by Tiana Cole
“With the same old intentions.”
He kissed her and ran his hands down her back, making her tingle all over. She felt his confidence as he grinned at her.
“Now why don’t we go in the bedroom and get in some practice for the honeymoon… just to make sure it goes well?” he said suggestively. “You only get one, after all.”
With his arms around her and seeing his desire for her in his eyes, Myeisha finally relaxed. Things were going to be all right after all.
“Well, I wouldn't want to miss the chance to make sure the honeymoon goes right.”
***
The doctor at the clinic was a young, energetic man. He listened to her symptoms, performed a routine physical, and then sat her down.
“What is it?” she asked nervously as he looked at her with his finger hooked around his nose.
“It could be a lot of things,” he told her after a long moment. “You seem healthy enough overall.”
She laughed. “Then heaven help me if I ever get sick.”
“I have a hunch that it’s one of those conditions that’s healthy… but a little debilitating.”
“Speak English,” she scowled.
“I think you’re pregnant.”
She swallowed hard. Ever since the symptoms started she’d suspected the same thing but had been pretending that it wasn't possible.
“Your period is late, and you said the sickness is pretty much just in the morning. Between that and the energy drain… those things are far too classic to ignore,” he said as he handed her a pregnancy test. “So let's find out, shall we? There‘s a bathroom down the hall.”
She stared at it with her mouth momentarily agape before asking, “Are these accurate?”
“Sure are. Surprisingly so, actually. They detect the hormone hCG—that’s human chorionic gonadotropin in case you’re taking notes, and it’s only present in pregnant women. So if it says you are…”
A few minutes later she anxiously returned from the bathroom and the test confirmed their suspicions.
“I’d guess you’re about three months along,” the doctor said.
“That’s a very good guess.”
He smiled. “How so?”
“Three months ago I was at Carnival in Ipanema, which is the last time I had any fun that might even remotely be referred to as sexual activity.”
“I see.”
“Since I’m pregnant now and you have to actually perform the act for that to happen, I assume that's still the case…”
“Right.”
“Is there good news? I mean, is the baby healthy?”
“Well, I’m a GP and we haven’t run any tests, so you'll need to see an OB to get more information. You’re healthy and fit, so with proper prenatal care you should have a good pregnancy. I doubt you'll have any problems.”
“Maybe not physical…” she muttered.
“Emotionally, it can be stressful to be pregnant,” he nodded. “Are you alone?”
“You mean do I have moral support? Not really. But I was thinking about finances. The idea of having a baby is wonderful—figuring out how to afford it is another thing entirely.”
“Ah.”
“Ah, indeed. You see, coming here to find out what was wrong with me instead of seeing a doctor on my own went beyond you being conveniently located near my French class. The truth is… I can’t afford a doctor, whether they’re a GP, OB, or LMNOP. I really do like you, but my initial attraction to this place was the low, low, cost of the clinic. As in ‘free.’”
“Fair enough. So you have no insurance? Now that we live in an age of legally mandated health coverage…” he trailed off.
“I haven’t quite caught up with the times, I’m afraid. I spent the last three years working on a cruise ship based out of Barbados. I had insurance through them but it was only good there and that ended when I quit. I just got back to the US a month ago, and quite frankly, in the long list of things I really needed to get back into school, insurance came in well below food and a few other things.”
“No employment benefits?”
“My work and school are both part-time, and part-time employees don’t get health insurance.” She patted her belly and added, “Even if they did, I would imagine that junior here would be considered a pre-existing condition.”
“Insurance companies have to accept those now.”
“If you have the price of the premium,” she pointed out.
“I understand.”
“So prenatal care is a problem. Any care will be a problem.”
“There is indigent care and other government programs,” the doctor suggested.
“I'll look into it, but with a job and being in school, I highly doubt I'll qualify. I’d probably have to quit both to do get any benefits, which would put me on welfare, and boom—another instant welfare family. I was hoping to avoid that.”
“You sound a little bitter.”
“Sorry. I shouldn't be complaining, but I grew up in a family with a single mom supporting two kids. Well, almost supporting them, I should say. Based on my previous experience, I have a fairly clear view of a future that, if I don’t put on rose-colored glasses, looks rather grim.”
“What about the father? Can he help? Will he help?” the doctor questioned with a look of genuine concern.
She laughed. “This will sound strange, but as I recall, the baby’s father is a guy in Brazil who wore a mask and had no name. A nice guy, or at least a hot guy, but nameless. I mean, I assume he was hot. I never saw his entire face but his body was great,” she shrugged.
The doctor grimaced. “I see that getting in touch might be a problem.”
“I can see that your medical training included lots of classes on politeness and euphemisms, doc?” she grinned. “Sorry. I'll deal with the situation.”
“There are options. You don’t have to have the baby…”
“That one is not on the table,” Audra said firmly.
“If you’re going to be rational, and there’s no law that says you have to be, the only option that should be off the table is doing nothing.”
“Good point. I do nothing and the new life just happens.”
