by Mz. Robinson
It was a beautiful Friday morning, and Venetta and I were spending some time together. Jonah was working with Gator, and since he’d given an all-clear upon his return from St. Maarten, we were allowed to venture out without a chauffeur. The two of us had a full itinerary that included getting our hair done, mani-pedis, and full-body massages. I originally had plans to go solo, but after seeing the atrocious condition of Venetta’s cuticles and toes, I asked her to join me. I understood and supported her new lifestyle, but it was no excuse to let herself go. I was willing to bet that nowhere in her Bible did it state that in order to live holy, she had to walk around with her heels looking like she’d been out chipping bricks barefoot.
“Do you think you’ll ever go back to your real hair?” Venetta asked, standing next to the styling chair, watching me closely.
I admired my reflection in the lighted mirror, feathering my fingers through my hair. My stylist, Nakita, had done yet another excellent job and hooked me up with a sexy sew-in with auburn highlights. It hung over my shoulders and stopped at the top of my ass. I swung all twenty-eight inches of the Brazilian Remy with pride and grace and said, “Sure I will, when they stop selling weaves or my husband goes broke.” I laughed and stood. “But I wouldn’t put my money on either of those happening anytime soon.” I ran my hands over the front of my short dress, smoothing it out and cursing my slightly bloated belly. I looked fabulous regardless, but it was obvious that Aunt Flo was about to pay me a visit.
After leaving the spa, we decided to have lunch at Beauregard’s before heading back to my place. There were a few patrons in the restaurant, but it wasn’t packed, which pleased me. I was starving and wasn’t in the mood to wait around for our food. I sipped slowly from the glass of sweet tea sitting in front of me, hoping the cold beverage would calm my rumbling belly.
“Next time, we should check out this spot downtown that I heard Leon and Terrance talking about,” Venetta suggested, looking across the table at me. “I think it’s called Ambiance or something like that.”
“Sounds good,” I said, scanning the restaurant for our waitress. Originally, we’d declined the appetizers, but the loaded nachos I’d seen on the menu when we had placed the orders were still running across my mind. I saw the slim blonde weaving between tables and walking in our direction, her full breast bouncing inside her white shirt with every step she made. “Excuse me,” I said, waving my hand in the air. “Excuse me!”
She nodded, acknowledging me, and walked over to our table. “What can I do for you?” she asked.
“Um…I think I’ll have some nachos after all,” I said.
She smiled. “Comin’ right up,” she said, then bounced away.
“Hungry?” Venetta asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
“Starving,” I sighed.
“You shouldn’t have skipped breakfast.”
“I didn’t,” I confessed, “and it was a big one at that.”
Venetta looked at me with both eyebrows raised this time, studying my facial expression. A second later, a small smile, almost a smirk, crept across her face.
“What?” I asked, slightly annoyed by her gawking.
“Maybe you’re eating for two.”
“What!? No way!”
“I’m just teasing.” She giggled. “But you are looking a little, uh…full these days. I didn’t wanna say anything, but that dress is a little snug.”
“It’s called water weight,” I snapped defensively. I leaned over and whispered, “It’s almost that time of the month, you know.”
“Hmm. And a little snippy and emotional too,” Venetta taunted. “I remember being like that when I was carrying Emerson.”
“First of all, me being pregnant would be a miracle,” I stated, rolling my eyes. “Second, my hormones are just all over the damn place with everything that’s been going on. Gator’s been coming and going at all hours of the night, and we can’t have a decent conversation without his phone going off. “
“I understand that, girl,” she said seriously. “If it wasn’t for prayer and faith, I’d probably be locked in a padded room, chewing on my hair.” She laughed lightly. “Terrance has been so distant and angry since…well, you know. I’m questioning his judgment more and more with every breath. Have I told you about his new friend?”
“No.”
“His name is Z.,” she said. “He’s got no last name, just Z., the last letter in the alphabet.”
“Z.? He sounds like a killer,” I remarked. I smiled when I saw our waitress approaching with a plate of cheesy, messy nachos and two small saucers.
“Let me know if you need anything else.” She smiled, flashing her green eyes. I waited impatiently as she sat our appetizer and the plates down on the table, then removed a stack of paper napkins from the apron secured around the waist of her pants. “Enjoy your appetizer, ladies. Your main course should be out shortly,” she stated before walking away.
“Fabulous,” I said. I wasted no time digging into the pile of cheese- and jalapeño-drenched tortilla chips in front of me.
“He’s somethin’,” Venetta said, eyeing me. “What he is, I don’t know.”
“I take it you don’t like him.” I covered my mouth while munching on my third chip.
“I don’t trust him,” she stated. “I don’t know why, but I just don’t.”
“Have you talked to Terrance about this?”
“Heh. Right. Lately, we haven’t talked about much of anything.” Venetta shook her head. “We’re growing apart, Diamond, and I feel like there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s as if Emerson was the glue that held us together, and now that he’s gone…”
I paused and took a sip of my tea. My stomach was no longer growling, but it still felt empty. “Maybe you should go to counseling.”
“I suggested that,” she said, “but he refuses. All he wants, all he ever thinks about and talks about is—”
“Revenge?” I concluded.
