“He just said you weren’t feeling well,” she went on, “but he didn’t say any more than that.”
“I’ll be fine. But, I do probably need the next few days off. I’ve been feeling kind of sick off and on. Probably some kind of stomach flu floating around.”
Michele nodded, then said simply, “Ok. Well, after this next house showing in a bit, if you need to go just let me know.”
“Roger that,” I said. I scanned a property in particular. I already knew what was coming with this house. It was the one I had been avoiding, that had been bounced from one agent to another. A ‘starter home’ as we called it, for new families.
I can’t explain why I didn’t pawn it off on another agent like I had time and time again before. I instead jumped right up from my seat and called a client I had spoken with before who was really picky. He wanted a family home but nothing too large. This was the perfect one. I was going to sell it. Period. I had been avoiding it and it had just been sitting on the market too long.
When the client answered I put on my best chipper, happy-go-lucky realtor voice.
“Mr. Jeffries? Good afternoon! Yes, it’s me Malaysia,” I sang into the phone.
“I know we haven’t talked in about a week or more. I had some health issues that arose that I needed to take care of. Yeah. I think I might have exactly the house you’re looking for. I’m surprised no one else has shown it to you. It’s on Wilhemina Ave.”
When I said the address, I watched Michele whip around and her eyes were big as saucers. Then, came her signature frown. I kept speaking into the phone.
“Absolutely. I remember what you were looking for and I think this house would be perfect. I know it's sudden but can you meet me there? I can text you the address.”
Michele crossed her arms and tilted her head. Her eyes were burning a hole in my defenses. I turned my back to her and agreed to meet Mr. Jeffries at the address in twenty minutes.
When I turned back around Michele was standing right there next to my desk.
“5603 Wilhemina,” she asked. Her eyes were watching my face for any reaction. I gave her the most plastered on smile I could muster.
“Yep,” I quickly answered. I grabbed my purse and coat and zipped around her toward the door.
Just as my hand touched the knob I heard Michele call out, “Malaysia, when you get back we need to talk.”
I wasn’t doing that. I was going to sell this house and then send her text message at how well I got it off our “unsellable” list, tell her I felt queasy, then head home and deal with Daniel.
At least that was the plan.
* * *
I reached the house on Wilhemina Ave in less than fifteen minutes. Mr. Jeffries hadn’t arrived yet, which gave me one last chance to check my makeup and practice my most ready-made smile in my compact mirror.
I wasn’t lying when I finally told Michele about my being nauseous off and on. I was certain it was a mixture of bad nerves and something wrong I had eaten. One of the nurses had offered me half of a tuna fish sandwich and a cup of water the night of Angel’s wreck while I waited on Daniel to return from her room. My stomach hadn’t been right since and it definitely wasn’t feeling much better today.
I saw a purple Escalade pull up, quickly shut my makeup compact, and stepped out. A bright smiling couple stepped out the SUV that parked just alongside me in the driveway.
“Hi,” I exclaimed. “Mr. and Mrs. Jeffries?” I asked as I extended my hand.
“Yep,” the female replied. They both appeared to be in the mid-thirties. “We’re so excited to see the house. We’ve been hunting so long we almost gave up hope you guys had anything.”
I walked them to the front door and quickly unlocked it, revealing a small hallway type entrance.
“It seems cramped when you first walk in, but it quickly opens into your kitchen and open living space,” I explained.
A few steps forward and they both “oohed” and “aahed” at the open floor plan of the downstairs.
“I love how this was staged with smaller furniture,” said Mr. Jeffries. “It really shows off the available space.”
I nodded in agreement. His wife inspected the kitchen and its massive island.
“You know, when Timothy told me about the house having four rooms I thought it was too much, but this is so nice,” his wife said.
I felt my stomach turn a bit. I hadn’t eaten anything on my lunch break while visiting Angel and I was feeling it. Then again, I was almost afraid to put anything in there. Even the piece of toast I had this morning came back up not too long before I left home.
“If you love this,” I said after taking a deep breath, “wait ‘til you see upstairs.”
I gave a gesture with my hand for us to take the stairs just off the small main entryway. As we climbed it felt like the stairs were shifting beneath my feet left and right. I steadied myself with the handrail and was thankful the Jeffries were ahead of me rather than behind me.
I was determined to make this sell today before I even thought about heading toward Hidden Hills and back to Daniel. In my mind, I needed it.
They entered the first bedroom door on the left and were pleased with the immense size of it. “This must be the master,” Mrs. Jeffries asked.
“No actually. It’s one of the other bedrooms,” I explained. “It’s can also double as recreation room easily because of its size.”
