Playing the Hand You're Dealt (32 page)

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Authors: Trice Hickman

BOOK: Playing the Hand You're Dealt
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I rubbed her back and told her that everything was going to be all right. She was too distraught to talk about the details of what had happened, so I suspected that Bradley had done the breaking up this time.
In all the years that I'd known Emily, men had never broken up with her. Every failed relationship she had was because she'd decided to end it. She was beautiful and kind, and men held on to her like precious metal. She didn't have to tell me how things had gone down because I already knew the deal. Bradley did this out of revenge, just to get back at her for breaking up with him in the first place.
I handed Emily a tissue to dry her tears and tried to get her to laugh by telling her a few jokes about ol' Hazel. “I hope you have an extra can of oil in your trunk so you can make it back from the airport,” I teased.
She smiled and tried to act like she was okay, although I knew she wasn't. But that was all right because I was going to make sure she got the last laugh. My focus shifted from my father and his mistress to the well-being of my best friend. I was pissed that Bradley had bought Emily expensive gifts, wined and dined her, and then dumped her like yesterday's news. At least when she broke up with him, she wasn't spiteful as he'd proven himself to be. She had been honest with him from the jump.
The more I thought about Bradley's spineless actions, the madder I became. The new and improved Samantha had been making progress, but right now, it was time for the old me to reach out and touch Mr. Bradley! When I landed in Atlanta, the first thing I planned to do was call him and give him a hard-core piece of my mind.
Chapter 31
Emily . . .
 
 
 
