The Donor: When Conception Meets Deception (29 page)

"I mean neither one of you saw fit to mention this cozy history between the two of you. And then you guys
maintain
this coziness as a
friendship
[Jenae flashes air quotes above her head] after I come along?”

“Jenae, Andrea and I were never anything more than just friends when you and I got toge—“

Jenae raises her finger. “Eh, eh, eh. I’m not done yet."

He grimaces like a child forced to eat Brussels sprouts.

“So since that wine she’s drinking is acting like truth serum, I’m like…here ya’ go. Bottoms up. I’m getting that Miss Chatty Patty all liquored up something fierce. She’s like an open fire hydrant of information at this point. And whoo boy was she mad at you. Hell hath no fury for real, for real. We’re in the living room and she stands up from her chair and starts moving from side-to-side, slurring her words. She’s got a glass in one hand and with her other hand she’s banging on her chest like she’s Denzel in Training Day.
He gonna do this shit to me? To me?…I made Chase…I loved Chase. Gonna toss me aside like a rag doll? Gonna put a ring on some OTHER chick’s finger in MY goddamn muh-muh-fu-fuckin’ house?
You should have been there,” she laughs.

“Jenae listen.”

“I mean can you blame her? I know men can do some dumb shit but, damn Chase. How are you going to propose to your girlfriend in your
ex-girl’s
living room? Where they do that at?”

Chase tries to jump in.

"Bup-bup-bup. Not done. Like the commercial says…
And wait there’s more
. Check this part out. She tells me this crazy ass story about you and a bunch of baby mama wannabes."

“No it wasn’t like that Jenae it—“

"Oh no, no, boo, boo. Write this down. This will be great for your little book,” she says, wagging her finger at his palms. “So Andrea tells me about that thug Eugene, who I discovered was Bam Hickson’s son. How the two of you cooked up some scheme to have women pay
you
to impregnate them. But no, not on some turkey baster do-it-yourself thing. It had to be the real deal. You had to actually have sex with these chicks.”

“Jenae, I was being blackmailed and I didn't actually
have
sex with them."

"Oh I know it was blackmail. Eugene is definitely his daddy’s son. Not as sophisticated as Bam, but I did discover that he was in the same prison, at the same time as you two. It didn’t take long for me to piece together that Eugene was holding your true identity over your head. It’s a classic,
I’ll reveal your secret,
blackmail. And you know something Chase? Even with her telling me all of this. All of this secret weird shit. Would you believe I could have gotten over it?
Still
could’ve taken you back.”

Chase looks at her astounded.

"I know. Crazy right? But that's just it. It was so damn
crazy
that it actually made perfect sense. I know you loved me Chase. You did all of this—“

“And I still—“ Chase interrupts.

“Shush. And you did all of this because you wanted to keep your perfect life. And you wanted to keep me in it."

“Yes, exactly. That's it. Babe you—“

Jenae ice grills him.

“I mean Jenae. You get it. You get it now. That was all I was trying to—“

"But there’s just one teensy, weensy, little thing," she says lifting the cup to her lips and tilting her head back with a final gulp. “Andrea took videos.”

Chase's mouth closes.
Shit, I forgot all about those damn recordings,
he thinks to himself. Jenae continues.

“Andrea stumbles down that long hallway of hers to her bedroom and comes back like the bumper cars on Coney Island, banging against the walls and carrying her laptop. She plops down next to me. She’s trying to get on some cloud storage website to show me a video. But she's totally wasted and just keeps pulling up these Los Angeles real estate listings she had bookmarked. So I took over and was able to log in since her web browser had her password saved."

Chase tries to interrupt again. Jenae just cuts him off.

"So I watch these videos and the first one was straight up hilarious. I mean that European chick was bat out of hell crazy. I don’t know where Eugene found that looney tune. And then you had the lesbians. Those two were a hoot as well. I mean the chunky one straight clocked you in the mouth. You were digging that pretty shorty though weren't you? Be honest?”

"Look Jenae. It wasn't like that. You saw I didn't even follow through."

"And then there was the last video. The woman wasn't crazy. She wasn't confused. She was smart, attractive, seemed really nice. A normal person this time and she was your type. I don’t know about the vegan thing, but not a deal breaker I guess."

"Jenae."

"Shhh, shhh it gets better.”

Jenae takes out her cellphone and starts typing.

"Jenae you saw in the videos that nothing really happened. I kept thinking about you all the time. I was in love with you. I kept thinking about protecting our life. Eugene was blackm—”

“Okay, done,” she says, as she presses send
on her phone. “Look, Chase. This has been real. I appreciate the tea and the conversation and the clarity. I really appreciate the clarity.”

“Jenae a lot has changed. Just let me—“

“Okay, so to tie up the Andrea thing. She leans into my lap. Stanky alcohol breath fogging up the screen and she starts tapping on the display. Mind you, it wasn’t a touchscreen. Anyway she’s pressing and pressing and saying to me…
Number three, number three. Press play, press play
. So…I slid the mouse over and clicked play.”

Jenae goes in her bag and pulls out a trove of her Tevarus Huxley research documents. She stacks them on the table, rises, tightens the strap of her coat around her waist, and turns up her collar.

“Wait, Jenae where are you going? Let's finish talking about this.”

“But we are finished. I came here because I wanted to help you with your past. These documents will help you reclaim it. I also came because I needed to confront a part of myself that I was avoiding. See, for one last time, if anything has
truly
changed. And I accomplished that too."

“Look, Jenae now that you know everything just give me a second ch—“

“A second chance? Is that what you were going to say?”

Chase starts to rise.

"No, no stay seated. You know something Chase? I do believe in second chances. We all deserve a second chance. And I promise. You’ll get your second chance."

Chase starts to beam.

“With someone
else
," she says.

