When I Was Your Girlfriend

by Nikki Harmon

  After we leave the restaurant, we bar hop then go home and crash. The next morning, we putz around listening to old school rap and eating cereal. We are not meeting Noema until dinner. Viv decides to visit her family before she’s off to Cali so I drive her to her sister’s place and wish her luck. Her family is crazy. I promise to be ready to pick her up at any time. I call Noema to see where she wants to go for dinner, but she doesn’t pick up. Whatever! I hope she’s over her ridiculousness. I really want her and Viv to get along. I wonder where she is. I stop along Kelly Drive. It is too muggy to run, but I love just sitting out here. I think the river soothes my soul.

  BBBRRRrrriinggg!!! Oh no, not now! “Hello, this is Dee.”

  “Dee, it’s time! Aragghhr!” says my only 36-week term teenage patient.

  “Tina, how far apart are the contractions?” I ask, looking at my watch.

  “Just five minutes Aarrrrgghhh! Whhoohhhahaaa!!”

  “That was NOT five minutes!” I yell, running for my car. “Where are you? Who’s with you?”

  “I was watching a Twilight movie at my sister’s house. I wanted to finish it,” she pants. Seriously?

  “Are you close to the center?” I ask, trying to start my car and back out.

  “No, I’m in Roxborough . . . Arrrrruuughghgh!!!”

  “You don’t have time … get to the Roxborough Hospital, give them my name, and tell them I’m on my way. Don’t you let them give you anything until I get there, OK? I’m only five minutes away!” I speed off.

  Two hours later, Tina has a pink chubby healthy baby girl, but Tina is not doing well. Her blood pressure is way too high and she’s a little disoriented. I decide to stay with her. Dinner will have to wait. I call Viv in the hallway.

  “Where the hell are you? I told you to be ready. My sister and her husband are fighting, the kids are all out of the house, and my mother still refuses to come and talk to me. I walked over and saw my grandmother. I’m ready to get the hell out of here,” she exclaims loudly.

  “Yeah, Viv, I’m sorry about this but one of my patients went into labor and although she’s already had the baby, I’m worried about her. She doesn’t look right to me and I don’t trust this hospital,” I whisper. “I have to stay here a while.”

  “Shit, Dee!”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve got two good options. One: You can take a cab to Main Street, I can get Noema to cab it up to Main Street and I can meet you guys for dinner. It’s close enough that I can get back to the hospital if she needs me. Or two: you can cab down to South Philly and you and Noema can have the dinner we planned without me, just bring me back some food,” I say.

  “Boo to number one and hell no to number two. Damn, Dee! I wanted to change my clothes before dinner. OK, I’ll meet you somewhere on Main Street. I’ll let you know where I am when I get there. Good luck with your girlfriend, though,” she says and hangs up.

  I call Noema and explain the situation. She’s as sweet as pie and agrees to meet us on Main Street. I hang up feeling relieved. Now to check on Tina….

  ~~~

  Two hours later, Tina is stabilized and her family has finally shown up, so I leave the hospital and drag myself into one of the fanciest spots on Main Street. I look haggard; why didn’t they pick the café down the block? Viv and Noema look halfway through their dinners and they are laughing and joking up a storm. Viv has always known how to flatter a girl and Noema loves the attention. I can see other patrons looking at them a little annoyed, but I am ecstatic. They are getting along! That’s all I wanted. I kiss them both hello, sit down, and motion to the waiter.

  “Jack and Coke and a menu, please,” I say. The night passes pleasantly even though I smell like hospital.

  After taking Noema home, I ask Viv what she thinks about her.

  “I think she’s seems cool enough. She was a lot of fun, but she’s definitely a woman who will get what she wants. Originally, I was at that hip little café down the street but she insisted that we go somewhere “more private.” I was fine and happy at the café but she would not be convinced. She wouldn’t even sit down,” Viv says.

  “That’s weird, usually she’s very laid-back,” I say, thoughtful.

  “Could have just been me,” Viv purrs. “I do have that effect on women.” We laugh. I’m going to miss her. A lot.

