Anthony stood where he was. He glared down at Celeste. “Just tell me when you had an abortion with a wire hanger.”
Celeste wiped the tears from her face. “It was my sophomore year in high school. I got pregnant and I was scared to tell my folks. My mother wouldn’t have been able to bear it. And I couldn’t even fathom the thought of how disappointed in me my father would have been.”
Anthony stood looking down at his wife. “Is it the reason you can’t have a baby?”
Celeste’s mouth went dry. Since she’d met Anthony she prayed that her promiscuous years would never catch up with her and have to be revealed to him. What was she going to do? How could she explain to her loving husband why she kept such a deep, dark secret from him all these years?
Celeste stood from the sofa and grabbed Anthony’s arms that were folded across his chest. “Dr. Bindu believes so.”
Anthony released his arms and took a step backward. “So you’ve been lying to me all these years? Crying every month when you got your period, going from doctor to doctor and making me get myself checked out like I could’ve been the problem. And all along you knew we would never have a baby.” Anthony looked at Celeste with disgust in his eyes. She was damaged goods.
Celeste stepped to Anthony. She tried to grab his hands but he wouldn’t let her. She started to cry openly. “When we first got together, all you talked about was getting married and having a house full of kids. You told me that it was your dream to become a father. I didn’t know then that the abortion I had five years prior would be a problem for us. That’s why I never mentioned it. It wasn’t until after we got married and started trying to conceive, and couldn’t, that I got concerned. I made an appointment with Dr. Bindu and found out that the abortion killed my chances of getting pregnant.”
“And you said nothing to me.”
“Baby, I’m so sorry that I kept this from you but I didn’t wanna disappoint you.”
Anthony looked at her tearstained faced and shook his head from side to side. “All this time, Celeste. All this time you had us fasting and praying that God would do a miraculous thing when you knew all along why we couldn’t get pregnant. And I don’t buy the crap about you not feeling the need to tell me about the abortion. I could understand you hiding something like, ‘Honey, when I was in high school I stole lipstick from the convenience store,’ or ‘Honey, when I was in high school I pulled the fire alarm just to get out of class early.’ That’s something you shouldn’t feel the need to tell your husband. But ‘Honey, in my sophomore year of high school I had an illegal abortion. I don’t know if it did any damage but it’s something you should know.’ The abortion part of your history is something you’re supposed to share with the man who asked you to become his wife.”
Celeste was distraught. She wanted to reach out and hug Anthony but thought better of it. She wiped more tears from her eyes. “Honey, you’re right. I should’ve told you but I was afraid.”
Anthony’s voice rose. “Afraid of what, telling me the truth?”
“I was afraid that if you knew my secret you’d leave me.”
Anthony looked to the ceiling and exhaled loudly then looked at Celeste. “When God told me that you were my wife, He didn’t say that you came with children. I’m not the type of man who would leave a woman I love just because she’s barren. If you are barren, I would still love you ’til death do us part. But what about the vows we took, Celeste? What about being honest and trustworthy? What about that? Huh?”
Celeste saw three Anthonys through her tears. “I’m so sorry, Tony. Please forgive me.”
“What else have you been lying about?” he asked. “What else have you been keeping from me? What else don’t I know? How many secrets do you have?”
Celeste took a step toward Anthony. “There’s nothing else, Tony. I swear.”
He moved backward to keep Celeste from touching him. “You really expect for me to believe you?”
Sniff, sniff. “There’s nothing else, Tony. I promise.” Sniff, sniff.
Anthony shrugged his shoulders. “How can I trust you? Put yourself in my shoes, Celeste. How would it make you feel if I had failed to tell you I had a vasectomy before I met you? Yet, I marry you and let you believe that everything was in working order. And for six years we’re trying to get pregnant but can’t and I know I’m the reason. But I didn’t tell you because I thought you wouldn’t marry me. I’m just hoping and praying the procedure I had done would reverse itself. Wouldn’t you feel six years of countless doctors visits were a waste of your time? Wouldn’t you be hurt and disappointed that I wasn’t open and honest with you from the beginning?”
