Damsels in Distress (20 page)

Portia was so determined to leave married men alone that she changed her home and cellular telephone numbers. She repented to God and asked for His forgiveness but Portia didn't vow to live a celibate lifestyle. She felt that she needed to take baby steps.

“I need to be weaned like a baby getting off the bottle.” Portia tried to explain her actions to Celeste and Ginger. She had called them on a three-way.

“Why can't you keep your legs closed altogether?” Ginger asked her.

Portia loved sex. It made her feel good. “It's difficult.”

“Difficult may take a day. Impossible may take a week but you can do this, Portia,” Celeste advised.

“Oh, sure. This coming from a woman who lies next to a man every night. What do you know about giving up sex?”

“I did it,” Ginger stated matter-of-factly.

Portia exhaled into the telephone line. “I don't believe you ain't breaking Joseph off, Ginger. You can't tell me that man has been with you all this time, spends all kinds of money, and ain't getting nothing in return. I just don't believe it.”

“I'm telling the truth.”

“Well, heck, since you ain't using your vajayjay, can you please loan it to me? I can certainly use another one.”

Celeste screamed out in laughter. “Girl, your behind is crazy.”

Ginger didn't find Portia to be comical at all. The fact that Portia didn't believe that she was celibate angered Ginger. She had come full circle since she rid Ronald from her life. Ginger was proud that she was able to turn her life around and live a celibate lifestyle. The benefit was God placing Joseph, her true soul mate, in her life. “That's the difference between you and me. I don't have to whore around to get nice things.”

“Okay. Hold on now, Ginger,” Celeste interjected. Their telephone conversation was taking the wrong turn. She and Ginger were supposed to encourage Portia to do the right thing, not call her names and point fingers. Celeste didn't want the three of them screaming at each other and saying things that would separate them. Celeste remembered not too long ago when words had almost caused them to lose each other for good.

“Is that what you think I do, Ginger? Whore around?” Portia asked.

“You have sex with men and they pay you for it. I don't know any other name for it. Do you, Celeste?”

“Oh, my God. Are we really gonna do this again?” Celeste wanted to just hang up the telephone and let Ginger and Portia have at it.

“She needs to understand,” Ginger started, “that having sex, whether the man is married or not, is still a sin. And receiving money for it is downright degrading and whorish.”

There goes that nasty word again,
Celeste thought. “Okay, y'all know what, I'm hanging up. I'm not going to do this again with you two. I'm in a happy place and I'm choosing to stay there. You two can continue this conversation without me.” Celeste disconnected the line and so did Ginger and Portia.

* * *

At the car dealership, where she worked, Portia presented a bill of sale to a gentleman who was interested in purchasing a car. When she gave it to the man, he grabbed her wrist instead of the paper. He looked at Portia and smiled. “Thank you, beautiful.”

The man was handsome; Portia couldn't deny the fact that he was extremely good-looking. She smiled back at him. “You're welcome. Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. . . .” Portia looked at the bill of sale for the man's name. When she saw it, she glanced up at him. “Michael Jackson?”

He chuckled. Portia's reaction to his name was no different from anyone else's reaction. He answered Portia's next question before she even asked it. The same question he had been answering his entire life. Whether Michael was applying for a job, signing a receipt, or standing in line at the DMV waiting for his name to be called. “Yes. My real name is Michael Jackson.”

“Do you sing?”

Michael chuckled again. “Uh, no. I don't sing.”

“Can you dance?”

Having the same name as the King of Pop, Michael was constantly asked if he was in the entertainment business.

“I'm afraid not. I don't sing or dance. I build highways.”

Portia was intrigued. In her mind she heard a cash register ring. Construction workers earned a great living. The Michael Jackson who stood before her didn't have the cash flow of the famous silver-gloved one but Portia knew that mixing, pouring, and laying concrete came with great pay and even greater benefits.

She extended her hand toward him. “My name is Portia.”

Michael shook Portia's hand. “As in Porsche?”

“Something like that.” She smiled.

Out of habit, Portia looked at his left hand for a wedding band but didn't see one. “I don't see a wedding ring. Are you married, Michael?”

“I've been divorced for six years.”

“Any children?”

He nodded his head. “I have an eight-year-old and a four-year-old.”

Portia was curious about the second child. “Four-year-old? You said you've been divorced for six years.”

