Black Girls Must Die Exhausted: A Novel for Grown Ups

by Jayne Allen

  “Gretchen and her stories,” my grandmother said, with a half laugh. “I do remember that fight though—between Clara and Margaret. I thought Margaret was going to knock Clara’s glasses clear off!”

  “Well, who got the chair?” I asked.

  My grandmother breathed a slight chuckle trying to remember. After a moment, she said, “doesn’t matter, I guess,” seeming into her own thoughts. “I think Clara, but all the days here sometimes drift together. In my mind, I can see both of them sitting in that chair after it was all over. Not sure why it was so important then. Funny the things people think are worth fighting over.”

  “Well, looks like there’s going to be a lot of excitement with this Senior Prom!” I said, trying to shift the mood. “We’ve got to get you all gussied up. Can’t just let Ms. Gretchen steal the show…and take all the…rocking chairs!” I said to my grandmother with a wink.

  “Now, isn’t that right!” Granny Tab said with a chuckle. “I think I might be excited!”

  I stayed longer at Crestmire than usual because I didn’t want to have to head back and face my first free Saturday night alone with the temptation of Marc’s unanswered text message or the taunting of the silence from Todd. On the ride home, Ms. Gretchen’s words swirled in my mind alongside ideas of how I would make my grandmother look and feel her most beautiful for the Senior Prom coming up. I also tried to think of my own rocking chair moments…and, I tried my hardest to find Marc in any of them. Meanwhile, his unanswered message burned a hole in my purse as much as an unspent dollar would in the pocket of a kid in a candy store.

  Once I got home, sitting on my sofa, Saturday night got to me. My thoughts swirled of wasted time, failing fertility, Marc and now Todd. Why wasn’t I responding to Marc? Was it a waste of my time if I had nothing else to do? With a plan that seemed to make perfect sense, I picked up my phone to compose a message to him. Only, I already had a message, from a number I didn’t recognize. Dr. Todd?

  Unknown Number: Tabby, please forgive the delay.

  Unknown Number: Made a big mistake in saving your number and had to get it again from Alexis.

  Unknown Number: Sorry—should have said it’s Todd. Todd Bryant.

  Unknown Number: Last minute I know, but I’m off tomorrow. Could I interest you in brunch?

  Yes you could, Dr. Todd. Yes, you could.

  C

  Todd and I agreed to meet downtown at a cute little French restaurant on Spring Street. I made it a point to wear flats, just in case.

  When I got there, Todd was already seated, wearing a nice blue checked button down shirt, jeans and leather driving shoes. His hair was cut down a little lower than when we first met, so the bald circle up top wasn’t as noticeable. I felt myself smiling as he waved me over.

  “Tabby!” He said standing up as I reached the table. He awkwardly extended his hand again, but seemed to change his mind at the last minute, turning our greeting into an equally awkward hug instead.

  “Hi Todd, good to see you.” I said with the most flirtation I could muster. I was waiting for the butterflies, but reminded myself I couldn’t keep comparing everyone to Marc. We started with small talk through our order and I learned that he was just finishing the last year of his psychiatry residency and that he was planning to practice in LA once finished, joining his uncle’s practice to eventually take it over. He confessed that he hadn’t been a KVTV viewer, but after we met, made it a point to catch enough of the news airings to watch my reporting.

  “I’m impressed. You’re really talented and relatable,” he said. “I’m sure there are a ton of brothas in LA that could be sitting in my place. So, I know I’m lucky to get you at such short notice.” Ha. If you only knew, Todd. If you only knew. I just smiled back at him, trying to hide the trauma of Marc from surfacing in my eyes. “So, how does a girl like you wind up single?” Oh lord, this question. I took a minute to think before I answered.

  “I guess I’m newly single,” I said. “If that’s what you mean? Or did you want to know why I’m not married?” Hell, I’d like to know that answer myself.

  “Either, or neither, actually,” Todd said. “I’m just questioning my luck—silly thing to do,” he said rubbing his forehead with his hand. “I’m a little out of practice with this dating thing,” he said finally. “I’ve been so focused on my residency, I kind of put that part of my life off.” My eyebrows raised involuntarily. Another guy who wasn’t ready and wasn’t where he so-called wanted to be. I stiffened defensively.

  “So, what are you looking for?” I asked, surprising myself with my directness.

  “Maybe not anything specific,” Todd said. “I didn’t really have dating on my radar until Alexis mentioned you.” Oh no, I thought. Todd was starting to sound more and more like Marc by the minute. I felt myself leaning back. He leaned in toward me to continue. “But you’re worth a new plan.”

  Chapter 13

  “How’s the real estate story going?” Scott asked me in the kitchen as I waited for my dark roast to brew from the fancy coffee machine. My brunch date with Todd lasted well into early Sunday evening and ended with a few too many drinks and a promise to speak later in the week. Scott was the last person I wanted killing my vibe. If I wasn’t so tired on this morning, I would have just left the cup sitting there and let the next person take it, or take responsibility for throwing it away. Knowing Scott, he’d find some way to use even that against me.

