by Cher Etan
Aisha placed a tall glass of water next to Christine and she drank carefully. Her mother was staring at her with wide eyes, as if she knew something and was just waiting for Christine to confirm it. Grandma Misha was watching her sister who was quietly eating her corn on the cob. Christine took a deep breath.
“I am pregnant,” she confirmed leading to an eruption of conversation, everyone trying to talk over everyone else; asking questions, exclaiming and generally making it very difficult for Christine to explain anything.
“Everybody keep quiet,” Martha snapped cutting the noise level off as if there was a mute switch she’d pressed somewhere. She gestured to Christine. “Continue,” she said.
Christine took a deep breath and then breathed out, trying to calm her frantically beating heart. “It's gra’s boss. Mr. Lestrange. He and I decided together that we wanted to have a child. Together. Since…well,” Christine shrugged looking down at her plate. “You all know I ain’t been seein anyone and Max thought he might have something that would render him unable pretty soon. So we thought, hey, why not save everyone a lot of grief and just do this thing together?”
“I don’t understand,” Uncle Carl was frowning as if he’d been presented with Einstein’s equation and asked to break it down. “You and this Max guy decided to have a baby because he can’t get it up?”
Christine breathed for five minutes, eyes closed and tried again. “Max was sick, right?” she said.
Various 'Uh huhs', were heard around the table.
“And the doctors told him that one of the side effects to his disease and its treatment might be that he can’t have children,” she continued looking around to see if this was sinking in. Some people were nodding, some were just staring at her.
“So anyway, Max has always wanted kids and so have I. Seeing as I’m not in a relationship and the ol’ biological clock is ticking, when he came to me and…suggested that we have a baby, I agreed.”
There was silence around the table.
“You done los’ your damn mind,” Angela was the first to break it.
“How pregnant are you?” Aisha asked. Always the practical one.
Christine shrugged, “About six weeks.”
Misha turned to Martha, “You knew about this?”
Martha nodded her head but said nothing. Everyone stared at her in shock.
“And you let her do it?” Andrew asked what they were all thinking.
“It wasn’t a matter of letting. They’re both adults. It was their choice,” she said.
Uncle Carl was glaring at Cordelia. “You awfully quiet sis,” he said with a bit of a growl.
Cordelia looked up at him and shrugged. “Like mama said, she a big girl. If she want to have a baby with a billionaire I ain’t hating on that child support,” she said making Christine shrink in her seat. She was beginning to think this might have been a mistake. She wasn’t here for her mother’s grasping ways. Martha looked at her daughter with narrowed eyes.
“You really think your daughter would stoop to that level of thinking?” she snarled at her.
Cordelia shrank back in her seat, hands held open in supplication. “Hey, sorry. I was just telling it like I see it.”
Martha stared thoughtfully at her. “Where did I go wrong with you?” she asked her.
Cordelia stared back at her and then back down at her plate. She shrugged her shoulders. “Just because I’m not interested in having a dry ass pussy like you and Aunt Misha or am not afraid of living like Christine here is, don’t mean there’s something wrong with me.”
There was a collective intake of breath around the table. Martha’s face was wooden and Misha looked like she was about to throw down. Uncle Andrew stood up walked around the table and lifted Cordelia from her seat with one hand. “Time for a time out,” he said dragging her away toward the living room. “You can come back when you learn how to speak to people young lady,” they heard him say as he led her kicking and screaming. Kevin sat stiffly looking around at them as if waiting for someone to jump on him.
“Perhaps you should go console your girl,” Uncle Carl told him. Kevin stood up at once and left. Pretty soon they heard the roar of his engine as they screeched out of the driveway. Uncle Andrew strolled back in minutes later looking like he’d just kicked ass and taken names.
“We good?” he asked the group at large.
There were various sounds of assent made around the table and Andrew took his seat looking at Christine.
“So…is this guy going to marry you or what?”
There was a collective wince around the table at the question. No one ever talked about marriage in Christine’s hearing if they could help it.
Christine shrugged trying to look nonchalant. “He proposed.”
Martha showed surprise for the first time that day, “What? When?”
“That time we went for coffee,” Christine told her.
“Oh. He said...” Martha trailed off.
“He said what?” Christine asked sitting up with interest.
Martha shrugged. “He asked me what I thought of the idea of you two getting married.”
“And you said?” Christine found she was holding her breath.
“I said…that it was a conversation he should have with you, not me.”
“Well I guess he took your advice.”
“And you said yes?” Martha was clearly surprised at this turn of events.
“I said that I would think about it,” Christine qualified.
“Well what are you gonna say?” Angie wanted to know.
Christine shrugged. “I’ll let you know as soon as I decide. For now, you need to know that I’m pregnant, I’m moving in with Max, strictly platonic,” she said this last to her grandmother, “And we’re gonna have a baby.”
“Do you love him?” Sadie asked.
