Millionaire Wives Club

by Tu-Shonda Whitaker

  “No.” Aiyanna shook her head as Kendu wiped her tears away.

  “He was a great man,” Kendu said, his voice animated. “And he loved his community, and he did a lot of things to help other people.”

  “Like you do, Daddy?”

  “Exactly, and you know why I do that?”

  “Why?”

  “Because when Daddy was a little boy I didn’t have a mommy or a daddy. I lived in a lot of foster homes, and when I turned ten your granny adopted me. So it’s my way of giving back to my community.”

  “So you’re a great man too, Daddy?”

  “Of course he is.” Evan smiled.

  “You’re like Superman, Daddy?” Aiyanna laughed.

  “Yeah”—Kendu chuckled—“I think I like being on the same level as Superman.” He placed his right hand like a visor over his eyes. “It’s a bird … it’s a plane…”

  Aiyanna stood up on her bed. “No, it’s my daddy!”

  “Aren’t we well all of a sudden?” Evan said. “No standing on the bed, and we will see you later.”

  “Bye.” Aiyanna sat back down and poked her lips out.

  Evan waved and walked out in front of Kendu, who turned around and whispered to Aiyanna, “You can stand on the bed. Daddy paid for it.”

  “Sweetie,” Evan said to Kendu as they walked the red carpet, “would you be still so we can pose for a few pictures?”

  “Aiyanna is calling me.” He pulled his BlackBerry from his pocket.

  Evan snatched it from his hand and before he could protest she turned it off and tossed it in her purse. “It’s your show tonight. If it’s an emergency the nurse has my cell phone number.”

  “Kendu! Kendu!” a few reporters yelled, as he and Evan posed for pictures. “How does it feel receiving such a great reward?”

  Kendu smiled and said, “Like Superman.” And he headed inside to the ceremony. He mingled with a few of his teammates and athlete friends, while Evan felt like a superstar in her own right as many of the athletes’ and entertainers’ wives were dying to know how she managed to be taping for such a hit series.

  When the awards ceremony began, Evan was boiled over in excitement when Michael Jordan was there in person to present the award to Kendu. “On behalf,” Michael said, “of every great athlete that is here, that ever lived, and ever will be, we present to you, Kendu Malik, the great Arthur Ashe Courage Award!”

  Everyone stood up and the crowd erupted in cheers.

  Evan kissed Kendu on the cheek. He stood up and walked toward the stage.

  “Man,” he said into the mic once he reached the podium. “Wow.” He looked around. “God is good. When I started doing this, I never thought of recognition or admiration. All I thought about were the kids and making a difference …” As Kendu continued on, one of the escorts for the awards ceremony walked up to him and whispered that he needed to speed things along, because he had an emergency at home. “Thanks to all of you.” His mood quickly changed. “God bless.” He hurried backstage, where one of the backstage assistants told him he needed to call home.

  “Kendu,” Evan said as she rushed backstage, “what happened? Why’d you cut your speech short?”

  “It’s an emergency at home.” He dialed Aiyanna’s nurse. “What’s the problem?” he said when she answered.

  “Aiyanna,” the nurse’s voice trembled, “started having convulsions, and before I knew anything she’d fallen off the bed and hit her head. She won’t stop bleeding! The ambulance is on its way. We will meet you at the hospital.”

  “What’s wrong?” Evan panicked.

  “Aiyanna,” Kendu said as he started walking swiftly toward the car. “She started having seizures and she hit her head. The nurse said something about a lot of bleeding. I knew I should’ve stayed home!” he said as he jumped into the car and sped up the highway.

  Milan sat on the edge of the nurse’s desk wondering how she would tell Kendu that she’d moved, both mentally and physically. That there was no way she could continue to love and to live like this, especially since she was losing herself in the process.

  “Eight-year-old girl, convulsing,” she was startled to hear as EMT workers burst through the doors with doctors running beside them. When she looked up, Kendu was staring her in the face and the doctors were spitting orders at her about what they needed to do. Milan broke her gaze from Kendu and swiftly began to follow the doctors’ orders.