Again Celeste reached out for him and Anthony stepped backward, this time raising his hands in the air. He yelled at her, “Don’t touch me! You are a liar and a manipulator.” He grabbed his car keys from the cocktail table and walked to the front door.
Celeste ran after him. “Where are you going, Tony? Please don’t leave like this. Don’t leave me, Tony, please.” Celeste grabbed him by the elbow.
He pushed her into the wall and gritted his teeth. “I said don’t touch me.” Anthony walked out the front door and slammed it behind him. The force almost shattered every window in the living room.
Celeste fell to her knees crying after him. “Tony, Tony, Tony. Come back. Baby, please come back. I’m so sorry. Oh God. I’m so sorry.”
Celeste sat with her back against the front door. She was all alone. Whenever she and Anthony argued, she would call Portia and Ginger and the three of them would gather around Portia’s kitchen table and eat chocolate cake, chocolate candy bars, and chocolate ice cream. They would kick up their heels, unbutton their pants, and rotate the chocolate around the table as Celeste vented. Then the next morning like clockwork Portia and Ginger would call Celeste and yell at her for making them gain five pounds in one night.
But for the first time in Celeste’s six-year marriage, she didn’t have Anthony, Ginger, or Portia. And there wasn’t any edible chocolate in her house, not even a single Hershey’s Kiss. Celeste bowed her head and cried harder.
Chapter 5
Sleeping with the Enemy
Ginger arose at three o’clock a.m. on a Wednesday morning, choking and coughing uncontrollably. Ronald was asleep with his back to her. Ginger got out of bed and hurried into the kitchen for a glass of water. The lukewarm liquid was soothing to her throat. She set the glass in the sink and went back to bed. No sooner than her head made contact with the pillow Ginger started to cough again.
Ronald sat up, exhaled loudly, and frowned at her. “Take that noise out of here.”
While trying to suppress her coughs, Ginger got up and left her bedroom and went into the guest bedroom and lay across the queen-sized bed. Within twenty minutes her coughs subsided and she was able to drift off to sleep.
At approximately 5:05 a.m., Ginger lazily turned from her side and lay on her back. She opened her eyes and was startled to see Ronald’s silhouette standing over her. Though it was still dark outside, the light shining from the hallway helped Ginger to see that he was completely naked. She anxiously sat up but Ronald’s fist came full force and sent her flying back onto the pillow. Ginger felt her chest cave in and she screamed out in pain.
Ronald placed his palm over her mouth. “Shut up and be still,” he ordered.
Tears welled up in Ginger’s eyes as she watched Ronald climb on top of her and spread her legs with his own. He removed his hand from her mouth and raised her gown to her waist. He was breathing heavy and Ginger’s nostrils inhaled stale alcohol mixed with morning breath. It was nauseating. The smell made her sick to her stomach.
“Ron, please don’t do this.”
A slap across the left side of her face took Ginger’s breath away. Immediately, Ronald kissed where his opened palm made contact. “Did that hurt, baby? Huh? Did I hurt you?”
Ginger closed her eyes and prayed that God would help her out of that situation. Ronald grabbed her chin and turn
ed her face toward his own. Tears were streaming from Ginger’s eyes down to her ears.
He licked her tears with his tongue. He ran it from the corner of her right eye to her ear. “Mmm, your tears taste good. You ought to cry more often.”
At the smell of his breath Ginger’s stomach began to rumble. Telling Ronald that his breath was foul would only guarantee another blow to her face but Ginger had to do something to get his mouth away from her nose. “Ron, you’re heavy. Please get up.”
“You wanna know what I found in the kitchen sink when I got up this morning, Ginger?”
Ginger knew she was in trouble. He was talking about the glass she drank water from two hours ago.
“Do you remember what I said the last time I told you about leaving dirty dishes in the sink overnight?”
