A Rich Man's Baby (6 page)

O
n my way to the baby shower, I heard “Looking good” one too many times. I thought maybe my thong was hanging out or something, or my nipples were showing through my bra. The man who was mopping the floor even blew a kiss at me and winked. Then he asked me for my phone number. He wasn't usually that forward. He was always polite and mannerly. He told me I smelled good a couple of times, but never looked at me this lustfully. It actually scared me.

I went into the bathroom and checked myself out. Everything appeared to be normal, so I shrugged it off as nothing. I questioned why I was getting so many compliments. I thought I looked kind of frumpy in my pink scrubs and Crocs.

I got off the elevator. I was so happy that baby shower was over. On my way back Liz pulled me into a corner and said, “I love ya like you my chile, ya know. I not let nobody talk about you, gal. I'm not listening to the bad talk going round the hospital.”

“Huh? What bad talk, Liz?”

“Pictures with no clothes on.”

“What?” I said as it all sank in.

I bit my lip. How would she know about pictures with no clothes on? I was instantly embarrassed. I walked around all day and no one said anything to me. After that point, everything was fuzzy. I don't remember getting on the elevator, going to billing, or beating the shit out of Jeremy. A voice kept shouting to me, “He's not worth it.” That was the only thing that brought me back. I came back to reality just before the police arrived and took me outside to question me. I was so embarrassed that I had been so unprofessional. I was at work having a domestic situation with my boyfriend.

There were sick people and patients and people with life-and-death matters there, and I was acting deranged. It was just that I felt so violated. Liz told me I should have gone to Human Resources and Jeremy would have been fired. Instead, I was sitting in the back of a police van with handcuffs on for the past hour. I didn't even know what I was being charged with. I probably was already fired. I just closed my eyes and hoped for the best.

Another fifteen minutes had passed, and I heard the doors open. The policewoman told me to step down, uncuffed me, and said, “You're very lucky. They are not pressing charges.”

She returned my handbag to me. Once she said I was free to go, I didn't bother going back to the job. I walked straight to the parking lot. I had dealt with enough humiliation for the day.

I opened my apartment door and my phone was bombarded with calls. I just began crying uncontrollably on the floor. I couldn't even imagine what all my coworkers were thinking and saying about me. I was still in disbelief that my little argument with Jeremy had turned into all this. I always found the best of the worst. Every time I got comfortable with someone, I got burned. It always ended the same: I couldn't trust anyone. I had no one to lean on, not even my mother. If I told her what Jeremy had done, she would go up there and literally kill him.

I never wanted to go back to work. I knew I was acting childish, but I didn't think I really liked nursing anymore.

I took off the next week. I talked to my department head; he suggested I go see a doctor. He assured me that my position was safe, but I should be evaluated for anxiety and stress. Liz called and said she would help get me a medical leave.

 

The doctor my boss recommended had an office right downtown. I had a urinalysis and he took blood. He gave me a routine physical and asked me what types of symptoms I was having. I told him I was experiencing headaches, back pain, chest pain, I couldn't sleep, and that I was having thoughts of fear sometimes. I said anything and everything so he could approve my medical leave. He wrote down notes and then left the room. I put my clothes back on and hoped he believed me. He came back in with my chart. He slid the rolling stool over to me and spoke while still writing on his lap.

“You are experiencing symptoms of panic attacks and anxiety. More than likely, it is work related. I see it all the time. And it is normal for a woman to have elevated levels of stress in the first trimester of pregnancy.”

His words shocked me. “First trimester of pregnancy?” I repeated. “I'm pregnant?”

“Yes, you're pregnant. I'm sorry you didn't know. So I can't prescribe anything for you. However, I'm going to put you out of work for a few months. I'll call your department head and fax the paperwork over to him. You go home and relax, and try to slow down,” he said as he handed me my form for medical leave.

I walked out of the doctor's office in shock.
Oh my God, what the hell am I going to do?
I thought. Then it dawned on me that I didn't even know who I was pregnant by. Either way I looked at it, I had a loser for my child's father.