  As they transferred Aiyanna to the hospital bed, Milan started cutting Aiyanna’s clothes off of her and asking Kendu and Evan questions. “What happened?”

  “She was sick earlier,” said Aiyanna’s nurse, who was also there.

  “What was she sick from?”

  “I’m not sure,” the nurse said. “I thought she was feeling better because she started playing. I left the room for five minutes and when I came back she was unconscious, having seizures, and had hit her head.”

  “Does she have a history of seizures?” Milan did her best not to look at Kendu for longer than she had to.

  “No,” the nurse said.

  “Any family history?”

  “No.” Evan shook her head. “Stop asking us questions and help my child!” she cried.

  “I’m trying,” Milan said as she looked at the doctor. “This is a lot of bleeding. Her blood should’ve started to clot by now.”

  The doctor squeezed the IV. “This is not good.”

  “What’s not good?” Kendu asked in a panic.

  “You need to leave,” the doctor said to Kendu. “Please, we need you and your wife to leave the room.”

  “I’m not leaving my daughter.”

  “Mr. Malik, I’m trying to explain to you—”

  “You can’t hear? I’m not going any-fuckin’-where.”

  Milan looked at Kendu and then to Evan. “Please. I know you are upset, but this is standard procedure, and we can’t get to the bottom of this if you’re in here. Please.” She looked Kendu in the eyes. “Leave. We will keep you informed every step of the way.”

  “I need to know what’s wrong with my daughter.”

  Milan grabbed Kendu’s hand. “Let us find out.”

  Kendu stood there.

  “Please.”

  Kendu stepped reluctantly out of the room with Evan following behind him.

  The team of doctors examined Aiyanna and sent samples of her blood to the lab. “She needs a blood transfusion,” the doctor said. “Her blood’s not clotting, and she’s losing a lot of it.”

  “What’s wrong?” Milan asked, suppressing her panic.

  “I don’t know, but I know we have to do this in order to save her life.”

  “I’ll go and tell the parents,” Milan said.

  “Yes,” the doctor said, “and go quickly. We need to find out in a hurry who’s the match or if they both are. That would be even better.”

  Milan walked swiftly down the corridor and was met midway by Evan and Kendu, who were visibly upset. “What’s going on?” Kendu spat.

  “Listen,” Milan said, “Aiyanna’s blood won’t clot.”

  “What do mean it won’t clot?!” Kendu snapped.

  Milan could tell by the vein jumping in Kendu’s neck that he was two seconds from kicking somebody’s ass. “Knott,” she said, knowing that calling him by that name always calmed him, “Aiyanna is really sick.” She looked over at Evan. “And in order for us to help her we need to give her a blood transfusion. And we need your consent.”

  “And if we don’t give it?” Evan asked, hating the scent of Milan’s perfume.

  “She will die,” Milan said.

  “Milan, you can’t let my daughter die,” Kendu said. “Not my baby.”

  Evan turned to Kendu and began crying on his shoulder.

  Mixed emotions raced through Milan’s head, but this was not the time to analyze how she needed to detox from this relationship. There was no way she could continuously deal with all of this. “I need you to help me help you,” Milan said.


  “Look,” Evan said in a panic, “I keep trying to make the doctors understand that I believe Aiyanna has Addison’s disease, and I keep trying to have her tested, and nobody is listening to me.” She looked Milan in the eyes. “I need someone to see that I need help.”

  Milan felt nauseated. This was too much weight to carry. “Do you know how rare Addison’s disease is? And how painful those tests are? Do you have a family history of that?” Milan looked at Evan strangely.

  “Don’t fuckin’ tell me about my baby!” Evan started to scream. “I know what is wrong with my baby!”

  “Wait a minute.” Milan attempted to get things under control. “This isn’t about you, this is about Aiyanna! She needs help, and we are trying here. Now, you need to get it together. Your daughter will die if she doesn’t get a blood transfusion, and then what will you have to argue over? Now, I need you two”—she pointed to Evan and Kendu—“to get it together and be strong for your daughter. We are trying to assist you, not battle with you. Now, you need to be tested so we can see what your blood type is and make sure you’re not carrying any diseases. Or would you rather stand out here and argue than give your daughter blood?” She paused. “Now let’s go,” Milan said as she gave a heavy sigh and led them to an examination room, where the phlebotomist took their blood and sent the samples to the lab. “As soon as the results come in, I will be back,” Milan said as she walked Evan and Kendu back to the patients’ lounge.