“Ron, I was sick this morning. Didn’t you hear me coughing? I just had a glass of water.”
“You left a dirty glass in the sink overnight,” he reminded her.
Ginger sobbed. “No, it was this morning.”
He grabbed Ginger’s chin and turned her face toward the window. “Look outside. Is the sun up?”
She moaned. “No.”
“Is the sky light blue?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Lord, where are you? There was no way out of a butt whipping that was surely coming her way. Ronald kissed her lips softly and asked the last question again. “Is the sky light blue, Ginger?”
She cried out again. “No.”
“Well, if the sun is not up and if the sky is not light blue then it must be nighttime, right?”
The stench coming from Ronald’s mouth caused Ginger’s dinner, from the night before, to move around in her stomach. Lord, please help me.
Ronald kissed her lips softly again. “Answer me, baby. Is it nighttime or daytime?”
“It’s nighttime.”
“So, you left a dirty glass in the sink overnight?”
“Yes, I’m sorry.”
“Do you know what the penalty is for leaving dirty dishes in the sink overnight?”
Ginger’s dinner had made its way up to the bottom of her throat. She swallowed repeatedly trying to keep it down.
Ronald used his thighs to spread her legs wider.
More tears ran from Ginger’s eyes to her ears. “Ron, please. I’m sorry.”
He rose up and plunged himself into her. Ginger hollered out when he tore into her flesh.
Again, Ronald slapped the right side of her face. “Shut up!”
He withdrew himself and plunged into Ginger again and again. She tried her best to keep quiet but couldn’t do it. Each time he entered her, she yelled.
Ronald placed his hand over mouth and spoke directly into her nostrils. “I like this early morning lovin’.”
Within one minute Ginger felt Ronald’s body stiffen; then he relaxed and fell down on top of her. “Was it as good for you as it was for me, baby?”
He didn’t wait for a response. Ronald got up and left the bedroom. On his way out, he spoke to her. “I want that glass washed before you go to work.”
Ginger leaned over the side of the bed and vomited on the hardwood floor.
* * *
The water in the shower was scalding hot. Ginger stood under the shower head trying to get Ronald’s scent off of her. She lathered her soap sponge and scrubbed her face, arms, and legs as hard as she could. When she rotated her private area with the soapy sponge, she felt intense burning. Ginger removed the sponge and saw blood then noticed streams of blood going down the drain. She rinsed her left hand free of soap and felt between her inner thighs. The slightest touch caused a shriek to escape Ginger’s throat. She removed her hand and saw it completely covered in red. More and more blood ran down the shower drain. Ginger stared at it in disbelief. She began to experience what felt like lightning bolts piercing her abdomen. The pain was so severe that it sent Ginger to her knees. “Jesus, help me,” was all she could say.
Suddenly clots of blood flowed down her legs to her ankles on their way to the drain. “Not again, Jesus,” she moaned. “Please don’t take another baby from me.”
Ginger stayed on her knees in the running shower crying until her uterus emptied itself and the pains subsided. When she felt strong enough, Ginger stood and washed her body.
After the shower Ginger got a maxi pad from beneath the vanity in her bathroom, pressed the adhesive to the center of her panties and pulled them up to her waist. She dressed in a quilted nightgown covering her from head to toe then went into the kitchen to wash the glass.
Ginger’s private area was so swollen and sore she had to walk back to her bedroom gap-legged. She started to apply cocoa butter lotion to her legs when her eyes were drawn to a photograph of her and Ronald smiling into each other’s eyes in the early weeks of their relationship.
Ronald came into the bedroom carrying his jacket and keys. He walked to Ginger and kissed her cheek. “I got to make a run. Hit me on my cell if you need me.”
Ginger closed her eyes and exhaled. Just the thought of Ronald touching any part of her body was repulsive to her. In her twenty-seven years on earth Ginger has been pregnant twice and not one child was evident to show for it.