Christine laughed in surprise. “I um, I’ve known him for years ever since gra started working for him fifteen years ago. I can’t say I don’t love him. I think we’re friends…sometimes. Sometimes I hate him; especially when he’s right. Am I in love with him? Nope. That would be even more stupid than being in love with Rudy,” that last bit came out more breathless than she’d planned. She hadn’t said Rudy’s name out loud since the wedding.
“Well stupid or not, sometimes these things happen,” Angie said with a shrug.
“Well it hasn’t happened,” Christine countered.
“Yet,” said Sadie.
*****
Christine was packing her clothes, really slowly, and thinking about what Sadie had said. She wondered if there was a chance of that happening. How stupid would she have to be to give her heart to Rudy and then to Max? If ever there was a player to beat all players, it was Max. The parade of models, actresses and socialites in his life was endless; it wasn’t even funny. But then she relaxed, as far as she knew, Rudy still had full custody of her heart so there was really no way it was available for Max to ravage. Besides Max wasn’t interested in that; if he had been he had his chance to suggest on that memorable morning when they’d…done it.
“What are you thinking about?” a deep voice asked from her doorway startling her.
“Sex,” she said turning to look at him.
He lifted his eyebrows.
“What happens in marriages of convenience? Does the wife have sex with the gardener and the husband with his assistant or what?”
Max shuddered. “Ugh don’t even say it. Me and Andrea? And we don’t have a garden. Though I suppose we could move; the kids are going to need somewhere to play.”
“So many places to go in that reply. What’s wrong with Andrea? Kids? As in plural? I haven’t even settled in, in the house you currently have; now we’re moving? And to get back to the original issue…what?”
Max laughed. “I don’t know, okay? We’re just going to have to play it by ear. But I do think we should think about moving though…eventually. Please don’t sleep with the gardener?”
It was C
hristine’s turn to laugh, “Okay.”
“Am I so repulsive then?” he asked.
“What?” Christine asked confused.
“I notice you didn’t include the option of sleeping with each other,” he said.
“Yeah but it’s a marriage of convenience,” Christine pointed out.
“And don’t you think it’d be convenient to have sex with each other?” Max asked. “Only if we are both agreeable, of course.”
“And are we?” Christine asked head tipped to the side in curiosity.
“Are we what?”
“Agreeable.”
Max shrugged, “I don’t know about you, but I am perfectly agreeable.”
“I’m really high maintenance.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. If I’m having sex with someone, I kind of have this thing where I don’t expect them to be having sex with anyone else.”
“Wow. That is high maintenance.”
“Yeah.”
“But I think I can swing it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. Why not? I don’t want you to have sex with other people either. Do unto others and all that.”
“Wow, I so was not expecting that.”
“I like to surprise,” Max said smugly.
“How about you surprise me further by packing the rest of my shit?”
“Okay,” Max said stepping toward her closet.
“Whoa dude, enough with the agreeableness, it's freaking me out. I’m gonna need you to start an argument right now or I’m spraying you with holy water.”
Max laughed again, “Sometimes, you…think you’re funny.”
“Ha, look who’s laughing.”
“Hey, how about I hire some movers to take care of all this shit and we go get some ice cream instead. You’re pregnant right? That means you have cravings?”
“Not yet. But I never say no to ice cream.”
“Great. I’ll get Andrea to take care of this.”
“Did you tell her already?” Christine asked as she hooked an arm around Max’ and let him lead her to the car.
“Yeah. I did. She didn’t seem too happy about it for some reason.”
“Maybe she has a thing for you.”
Max snorted, “Everybody has a thing for me.”
“Oh yeah? Do you think I have a thing for you?”
“Obviously.”
“Dude, you gotta get me some of that LSD you’re on. It obviously gives you excellent hallucinations.”
“You can’t have any; you’re pregnant.”
“Oh yeah. Dang. I guess it’ll have to wait.”
“Yeah, meanwhile, do you wanna do ice cream cups or shall we just go stockpile tubs in the fridge.”
“That last one.”
“Which reminds me; lemme call Andrea,” he said as he fished out his phone.
*****
Andrea was pissed. It was supposedly her day off; Sunday was her day off, unless Max had something big going on. Like that time he was hosting Mayweather for the weekend and he’d needed her to fulfill the myriad of requirements Mayweather had in order to feel comfortable. She’d scoured the city for the very specific bubble bath he needed before he could take a bath and he only used one brand of peanut butter on his bread; which he wanted to eat so…it had been exhausting. But Max was an appreciative boss and her bonus for that weekend had paid for her Birkin bag. But this…how could this be happening? Max was having a baby with Martha’s grand-daughter. The sentence even sounded wrong in her head. This was not supposed to happen. They were supposed to be working late one night and he was supposed to offer her a drink. They were supposed to get drunk; happy drunk, not wrecked, and then she’d lean forward and kiss him because obviously he wouldn’t touch her first in case it became a case of sexual harassment which she never would have filed…before. When they kissed he would put a shaking hand gently on her breast and his breath would catch and he would tell her he had been waiting forever for this. And she would have said that she’d been waiting for it too. And they would…have sex on the rug and on the table and then his bed and he would ask her to never leave him.
He was not supposed to get the housekeeper’s grand daughter pregnant and move her into his house.