“After my divorce, I met someone whom I thought I would be with forever but fate didn't see it that way. However, I got a beautiful daughter out of the deal.”

Portia's eyebrows rose. “You have two kids with two different women?”

“Apparently.” Michael answered.

Portia's wheels were turning. “So, you have the letters CHISUP on your check stub, right?”

Michael didn't understand. He frowned at Portia. “What's CHISUP?”

“Child support.”

Michael laughed. Portia wasn't letting up. He was uncomfortable. “Yes, I take care of both of my children.”

“What about your ex-wife? Are you paying alimony, too?” Portia knew the deal. With child support and alimony payments, there may not be any funds left over from Michael's paycheck for her to enjoy any of it.

Michael smiled because he knew where Portia was headed with her interrogation and the chances of her dating him were slim to none. “At the risk of you never wanting to see me again, Portia, I'm going to be honest. Yes, I pay alimony as well.”

Portia shook Michael's hand again and walked back to her desk. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Jackson,” she said over her shoulder. She got to her desk and sat down.

“Seriously, Lord? You got jokes today? I gave up married men but is that really the best you can do for me? I mean, can a sista at least get her hair and nails done?”

“Tooooonnnnnyyyyyy!”

Anthony was in his home office checking his e-mails when Celeste bellowed for him. He rushed into the bathroom. “What is it?”

Celeste bent over the sink and panted for air. “It hurts so bad. I think I'm in labor.”

Anthony's eyes lit up. He became excited. “It's time?”

She winced in pain. “I don't know.”

“How far apart are the attractions?”

She looked at him shamefully. “It's
contractions,
you fool, and this is the first one.”

As soon as Celeste finished her sentence she felt a liquid stream run down her legs. She looked at Anthony with a horrid expression. “Uh-oh.”

Squoosh. Amniotic fluid gushed to the bathroom floor with the same force as waves rushing against the shoreline.

* * *

At three o'clock in the afternoon, on the last Saturday in January, Portia, Ginger, and Joseph sat in the maternity ward at Little Company of Mary Hospital, listening to Celeste scream and act a fool. The three of them were in the waiting room anticipating the arrival of their nephew. They had been there since eleven-thirty that morning. Before they arrived at the maternity ward Joseph, Ginger, and Portia had stopped by the gift shop and purchased a large blue stuffed teddy bear and balloons that read H
APPY
B
IRTHDAY
and C
ONGRATULATIONS.

Anthony, dressed in teal-green scrubs and wearing a surgical mask, came and sat with them. He was exhausted from coaching Celeste to breathe and relax during the contractions.

“How's it going?” Joseph asked him.

Anthony leaned his head back against the wall and pulled the mask down from over his nose and mouth. “Man, I don't think I can go through this with her. Every contraction Celeste gets, she cusses me out. I was showing her how to breathe and she told me to get the heck out of her face 'cause my breath stinks. One contraction made Celeste sit up on the bed and I swear that I actually saw her head do a 360-degree rotation on her shoulders.”

Portia, Ginger, and Joseph laughed. “Man, I wouldn't wanna be in your shoes for anything,” Joseph said.

Ginger tapped his shoulder. “Excuse me? You wouldn't wanna support your wife while she's giving birth to your child?”

“I didn't mean it like that.”

“Well, how did you mean it, Joseph?” Portia asked.

Ginger turned her whole body toward Joseph to face him and looked directly into his eyes as he tried to get his foot out of his mouth. “Answer her question. Inquiring minds want to know.”

Joseph looked to Anthony for help. Anthony shook his head from side to side. “Sorry, you're on your own. I got my own dilemma down the hall.”

Joseph looked at Ginger. “What I meant was I wouldn't wanna be in Tony's shoes right now because I'm not married. But when I do get married, I will look forward to supporting my wife in the delivery room one hundred percent.”

Ginger and Portia commented at the same time. “Mmm, hmm.”

Anthony shook Joseph's hand. “Nice save.”

A nurse came into the waiting room. “Mr. Harper, your wife is asking for you. She told me tell you to bring your narrow behind back into the delivery room.”

Anthony stood and looked at Portia, Joseph, and Ginger with pity in his eyes. “Pray for me y'all.”

Ginger opened her purse and gave Anthony a small bottle of blessed oil. “Take this and sprinkle it on Celeste's forehead. If it sizzles, I suggest you haul your behind out of there and call an exorcist.”