“And you risk the child’s health,” the doctor fired back. “Look, I’m just a fairly new doc at this free clinic trying to pay off massive student loans, but I care about my patients anyway. If you find you've run out of options, please come back here and talk to me. I imagine we can find a way to get you some help in getting prenatal care.”
“You really want to help?” she asked, her brow raised in surprise by his sincerity.
“Helping people is what I’m supposed to do. It says so right on the paper they gave me when I graduated from Uncle Fred’s School of Medicine and Lifeguard Training. At least they told me that’s what it says—who reads Latin anymore?” he joked in an attempt to lighten the mood. “But if I can do anything to make my alma mater proud, I’d be delighted to.”
She squeezed his hand. “Thanks, doc. I like you.”
“My bedside manner?” he smirked.
“Your bad jokes. They remind me not to take myself too seriously.”
***
“Come stay with me. I don’t know shit about babies, but I can offer a safe place, your own room, and the services of an older brother willing to fetch and carry when you’re fat and all helpless.”
His voice was light over the phone—teasing. His solution sounded simple, inviting, and scary all at the same time. Terry was her big brother and he understood how she felt as well as any man could. He understood her concerns about being a single mom, as they’d only had their mother from the time she was born. Dad had walked out on them and she and Terry had grown up relying on each other. They weren't as bad off as some of their friends, but they were latchkey kids and had to fend for themselves a lot. Mom was kind and did her best, but she’d never finished high school after getting pregnant with Terry. When their father left she’d never held a real job—at least not for long. She’d tr
ied, though, having a brief stint as a maid for a rich family, but the hours were long and she didn't make much money… certainly not enough for after school care.
“What’s your girlfriend going to say about you having your pregnant sister move in with you?” Audra asked.
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“For the moment, maybe. You’ve gone a while without one, and having me there is going to make it awkward for you.”
“Having you there in New Orleans with me here worrying about you is going to make it awkward for me,” her brother countered. “If I have you here I can slap you up the side of the head if you go nutty and I don’t have to panic when you don’t call me.”
“Well, there is that. You meant the slap as an attraction, right? To sweeten the pot?” she smirked.
He laughed. “You know me, sis… quick with the bad joke.”
“How’s your leg?” she asked, her tone turning serious.
“Hey, slick change of subject. The weather’s fine, thanks. Philly is big tourist destination in the winter, as you know.”
“I’m serious,” she frowned. Terry had been in the Army and was wounded in some desert that he wouldn't talk about. They’d patched him up and given him a medical discharge, along with a small disability pension. He’d been in some kind of special force, and when he got out of the hospital she’d tried to help him find a job. “I don’t see the listings for paid killers with a bum leg.”
The closest they’d found was a part-time gig with him teaching self defense classes at an inner city high school, but the pay was rather lousy.
“The leg’s fine,” he assured her. “Doesn’t interfere with my work.”
“But the nerves still burn, right?”
“It’s a funny thing, isn't it? The shrapnel didn't hurt all that much going in, and even less coming out. It wasn't until they told me I was supposed to be all okay that the pain got bad. And now, well, it hurts like hell some nights and is a bit stiff when I forget to do my stretching.” He paused before saying in a newscaster voice, “That short medical report was brought to you by the fine folks who want to know what you’re going to do next.”
“Well, what I’d like to do is sit here and cry for a few days, get blinding drunk, and wake up with an insight that will show me a way I can have the baby, go to school, keep working, and win the lottery.”
“Damn! I like that plan. Plenty of upside to it.”
“Yeah, except that I can’t drink because I’m pregnant, which in itself is something that makes me want a drink. And going into a crying-induced coma probably won’t produce any insights.”
“And the lottery?”
“I’m afraid that might require actually buying a ticket.”
Terry’s deep laugh sounded through her cell phone’s speaker. “And you and gambling don’t mix.”
“Not successfully. Not for me, although if the people who owned the casinos knew me they’d be all over themselves sending me free plane tickets and giving me rooms. And, given that I got pregnant after one wild night while other women struggle for years to get knocked up, I guess the odds don’t apply to me in any reasonable way.”
“So what do we replace this unworkable scenario with?”
“I love New Orleans, I have a good job, and I need to finish the semester.”
“Well, the offer is open-ended, so you always have the option of staying here with me. I'll pay for the food, and the local clinic provides free prenatal care. You can transfer to the community college here and finish the semester.”
“You really want that?”
“’Want’ is a big word, sis. I want you happy, so I am offering an option. Even if it isn't the one you want, your life doesn't have to be totally out of control, or even feel that it is.”
“I'll ponder on it,” she said in a feigned British accent.
“Goest thou and ponder, thy little sister,” he returned in the same mock British tongue. “Now it’s time for me to go to the school and teach a bunch of giggling teenage girls how to kick people’s heads in.”
She was still laughing when he hung up.