His face goes blank.

"I made my peace a long time ago. I moved on. But you're still Chase Archibald. You proved it just now. If you want to actually
be
Tevarus Huxley then you need to accept who you
are
and own up to what you have
done
. Everyone you have hurt and lied to. Be the man you claim you want to be. The man I know you probably are deep inside. The man I fell in love with once. But this is going to be the last time we see each other.”

“The last time?”

“I sent you something when I took out my phone just now. Open it after I walk out. Consider it…a kind of gift. I hope it helps you find…well…I hope it helps you find
yourself
.”

She walks around the table, bends over the still seated Chase and tilts his head up. She draws her lips to his and presses. Her kiss is bliss. It is the warmth of a kindling fire. It is the comfort of the rug in front of that fire. He can smell her familiar sweet shea butter scent. It’s as if she never left. He savors the aroma like a water drop on an arid tongue. His eyes puddle as he can feel the approaching finality of her touch. A tear trickles from his eye. He could press his lips against hers forever. But this forever lasts all of two short seconds. With a soft pop, she breaks away; she strokes his falling tear with her thumb. And says nothing more. A final smile is her goodbye. She waves to the barista; he nods back. She exits through the glass doors and into the mid-afternoon sun. The sky is a bold indigo with puffs of white and a streak of gold. A few rays speckle her shoulders as she steps onto the freshly laid brick sidewalk; she turns and disappears down the boulevard.

Chase steeps in his chair like the cold tea bag in his empty mug. Questions without answers seep into his weariness.
How could you let her slip away again?
His eyes meander about the cafe. Couches of lovers. A grungy bleached blonde climbing up on the stage platform with a guitar case. A hijab wearing coed, in a Montclair State University hoodie, is highlighting sentences in her textbook. He sighs. He swipes the email app on his smart tab. There is one new message:

From: JMDixon@51mail…

Subject: You’re Still Chase-ing

Message:

Click Here Chase

There is no text to the email other than a link to a video. Chase taps it. A new window opens. A large black square with an arrow appears. He clicks the arrow and a video begins. It is the third video that Andrea told Jenae to play. An image of a bedroom comes into soft focus. In the forefront of the frame are bottles of skin and natural hair products. The video appears to have been recorded from on top of a woman’s dresser. It is vaguely familiar to Chase. The image of a queen bed is in clear view. After a few seconds the last woman that Chase was with, Rayne Chimes, pops into the frame. It looks as though she has just come in from the shower. Her head is wrapped in a towel. She plops herself on the bed wearing nothing but an orange and blue New York Knicks tee. She cradles a cell phone in her palm and extends her arm as if she were taking a selfie. Chase plugs his earphones into the tablet to listen. Rayne starts talking into the phone she’s holding:

“Dear video diary. Today is February 23rd. Well, I guess I should start off by saying how things went last night right? Well Diary…You know how long I’ve wanted to have a child. And you know my situation with Ilyas, my on again, off again love and how he doesn’t want to be a father. You know I’m not down with the anonymous, unnatural sperm donor either. Well last week I mentioned how my cousin Gregory had this hook up with his friend Eugene. For twenty thousand dollars I could conceive my baby the way I want, the way the universe intended, with an incredible guy by the name of Chase. Someone who’s intelligent, kind, healthy, mentally and physically fit, handsome…fine as hell actually, and just a guy who I could connect with on a deep level. And that energy would be going into that embryo. I could say to my baby… ‘Yes, I knew your father and you were conceived in love.’ Well Diary, Chase came over last night. He was so sweet and attentive and passionate. But the best thing about him Diary? He
listened
to me. He actively listened to my words, my hopes, my dreams. He even listened to some of my craziness and didn’t get freaked out when I got a little emotional. Chase made me feel like…like I mattered. Like I was the
only
woman in the world. I mean, I know he has someone else. He’s engaged to be married actually. I know that he loves her just like I love my Ilyas. But last night? Last night, we loved
each other
. And hopefully I’ll have something special to remind me of Chase forever and ever. Until next time Diary…this is your girl signing off until next time…Rayne.”

The clip ends. Chase drops his head to the table.
What? That makes no sense. I left that bear on the floor in the living room…how could…wait, wait, nooo…nooo…I remember now. I know the
perfect
place for it, she said. She must have put it on her bedroom dresser that next morning after I left. That was her perfect place. Andrea’s sneaky ass must have kept on recording.
Chase shakes his head. He returns to his email and hovers over the reply button. As he debates whether to type a response to Jenae, the grunge singer starts playing a chord. It sounds vaguely familiar. It's an acoustic version of
She's Gone
by Hall and Oates. Chase decides instead to close the tablet and gather the files Jenae left for him. He dons his jacket and leaves the café.

The crisp breeze is like a cool splash on warm skin. He walks to his silver Honda in the middle of the block and pops the trunk. He places Jenae’s research inside a box next to his brown leather bag. He stops to think. He reaches inside his bag, pulls out a laptop, and closes the trunk. He circles back to the cafe. The grunge girl is finishing up the last verse to the Hall and Oates tune. Chase sinks into one of the empty lounge chairs. He flips the cover on the thin silver laptop and double taps a document on the desktop titled,
Memoir
. The screen fills with text. The bottom corner reads: Page 276. Chase selects all of the text in the document. He takes a breath, pauses, and drops his index finger on the DELETE key. All pages deleted. Bottom corner reads: Page 1. He nods with a smile. A thin black cursor blinks on and off like the caution light of an intersection. It waits patiently for a command. Chase takes a deep inhale, followed by a quick, breathy release. He cracks his knuckles, curls his fingers above the black keyboard, squares his gaze on the screen and types the following:

Chase Archibald: I Die At The End

A Memoir

by

Tevarus Huxley