Portia and Joseph laughed as Anthony took the oil and kissed it up to God then followed the nurse back to Celeste's delivery room.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, Anthony returned to the waiting room with a blue bundle of joy in his arms. Portia, Ginger, and Joseph rushed to him. From the three of them, Anthony heard, “Oh, my God,” “Let me see, let me see,” and “Congratulations.”

Anthony pulled back the blanket to reveal a mini him. “I want y'all to meet Anthony James Harper II, weighing in at six pounds, seven ounces. He's got eight fingers, two thumbs, ten toes and one wee-wee.”

“How is Celeste doing?” Ginger asked.

“She's good. Tired but good.”

Ginger and Portia took turns making a fuss over their nephew.

Anthony stood with tears in his eyes. He couldn't take his eyes off of his son. “I waited seven years for this moment. I can't even describe how it feels.”

Joseph patted his back. “That's because there are no words to describe it, man. Some things you just have to experience.”

“I gotta get him to the incubator. He's gonna be circumcised later on this evening. If Celeste knew that I had him out here she'd kill me.”

“Why?” Ginger asked.

“Because she said she didn't want nobody's contagious lips on him. Especially yours, Portia. Celeste says there's no telling where your lips been. She made me rub my hands with alcohol before I could touch him and I'm his father.”

Just for that Ginger and Portia kissed the baby on separate cheeks. “Now, go and tell Celeste that,” Portia said.

* * *

The first Sunday in March, after morning service, Anthony and Celeste stood at the altar. Portia, Ginger, and Joseph stood with them. Pastor Ricky Harris held baby Anthony and sprinkled holy water on his forehead and blessed him. “Father, we surrender little Anthony to you. We ask that you guide him, teach him, and lead him.” He gave little Anthony to his father and looked at him and Celeste. “God has blessed you with a miracle. Do you promise to protect little Anthony and train him in the way that he should go, so when he is grown he will not depart from it?”

Celeste and Anthony responded, “We do.”

Pastor Ricky Harris turned to Portia, Celeste, and Joseph. “As godparents do you accept the responsibility to see after little Anthony, to make sure he is safe and cared for? Do you promise to step in and become parents if Anthony and Celeste can no longer be there for him?”

“We do,” Portia, Joseph, and Ginger stated.

Over the past months Anthony and Joseph had become good friends. They spent a great deal of time together bowling, shooting a game of pool, and washing their cars. Anthony had warned Joseph that a relationship with Ginger meant that he would be subjected to the fights she had with Portia and Celeste on a regular basis.

“Just stay out of it and mind your business, man,” he advised.

Joseph took Anthony's advice and ran with it. It was the following day that Ginger complained to him that she had gotten in to a fight with Portia and Celeste and she was never speaking to either of them again. Four hours later Joseph answered Ginger's doorbell. Portia and Celeste had come to pick her up. They were going to the mall.

Both Celeste and Anthony agreed that Joseph was a good man and they thought he would make an excellent godfather for their son.

The day they brought their son home from the hospital, Joseph, Ginger, and Celeste came over and brought dinner for everyone. After they had eaten, they all went into the living room.

Ginger was feeding baby Anthony when he started to squirm and make a fuss. “Why is he frowning?”

“That's a booboo face,” Celeste said. “I'll check his diaper.”

“That's something his godfather should do.”

Ginger, Portia, and Joseph all looked at Anthony.

Anthony didn't say a word. He took the baby from Ginger's arms and placed him in Joseph's arms.

Joseph was flabbergasted. He looked from Anthony to Celeste. They were both smiling. Joseph looked down into the eyes of baby Anthony and smiled. “Wow. I'm your godfather.”

“That's a wonderful thing,” Ginger said with tears in her eyes. She was happy that Celeste and Anthony gave Joseph the responsibility. It would prepare him for when she and Joseph had a baby of their own.

Portia looked at the baby resting in Joseph's arms. “That's a good fit.”

Joseph looked at Celeste and Anthony. “I don't know what to say.”

“Do you accept?” Anthony asked him.

“I'm honored,” he said proudly.

Little Anthony started to squirm and frown. “Uh-oh. He's making that face again,” Anthony said.

“The diapers, baby wipes, and baby powder are all on the changing table. So, have at it,” Celeste stated.

Joseph carefully stood with the baby. “It would be my pleasure.”

Ginger followed him. “I better assist. It could get messy.”