  ~~~

  I spend two nights with Noema that week. I admit I might have missed her a bit. I’ve gotten used to her voice, her touch, and her awesome café au lait. But I know I’ll be busy next weekend and I don’t want her to feel neglected. This coming weekend is Labor Day weekend, also known as Bernie’s Bachelorette Extravaganza Weekend. Originally, her sister Beverly wanted to fly everyone out to Las Vegas, but none of us could commit to such a long trip, not even Bernie. So now, via chartered limo of course, we’re going to a day spa, then a light dinner downtown, and then we’re off to a club for naked boy dancing. It took over two weeks of e-mails and texts to come up with this final plan. Beverly is very intense about things being perfect. I am less than enthused, but I’m happy to see Bernie. She’s been busy all summer, as have I, and we have a lot of catching up to do.

  In the sage green ‘gathering room,’ we six women have stripped to our spa robes and slippers and are getting facials. I snag a lounger next to the bride and lie back to relax. The cool sound of Native American pipes wafts through the room as we collectively sigh and unwind. The very light and airy pinot grigio did its work too. The music reminds me briefly of Kokopelli and New Mexico, mountains and sky, but I push that thought away almost as soon as it arrives. I’m getting very good at that. I hear Bernie sigh next to me.

  “How are you doing, sis?” I ask.

  “Ah, well. I’m excited about the wedding itself. I do think it will be beautiful and fun. I’m so glad I hired a coordinator.” I hear someone sucking their teeth on the other side of the room. “Whatever, Beverly! I wanted a professional and I won’t keep apologizing for it!” she yells at her sister.

  We hear mumbling, “Whatever, your wedding…outsider…so unnecessary.” Then, “I know, sis, as long as you are happy!!!” in Beverly’s sing-songy voice. Bernie sighs again.

  To me she says, “But I’m stressed about work and life in general. I was really looking forward to today. Just a day with my friends to relax and have some fun.”

  I decide not to talk about my life, not now. Today is for Bernie. I exhale and let the spa work its magic on me.

  Bernie gets her wish and the day goes really well. I’ll even give Beverly some credit for it. The spa was perfect and everyone loved it. We had dinner at Buddhakan on Chestnut Street. The vibe was fun and casual, the food was great, the drinks were even better. I got to know Bernie’s other friends and everyone was getting along great. By 9:00 p.m., it was time to say goodbye to the big golden Buddha and hello to some big, black, naked men. I really thought that as professional women, we would be skipping this kind of entertainment, but Beverly liked to be thorough and her only sister was going to have the full bachelorette experience. As usual, she came prepared with 100 one-dollar bills in her purse, as well as a stash of antibacterial wipes.

  When we get out of the limo and look at this “strip club,” I think we all have the same thought: “What the hell are we doing here?” But then we turn the corner and see the line of patiently waiting, well-heeled women snaking down the block and then I’m pretty sure it was just me still thinking, “What the hell am I doing here?” My companions start to get a hungry look about them. Some get loud and boisterous; some get quiet, lick their lips, and stare off into space. Even Bernie looks unnaturally intense. I sidle up to her as we shuffle forward in line.

  “What’s up, sis?” I ask. “Not your cup of tea? Or did you arrange this part yourself?’ I tease, but she’s not up for teasing. She’s thinking deep thoughts.

  “I was just thinking. I haven’t been with anybody but Darryl in five years and now, I am committing myself to NEVER being with anybody else, again, EVER,”
she says.

  “Yup, that just about sums it up. You get to play tonight, though,” I offer.

  “Yes, but what if it just makes me want someone else? Forever is a long time, Dee,” she says.

  “Yeah, but you love, Darryl. You’ve been in love with him since your first tutoring session together. You two are perfect for each other. You won’t want anyone else, don’t worry,” I console.

  She looks at me quizzically. “Dee, that sounds awfully romantic of you. What’s going on? Are you seeing somebody?” she asks. Damn, she knows me too well.

  “I am. It’s new, but it’s good. Real good,” I say. I smile and blush.

  “Well, now. That’s good news. Well, I want to hear all about her, another time, though. Tonight we’re having fun! What happens in the club stays in the club, right?” she asks. We’re next in line. We pull out our IDs as Beverly waves us through.