“Are you kidding,” exclaimed Mr. Jeffries. “Wow! I can’t wait to see the master.”
I showed them master suite which was right next door and they were stunned. As expected the walk-in closet was what had Mrs. Jeffries beside herself, and her husband loved the huge master bathroom.
I also showed them the guest bathroom and one more once we stepped back into the main space of the second floor.
“This place is incredible, especially for the price,” Mr. Jeffries said. “I’m surprised no one has purchased it yet.”
“Well, most people feel it’s too much space then others feel it’s not enough in comparison to some of the mansion-sized homes in the area,” I said. “There’s still one more room, and if my memory serves me right we have it staged as a home office.”
At least, that’s what I remembered. Apparently, the last agent to showcase the home did some restaging I wasn't told about.
As I opened the last door to the small bedroom I felt my heart nearly stop. A decent sized space rug was at the center of the room. It was knitted with pastel colors, blue and pink, with what looked like a mural of various zoo animals.
The walls had little, framed pictures of a few letters of the alphabet and corresponding cartoon animals whose names started with the letter they posed with. There were even crocheted curtains hanging on the window on the far side of the room and just below the window…
…was a cherry wood stained crib. It had been outfitted with a blue and pink comforter set for infants. There were even two stuffed animals nestled inside it: an elephant and a baby giraffe.
“Oh my God, Timothy, look,” Mrs. Jeffries shouted as they entered the room.
“Oh wow! Oh, Malaysia, this is really nice how you have this setup,” Mr. Jeffries bursts.
“We’ve been trying so hard to get pregnant and we just found out yesterday,” Mrs. Jeffries chuckled.
I felt my body sway just slightly to right. I leaned on the door for balance and tried to laugh off my surprise.
“We haven’t even had a chance to tell our family yet,” Mr. Jeffries laughed as he pulled his wife closer.
My stomach rolled.
“Oh honey, maybe it’s a sign! We could definitely see ourselves here from the moment we walked in, and then this,” she chattered.
Everything in me turned over.
“Malaysia? Are you alright?” he said.
My hand went to my stomach.
“Oh my gosh, are you ok?” she asked me.
My mouth flew open and out flew what little bit was left for me to throw up, right onto
the knitted zoo on the floor.
Daniel
I wanted to run, jump, fly to down to the agency when Michele sent me the message. When she told me Malaysia was back but obviously sick and needed to come home I insisted I could come get her.
I could hear Malaysia sounding as if she was speaking from the trash bin.
“No! I will drive myself home!
“I heard you,” Michele hollered back to her. “I will let him know, you don’t have to yell!”
Michele continued talking sounded a little more than frustrated.
“Look, she’s apparently more sick than she wanted to let on, and she did make the sale by some miracle, but I had to finish out the paperwork here,” she muttered. “She’s been throwing up since she got back and I’m almost certain she did in the car too.”
“I did not,” Malaysia yelled in the background.
“She said she’s driving, which I’m sure she can, but when she gets there get her some medicine and some rest and make her sit down, Daniel. Promise?”
“Yes,” I sighed, “I promise Michele.”
I wanted her home. She needed to slow down. At least that’s how I felt. I didn’t want to fight. I just wanted to make sure she was okay and apparently she’s picked up some kind of stomach virus on top of all the things surrounding losing the baby.
About half an hour later I heard her car pull up in the garage. I sat in the living which we hardly ever used since moving in. But, I sat there for a reason: so I could catch her as soon as she came home.
I had the kitchen door from the garage open. I was certain she’d go straight to the stairs in the foyer as it separated the kitchen and living room entirely. I heard her heels as the clicked across the floor and echoed through the house.
I got up and stood in the formal dining room entry way. And there she was in the kitchen. “Malaysia?”
She turned around from setting her purse on the counter and looked across the foyer at me. I began to walk over to the kitchen through the foyer. By the time I made it to her she was in tears.
Burying her face in my chest she cried soft little sobs, nothing like the night at the hospital. I gently rubbed head and just let her let out what little bit may be left there in her. After a few sniffs, she lifted her head up and then leaned against the counter.
“Okay, so let’s get to the point,” she mumbled. “I left early because I wasn’t ready to face you.”
The abrupt way she jumped right into the heart of the matter surprised and relieved me all at once. I wasn’t sure I was even entirely ready to face things head on, but I knew we needed to. I grabbed one of the barstools at the island and just let her speak.
“I was able to deal with Angel being hurt, but not with the baby being gone. I still can’t face it, Daniel,” she whimpered. “It’s so sudden. We didn’t even get to see the first sonogram or come up with names. Nothing.”
Those words made more tears come up in both our eyes. I hadn’t cried since the night before, but hearing her put things into such harsh perspective made it come right to the forefront of my mind.
