The Donor: When Conception Meets Deception (19 page)

“Don't you look at her like that. I'm the one talking," Kabeerah says.

Although Chase towers over her pudgy frame, Kabeerah shoves her finger in his face. Chase lifts his palm to smack it away but Evelyn jumps between Chase and her hot-headed lover.

"Baby, look we talked about this right?" Evelyn coos to Kabeerah.

She cozies her naked bosom up to her female lover’s husky chest and strokes her cheek. She slides her palm over the teardrop tattoo on Kabeerah’s temple. Her fingers graze the prickly stubble of the woman’s shaved mohawk. The two women press their plush torsos into one another. Kabeerah’s face softens as she ogles Evelyn’s cleavage and licks her earthy lips. Evelyn grabs a chunk of Kabeerah's left butt cheek like a turkey leg and woos her.

“Now come on big mama. Chase is here to help us make
our
baby. Yours and mine. Naturally…” she plants soft pecks on Kabeerah’s neck. “…No strange clinic. No anonymous donor from who knows where. We can tell our child that we actually knew their father. They were conceived in loving passion and not in some cold, science lab. It’s what we decided, right baby?”

Evelyn’s youthful tone is seductive and innocent. Kabeerah closes her forehead onto Evelyn’s skull; she nods. Chase and Andrea stare at each other in amazement.

“Okay, but why he gotta be all into you like that? He’s getting you all hot and shit like I do,” Kabeerah says.

"Babe," Evelyn whispers with more kisses. “He’s a man. They need the proper motivation. The money we're giving him isn't enough. He needs some stimulation. You know they’re really just little boys in adult bodies. They need that ego boost. That’s all I was doing big mama. Just giving him a little encouragement.”

Kabeerah vise grips Evelyn’s afro with both hands and tongues her down.

"Mmmm. Yeah. Mmmm,” Kabeerah moans. Chase folds his arms and clears his throat. They slow to a stop…still panting.

"All right baby girl. You're right. He's just here to do a job,” Kabeerah says. She turns to Chase. “You know Mr. Chase, you lucky you got high marks on your mental and your physical you feel me? We put a lot of thought into this conception thing. Don't want no ugly, scrawny, unstable kid. If he grow up looking like you I guess that’ll work,” Kabeerah says.

“Wow, I feel so honored. I passed the little lesbian gangster test," Chase snaps.

"Look homeboy. Don’t—“

"Babe, babe it's cool. Remember. Task at hand?" Evelyn says.

“Well…Oookay now,” Andrea says with a relieved hand clap. “Now that that’s settled let's get back to business.”

“Okay, but I'm staying," Kabeerah says.

“Yes, of course. We'll go right back in the kitchen where you can monitor the two of—“

"No, I'm staying right here. Right in that ugly ass chair,” she says pointing to Andrea’s orange bean bag.

"Wait, wait. First of all I didn't even know you were here. Didn't know you were in there watching with Andrea, who I'll deal with later on that. But now you want to actually be
in
here? Are you nuts?" Chase says.

"That baby is mine too. I need to take a more
active
role in this. Don’t worry. I ain’t trying to have no man touch me. This will still be y’all thang. But I want the baby to get my vibes, my energy, feel me?” she says closing her eyes and fanning air into her face. “Karma, universal energy and all that Buddha, yoga shit,” she says. She plops herself in the chair, arms crossed.

Everyone pauses, not knowing what to say. The room would be silent if not for the sound of Buju Banton's
Boom Bye Bye
playing in the background.

Evelyn shrugs, turns her back towards Chase, and winds her rump up against his crotch. The slow drone of the dancehall bass circulates through her hips and her arms. She caresses her shoulders, cups her sweating bosom and slow churns her butter bum on Chase’s crotch. Kabeerah spreads her legs and licks her chops. Andrea is frozen in the doorway. Kabeerah’s chocolate jowls, crossed arms, and salivating eyes makes Chase feel like he’s a stripper’s toy prop at a go-go club.

"Oh
hell
no. Hell. No. This ain't happening," Chase moves Evelyn aside and stomps over to the bluetooth speaker and shuts it off.

"Chase what are you doing? Relax. It's all settled," Evelyn says.

"Settled? I'm supposed to do this with her watching?" Chase says.

"Oh don't be such a prude. She was watching anyway remember?" Evelyn says.

“You know, that is actually a good poi—“ Andrea says.

“Shhhh, I'll deal with you later," Chase points at Andrea.

Kabeerah's scowl intensifies.

"You honestly expect us to have sex in front of your gay lover?" Chase says.

Kabeerah jumps out of the chair and barrels toward Chase.

"Oh so is that what this is? You a homophobe now?" she says.

“A homophobe? What? No. I just—“

"Then why I gotta be a
gay
lover huh? Why can't I just be a lover? Mr. New York liberal professor
beeyatch
," Kabeerah bumps her chest into Chase.

“You better back up off of me lady," Chase says.