  “Absolutely!” I enthuse, “Let’s see what these guys got going on!”

  Now, what’s a gay woman to do at a male strip club? Well, I drink my usual, I enjoy the eye candy – those guys put on a good show. I drink some more and I almost pee myself watching Bernie and Beverly up on stage getting humped doggie-style. I, myself, even get a sweet lap dance by the cutest dancer of the night. His ass is truly outstanding! But mostly, I flirt with the sexy waitress. She started it – leaning over with all her cleavage in my face, whispering in my ear, sitting on my lap, and bringing me a free drink. I know she’s probably a dancer and I know she’s probably just trying to get more tips. I also know she just might be bored but there is a lot of sexual energy flying around that room and she is hot. So when she follows me to the ladies room, I’m not surprised. She steers me past the door to a little hallway off to the side.

  “Hi,” she says as she slinks towards me. I back up slowly.

  “Hi, yourself,” I reply, finally feeling the wall on my back.

  “I’ve been thinking about you all night,” she says, unbuttoning her blouse.

  “Me? I bet you say that to all the girls,” I stammer. She’s already taken my hand and put it on her breast. She’s fast!

  “No, not all the girls, only the sexy ones,” she purrs and kisses my neck.

  I pull my hand away. “I can’t,” I protest, “I have a girlfriend.” She presses up against me thrusting her muscular thigh between my legs. A moan escapes me. My hand impulsively reaches down to feel her naked ass under her mini skirt.

  “But you want to and she never has to know.” She grinds on me and puts my hand back on her breast. She turns up her face to kiss me.

  “As sexy as you are and as much as I want you right now, I can’t do this.” I retrieve my hands and gently slide away from her. “She might not ever know, but I would.” I break away from her spell and walk back to the bright restroom sign exhaling shakily. I can hear her suck her teeth behind me. She avoids me the rest of the night, which is OK by me, but I don’t think I would be strong enough to resist her a second time.

  The night ends well. Everyone seems happy and satisfied. Those dancers worked Bernie out, but I can tell it was more cathartic than confusing and she looks content. Beverly had delivered on a very successful bachelorette party. She looked mighty pleased with herself as she received her accolades in the limo at the end of the night. I went to Noema’s place. After that waitress, I had some unfinished business to tend to, and she was the delighted recipient of all that entailed.

  September flies by fast. Work has picked up some, although Soledad is considering retiring and that is causing some stress at the office. I can’t imagine not seeing her everyday, not hearing her lilting accent when she curses out some insurance agent.

  And then there’s Noema. We are both very busy, but we make time for each other and it has been good … really good … surprisingly good. Noema has somehow slid into my life and become my regular jawn without me even realizing it. One day, we’re just dating, the next, she’s keeping some clothes at my house. Today, she’s insisting that I come as her date to a party. Although I prefer to keep my practice and my personal life separate, just this time, for Noema, I will go to Laurie and Leslie’s baby shower.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Although babies are my bread and butter (a little midwifery joke there), I am feeling a bit overwhelmed by all these major life moments happening around me. Everyone seems to be taking that next step, and I feel like I’m on the sidelines. I watch Noema get dolled up for the shower and wonder if she will be the reason for any next step I take. She catches me looking at her and strikes a pose. I laugh and wonder, “Could she be the one?”

  The shower is at Laurie and Leslie’s house, a large newly renovated townhouse in East Falls. It’s a beautiful sunny Saturday and as we head down Kelly Drive to their house, I can’t help but wish I were out there running instead. Babies are my thing, baby showers are not. After 10 minutes, we finally find parking but have to lug our huge stroller in a box for three blocks. I suggest we take it out and roll it; she gives me the slant eye. We get to the house and it is packed. Both Laurie and Leslie have large supportive families and a ton of friends. I am wondering how this is going to be any fun at all if I can’t even breathe. We greet the couple. Of course, I just saw them on Tuesday, but this is different. They announce that I am their midwife and I am immediately swamped with people who want to talk to me about the baby and impending birth, etc. I lose Noema to her own group of friends and just surrender to talking shop the whole afternoon.

