Brian dragged his hand down over his face, cursed, and then turned and paced back and forth. “Goddamn,” he said, pissed at himself for her all-too-true statement. “This is fucked up, Carla. Real fucked up.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Carla snapped back, her tears falling fast. “I wasn’t trying to be nobody’s mother right now.”
Brian sat down on the faux leather sofa. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, clasped his hands together, bounced on the toes of his right foot, and stared down at the floor.
Pregnant.
“Goddamn, Carla,” he said again. “I got enough shit to deal with.”
“Well, I’m so glad I added to the shit you have to deal with, because I certainly didn’t have any of my own to add to!”
Brian slammed his fists down on the sofa cushions. “Fuck!”
Carla wiped tears away. Said, “So what are we going to do?”
Brian looked up at her. “What do you mean what are we gonna do? We gotta get money together for an abortion. What you think?”
Carla closed her eyes, put her hand over her mouth, and sobbed heavily.
Brian slouched back against the couch and interlocked his fingers on the top of his head.
Pregnant.
He stomped his foot down and cursed out loud again.
Fucking pregnant.
He hated that it invaded his thoughts right now, but his thoughts went to Will, Tyrel, and the answer they were waiting for.
Was he down?
Fifteen minutes ago, his mind, still not completely made up, his answer on its way to being a no. He had to draw the line. Boys or not, he couldn’t disrespect Old Man Blackwell. But Carla hadn’t sent him a text saying that she needed to talk about something important. She hadn’t told him that she was pregnant. Fifteen minutes ago, he hadn’t needed money for a goddamned abortion.
“I . . . I’m not getting an abortion,” Carla said.
Brian’s eyes snapped open. “What?”
Carla shook her head slowly. “I . . . I’m not getting an abortion,” she said. “I don’t believe in them.”
Brian closed his eyes a bit. “What do you mean you don’t believe in them?”
Her voice stronger, Carla said, “I’m not getting an abortion. It goes against what I believe.”
Brian sat forward. “I’m not trying to be a father right now, Carla!”
“Like I said, Brian, I’m not exactly looking to be a mother either, but—”
“But nothing! Shit! There are no buts. You can’t have this baby right now.”
“You don’t own me, Brian. You can’t tell me what I can’t do.”
Brian slammed his hand down on the cushion again and shot up out of the sofa. “I don’t give a shit if I own you or not, Carla. You can’t have that fuckin’ baby!”
“So what are you gonna do, Brian? Leave me if I do? You gonna be just like all of the niggas in the street and not take care of your responsibilities?”
Brian gritted his teeth again as a sharp pain throbbed behind his right eye.
Responsibilities.
A word the man who’d helped give him life had never known about. Brian swore he would never do what his sperm donor had done. He swore he’d never leave his children fatherless. Never leave them to fend for themselves. Never let them cry themselves to sleep at night wondering why their daddy didn’t love them. Wondering what they’d done to make him disappear. He’d swore he’d never leave them alone to figure out what to do with the opposite sex. He swore he’d never force them to figure out how to be a man on their own.
Responsibilities.
He didn’t want them. Didn’t need them.
He wasn’t ready.
He shook his head. “I gotta go,” he said, grabbing his book bag and slinging it over his shoulder. Without saying another word, he rushed past Carla and ran outside.
As the door closed behind him, Carla called out his name. He paused for a moment. He was wrong and he knew it. Carla needed him. But he couldn’t deal with this right now.
He walked off down the block, his destination unknown.
15
Deahnna stopped just outside of Jawan’s classroom, took a breath, and held it for a few seconds before letting it out very slowly. Her hands were shaking a little, her palms slick with perspiration. Her skin was warm, despite having just been out in the crisp and biting October wind. She was schoolgirl nervous. Middle. Maybe high school. Nervous, excited, and fearful all at the same time.
She was about to go out on a date. Something she hadn’t done in such a long time. For so long she’d closed herself off from happiness, which, in her experiences, had led to only pain, to heartache. She hadn’t wanted to feel the hurt ever again, so her life became about doing what it took to survive, and about her son. It wasn’t ideal and it was lonely at times, but at least she’d avoided even the possibility of being hurt again.
Yet there she was, seconds away from walking into a classroom to meet her son’s teacher for a date. A date that, if she wasn’t careful, could turn out to be much more.
That frightened and aroused her.
Of all the men in the city. Of all the men who’d ever tried to approach her with cocky and sometimes pitiful lines, and wry smiles, why had it been Jawan White who’d broken the invisible and practically impenetrable steel wall she’d had up? What had it been about him? His sexy smile? His deep-set brown eyes that seemed to be in deep thought? His personality that was inviting and comforting? His lean body that made her wonder how it looked without clothing?
Deahnna took another breath as her heart thumped with nervous anticipation beneath her chest. Of all the men who’d tried and failed, she’d never felt an instant connection with any of them. An almost kismet sort of sensation. Regina had said to keep her mouth shut about the stripping that she did. To let things develop. That when the time was right, she could then reveal the truth, if she needed to at all. Deahnna knew that Regina was right. Telling him too early was risky. It was better to keep that information buried. Better to let him get to really know her. To know what she was all about. When and if the time came, he would know that taking her clothes off in front of complete strangers didn’t define her.