“Yes,” she said with a distant look in her eyes.
I paused, gathering my words in silence, as the waitress returned with our entrées. “I’m worried about him,” I said honestly, as soon as our waitress was gone.
“So am I,” Venetta grumbled, while picking over the chef salad in front of her, “but I’ve prayed about it, and whatever happens happens.”
“Understandable,” I said. I stared at the whiskey-jack burger in front of me. I didn’t feel near full, but at the sight of the burger and cheese fries, I suddenly began to feel nauseous. “I-I’ll be back,” I said, quickly sliding my chair back from the table. I grabbed my purse, then quickly moved through the restaurant toward the ladies’ room. Maybe those nachos were a bad idea, I thought. My tongue began to tingle as I pushed through the bathroom door. I hurried into the largest stall, the handicap one located the farthest from the bathroom entrance, and left the door open behind me. My stomach felt like it was on the Tilt-o-Whirl while I leaned over the toilet and allowed the contents of my belly to spill out into the porcelain bowl. I flushed the toilet, exited the stall, then looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror while washing my hands.
“Impossible,” I said aloud, drying my hands with a paper towel. I don’t know if Venetta’s words had me tripping or if I was actually beginning to second-guess my health. Turning sideways, I looked at my profile in the mirror, focusing on my stomach. “Diamond, stop trippin’, girl,” I said, shaking my head.
I turned on my heels, tossed the paper towel in the trash, and headed out of the restroom. I stepped across the wooden floor, digging though my bag in search of my breath mints. “Shit,” I mumbled. My heart skipped a beat as I pulled out the small peach case containing my birth control pills. Flashbacks of the night of the party replayed in my head. After Emerson’s passing, I’d completely forgotten about the pills. Fuck! I thought.
* * * * *
“I had a ball today,” Venetta said as the two of us sat in my car, parked in front of her house.
“Me too,�
� I said anxiously. “We’ll have to do it again soon.”
“Yeah. I needed some girl time.”
“Me too,” I said, tapping my nails against the steering wheel.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna come in?”
“No. I’d better get home, just in case your brother’s there. I like to catch some quality time with him while I can.”
“I know that’s right.” Venetta exhaled. She had one hand on the door but still hadn’t budged. On any normal occasion, I would have been happy to talk to her for a while, to give her some company, but the only thing on my mind at the moment was getting to the closest drugstore I could find.
“Well, hopefully the two of you will get some quality time in. Who knows? Maybe Terrance and I will as well.” She gave me a quaint and unconvincing smile before finally opening the car door. She climbed out and turned to look at me. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” I said sincerely.
As soon as she was safely inside, I hauled ass pulling out of her driveway. Troubling thoughts flooded my head as I merged onto the interstate. When was my last period? I questioned. My stomach was still reeling, and I could feel the slow onset of a headache as I exited the interstate in the direction of the CVS Pharmacy.
* * * * *
I was perched on the edge of my bathtub, impatiently staring at my watch. My nerves felt like they would crawl out of my skin any second. I was experiencing what had to be the longest minutes of my life. I stared at the counter, looking at the little plastic stick I’d drizzled with my urine moments earlier. I wasn’t a religious woman, as I’d strayed away from the church and my beliefs when my God-fearing mama had disowned me for marrying Gator, but I was now praying with everything in me that the test would prove my fears wrong. “Please let it be negative,” I whispered aloud, with my heart thumping in my chest. “Please!” I darted my eyes back to my wrist, then stood slowly. “One line,” I whispered, stepping over to the sink. “One line, one line, one…damn it!” I cursed when those two little horizontal blue lines stared back at me, as if they were mocking me.
“Diamond!” Gator called from our bedroom.
“Crap,” I grumbled. I moved quickly to stuff the test, the box, and the brown plastic bag I’d carried them in into the bottom of the wastebasket, under a bunch of other trash. I slid the basket in the corner under the sink, then looked around, making sure I hadn’t left any evidence. I made a mental note to take the trash out upon my first opportunity.
“Love, are you in there?” Gator called.
“Just a second,” I sang, flushing the toilet. I quickly washed and dried my hands before opening the bathroom door and facing Gator. “Hey, baby.”
“You all right?” he asked, instantly recognizing that something was off about me.
“I-I’m fine,” I stuttered nervously, stepping past him. I could feel his eyes penetrating me from behind while I walked over to our bed and sat down. The look of concern and curiosity in my husband’s eyes made me extremely nervous. I watched as he slipped his blazer off his shoulders and tossed the designer threads on the bed next to me. “When did you get in?” I asked.
“About five minutes ago,” he stated. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Hell no! I thought, but I lied, “Yes, boo, I’m fine. Why?”
“Your face is flushed,” he advised me, “and your eyes are red. Have you been crying?”
Not yet but I damn sure want to! Again I lied, “I was just thinking about the last time I saw Emerson. When Venetta and I hung out today, we were reminiscing, and…well, I guess it just hit me.”
“I see.” He walked over to the bed and eased down beside me.