  A half hour later the lab technician delivered the results. “Thank God,” Milan said as she opened the chart and compared it to Aiyanna’s. Milan stared blankly at the pages. She knew for sure she’d seen wrong or maybe she didn’t understand. Hell, it had been a while since she had practiced nursing, so maybe she had this whole deal wrong.

  “What are the results?” One of the doctors walked over. “We need this immediately.”

  Milan didn’t answer.

  “Nurse Starks, do you hear me talking to you?” the doctor asked.

  “Oh yes … yes, doctor.”

  “So what are they?”

  “They don’t match.” Milan swallowed.

  “What do you mean they don’t match?” the doctor asked.

  “They don’t. The father has type B blood.”

  “And the mother?”

  “A.”

  “The child has O positive. That’s not possible.” The doctor took the chart. “Well, it’s here in black-and-white. Are they the natural parents or is she adopted?”

  “She’s not adopted, I can assure you of that,” Milan said. “Besides, she’s the spitting image of her mother.”

  “It’s clear, then,” the doctor continued, “he’s not the father.” The doctor handed the chart back to Milan. “And quite frankly I don’t give a damn who is. I have a little girl in there who will die if we don’t get this transfusion going. Now, if I need to I will have the social worker call the judge and we will have an emergency hearing allowing us to give her blood from the hospital’s bank.”

  “Can I just talk to them before you do that?” Milan said.

  “Yes,” the doctor said, “and hurry.”

  Milan walked over to Kendu and Evan and they both stood up. “Listen”—she cleared her throat—“we ran the test.”

  “Get to the point,” Kendu said in a panic.

  “I am, and we have the results, but Aiyanna … can’t receive blood from either of you.”

  “What?” Evan said, put off.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Kendu spat. “Of course my baby can have my blood.”

  “No, she can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it doesn’t match.” She looked Kendu dead in his eyes, but seeing that her words hadn’t registered she continued on. “Aiyanna has O positive blood, and unless you have another donor we will need to pull from the hospital’s supply. We screen the blood carefully, so it will be okay.”

  “Wait a minute,” Kendu said as if he were still pondering what Milan was saying. “What are you saying to me about our blood not matching our baby? Is that normal?”

  Milan attempted to brush him off. “It happens, Kendu, but that’s not important.”

  Kendu stared at Milan and she averted her eyes. “I asked you a question,” he said, “and you’re bullshittin’ me?”

  “Listen, I will explain it to you later, but right now this is what you need to deal with: Your daughter needs you to sign this consent. I’m begging you to please do it, because she can’t wait much longer.” Milan shoved the papers in front of them and they scribbled their signatures on them. Afterward she quickly left the room and headed to the operating room, where they were prepping Aiyanna and awaiting the consent.

  An hour later Milan sat at the nurse’s station, distressed. Maybe she was mistaken; maybe Aiyanna was Kendu’s child. She looked down at Aiyanna’s chart … Blood types don’t lie, she thought.

  A voice interrupted Milan’s thoughts. “Can I speak to you for a minute?”

  She looked up and it was Evan. “What is it?” Milan asked. “Can we speak someplace private?”

  Milan led Evan to an empty room and closed the door. “I’m listening.”

  “Thank you for what you did earlier, with Kendu. I didn’t know the blood wouldn’t be a match.”

  “You didn’t know,” Milan snapped. “How didn’t you know?”

  “I didn’t.” She paused. “I just thought that Kendu was the—”

  “Was the what?” Milan squinted her eyes. “The right choice, the right man, or he had the right money? You aren’t shit, you know that?!” Milan spat. “Nothing. I had fuckin’ regarded you as higher than a mole, but I see you’re lower than that.”

  “I didn’t come here to argue with you.”