*****
MAX LESTRANGE SPOTTED SHOPPING WTH MYSTERY WOMAN
Andrea saw the headline and clicked on the story wondering what the hell Max thought he was doing. There wasn’t much of a story; just a picture of Max and Martha’s granddaughter looking down at the ice cream fridge in the supermarket. They looked pretty cozy together; heads bent close to each other, pointing out flavors to each other…
‘That should be me.’
The thought flashed through Andrea’s brain faster than a bullet and her face closed in frustration.
‘Why did he choose her?’
Andrea had a degree in marketing and communications from Berkeley University. She wasn’t just some dumb blonde. If it was brains Max was looking for she had those. She had beauty, poise, grace; she was the perfect life partner for a man like him. Why had he chosen this girl instead. Granted she was bright; she’d gotten into MIT with a full ride but that was about it. Her hair was a hot mess, she walked around in coveralls three quarters of the time and she was black for crying out loud. Wrong wrong wrong. Andrea straightened suddenly, a thought occurred to her.
‘I bet your mother doesn’t know about this.’
She thought at the picture of Max. How to have her find out without the trail leading back to Andrea was the challenge. If Max’ mother knew what was happening, she’d take steps to stop it. She’d never let Max end up with someone so…unsuitable. And she might help Andrea out in her gratitude to get Max to notice her at last. It was worth a try.
*****
“It's them again,” Cordelia told Kevin as she brought his beer from the fridge. She showed him her iPad which was opened on some tabloid that showed Christine and Max shopping together at the supermarket.
“They’re calling her the ‘mystery women’. You think they’d pay good money to know who she is?” Cordelia asked looking speculatively at the picture and then at Kevin. They were running low on funds since neither of them had a steady job. They mostly relied on government relief.
“I hear those niggas pay like millions for this kind of shit,” Kevin said.
“How would we get to them to sell our story? Do we need to get lawyered up? We got the inside scoop after all.”
“Yeah but…” Kevin hesitated. “What if your daughter like… disses us after that. We could go to this cat she with and tell him to pay us not to sell our story right? That way we ain’t got to go to no tabloid and we still get money.”
Cordelia regarded him with shining eyes, “You the bomb Kevin, you know that?”
Kevin nodded his head and smirked, “We still gotta get lawyered up doh; you know this guy’s got like lawyers on lawyers on lawyers on retainer. We gotta protect our rights.”
“Yeah,” Cordelia nodded her agreement. “Pass the blunt.”
*****
“So these are your rooms. We have a little sitting room for you to relax in, your bedroom and en-suite bath. There’s a walk in closet and a small balcony,” Max showed her around her new digs, pointing out all the amenities.
“It's sweet,” Christine said impressed in spite of herself. “Where the baby room though?”
“I’m thinking we can put the nursery next door. I’m just opposite you so it’d be convenient for both of us.”
“Mm,” Christine said. “Works for me. Only can I have a crib in here in case like, I need to be close?”
Max smiled, “Whatever works for you.”
“Cool.”
They could hear the movers bumping about, trying to get things up the narrow stairs. There was a service lift but it stopped on the floor below. Luckily there wasn’t much that was very bulky. Just a shelf of books that had been with Christine for as long as she could remember, her grandfather’s phonograph that her
grandmother had passed on to her since she loved music, and her collection of African masks. She didn’t think Max had seen those yet so she still had something to surprise him with. She thought she could hang them all over the house like she had at home with her grandmother. If Max really meant it about this also being her home, he wouldn’t object.
He turned to smile at her, “Welcome home Chris.”
“Thank you,” she replied with a smile. “Don’t call me that.”
Chapter 7
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re gathered here today to celebrate the joining of these two people in holy matrimony. If anyone has any objection to this union let them speak now or forever old their peace,” the celebrant said.
Christine tensed, waiting for that inevitable objection. She felt her heart speed up and her breath come short. Anxiety was building in her chest and the preacher seemed to be taking a really long time to move on even if no-one was coming forward…this time. A hand covered hers and she looked down. It was a nice hand, the nails professionally cut short. Long lean fingers; but strong. A single blood vessel ran visibly from wrist to fingers. Christine liked that hand. She looked up from the hand to the face. It was Max. He was smiling at her.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she whispered. Her throat felt raspy.
His hand squeezed hers, “I’ll take care of you.”
Christine nodded. She realized she wasn’t the one at the altar; this wasn’t her aborted wedding. She looked forward to see whose wedding it was but the altar was empty. No priest, no bride, no groom. Christine’s brow furrowed with puzzlement.
“What’s happening?” she asked Max.
“This is your dream. You tell me,” he said.
“Maybe I don’t need it anymore,” she said. “Maybe it's changing.”
“Maybe you want it to change,” he said.
Christine woke up with a cry, breath coming fast, to an unfamiliar room. She looked around her, wondering where she was for a moment before she remembered. She was in Max’ house, in her new suite of rooms. She looked at the opposite wall to see her wood African mask looking back at her. A knock on the door startled her.