She sat on the side of the bed and thought about calling her doctor. After her first miscarriage at the mercy of Ronald’s hands, Ginger had begged her doctor to tie her tubes. Her doctor explained to her that a procedure that extreme couldn’t be done on a woman who didn’t have any children or on a married woman without her husband’s consent.
It took Ginger eight years to shed the weight birth control pills put on her petite frame since she started swallowing them in her early twenties. She’d been birth control pill free for two years and she refused to travel down that road again. Condoms were out of the question according to Ronald. He told Ginger that taking the time to put on a condom puts a damper on lovemaking.
“Birth control is the woman’s responsibility,” Ronald said to Ginger. “Since men can’t get pregnant, why should we be held accountable for what could happen?”
That question to Ginger was asked after her first miscarriage. From then on, Ginger relied on an ovulation predictor to tell her when she and Ronald could have sex. Considering the fact that Ginger had gotten pregnant again after she started using the ovulation predictor told her it wasn’t predictable at all.
Ginger picked up the photograph of her and Ronald from the nightstand, and carefully sat down on the bed wincing at the pain in between her legs. She reminisced about the time she told Celeste and Portia that she’d met someone with potential. It was back in the days when if one of them had a date, all three of them had a date.
Four years ago on a Friday night in February, Ginger rang Portia’s telephone with excitement in her voice. “Girl, I’ve got something to tell you.”
“I already know. You’re pregnant,” Portia stated.
Ginger’s heart leapt in her chest. She was twenty-three years old and single but she wasn’t celibate. Every month Ginger looked forward to getting her period. To every other woman, what seemed like the worst days of her life were days of joy for Ginger.
It was normal for her to count the days of the week on a calendar to make sure her menstrual cycle was right on time. If Ginger’s period didn’t flow on the first day it was supposed to, she would sit on the toilet and push like she was constipated or trying to deliver a baby. There were times when Ginger had pushed so hard, she’d made herself dizzy. One episode of pushing resulted in a case of flaming hemorrhoids. When the pushing didn’t work, Ginger would get on her knees and cry out loud, “I ain’t gonna do it no more, Lord. I promise, I promise, I promise. Please bring my period, Jesus. No more sex, Lord. I’m begging you, Jesus. Please have mercy on me.”
And when God showed a little mercy on Ginger, she would double her tithes the following Sunday morning. Ginger would walk to the front of the church and drop her envelope in the basket while displaying the biggest grin on her face. And if cramps were making th
eir presence known, Ginger would pat her lower abdomen, smile, look up toward heaven and say, “Thank you, Lord.”
There was a time when Ginger’s period was three days late. But on the fourth day her prayers were answered. Ginger felt so good; she bought her favorite foods and invited Portia and Celeste over for a Period Party.
Celeste gave her a gift-wrapped box of tampons. Ginger opened a card that read:
Congratulations on getting your period. I hope you get many more.
Portia’s gift was a box of Midol. Ginger gave the box back to Portia. “You can keep those. I love my cramps. They let me know that my friend Flo ain’t too far behind.”
Portia looked at Ginger. “You know you’re stupid, right? If you didn’t know, now you know.”
That night was the first of many Period Parties yet to come.
“Don’t play like that, Portia. Ain’t nobody pregnant,” Ginger said. Portia was taking the telephone conversation a different way. Ginger was calling to share the news that she had met a guy.
“Somebody is because I dreamed of fish last night.”
“Well, it ain’t me. So it must be either you or Celeste.”
“It’s gotta be Celeste then because it sure isn’t me. You know she and Tony have been trying to get pregnant since forever.”
“Hold on a minute, Portia. I’m gonna get her on the three-way.” Ginger clicked over and dialed Celeste’s number then reconnected Portia to the line.
The telephone rang four times; then Portia and Ginger heard Celeste say, “Harper residence.”
Portia was the first to speak. “Are you pregnant?”
Celeste frowned at no one in particular. “What?”
Ginger joined their conversation. “She asked if you were pregnant.”
“And before you answer you should know that I dreamed of fish last night,” Portia said.
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