She took a seat on the barstool opposite me and continued just letting it all out.
“I had so many expectations worked up in my mind: how the baby would look, how we’d call Angel ‘Auntie Angel’ and explain to our son or daughter someday how she’s the reason they’re here,” she lowered her face into her hands. Her shoulders jerked with every deep cry.
When she looked back up her eyeliner had smeared just under her beautiful eyes. She looked away almost as if she was ashamed to be so crestfallen and heartbroken. If only she knew she had every right to feel how she felt. I reached and held her hands in mine.
“Malaysia, baby, it’s okay to be hurt, to even be angry about it all. But you’re not facing this alone,” I reassured her.
Somehow, that made her cry even more. I couldn’t tell if it was out of relief that I was there for her or out some unwarranted sense of self-pity. I didn’t care right then.
“May,” I said, leaning in closer. “I told you we were doing this together. That means all of it.”
I felt fresh tears begin to run down my own face. I kissed both her hands and then I felt her jump off the barstool. She threw her arms around me and I could feel her just let go.
We seemed to be in a perpetual state of crying and holding each other in that kitchen. We were going to do it together. All of it. The good times. The bad. Not just trying to start a family but everything.
At that moment I think we both just needed a reminder it wasn’t just this well-thought plan we had of becoming parents for the first time. Much like our vacation we had a stark reminder that we are human. We needed that reminder that even if we weren’t parents yet we still would have days where we will have to lean on each other.
Neither one of us wanted to learn that through a tragedy like this, but we did need to learn before bringing another small life into our own lives. I only wish it could have been some other way. Any other way.
Before we even got back upstairs Malaysia had another sick spell in the kitchen. She lunged for the kitchen sink and quickly washed down what she definitely did not want me to see. It took her awhile to stop dry heaving before she finally took a sip of water from the glass I handed her.
I had her sit back down and went and grabbed some stomach medicine from upstairs. Thankfully, when I returned she was still seated upright in the barstool.
“When's the last time you ate?” I asked.
“This morning,” she sighed.
“Are you serious?!”
I was aggravated but then decided to scale back anything even close to scolding her. I went to the pantry and found some low sodium chicken soup. I popped the can open and grabbed a small pot from one of the cabinets.
While the soup got boiling she took a dose of the stomach medicine and another drink of water.
“I was throwing up this morning out the blue, which is the other reason I really wasn’t in the best mood when I ran into you in the hospital,” she said from the island.
I was actually glad to hear that from her. It would also explain why she was in such a hurry to get gone from the hospital. You would think it was the perfect place to be sick but then when you have medical staff trying to admit you into the first room with an empty bed you regret it.
I poured her soup into a bowl and placed it in front of her. I dug through the silverware drawer for a spoon and when I turned to hand it to her I found her with the bowl turned up to her lips.
“It’s hot,” was all I could say as I watched I amazement. She was practically trying to gulp it down without burning her mouth. She wasn’t succeeding.
She finally set it down, took a deep breath and exhaled. She even laughed a little.
I laughed too.
I made myself a quick sandwich while she finished her soup. I hoped she’d keep it down at least until morning. We both finished up in the kitchen then made our way across the living room. There was a little chill in the house, so I clicked on the electric fireplace. We curled up on the couch and just aimlessly stared at the TV. I can’t say we really watched what was on. We just laid there together and let it play whatever came on.
Right then, I thought of when we were on the couch in my apartment. We had many nights like this one the week before I moved. We’d eat and just turn the TV on to anything. I didn’t realize I had missed it until right at that moment. Type A personalities and our schedules and our goals and our ambition and our pitfalls… you forget things like nights on the couch.
I hadn’t had an opportunity to talk to Malaysia about my own grief yet. How it made me think of my father. It also dawned on me we never really delved into how we felt about parenthood fully, not just the goal of becoming a parent. I wanted to bridge that gap in the morning and I had a pretty good idea how. It was about that time of year anyways. We’d make a drive up to Mission Hills after sunrise.
* * *
“Danny boy, well look at you
,” My dad said with a smile. We were standing in the middle of Eden Memorial Park, where he was buried.
I didn’t even recall falling asleep on the couch.
“Dad,” I stammered.
“Hey there,” he bellowed in one of his hearty laughs.
His cheeks looked rosy as apples and his bald head had his signature bowler cap atop it. He even had one of his favorite London Fog trench coats on.
“I’m dreaming,” I mumbled as I stood next to him.
We were facing his headstone. He still was seemingly jolly and just glad to see me while I was still trying to collect my thoughts.
Her Designer Baby: (Loving Over 40 Book 1) Page 12
