  “We will get to who she is. I want to know how you are. How did things go today?”

  Remembering the argument we’d had earlier this morning about him not going to support me in a decision I made solely because of him, I got angry all over again, and the memories of this dreadful afternoon came rushing back.

  “The baby is gone.”

  Silence.

  More silence.

  Ending the standoff, I walked past him and into the house. All I wanted to do was get to my bed.

  “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?” he asked, following me inside.

  I whirled around. “What else do you want me to say? I left here to kill our baby, and the baby is dead. I don’t know what else can be added to that,” I snapped.

  “Why do you have to say it so callously? I know you are upset because I could not go, but you already knew I had a previous appointment. I asked you to reschedule for tomorrow, and you insisted on today.”

  “The point I was making this morning and will continue to make is there are some things you should do for me just because you care. Not because it is a part of my contract or agreement, but just because I am your friend, Byran. At least before we got married, you treated me like a person. You treated me like I mattered. It has only been a year, and already you are treating me like some ho you met on the street. Is that how you see me? Because if I had known that I was going to be treated like an accessory, I would have never agreed to this arrangement.” I plopped down on my cherry velvet sofa. “There was a time when it wasn’t all business between us. What happened?”

  He walked over to the cabinet that held the liquor and poured a shot. He quickly downed it before walking over to the windows to look out.

  “Do you think any of this is easy for me? I mean, really? Do you think I get joy out of seeing you hurt? Do you think I like feeling like a slimeball all of the time, or staying awake, tossing and turning, asking myself if any of this was worth it?” He turned to me. “Because if you think I do, then you are wrong. So wrong. Re
al wrong. I hate feeling this way. I hate disappointing you time after time. I hate that I was selfish enough to marry you for my own personal reasons, knowing my heart truly belonged to someone else.

  “How do you think I feel each time a young couple at our church comments on what a beautiful couple we make or how we are their role models? It makes me feel like a hypocrite. When we first agreed to do this, it seemed like the perfect idea. You said you wanted a certain lifestyle, and I had the means to provide it.” He went and poured another shot.

  “I guess it’s true. Money can’t buy you love,” I commented.

  He turned to me again. “But that’s just it. We never wanted love. Money was good enough for you in the beginning, and status was good enough for me. It was a match made in heaven.”

  “Or hell.”

  He sighed. “What do you want from me? What do you want me to do?”

  “I just want you to act concerned. No, I want you to be concerned for me when times get tough. I want you to actually show you have a heart. I want you to care about me as your friend, if nothing else.”

  Suddenly a pain attacked my stomach, and I screamed. Byran rushed to me immediately.

  “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  It took a second for me to capture my breath. “I’m fine. The doctor told me I might experience some cramps. That was one of them.”

  He wiped the sweat that had quickly formed on my forehead and pushed a strand of hair away from my face. I looked into his eyes, which were fixed on me.

  “You are so beautiful, Allyson,” he said as he continued brushing and stroking my face with the back of his thumb. “I’m lucky to have found you. I’m blessed to have you as my . . . friend.”

  “I’m your wife!” was what I wanted to scream, but I knew it would not make a difference. His heart was someone else’s, and my energy to argue was nonexistent. I searched for words and could not find them. This had been a horrible day, and it seemed to be getting worse.