I
'd been looking around the apartment, and I felt it didn't reflect both me and Terrance. The bathroom and living room looked great, but I couldn't say the same for our bedroom. It was so plain and masculine. There were regular black sheets and a navy comforter. I wanted to add color and life. It sounds crazy, but I was a little lost now that I had finished school. School had been my life for the past seven years, and now it was almost over. The bar was just a few days away, and I'd been studying so much my brain hurt. I think I was looking for any excuse to stop studying. I drove to Kohl's and bought a new pink satin comforter set, pink shams, and curtains for our room. I also picked up
Modern Bride
to get ideas about my wedding. I didn't have a budget yet, but I knew my dad was going to pay for it. We had set a date for next October. I had to hire a caterer, a deejay, a makeup artist, a photographer, and plan our honeymoon. I was going to get a wedding planner to help me figure everything out, because once I started working I wouldn't have time.

As soon as I came home, I changed the sheets and put the curtains up on the old rods. The room looked beautiful; Terrance was going to love it.

After cleaning the room, I needed something else to do before I started studying again. And I thought of Kevin. I looked over at the time; he was seven hours ahead of my time. It was three, so it would make it ten there. I wanted to tell him I was getting married before one of our mutual friends from school told him. We both knew this day was coming. I sighed and then stared at the phone. I had to get this call out of the way. I picked up the phone and dialed. Kevin's phone rang and rang. The pauses in between them were long and silent.

“Kevin?” I was surprised he picked up the phone on the fifth ring.

“What's going on, Dee?” he said sleepily.

“Did I interrupt you? What were you doing?”

“Reading.”

“I'm not going to take up a lot of your time. I just have something I need to talk to you about.”

“I'm listening,” Kevin said as he cleared his throat and turned down his music. I walked to the window and peeked out the blind. I didn't know how to say it. Then I paced back and forth in a five-foot range. I finally stood still, closed my eyes, and blurted it out, “I'm getting married, Kevin.”

“Well, I wasn't expecting this. I guess congratulations.”

“Thank you,” I sang, unsure if his congratulations were sincere.

“How many carats he got you?” he laughed.

“That's not important. I think we shouldn't see each other anymore. But listen, I want us to still be friends and I just wanted to tell you.”

“Yeah, friends, of course. Always. Why not? Let me get back to this book. I'll talk to you,” he said like what I had just told him was trivial.

“Kevin.”

“Yes?”

“Please don't be mad at me. You know I will always love you no matter what.”

“Dee, I'm not mad. Good night, I'll talk to you later.”

I knew he was mad, but I felt better once I got that off my chest. He actually took it well. Better than I expected. But what did he expect? I'd been here for three years. I was cute, somebody was going to pick me up, and I was sure he had someone special over there. I don't know. After that, I looked around my filthy apartment. It didn't go with my clean room. I had to get it taken care of before Terrance came in. I so didn't want to hear his mouth.

I took a good look around. It was pretty bad, so I cleaned the entire place.

After I was done, I was ready to tackle this thing called dinner. I didn't know how to cook, but Terrance kept complaining. Before he left he said don't let him come home to another foil pan of shrimp lo mein. I wanted some real food too. I had enough time to go to the market and try to cook something. I didn't know what to cook. I called my mom up and asked her for any suggestions.

“Mom, what do you need to make macaroni and cheese, and how do you make it?”

“Why weren't you watching me like your sister? Boil the noodles and then get some cheese and bread crumbs. Girl, I can't explain this to you over the phone. I'm about to go into a meeting. Call Camille, ask her. Good luck.”

I called Camille. I knew she had time to help me.

“Camille, can you come over and help me cook?”

“Let me get this right: You want me to drive to your house to help you prepare dinner for your man? You act like I don't have a life.”

I didn't want to tell her she didn't, so instead I begged, “Camille, please.”

“Get off my phone,” she said as she hung up on me.

I had an hour to find something to make for dinner. I went to the market and bought a Bertolli bag of precooked penne pasta with garlic chicken and cherry tomatoes. All I had to do was put it in the pot and cook it on low.
I can do that,
I thought.

The house was clean, and I had food on the table. I lit lavender candles and sprayed a tropical mist air freshener in the air. Terrance walked in the door and asked, “What is going on?”

I took his jacket off him and said, “Nothing, I just wanted to have the house nice for you when you came home.” I sat him down at the table; then I remembered I wanted him to see what I did with the bedroom. I led him into our bedroom and turned on the light.

“Surprise!” I exclaimed.