 
Congratulations
 
I
dropped Samantha off at the airport two hours ago, and now I was lying across my living room couch, trying to sort out all the thoughts that were swirling through my mind. Sometimes people wondered how they landed in certain situations, but I didn't have a moment of question or doubt. I knew exactly what I did to end up where I was now—embroiled in a heated affair with a married man, pregnant with his child.
I remembered the night it all happened, six weeks ago. I had waited eleven long years to be with Ed, and I had wanted him so badly that I threw caution to the wind.We made love on my living room floor, void of a condom or common sense. I was remorseful about my carelessness, and so was he, and after that mistake we made sure that it didn't happen again. We used up my box of condoms and Ed had taken care of our supply ever since.
We were diligent. Careful. The model of responsibility. Not once had I missed a birth control pill. But here I sat, pregnant, living proof that it only took one time, one careless slip, and your whole life could be changed in the time it took to close your eyes.
I had been on the Pill for years and my period usually came like clockwork. But this entire year had been the exception. After my mother died, my cycle became infrequent. One month I'd have it, the next month I wouldn't. I went to see my OB/GYN, and she had told me that even though I was on the Pill, stress could still cause the inconsistency in my cycle. After I moved to DC, the infrequency continued. But I didn't worry until yesterday.
I had looked at the calendar and realized that I was more than two weeks late, which wasn't unusual because I had gone as long as two months without having a period. But I still wasn't particularly worried because even though Ed and I didn't use a condom that first time, according to the information pamphlet stapled to the bag of my birth control pills, if taken as directed they had a 99.7 percent effective rate against conception. I knew I couldn't be
that
unlucky. My mother had died, I had moved to a new city where I only knew a handful of people, I had started sleeping with another woman's husband, I was lying to my best friend, and I was placing undue blame on an innocent man in another state to cover up my deception. Events in my life had taken such a twisted turn, I didn't think they could get any worse.
But, just to be on the safe side, I went to CVS after I left work and bought a pregnancy test. I came home, sat on the toilet, and peed on the white stick. I placed it to the side of the sink and started reading my
Essence
magazine. Several minutes passed before I even remembered to check the test. I looked at it and couldn't remember if the bright pink line staring back at me meant I was pregnant or not, so I reread the instructions for clarification and then proceeded to shit right there on the toilet.
My mouth went dry and my head started to spin. After several deep breaths I quickly removed the other test from the box, believing that the first one had given me a false positive reading. But after taking the second test, the hauntingly pink line appeared again. I wiped myself, grabbed my keys, and headed back to CVS. I purchased two different brands just to be on the safe side, because again, they could read false positive, too. I knew my rationale was a huge stretch, but it was the only hope I had to cling to.
I hurried back home and went straight to my bathroom. After the two tests in the first box verified the results, I didn't bother with the other one. I shoved the unopened package back into the bag and waited for Ed to come over later that evening.
We had settled into a routine of seeing each other every day, even if for only an hour. He had met with his divorce attorney, and upon Longfellow's counsel, he wouldn't serve Brenda with divorce papers for a few more weeks. This would allow everything to be tied up with a neat bow, or as neatly as it could be considering our circumstances.
I had wanted to tell Ed as soon as he walked through the door, but I wasn't sure of how to break the news, especially since I was still in shock and hadn't confirmed it with a doctor. I wanted to be absolutely certain before I gave the man I loved a heart attack, so I decided to wait for a professional medical diagnosis before I opened my mouth.
I woke up this morning and called the doctor that Samantha had referred me to at Georgetown Hospital. Luckily, she had a cancellation at noon, and it worked out perfectly because I had planned to leave work early so I could take Samantha to the airport.
After the preliminary questions, urinalysis, and blood work were complete, Dr. Shepherd smiled at me with her rosy cheeks and said, “Congratulations, Ms. Snow . . .”
I didn't remember the rest. For all I knew she could've been giving me the recipe for homemade cookies. I really couldn't say because I blanked out for a short while. Her words floated over the room but not into my ears. It wasn't until I felt something warm against my skin, looked down, and realized that she was holding my hand that the world came back into focus. This was real. I was pregnant!
I told Dr. Shepherd the first day of my last period, which had ironically been on time, and she estimated that I was about six weeks along. I set up an appointment for my first prenatal visit and then left her office feeling numb. I didn't remember driving home. I just knew I made it by the grace of God. I'd only been in the house for a short time when Samantha called. She sounded extra hyper and edgy, and she wanted me to come over right away. I could hear some sort of devilment brewing in her voice. Normally, I didn't look forward to her drama, but today I needed something to temporarily take my mind off my own troubles, so I jumped into my car and headed to her condo.