  I finally hook back up with Noema about 40 minutes later when lunch is served. She seems a little distracted. Over my plate and gulping some white wine out of a plastic cup, I ask her, “What’s wrong babe?”

  “Oh, nothing,” she says. She picks at her food for a minute but then sees a friend.

  “Hey, Syreeta! Come here and meet Dee.” Syreeta, a plump light-skinned woman with knee-length locks and a nose ring, squeezes through to greet us.

  “Ah, the infamous Dee! I’m so happy to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she says with a warm smile.

  “Hello,” I say, “I hope it’s been all good.” I look to smile at Noema but she’s looking past me.

  “Excuse me,” Noema says getting up. “You two get to know each other, I have to see about something….” And she took her leave of us. I shrugged, Syreeta shrugged and took Noema’s seat and we chatted. Thankfully, there is no game playing, but we do have to open gifts and that just about killed me! One hundred onesies, 10 bath gift baskets, five copies of Goodnight, Moon, and after 45 minutes, I couldn’t take it anymore and went to go look for Noema. She had missed them opening our stroller. Maybe something was wrong.

  I found her in a sparsely decorated office space next to the garage having a heated discussion with a woman I’d never seen before. The woman was impressive. She wore a tailored suit, sported a baldie, and had an air of unmistakable confidence about her. She was looking very serious and determined.

  “Hello,” I say to the woman, and then I turn to Noema. “Hey babe, I don’t mean to interrupt, but they opened our stroller and you missed it.” I was aware that I sounded petty and whiny, but I was a little thrown off.

  “I did? Oh, sorry. Dee, this is Danny, an old friend of mine.” Danny snorts, reaches across and gives me a limp handshake.

  “How you doing?” she says.

  “Good, good, and yourself?” I ask politely.

  “Peachy,” she says sarcastically and turns slightly away from me.

  I turn to Noema and give her a questioning look. She shrugs it off.

  “I’ll be up in a few minutes. I just want to finish this conversation first, OK?” she says sweetly, dismissing me.

  “OK,” I say and walk away slowly, thinking it was odd but not worrying too much. Noema loved me and I trusted her. She would tell me what that was all about later. But she didn’t. The day was too hectic, and that night we went out to Marlene’s with another group of her friends for the shower “after party.” She had some work to do early on
Sunday and then the week was really busy, and eventually, I just forgot about it.

  Thank goodness none of my patients were close to labor because Bernie’s wedding was just two weeks away and I was plunged into the whirlwind of that – final dress fittings, phone calls from a nervous Bernie, phone calls from an anxious Beverly, the rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner, and finally the wedding day. The ceremony itself was at 3:00 p.m. in a beautiful old church on the Main Line. The morning of the wedding was long and tiring – the bridesmaids breakfast, the salon, and then back to her parents’ house for make-up and dressing. We would not go to the actual church until it was time to walk down the aisle. Beverly didn’t want anybody to see Bernie before the wedding, so we holed up in her mom’s house drinking white wine spritzers and trying to relax and not get bored.

  “Dee,” says Bernie, lounging in her slip, “tell me about your new girlfriend. I’m tired of thinking about me and Darryl and “our love.” I want to hear about someone else, OK?”

  “Well, her name is Noema, she’s from New Orleans but moved up after she graduated from the Moore College of Art. She’s a little younger than me, than us, but she’s a great artist and does pretty well for herself,” I oblige.

  “OK, that’s her resume. Tell me about her. I want the juicy stuff,” says Bernie sipping her spritzer.

  “Well, you’ll see her at the reception, but she’s beautiful, tall with a lot of hair, nose ring, and a big tattoo on her back. I think she’s wearing a red dress today, so you won’t miss her.”

  “Ooh, red at a wedding! She’s bold, I like it!” enthuses Bernie.

  “Actually, for an artist, she’s incredibly level-headed. She’s very focused on getting her new show together. She’s been spending a lot of time at her studio working on getting the pieces just right for it,” I explain.

  Bernie sighs. “Boring! Dee, you sound like an old married lady already. Tell me the good stuff. How’s the sex? What’s the craziest date you two have ever had? I need distraction! I’m starting to sweat.”