by Carl Weber
“What do you think?” I wasn’t about to make this easy for him.
“I don’t think, I know it’s my baby.”
“What makes you so sure?” I crossed my arms and hated him for being so damn confident.
“I know you didn’t fool around. I just don’t know how this happened. I thought you were on the pill.”
“I was on the pill, but obviously it didn’t work.”
“Oh, Donna, please forgive me.”
I rolled my eyes at him. That simple apology didn’t come anywhere near what I felt he owed me.
“We could have been so happy, Terrance.”
I saw tears fill his eyes. The way his eyes crinkled in the corners reminded me of the way they used to when we were laughing together. It reminded me of how much I loved him. For a moment my heart softened, but suddenly, the last week of my life replayed in my mind. I saw a flashback of myself crying in the car when I found out I was pregnant. I thought about how my mother put me out of her house like a stepchild. And as if that weren’t bad enough, I remembered how shocked I was to find out that Terrance was married to someone else. No, my heart couldn’t take any more pain. I would never let a man hurt me again. Just like that, I felt my heart turning to stone.
Terrance’s words interrupted my thoughts. “What are we going to do? I love you, Donna.”
“No, you don’t love me. If you did, you would never have married her.”
“I had to marry her. Besides, your father never would have allowed you to be with me. He knew I was with her.”
“I could have taken care of my father. I still can. If you really love me, why don’t you divorce her and marry me so you can raise your child?”
“You know I can’t do that.” He said it as if he was expecting me to be reasonable after he had ripped my heart out.
“Why not?”
“Because I made a vow before God. I can’t go back on that.”
“But why did you start seeing me at all if you knew you were engaged?”
“I’m a man. Men make mistakes.”
“Men ain’t shit. That’s why women are always left holding the bag, Terrance. Or should I say holding the baby? Thank God for Shorty.”
“Donna, you can’t marry him. I can’t live with the thought of another man raising my child. I’ll take care of the baby. Just don’t get married. Don’t marry that man.”
“Are you crazy? I can’t be an unwed mother, Terrance. You know what that would do to the bishop’s political carrier? To my family?”
He wasn’t giving up. “Please, Donna, don’t marry Shorty.”
“You have no right to ask me for anything, Terrance. You led me on when you knew you had a fiancée. How could you do this to me? I hate you, Terrance. I hate how you’ve destroyed my life. You, you—” I lunged toward him, my fingernails bared, ready to claw his eyeballs out.
Before I could attack him, though, Terrance grabbed me, pulled me into his arms, and gave me a deep, passionate kiss. For a moment, I felt the old sap rising, the strong feelings coming back, but then I thought about his new wife and pulled away from him. I reared back and slapped him with all my might. His hand flew up to his face in shock and he remained speechless. For the first time, I saw him for the coward that he was.
“Don’t you ever put your hands on me again. I’m going to marry Shorty and that’s that. He’s a good man, and he’ll be a good father to my baby.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, don’t be surprised if you find me interrupting your wedding.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No, it’s a promise,” he said then turned and walked out the door.
29
Shorty
“Yo, Shorty, can I see you for a moment?”
I was surprised to see Dante standing above me. I was sitting in the vestibule of the church, waiting for Donna, who had gone into his office to ask him about being the best man at our wedding. I definitely hadn’t expected him to be the one to come out and talk to me. He hadn’t spoken to me since Donna had made the announcement that we were getting married and that I was the father of her baby.
I’d seen Dante upset before, but now there was an iciness about him, a threatening look in his eyes. Before now I hadn’t realized how tall and menacing he could appear. Obviously Donna’s conversation with him in his office hadn’t gone so well.
“Sure, bro, what’s up?” I asked, wishing things hadn’t become so tense between us. I had actually been hopeful he would agree to Donna’s suggestion to be my best man, but now I saw the way he was looking at me, and I knew that wasn’t going to happen.
“Why don’t we step into the choir rehearsal room? This ain’t for everyone’s ears, if you know what I mean,” he said.
I stood up without taking my eyes off Dante. We went into the empty choir rehearsal room. I wondered if there were something I could say to defuse the situation, but then I looked at Dante. His nostrils were flared, and it looked like steam would come out of his ears any second. This was the time for me to keep quiet and let him say his piece. I loved Donna, and I knew I was doing right by her, but I had to remember that Dante believed I deserved his anger. As far as he was concerned, I was the man who had gotten his sister pregnant. If he were anyone else and we were in any other building, I would have been expecting a fight. I considered myself lucky that it was Dante I was dealing with. He was usually pretty good at controlling his anger, so at worst I was expecting to get cursed out. What hurt more than any punch ever could, though, was knowing that I was probably about to lose my best friend.
“Did your sister ask you about being my best man?” I was hoping we could talk instead of shout at each other.
“Yeah, she asked me, and I told her no.” His eyes looked shiny, like he might be about to cry or something. “How could you, man? You s’posed to be my boy.”
“Dante—” I started to speak, but he wasn’t interested in listening.
He got in my face. “How could you do my sister? How could you do my sister behind my back? You played me!”