Audra knew he was sincere and he’d take care of her—he’d certainly be a doting uncle as he loved kids and was good with them. Her world was in an uncontrolled spin, and there were a lot of things that made his offer attractive. She loved New Orleans, though, and she had some truly great classes. Even her job was perfect. She’d just set things up so they were manageable, even enjoyable. Leaving would hurt, but it might be necessary. It might he her only real option.
Chapter Four
The day had been hectic and with her energy so low. Audra was grateful that they’d finished their shift and were getting ready to go home. They were in the locker room, changing into their street clothes when Gale took out a magazine and handed it to her.
“Read this,” she said.
Audra took it and stared at the cover with amusement. It was one of those magazines aimed at women that tried, unsuccessfully in her mind, to reach a broad age group by mixing articles on celebrities, cooking tips, hot fashion, and pleasing your man orally. They were big on achieving success with your mouth, and she had to wonder if any woman had ever failed at going down on a man. It had certainly never been a problem for her. She read the article nonetheless, curious as to what they had to say.
“Check out the article I marked,” Gale said after realizing her friend hadn‘t read the one she’d intended her to.
One of the pages was folded down, and Audra unfolded the page to read it. ‘Being a Successful Single Mom,’ was the title. There was that whole success thing again.
“Why do you want me to read this one?” Audra asked.
“You know. You have the baby coming and all. And you’re single.”
“How is it I keep forgetting all those things?”
“Well, you need to think ahead to after the baby is born. What will you do as a single mom?”
“I haven’t even worked out the present—surviving as an expectant mom. You’re going to push me into information overload,” Audra joked.
She’d confided in Gale about the pregnancy because the woman had become a good friend—well beyond helping her get the job—and it seemed like the kind of thing you told somebody you were close to. Suddenly she wasn't sure that sharing that information hadn’t been a huge mistake. She had no idea what she was going to do, and already Gale was getting far too helpful.
Gale bubbled enthusiastically, which was okay, but at her worst, she gushed enthusiasm which only got soppy, mushy, and all sorts of other gooey, amorphous things.
“I read that article and thought, ‘Hey, this could be Audra.’” She flashed an apologetic look and continued with, “I’m mean, you could have the baby and still be successful. You’re smart and talented, and since you said the baby’s father won’t be around, I thought you needed to see what other women do in your situation.”
Her situation, Gale called it. That’s what it was all right—a situation. She was situated between a rock and a hard place. And while Gale was right about thinking to what would happen after the birth, she didn't quite have the whole story… which wasn’t exactly her fault. Audra hadn’t told her friend that she didn't have a clue who the father was, just that it was a guy she met and had an affair with Brazil. For someone like Gale, the idea that she’d had an affair in a foreign country was crazy enough without trying to explain how captivating and sensual Carnival was and what had actually happened. In fact, at a distance from Brazil and the emotions, what she’d done sounded stupid if you just told it—even to her. ‘Irresponsible,’ was the word. So why did she still have erotic fantasies about that night, that man? That only rubbed salt in the wound.
That Gale would be so proactive was inevitable. There was a bit of Pollyanna in her that could be appealing, but when it was directed at you, she was learning, it was less cute and far more annoying. Still, her friend meant well so she read the article just to be nice.
As she
expected, the article was a major fail. It didn't really say anything, other than to suggest that, under a rather fortunate set of circumstances, there was no reason that a woman couldn't raise kids by herself. The picture accompanying the article was of a young mother dressed to the hilt and sipping a martini in a perfect house, with a well-scrubbed child sitting on the floor playing quietly. Audra couldn't afford the martini, much less the dress, and ideas along the lines of, ‘Hire a nanny to make sure you get time for yourself,’ were off-the-chart stupid for someone like her.
“They should title it, ‘Being a Successful Single Mom on only $200,000.00 a year,’” she laughed.
“It’s just to give you ideas,” Gale chuckled. “Hang on to the magazine and don’t expect too much. Just take away anything that’s helpful and ditch the rest. And now I am going home to change for my hot date with Alan.”
Thinking that almost all of the article could be ditched without a single regret, Audra sat down and flipped through the rest of the magazine after Gale left. She hadn’t seen one of these in a long time, and was curious what sort of mindless drivel her friend read. From her perspective, the ads were far more entertaining than the articles. At least a lot of them featured nice looking guys, and some were real beefcakes. Perhaps that’s why Gale subscribed.
Her eyes were drawn to what passed for a news story, beside it the photo of a dashing man. He appeared noticeably older than the average model featured in the magazine, and had a unique style of his own. He was muscular, and had his arm around the waist of a lithe blond. Suddenly she froze, unable to believe what she was seeing. There in front of her was a picture of the father of her baby. He wasn't wearing a mask, and he did have a shirt on so she couldn't see his tattoo, but she knew it was him. There was no question at all. His deep green eyes stared into the camera, and the long, blond hair hung to his shoulders. It was him. If he’d been bald and wearing sunglasses, she would still recognize that body and the line of his angular jaw. She’d had this man in her arms, between her legs; he’d buried that face between her thighs and made her cum harder than she’d ever had.