He stepped one foot in and just looked around and said, “Where is my manhood in this bedroom?”

“What's wrong with it?” I asked. I thought the room looked great.

“This room looks like Barbie's playroom. They were out of blue-or black-striped sheets, huh?”

“There is not that much pink.”

“Do you think I'm going to sleep on pink satin sheets?” he asked as he walked over and touched the sheets.

“Yes, you will if you want to be near me,” I said as I kissed his neck. He walked back to the kitchen and put his hand over his food to check the warmth. Then he put it in the microwave and reheated it. He said he appreciated the meal and me cleaning the apartment, but that I had to buy some man sheets tomorrow.

T
he morning after the doctor told me of the pregnancy, I made an appointment to terminate it. There was no way I was having this baby.

I'm sorry, this shit was crazy. I'm a goddamn nurse and I get pregnant. It just didn't make sense. I was so damn mad at myself for so many reasons. I was mad for falling for two assholes back-to-back. I was mad that I had to find a new job. I was mad that I had sex without condoms. I was mad that I knew better and wasn't on any birth control. I was just fucking mad.

I didn't know for certain how it happened, but I did know I couldn't have a baby with no assistance from the father. It just was not going to happen.

I felt like this was a very serious time in my life, and I didn't have one person in the world I could count on. Nobody could understand what I was going through.

 

I walked into the mundane doctor's office. I signed my name and had a seat. I was so embarrassed, I wished I had a bag to put over my head. As I sat down, the only thing I thought was that I couldn't let anything like this happen to me again.

I will never in my life deal with a man who is not worthy. I swear I won't. This is a wake-up call.

They told me I had to be there by seven
AM
and that I should be out by eleven. But by twelve, I still hadn't been seen. I was getting nervous. I knew I was doing the right thing. I just didn't like sitting there and having time to think. There were too many things going through my head.

I thought about my unborn child and what would happen if I had it. I thought about calling Kyle or Jeremy just to see what he would say. Kyle wouldn't answer the telephone, and Jeremy would probably tape the conversation. I was not going to tell anybody. That's why I came by myself. “Hurry up and call me,” I wanted to scream to the doctor in the back. I wanted to leave. I was getting tired of looking at the other women in the room. I was surrounded by teenagers and grandmoms who shouldn't have even been having sex, let alone be pregnant.

Finally, my name was called. Once I got to the back they gave me a gown. They instructed me to take off my clothes and gave me a pill. I closed my eyes and waited for it to be over. I put my legs up on the stirrups and waited for them to begin. I was so nervous. The machine clicked on and I was told to relax. I did as much as I could, but the pain was unbearable. I could feel the scraping and pulling going on inside my body. I tried to let the doctor know I was in pain, but he ignored me. The medicine must not have kicked in yet.

When it was over they brought me into a recovery room, and I was groggy but still in pain. I sat there for two hours; then they woke me and asked me if my ride was outside. I lied and said yes. I didn't have a ride. My plan was to drive myself home.

I walked outside and was met by heavy rain coming down. I couldn't run, so I just walked slowly around the corner to my car. My car was a half block away, but it seemed like miles. I was trying to make my feet move faster, but they wouldn't. By the time I reached my car, my hair was sticking to my face and the rain had soaked my back. I opened the car door and sat in the car, grabbing my sweatshirt from the backseat and putting it over my cold body. I had really underestimated how bad I would feel. The thought of driving made me sick. I wished I could just close my eyes and be home.

A few minutes later, I thought I was better, but I wasn't. My back felt cold and my head was warm like I had a temperature. I turned the car on and rolled down the window. My mouth was full with saliva and I had to spit it out. I opened the door, spat, and closed it back. I couldn't pull off yet. My body was still too heavy. I just moved my seat back and rested. I started to call my mom, but I didn't want her to know what was going on. I started the car and turned on the air. I felt a little bit better, so I began driving to the pharmacy. The rain wouldn't stop hurling against the window. I wanted some soup and a warm bed, and just to ball up and cry, but I had to get my pain medicine.

I made it to the pharmacy. I slumped over the counter as I gave the woman in the white lab coat my prescription. The pharmacy tech asked if I needed help. I told her I just needed to sit for a moment and get myself together. I had a seat, and I clenched my stomach.