I wanted to tell him the truth: that I hadn’t slept with Donna, that I was marrying her to protect his family name and honor. But he wouldn’t have believed me, so what was the use?
“It’s not what it looks like, bro. I swear it’s not what it looks like. You know you’ve always been my boy. I would never hurt you.”
“Oh, no? So why do I feel so hurt? Of all the pussy you could want, why’d it have to be my sister?”
“Dante, you know I’ve loved Donna for a long time.”
“Love her? Shorty, you knocked her up! And I’m not sure you didn’t do it on purpose.” Spittle had gathered in the corner of Dante’s mouth. His eyes were moving wildly in his head, and his arms were flailing about as he paced.
“Look, we’re getting married, Dante. I’m trying to do the right thing by her.”
“That’s all you can say? That you’re trying to do right by her? What about doing right by me? I’ve had you in my home since we were kids. I trusted you, man, and so did my parents.”
“Dante, I’m sor—”
Before I could get the words out of my mouth, he hauled off and hit me. I saw stars. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor, holding my jaw.
“Get up, punk.”
I shook my head and held my hand up in surrender. “I’m not gonna fight you, man. I love you too much for that.”
“Well, ain’t no love here. I’ll never forgive you,” Dante said. He gave me one final kick, then left me huddled on the floor
“Dante, it’s not what you think!” I yelled after him, but he was gone.
All I could do was shake my head. Lord, I didn’t want to lose my best friend. He was like a brother to me, but I didn’t want to lose Donna either. And if she was going to be my wife, my first loyalty was to her. I had to respect her wishes. I would never let Dante know that I hadn’t slept with Donna. I would never admit that his new niece or nephew was not my baby until Donna said it was okay.
30
Donna
“What? What is it, Mother?” I asked.
My mother and I were in Pilar’s Dress Shop on Hillside Avenue in Queens Village. Ever since she figured out that I was not going to fight her on any of the details of the wedding, there was an uneasy truce between us. As long as I didn’t question any of her decisions, she had stopped obsessing over the issue of my pregnancy. I was no longer made to feel like I was going to be the downfall of my father’s political career. Though things still hadn’t turned out the way she would have wanted, with me marrying some distinguished church member and getting pregnant after the wedding, she was no longer reminding me of this fact every time I happened to be in the same room with her. Occasionally I would still catch a glimpse of the disappointment in her eyes, but this was a far cry better than being wounded by her words every day.
Among the many wedding details I had allowed my mother to control, I let her choose my gown. I know most brides consider the gown choice to be practically sacred and would never dream of letting someone else do it for them, but I was having such mixed feelings about even getting married that it didn’t matter to me one bit. I could have worn a pair of faded Levi’s and a stained T-shirt for all I cared. My mother obviously cared about it much more than I did, so I was more than happy to let her find a dress for me. She had picked out an eggshell white wedding gown earlier in the week, and I was trying it on in front in the floor-length mirror when her reflection caught my eye. She was staring at me with a handkerchief in her hand, wiping away tears. To tell the truth, it spooked me. I’ve never seen my mother cry except at funerals. She was definitely not one of those mothers who shed tears of pride and joy for their children’s accomplishments. You know the type. The ones who sniffle and wipe their eyes when little Johnny gets a trophy for peewee soccer. That was definitely not my mother. She’d always seemed like she was made of steel, which was why I had no idea what to do when I saw tears now.
“Are you okay, Ma?” I asked uneasily.
“Oh my Lord, Donna, you look so beautiful.” She wiped her face again.
“Really?” I smiled at the unexpected compliment, trying to conceal my shock.
She nodded. “Just beautiful.”
I was trying to hold back tears of my own, but it was no use. Within seconds I was crying too, overwhelmed by all that was happening to me. I was pregnant by a man who had crushed my heart, engaged to a man who didn’t have my heart, and now my mother was starting to look like she actually had a heart. I turned to my mother and hugged her with an affection I hadn’t felt for her since I was a child. All my life I’d wanted my mother’s approval, just an eensy-weensy-teensy bit of her attention, and now, here I was almost three months pregnant and rushing into a shotgun wedding, and out of nowhere she tells me I’m beautiful. I had never heard her say those words to me, not in my twenty years on this earth. I wished I had a tape recorder, because moments like these are what life is all about.
“You are going to make such a beautiful bride.” She sniffed back her tears.
“I owe it all to you. I know I haven’t been everything you wanted me to be, but I couldn’t have done this without you, Mom. Thanks.” This time she reached out and hugged me.
If folks only knew how many details she had pulled together in one week’s time, they’d have the first lady open up a wedding planning service for church members. In the past seven days, my mother had picked out my gown as well as five bridesmaids’ gowns, and had them altered individually from size 20s down to the petite size 6 that RaShanda wore. She also made favors out of miniature elegant shoes, filled with birdseed and covered with tulle. Before now I had assumed all the details were only important because she was worried what people would think about her, but now I wasn’t so sure. Maybe beneath her harsh exterior my mother had been trying to make a beautiful day for me, even in these less than perfect circumstances.
“How are you ladies coming?” Mrs. Pilar, the owner, stuck her head into the dressing room.