Hold the truth.
Lie.
The right thing to do, but so completely not what she wanted to do.
She didn’t want to lie. She didn’t want to pretend to be something or someone she wasn’t. Yet as she inhaled, exhaled, and stepped into the room, she knew that if the moment came to talk about what she did part-time, her answers would be fiction disguised as truth.
“Hello, Jawan?” she said with a smile.
Jawan, who was sitting behind his desk, flipping through a textbook, looked up. He returned her smile and said, “Hey.”
Deahnna looked at her watch. It was a quarter to seven. “I know I’m a little early. I just wanted to get out before Brian came home. I’ll sit in the back while you finish with what you’re doing.”
Jawan shook his head. “You’re fine,” he said, closing his book. “I was really just passing the time.”
“Are you sure? Because I don’t mind waiting at all.”
Jawan stood up. “Trust me. I’m sure.”
Deahnna smiled. “OK.”
Jawan said, “You look great.”
Deahnna felt her cheeks grow warm, and was glad she had skin the color of burnt sepia. “Thank you,” she said. She had on a pair of stretch blue jeans, and a beige slouch-neck sweater that hugged her waistline. Black leather calf-high boots were on her feet. It was a casual outfit, yet she knew the way it fit her was appealing to the eye. “You do too,” she said.
Jawan grinned. He had on a pair of light blue jeans, a black button-down dress shirt, and black Skechers on his feet. “Best I could do on a teacher’s salary,” he said.
Deahnna nodded. “Well it works.”
Jawan stared at her as silence claimed the room momentarily. His gaze was intense.
Deahnna stared back at him, her gaze just as deep.
Sexual energy crackled around them.
After a few seconds, Jawan cleared his throat. “So, are you ready to go?”
Deahnna said, “I am if you are.”
Jawan grabbed his leather coat from behind his chair. “How do you feel about cartoons?” he asked, coming from behind the desk.
Deahnna looked at him with a curious eye. “Cartoons? I like the occasional Tom and Jerry and Scooby-Doo! if that’s what you mean.”
Jawan laughed. “Not quite. Have you seen the preview for the movie The Last Airbender?”
Deahnna thought about it for a moment, then shook her head and said, “No.”
“Well, it’s a new movie that’s out. It’s based on an animation series on Nickelodeon called Avatar: The Last Airbender. It’s a great series with a great cast of characters. It’s won a lot of awards.”
“Really? I’ve never heard of it before.”
“I have the whole series on Blu-ray. We’ll have to watch it someday. You’ll be hooked after the first episode. The movie that’s out is the adaptation of the series, only with real people. Hopefully it will live up to the cartoon.”
“And that’s what we’re going to see?”
“Yup.”
Deahnna “hmm’d.”
“You did tell me to pick the movie,” Jawan reminded her.
She nodded. “Yes, I did.”
“Would you rather I choose something else?”
Deahnna shook her head. “No. I told you to pick and you did.”
“Yes, I did.”
Deahnna smiled. “Before we go, I have to ask, is Grady still alive?”
“And kicking,” Jawan answered.
Deahnna gave him a skeptical glare. “Hmm. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Jawan shrugged. “That can be arranged.”
Deahnna felt her skin grow warm again as Jawan watched her with a sexy gaze. She cleared her throat. “Lead the way, Mr. White.”
They took a taxi cab to King’s Plaza and caught the eight-thirty showing of the movie. They sat in the middle toward the top, where couples usually sat when they wanted or had been dared to do more than watch a movie. They shared a large popcorn, some Twizzlers, and had their own medium Cokes. Jawan leaned to his left. Deahnna to her right. They sat shoulder to shoulder for the entire film, which was an engrossing mixture of action, suspense, and comedy.
“So,” Deahnna asked as they walked out, once the film’s credits began to roll. “Did it suffice or disappoint?”
They were walking side by side. With each step, their hands lightly touched. Based on his personality, Deahnna had no doubt that Jawan wouldn’t be bold enough to grab hold of her hand, but she wished he would.
Jawan smiled. “Definitely sufficed,” he said, the tone in his voice higher with excitement. “I mean, it wasn’t as perfect as the series, but it was damn close. I’m already hyped to see the next one!”
Deahnna nodded. “I have to admit, I’m looking forward to the sequel too.”
“There’s going to be a third also.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. This is only one of a trilogy. There are a lot of characters you still haven’t met.”
“Wow. Well I have to say, after seeing this, I really want to see the cartoon series.”
They were outside now. Deahnna tightened the belt of her suede coat and put her hood, lined with faux fur, over her head.
Jawan zipped up his coat and flagged down a cab that was fast approaching. As it came, he turned to Deahnna and said, “Disc one is in my Blu-ray player if you want to see it now.”
Deahnna looked at him as he watched her intently. Once again, despite the frigid air, she felt warm. “How convenient,” she said playfully.
Jawan said, “I was watching it last night. Wanted a refresher before tonight. All we’ll have to do is press play.”
Deahnna “mm-hmm’d.” “Nice try. I bet you invite many ladies over to watch the Avatar.”