After ten minutes of talking with Samantha, I thought I was going to need an oxygen tank and a stiff drink. Hearing her talk about her father's affair was the most uncomfortable conversation I'd ever had in my life. I tried my best not to tell too many direct lies.When she asked what I thought about Ed, I either agreed with her observations or remained silent, being careful not to offer unsolicited comments of my own. When she made the statement about having a kindergartner and a husband on Medicare, I literally felt a small leak in my bladder, so I crossed my legs and tried to remain neutral. And when she asked me about Bradley, I simply told her that we weren't together anymore, which was true. But I was fading fast, and I finally broke down and cried. I wept for all the mistakes I had made and for the consequences that I knew were sure to follow.
I was sitting on the couch when Ed arrived.This weekend was supposed to be special. It was the first time since our trip to Atlanta, when he'd flown down a few weeks ago to join me during my teacher's conference, that we'd be able to spend the entire night together. Brenda had a museum function out of town and would be gone until Monday, leaving us three days to ourselves.
Suddenly, I was nervous and unsure. I didn't know how Ed was going to react to the news. My mind raced to wild and crazy places. Would he fly into a rage? Would he question the baby's paternity, still holding on to the suspicions he had in the beginning of our relationship? Or would he tell me that he was too old for fatherhood and I should handle this on my own?
I didn't move when I heard him walk through the back door. I'd given him a spare key and an extra garage remote a few weeks ago so he could let himself in and out with ease. He strolled into the living room looking painfully handsome in his tailored suit. His overnight bag hung from his right arm while he held a Neiman Marcus bag in one hand and a large box of Godiva chocolates in the other.
He walked over to me, bent down, and kissed me full on my lips. “Hey, beautiful.”
“Hey,” I offered back in a weak voice.
He handed me the chocolates and set the bags to the side. “Emily, what's wrong?”
I looked down at the gold-colored box of sweets and tried to form a smile. “Thanks.”
“Emily, are you okay?”
I leaned into him, buried my head in his chest, and burst into tears. This was only the second time I had cried since my mother's funeral. The first was today with Samantha, and I could only attribute the raw emotions to my budding pregnancy.
Ed held me in his arms and stroked my back just as his daughter had done a few hours ago. “Shh, shh,” he whispered in a soothing voice. “What's wrong, baby?”
“Everything,” I squeaked out. I wiped my eyes and sucked up my tears. I needed to pull it together and prepare myself before I delivered the news.
Ed looked worried out of his mind. “Emily, baby . . . tell me what's wrong.”
I took a deep breath and let it out. “I'm pregnant. I went to the doctor today and confirmed it. I'm about six weeks along.” And anticipating his next thoughts, I said, “It was our first time.” I sat back and waited for his reaction.
Ed stared at me like I'd just spoken Japanese. I was glad, at least, that he was still breathing and hadn't collapsed to the floor. He was in shock, sitting in silence. After a few moments he ran his hands across his curly black and silver waves of hair, let out a deep breath, and relaxed into the couch. “When are you due?” he asked, staring straight ahead at the pictures fanned out atop my mantel.
It was bad. He couldn't even look at me. “Sometime next June. I have my first prenatal visit in three weeks, that's when my doctor will be able to give me my EDD . . . my estimated delivery date.”
He nodded, still staring straight ahead. I was unsure of what else to say, so I simply sat next to him while he continued to concentrate his gaze on the mantel. He sat almost comatose for quite a long time. Even though his shock was understandable, I wanted him to say something. His silence was unbearable. Finally, he spoke as he pointed to the Neiman's bag on the floor. “I got you a surprise, but I guess you've given me a bigger one.”
I couldn't discern Ed's mood, and it made me that much more anxious. But regardless of my nerves, I knew I had to tackle this head-on. “Tell me how you feel about this.”
For the first time since I broke the news to him, Ed turned and looked at me. “I was studying your pictures on the mantel, wondering if our baby will have your eyes or my mouth.We both have the same nose, so we know that's a done deal.”
“You're not upset?”
“No. I'm stunned, but I'm not upset. Are you?”
“Well, yes and no.”
Ed reached for my hand. “You don't want to have my child?”
The moment he asked the question a light came on, and everything became crystal clear. My trepidation and fears had been rooted in the moral wrongs I had committed, for which I knew I'd have to pay a price, but they weren't because of my unborn baby. When I thought about the man I loved, and the small pebble of a child growing inside me, my heart felt nothing but pure joy. I smiled, touching my hand to Ed's face. “Thank you for being who you are. I can't wait to have our baby.”
Ed pulled me into him and gave me a long, soft kiss. We knew there would be many obstacles in front of us, but for now, we were both happy. “This is a real celebration.” He smiled, handing me the Neiman's bag.
“Thank you for my ivory teddy and red baby doll.”
Ed looked at me with surprise. “How did you know what I bought?”
“Samantha saw you this afternoon.”
I told Ed that Samantha had seen him purchase my gift and overheard his conversation with the saleswoman. He didn't appear to be rattled by it at all. He removed his jacket and tie, kicked off his shoes, and got comfortable. I'd expected him to be as worried as I was, but instead his response was, “I told you she'd be able to deal with it.”
“Only because she doesn't know that the woman in question is me,” I countered.
“You worry too much.” Ed brought me to the seat of his lap, one of our favorite positions. I lifted my skirt and straddled him, looking into his eyes as he held my face in both of his hands. His voice became a soft whisper, filled with intense heat. “I've never loved a woman the way I love you. You mean everything to me, Emily.”

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