I began to perspire nervously, fearful that he could see through my lies. The moment of silence between us made me even more uncomfortable. I pulled my eyes from Gator’s, choosing to focus on the bedroom wall instead. Thoughts of the last time Gator and I had made love penetrated my mind. Just as fast as my thoughts of us in our bed appeared, they were quickly replaced with the vision of AJ and I screwing. The severity of my reality began to set it: I was pregnant with a child I didn’t want and, even worse, a child who might not even be my husband’s.
“So…did you have a good time?” Gator questioned.
“What?” I asked, looking at him.
“Today,” he said with a frown. “Did you and my sister have a good time?”
“Yes,” I said, shaking my thoughts from my mind. “Yes, we did.”
“Good,” he said, stroking my cheek with his fingertip.
I shuddered slightly from his touch, an involuntary reaction from the picture of what he would do to me if he found out about the baby and the possibility that the child might not be his. He would forgive me for lying about taking birth control, at least in time, but I was certain that carrying another man’s child would be an unforgiveable offense. I was sure his idea of justice for me for that would be throwing me out in the streets. “You hungry?” I asked, standing, as I desperately needed to put some distance between the two of us. I needed air and a moment to get my plan together.
“No. I ate earlier. AJ’s waiting for me outside. I just wanted to stop in and check on you.”
“I’m fine. I was just about to tidy up a little bit,” I said, remembering the test I’d buried in the wastebasket. “Are you going back out?”
“Tidy up?” Gator’s tone matched his raised eyebrows and his look of bewilderment.
“Yeah.” I laughed. “I need to do something to work off some of the food I ate earlier.” I stood in front of him with my hands clasped in front of me, his questioning eyes making me feel naked, exposed, and guilty.
“The house is already spotless,” he said.
“I know, but I wanna keep it that way.” I gave him a weak smile, then turned toward the bathroom.
“Diamond…” Gator’s voice resounded loudly, causing me to jump.
Get it together, Diamond, I told myself before turning around. “Yes?”
“Why do you continue to lie to me?”
“What?” I questioned innocently.
“I’m quite aware of your recent emotional and physical changes,” he said, standing. “I’ve been busy, not blind. You’ve got a little extra weight around the middle, all that continuous munching on food, and the odd behavior.”
“Are you calling me fat?” I probed, pretending to be offended.
“Don’t do that. Don’t insult me,” he said smoothly. “We both know that whether you put on five pounds or fifty, insecurity is not a quality you possess.”
He was right, for I was not the kind of woman to take insult when my weight or any other imperfection was mentioned. I was generally comfortable in my own skin, or at least I had been until I discovered I might be carrying another man’s child inside it.
“Well? Are you gonna confess, or do I have to say it?”
“Yes,” I whispered. I’d forgotten that Gator’s eye for detail was as precise and sharp as his wardrobe. I’d paid my lack of a period no attention, but Gator probably had my shit stored in the events on his phone with a special alert. I knew I was busted, and there was no point in carrying on a façade. I told myself I could tell Gator about the baby and fake a miscarriage the next time he went out of town; it would be easy enough to get an abortion. Hell, he’d probably feel guilty for not being there, and that’ll only lead to him showing me even more gratitude and love. It might even keep him at home more. “Gator, I—”
The sound of his cell ringing interrupted my confession.
“Excuse me, my love,” he said, holding up his finger.
I nodded my head.
“You had me concerned,” he said, speaking into the phone. “Any luck? I’m listening.”
I listened quietly, watching Gator as he went back and forth with his caller.
“I’ll be in touch.” He ended the call and immediately made another one. “Meet me at the warehouse in forty minutes. Kelly just called me. He found the missing link.” He end
ed the call, then reached for his jacket.
“What is it?” I questioned.
“Everything will be back to normal real soon, baby,” he said, looking at me. “Diamond, I know the changes you’ve been experiencing are merely your body’s way of crying out for attention and that the weight and overeating is due to stress.”
Come again? “Stress?”
“Yes,” Gator replied. “I love you, and I love you even more for being strong and keeping your emotions and feelings to yourself, but it’s not fair to you. I know the last two months have been extremely stressful, and I’ve done little to nothing to show you that you are still the most important person in my life. That is all about to change.”
I was relieved and slightly shocked that Gator was oblivious to the truth. “You’re right.” I sighed. “I’m just thankful that we had this moment to actually talk about it.”
“Yes,” he said, slipping his jacket on, “so am I.” He leaned in and pressed his lips against mine. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
“Okay.” I smiled, relieved.
“I love you.”
“And I love you,” I replied. I walked my husband downstairs to the foyer and gave him another kiss before he walked through the front door.
As soon as I heard the sound of his car engine revving up, I hurried into the kitchen, retrieving the Yellow Pages I kept in the top drawer. I flipped through the pages until I found the listings for clinics. I hurriedly memorized the number for the Alabama Women’s Center, then hurried back upstairs and dialed it from my cell. I’d never terminated a pregnancy before, so I was utterly clueless as to the process. It had been my hope that I could get in, state my case, hop on a table, and have the problem taken care of with a few snip-snips and a casual, “Take two aspirin and call me in the morning,” but when I spoke to the receptionist over the phone, that hope was lost.