He gave her a sneaky smile. “Only after they’ve seen the movie with me.”
“Mm-hmm. And how many times have you seen it?”
“This is the first time. But I have a few dates lined up for tomorrow.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Jawan shrugged as the cab came to a stop in front of them. He opened the door. “I’m just trying to expose as many people as I can to the Ang and the crew.”
Deahnna laughed and got into the cab. “Oh you’re slick,” she said. “I may have to take Grady with me tonight. I really don’t know if it’s safe for him to be with you.”
Jawan chuckled. “So, does that mean that you’re taking me up on my offer?”
Deahnna looked at him as she sat back against the cab’s surprisingly comfortable beige leather seat.
Was she accepting his offer?
There was a whispering in her left ear. Words of caution being spoken.
Slow down. Yes, it feels right. Yes, it feels real, feels natural. Like the cliché: the start of something wonderful. But it always starts this way. It’s always bells, whistles, butterflies, and singing birds. It’s always a fairy tale. But you know what happens next. You know that the evil witch bringing the black dragon and the poisoned apples always appears. Besides, you haven’t talked. Really talked. You haven’t had to lie yet. You haven’t had to pretend to be better than what you are.
Slow down. Go home.
Deahnna heard the words well, but found it hard to focus, because while caution sounded off on the left, words of encouragement were being yelled in her right ear.
Go for it!
Stop thinking!
It’s right. It’s real. It’s been too damned long. You need this, girl. Your mind. Your body. Your soul needs this. Say yes, and stop letting the past block you from happiness. The past is what it is. Stop thinking about witches and dragons and rotten apples. Say yes, before someone else does.
Deahnna looked at Jawan. At his sexy eyes, his sexually mischievous smile. It had been so long since she’d felt this way. So long since she’d been this open, this at ease. It was scary, yet exciting at the same time.
Say it!
Say it!
Say . . . “Yes,” she said, her heart thumping as she took a leap of faith. “I’ll come over.”
Jawan smiled at her and then gave the cab driver his address. On the way there, he took hold of her hand.
16
Brian lay in his bed and stared up at a strand of a cobweb hanging from his ceiling. He was alone, his mother at her second job, which was good because he needed the solitude.
It had been a rough two days since Carla had given him the news. Pretending that everything was right and normal in his world had been taxing. The anxiety and stress bubbling inside of him was volcanic. Keeping himself from exploding was damn near impossible, and had he not had the peace tonight, he was certain he would erupt.
Pregnant.
Carla.
With a fucking child.
His child.
Brian yelled out, yanked one of his pillows from beneath his head and threw it across his room, sending it flailing across his dressing table, knocking over bottles of cologne, shaving cream, and deodorant. If her mind didn’t change, if she continued to say that an abortion wasn’t an option, then he was going to be a father.
Brian cursed out again, yanked his remaining pillow and threw it, sending it crashing against his computer monitor, which teetered back and forth. He’d told his mom that the PC had been a giveaway from the school. That as new PCs came in, they gave the old ones to deserving students who needed them.
It had been a lie.
The PC, a Dell with a Pentium processor, had been bought with money that he, Tyrel, and Will had taken after holding up a Chinese takeout restaurant toward the end of Jamaica Avenue.
Brian cursed. Slammed his fist against his wall. Cursed again.
Money.
He would need that now more than ever with Carla c
arrying his seed.
Money for Pampers, wipes, food, bottles, clothes, shoes, more Pampers, more wipes, more food, more bottles, more clothes, more shoes.
Money.
For strollers, cribs and playpens, toys.
Money.
Fucking money.
Money that Tyrel swore they could pull in by ripping off Old Man Blackwell.
Brian cursed, hit the wall again, then sat up, swung his legs off the bed on to the floor, and pressed on his right eyeball, the pain from a migraine hovering behind it.
Carla was pregnant. She swore an abortion was out of the goddamned question.
Pregnant.
Shit.
What the hell did he know about being a father? He’d never had one. Never had an example or a friend with one who he could learn from and emulate. So how the hell could he be a fucking father?
He stood up and paced back and forth in his tiny room. He’d felt the storm coming, but he’d had no clue it was going to be this damn bad. He pressed on his eye again, then jabbed his middle finger and thumb into his temples.
This shit was unfair.
So fucking unfair.
About to yell out and hit his wall again, his cell phone chimed.
A text message.
Carla had been bombarding him with them since he’d walked away. She’d cursed him, begged him to return her calls, cursed him again, said that he wasn’t shit, apologized, said she was wrong, that she was sorry, then said how much she hated him, then loved him. He hadn’t returned any of her messages.
He went to his phone.
The pregnancy didn’t change what he felt for Carla. He loved her. And he was hurting her for something that she hadn’t caused on her own. He exhaled. He would reply this time, because he hated knowing that she was in pain and feeling abandoned.
He grabbed his phone and looked at it. But the text wasn’t from Carla this time. This time it was from Will.
Yo, son, come on. I know how you feel, but we need the money and we can’t do this shit without you, son.
Brian stared at the message.
Money.
They needed the money.
Growing Pains Page 10