  “It’s going super well, actually,” I replied to him. “I’ve uncovered some really interesting connections between racial migration patterns and some of the pricing phenomena we’re seeing today,” I said, knowing for a fact that bringing up anything racial with Scott would be the quickest way to cause his disappearance.

  “Ah, cool, cool,” he said absentmindedly while he searched our office fridge for the skim milk for his own cup. “Well, good luck with that,” he said as he poured the blue-tinged thin liquid into his coffee. “Looking forward to seeing what your team puts together. I’m loving working on the Rams,” he said with a smile as he walked out and passed me with a slight shoulder check. I whipped my head around to see if he turned back. Did he or did he not do that on purpose? I didn’t have time to think through to the answer because my coffee finished. After I poured in my half and half I headed back to my desk. A reminder had popped up on my computer screen, screaming at me, Call Reproductive Endocrinologist and Make Apt.—TODAY!!! I slowly shook my head at the thought that I still hadn’t called. The mental image of my ovaries withering in real time brought a new sense of urgency. I couldn’t afford to spend any longer avoiding the inevitable. I made myself a mental note to reinforce the written one and pulled out my cell phone. Shit. Another message from Marc.

  Marc: Good Morning. Hope that you have a great day!

  Marc: Is it strange to say I miss you?

  See now, dammit! It was so much easier to ignore an effortless “WYD?” text than this. Truthfully, even though my date with Todd went well, I still missed Marc and I wanted to tell him. But, the memory of being broken up in an emotional ambush had a chilling effect, reminding me why I’d decided to ignore him. It was because he couldn’t be trusted and because he couldn’t be trusted and I still loved him, I couldn’t be trusted. What if he wants to get back together, just to keep me in a never-ending series of dates? What happened to wanting to build a life with someone? To wanting to move forward? Ms. Gretchen’s words echoed in my mind again…”If a man ain’t got no plans for you…” Dammit Marc! Why can’t you just be better? I thought to myself as I hit the cancel button on his text message. I scrolled through my contacts to the Reproductive Endocrinologist’s office recommended by my doctor.

  “Los Angeles Reproduction and Fertility Center, how may I help you today?” a chirping voice burst through the phone.

  “Hi, I would like to make an appointment please,” I said quietly, trying to maintain some privacy in my cu
bicle in the middle of the office.

  “Ok! We can get you set up! Are you a new patient?”

  “Yes, um, well, I would be new. I mean, once I become a patient, then, I’d be a new one,” I stammered. I had no idea at all why I was so nervous. Maybe it was the idea of making one phone call and blowing my entire long-earned house down payment.

  “No problem. We’ll just have to set you up for a consultation appointment with Dr. Young. That visit might be covered by insurance if you have infertility coverage. If not, the initial consultation fee of three hundred and fifty dollars will be due at your appointment. What’s your insurance? Do you know if you have infertility coverage? Quite a few plans don’t. If you do, you’re lucky!” she said, way too cheerily. Crap. Three Hundred and Fifty Dollars?? I didn’t know if we did have infertility coverage. I was only concerned with the stuff not to get pregnant, like birth control pills. Infertility coverage? Who would think about that at my age? For whatever reason, Lisa popped into my mind just at that moment. She had mentioned our insurance coverage as one of her women’s issues gripes. I wondered if she knew.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know if it’s covered, I’ll have to check.”

  “It’s fine. We’ll ask you to send us a completed set of new patient forms and a copy of your insurance card before your appointment. We’ll check for you and let you know if you’ll have to pay.” I hope not! I thought to myself—$350 was a lot of money! Just the consultation fee alone would have eliminated this option for me only a few years ago. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how so many women were even able to make these kinds of financial sacrifices.

  “When is the next available appointment?” I asked. Now that I had finally made the call that I put off for over a month, I could barely wait to get in to see the doctor. Again, I thought about my shrinking ovaries.

  “Now let me check. We can get you in to see Dr. Young...” The slow enunciation of her words coordinated with the typing that I could hear coming from her end of the phone. Anxiety started to clench in my jaw. “Ah, ok, the first available appointment is on the 6th—a month and a half from now.” What??

  “You don’t have anything…sooner?” I asked, thinking of my egg supply and my doctor’s warning. I had already procrastinated dealing with Marc and my own dragging feet. I was worried that in a month and a half, I might not have any eggs left.

  “Nope, this is it. Very busy office we have. Lot’s of mama’s and papa’s to be coming in!” she said again, singing her song of hope with an extra side of hope, drenched in hope sauce.