“We’re fine,” my mother replied, releasing me from her embrace. “We’ll take this dress. Can you let it out a little more in the hips? We Wilsons have rather large backsides.”
“Sure,” Mrs. Pilar replied, pulling out a measuring tape and some tailor’s chalk. She did what she had to do then smiled at me and left the room so I could get out of the gown.
Once Mrs. Pilar was gone, I broached the subject that had been on my mind all day. “Mother, can I ask you something?”
“Ask away,” she said, standing behind me as she unzipped the gown.
“Mother, do you really hate Shorty?”
She stopped unzipping for a second to think, then answered me. “No, I don’t hate him, Donna. You don’t hate someone who you’ve allowed to spend as much time in your house as I have Shorty. I think the best way to say it is he rubs me the wrong way. I also just think Dante could have done better finding a friend.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I just don’t think Shorty is in Dante’s class. I don’t think he’s in your class, either, but we’re going to have to make do.”
I suddenly decided to reveal my true feelings to my mother. The tenderness she had revealed to me moments before gave me a sense that I could trust her with the truth. It didn’t take long to discover just how wrong I was.
“Well, what if I told you I don’t know if I wanna marry him?”
She looked at me through the mirror, and just like that the steel wall was back up around her heart. Her teary eyes were replaced with the stern gaze I was so accustomed to seeing from her. That magic moment of closeness between us had vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
“I’d say tough. You made this bed with Shorty; now it’s time for you to lie in it.”
“What if I’m not happy?”
She spun me around, hands firmly gripping my shoulders. “And just who told you life was supposed to be happy? I know I didn’t. Happiness is what you make it.” She dropped her arms to her sides, but the tension in her body was still obvious. “Now you listen to me, Madonna. You put our family in this situation, and you are going to marry Shorty. He’s got a decent job as a garbageman, and even more importantly, he’s the father of your child. I don’t want to hear anything different.”
“I understand that, Mother, but I don’t love him.”
I wished she could understand how scared I was about the decisions I had been making in my life recently. Things had spiraled out of control ever since I fell for Terrance, and there was not one person I felt I could talk to about it. Terrance had forbidden me to reveal our relationship, and I had allowed him to control me. Of course, now I knew why he wanted it kept secret, but at the time I was just doing what I was so accustomed to doing: following directions. My parents had raised me to follow the laws of the Bible, and to follow the laws of their household, and I had been such a good little girl, always doing what I was told, trying to please everyone else and gain their approval. Even now, I was marrying Shorty to please others. I knew it would please my parents, at least to some extent, and of course, it would please Shorty, who I felt I had to repay for his help. But there was a small voice inside me that was finally starting to protest, reminding me that I mattered, too, that I shouldn’t forget about doing what pleased me. My mother, though, wasn’t interested in what that small voice might have to say.
“You don’t love him? So what? In time, you will learn to love him. Besides, you should have thought about that before you lay down with him. I bet you thought you loved him then, didn’t you?”
I almost slipped and told her that I had never “lay down” with Shorty, as she called it, but I caught myself. I silenced that little voice inside and fell back into doing what I did best.
“You’re right. I will learn to love him,” I said, defeated. “I just wish I could be like you and Daddy. You’ve always loved the bishop.”
A strange look passed over my mother’s face. She started to say something then s
topped, only to start once again. “Men like the bishop don’t come around very often, Donna.”
“I know, Mother.” I sighed and ignored the faint echo of protests from my inner voice. “I guess you’re right. I could do much worse than Shorty. Now help me get out of this dress so we can go home. I’m feeling very tired all of a sudden.”
31
Tanisha
Dante had just come to pick me up, and I was putting on one of the new outfits he had bought me when we went shopping for clothes for his sister Donna’s rehearsal dinner and wedding. After much pleading on Dante’s part and plenty of complaining on mine, I had finally agreed to go with him to the dinner. After the way his mother treated me at their house, I had vowed never to go near that woman, but now here I was getting ready to face her again.
Aside from my own issues with Dante’s mother, there was plenty of other drama surrounding this dinner and the upcoming wedding. Dante didn’t want to have anything to do with it because he still couldn’t get over the fact that his best friend had knocked his sister up. And his parents? Forget it. His mother had disliked this guy Shorty from way back, so you know it was just killing her that he was getting ready to become a part of the family. Secretly I was loving that part. That stuck-up woman deserved to be humbled, and maybe this was just the thing to put her in her place, to make her understand that there was nothing special about her. I did feel bad for the bishop, though. He seemed like such a nice man, and I know it was probably really hurting him that his daughter had gotten pregnant.
When Dante first asked me to go, I had flat out refused. There was no way in hell I was going to expose myself to that woman’s insults again. But the more Dante and I talked, the more I realized it wasn’t all about that. Because of the issues he was going through over his sister’s pregnancy, he said he really needed me there for support. He was asking me to set aside my pride and be there for him. After all Dante had done for me and my family, how could I say no to this request? So I agreed to go with him to the rehearsal dinner. We had also bought an outfit for me to wear to the wedding, depending on how well behaved his mother was at the rehearsal.