  “No, you came to feel me out and see if I would be willing to keep some bogus-ass secret of yours, but make no mistake, I’m not. So you can keep your goddamn thank you.”

  “You know how much he loves his daughter?”

  “She’s not his daughter.” Milan pointed into Evan’s face.

  “You hate me that much?” Evan batted her extended lashes.

  “If you don’t tell him I will.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “You got twenty-four fuckin’ hours to figure out if it’s a threat or not.”

  “Milan!”

  “Get the fuck out my face,” she said, tight-lipped.

  The doctor walked into the room. “Ladies, is everything okay? We can hear you down the hall. Why are you back here?”

  “Doctor,” Milan said, “everything is fine. Mrs. Malik was upset and confused, and I just wanted to explain some things to her.”

  “Okay, well”—he tapped Evan on the shoulder—“come and let me speak to you and your husband.”

  “My baby is out of surgery?” Evan wiped tears from her eyes.

  “Yes, she is,” the doctor said as they walked to the family waiting area where Kendu was.

  “Everything looks great,” the doctor said. “We need to run some more tests, but at least we were able to stop the bleeding.”

  “Can she come home?” Kendu asked.

  “Not tonight, but I hope in a couple of days.”

  “Thank you.” Evan smiled. “Can we see her now?”

  “Of course, but she needs to get some rest.”

  “We’ll only stay for a few minutes and then we’ll leave.”

  “I’m not leaving,” Kendu said. “I’ll be spending the night.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Evan said. “You need your rest.”

  “Don’t,” he said to her and then looked at the doctor. “What room is she is in?”

  Milan stood back and watched them walk down the hall toward Aiyanna’s room. She knew she needed to tell Kendu, but then again, maybe she didn’t. Hell, she didn’t need to get involved, and the whole thing was too damn confusing and complicated anyway. And what exactly would she say, “Aiyanna isn’t your baby?” And then what?

 
She looked at the clock and saw that her shift had ended. She grabbed her coat and started down the corridor toward the elevator.

  “You need a ride?” one of her coworkers yelled. “No,” she said, “I need a good train ride to help me clear my head.”

  “All right, good-night.”

  “Good-night.” She stepped on the elevator and the doors closed behind her.

  Jaise

  J aise tried to act as if the cameras weren’t following her around as she thought about how Jabril had been creeping through the house all week, stuttering, starting sentences and not finishing them, half eating his dinner, and when he didn’t have to work at the afterschool job he had started at McDonald’s, such as tonight, he was going to bed around eight.

  “Jabril is into something he has no business being in,” Jaise said to Bilal, who had just come in from work. He looked at the food Jaise had prepared for him and smiled, as he shifted his gun holster to unload his service revolver. Bilal was around all the time now. “What makes you say that?” he asked, placing his gun in the closet’s safe.

  “Because I know this little boy. Acting depressed. I swear if he has an STD I’m getting his jimmy cut off. Period.”

  “Oh, that’s real motherly of you. Why don’t you just ask him what the problem is?”

  “I did. The other night I said, ‘Jabril, don’t let no li’l tramp cause you and me to have problems.’”

  “Jaise, you have to chill with spazzin’ like that,” Bilal said kissing her on the lips. “He’s not going to tell you anything if you’re making comments like that.”

  Jaise didn’t respond. She simply rolled her eyes.

  “Where is he now?” Bilal asked.

  “In the bed.”

  “It’s eight o’clock,” Bilal said as the bell rang.

  “Exactly.” Jaise rose from the couch.

  “After I eat I’ll go and talk to him.” He watched Jaise walk to the door. “Damn, girl,” he said flirtatiously, “look at that ass. Who is your man?”

  “Don’t you worry about him. All I need to know is your name.” She laughed while opening the door.

  “Well, I’m glad motherfuckers is laughin’ over here!” A mahogany brown woman with streaked honey blond hair, wearing a cropped denim jacket, a tight wife beater that showcased her cleavage tattoo of ME AND RAFIQUE, a pair of silver jeans with rhinestones going down the side of each leg, and a pair of Thin Mints high-top Pastry sneakers on pushed her way through Jaise’s front door.