  “Ok, I’ll book it,” I said. I hoped I hadn’t completely screwed up waiting so long. If I had just made the call on the first day with Dr. Ellis, my appointment would be coming up already. Now, I’d have to wait even longer. She didn’t say I had up to six months, she said that six months would be the end. At least I had an appointment, but now with new worries. Did we have infertility insurance coverage? I thought again to ask Lisa, but hesitated to walk over to her open door, especially after our embarrassing first run in in the ladies restroom. Maybe this is the kind of stuff they talk about in that group, I thought to myself. I’m sure it mattered, but I just needed to secure this promotion and then I could think about joining all the groups I wanted. The announcement had to be coming any day now. I could feel it. I’d have to make sure that LA real estate story came out well, because Scott Stone had already put me on notice that this was a battlefield and he wasn’t giving up anything without a fight.

  Chapter 14

  “Hey Tabby Cat!” my mom announced herself through the phone as the only person on Earth who calls me that.

  “Hi Mom!” I was happy to speak to her and only hoped that she wasn’t going to ask me to come visit again. I loved her place in Washington, DC, a 7,000 square foot McMansion that she shared with only the General, but it was so far from LA and I couldn’t afford to take the time off.

  “How are you and how is Marc?”

  “Mom, I told you we broke up!”

  “Yes, but people break up and get back together all the time. Your father and I broke up at least 6 times before we got married. They just can’t figure out what they want until they don’t have it. That’s all. He hasn’t called?” Should I tell her about Todd? That we’ve seen each other twice now?

  I took a deep sigh. “He has,” I said. “Well, actually, he’s been texting.”

  “And you didn’t write back to him?”

  “No, not yet. I…I don’t think I’m going to. I don’t want to. I just keep thinking, what do I get out of it, you know?” And, I’m seeing someone else. I wanted to say. Someone who knows what he wants!

  “Tabby, that is ridiculous. You should text that boy back! He’s handsome and well-educated, makes good money and treats you nice. A lot of women would be right behind you to scoop him up!”

  “Yeah, he treated me real nice, Mom, breaking up with me as soon as I told him that I had a fertility issue.”

  “Tab, people make mistakes. You know that.”

  “And then people have to live with the regret from their mistakes. I can’t be the one always bearing the burden of it!” I said, not really sure why I was starting to yell. Once I felt the anger rising, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes to avoid a screaming match with my mother, which I knew I could never win. Everyone knows that no matter how old you get, you cannot raise your voice at the black woman that birthed you, and expect to live much longer.

  “Don’t be so dramatic Tabby. He’s a nice boy. You’re over-reacting! And down the road from this, you’re going to be the one with the regrets. I’m telling you.”

  “Tell that to my ovaries,” I mumbled.

  “Your ovaries? Tabby, you’re not still planning on spending all that money to freeze your eggs are you? What are you going to do after that? Make a baby with some stranger who dropped his sperm off to buy a burrito?”

  “Or, to buy books…for school. It could have been books for school, not just a burrito, Mom.” I was already feeling defensive and spent. I definitely wasn’t going to tell her about Todd. No sense in adding fuel to this fire.

  “Same difference. You don’t want that. And I don’t need to have any frozen popsicle grandbabies. You need to just go ahead and call Marc back. Maybe he’s got a new perspective by now. He probably just needed a little time to come up with a plan.”

  “Granny Tab’s friend Ms. Gretchen said that a man who doesn’t have a plan for you isn’t your man.”

  “Well, he might have a plan by now. But you wouldn’t know, would you?” Damn. My mom had a point. She really had a way with making points that were hard to argue with, even if you felt deep down in the roots of your soul they were wrong. She really missed her calling. She would have made a great lawyer. She continued with a new subject, knowing that she had already managed to draw first blood. “Granny Tab! I miss her! How is she? Is she adjusting well to her new place?”

  “She’s good. I visit her every Saturday. At least I try to. She’s all excited for this ‘Senior Prom’ that they’re having at Crestmire where she lives. I told her that I’d come and help her get ready. Ms. Gretchen even taught her how to watch makeup tutorials on her computer.”

  “Well, I’m so glad. You two have always been like Frick and Frack.” My mother laughed. “And you know, speaking of visiting, when are you coming to see me? I have your room suite ready and everything. It’s the same shade of soft, delicate pink, just like your old room in View Park.” Ugh. I hated that room.

  My mother and I continued for another hour while I cooked dinner and poured a glass of wine for myself. When we finished, I still had some work to do and sat at my computer. Out of curiosity and a little procrastination, I pulled up a webpage and searched for: “frozen sperm,” which brought up a number of cryobank options. I picked the first one just to see if I could distinguish between the “book” donors and the “burrito” donors. Just
then, a ping on my phone announced a text message. Gauging the time, I figured I knew who it was, but it wasn’t Todd.

  Marc: I miss you Tab.

  Marc: Can we talk?

  Marc: Please?

  With a slight tinge of guilt, I thought back to my mother’s words. Maybe Marc did have a plan. Maybe he had changed his mind? I was enjoying Todd, but my feelings for Marc were worth a shot. Plus, if he had changed his mind, trying to figure things out with Marc was better than the books vs. burritos challenge I was facing. At least, that’s what my mother would want me to think. And although I had resolved myself to respond, I had not figured out what I was going to say. I started typing anyway.