“Man, I'm glad you didn't stick your little fairy ass wee wee in my girl. We'd have some little bitch boy like his daddy. Is that your problem? You sucked on your mama's tit for too long?" Kabeerah pokes her index finger in Chase’s temple. By reflex Chase slaps Kabeerah’s hand away. She stumbles backward, trips over Evelyn’s sneaker, and falls on her butt with a thud. Evelyn gasps. Andrea’s eyes pop. Chase tries to apologize.

“Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to—“ Chase says.

Kabeerah squints her eyes. Squares up. And leaps to her feet gritting her teeth. She winds her arm back like a fastball pitcher and hurls her fist forward.

POW!

She lands a solid right hook on Chase’s left cheekbone. Chase falls backward onto the mattress. Kabeerah pounces on top of him and starts to pummel his face with a barrage of punches.

“You wanna take it to the streets huh? We from Philly. Show you how we do,” she yells.

PUNCH PUNCH PUNCH

Kabeerah is unrelenting. They tussle about on the bed like tumbleweed in a ghost town.

“Philly my nigga…
PUNCH PUNCH…
This how we do. Phillaaaaay, Niggaaaaa,” she screams.

Chase tries to block her blows and lock onto her wrists. He doesn’t want to strike back. Andrea stands motionless in the doorway, her face full of shock and awe.

“Andrea don’t just stand there," Chase yells. "Andrea. Andrea."

But the petrified redhead can't seem to move. Kabeerah punches again but misses and hits the bed. This allows Chase the moment he needs to secure her wrists and hold her at bay. With her arms locked in his grip Kabeerah resorts to something else.

”Owww," Chase yells as Kabeerah bites his shoulder and starts to gnaw on it like corn-on-the-cob.

Andrea shakes off her shocked stupor, grabs Kabeerah by her shirttail, and rips her off of Chase.

"Oh white girl you want some of this too?"

“Baby. Baby wait,” Evelyn says as she slips between them. "Let's all just calm down. We can work it out."

"Oh no no boo boo,” Kabeerah lunges at Chase again. Prepared for her this time, Chase bobs and weaves to the side, comes behind her, and puts her in a standing headlock.

“You,” Chase says to Evelyn. “Grab your bag and all of your clothes. Everything…what you waiting for?
Now
dammit, hurry up.”

Evelyn complies.

"Get off me. Get off. Get, get off," Kabeerah says. She tries to jostle out of Chase's grip. His muscular arms keep her subdued as he forcibly walks her out of the bedroom.

"Let's go Evelyn get a move on," Chase yells as he drags a struggling Kabeerah through the living room. "Andrea get the door," he says.

Andrea opens the door, runs to the antique elevator, and lifts the gate. A barefoot Evelyn, wearing Chase's shirt, walks into the empty metal carriage carrying her clothes, the canvas bag, and sneakers in a bundle.

“I’m so sorry about this Chase. For what it’s worth you would’ve made a great donor,” she says as she jumps up and kisses his cheek. Chase winces.

"Get off. Get off me goddammit. I’m from Philly you bitch ass nigga,” Kabeerah says.

Evelyn scoots inside the elevator. Andrea presses the lobby button on the panel. Chase looks at Andrea and nods his head as he begins to count…one…two…three…GO.”

He flings the enraged woman into the elevator. She goes flying into the corner. Before she has time to gather herself Chase and Andrea close the gate. The lift descends to the lobby, along with the hollow echoes of Kabeerah’s curses and promises of
Philly
retribution. Chase and Andrea slosh back into the apartment.

"Chase I—“

"Shhh. Just. Shhh," Chase says.

He leans his back against the wall near the coat rack. The scratches on his chest, and the throbbing of his shoulder cause him pain, but it is his heart that pangs. His soul that feels soiled. His mind that has grown murky and muddled. The seconds turn into minutes. The minutes into unmeasured moments as Andrea stands in a silent room with a silent man.

“Look, I know you said not to talk,” she says.

"But you will anyway won’t you?” Chase says.

“Chase I…Look Chase I—“

"Goodnight Andrea."

He grabs his overcoat from the rack.

"But wait. We should talk. Let me explain. Let me apologize."

Chase opens the door.

"Chase wait. You’re not even wearing a shirt." Andrea opens the hall closet and rifles inside a plastic garbage bag on the floor. "I may still have one of your old sweaters around here somewh—.”

CUH-CLUNK.

Andrea whirls around. The front door has slammed shut. His footsteps echo in the hall. A few seconds later she can hear the slow, laboring creaks of the elevator as it returns to her floor. The lift gate opens…Chase’s footsteps disappear inside. The elevator rumbles back down to the street. Andrea rises from her knees and dips into the kitchen. She sighs with a nonchalant shrug. Pops the bottle and pours a tall glass of red—hand on hip.



C
hase sucks hot steam into the cones of his nostrils. Machine gun water beads fire on his open pores from the shower head. He closes his eyes, cranes his neck and opens wide. The warm rain pools inside his jaw and bubbles over the corners of his lips. He opens, closes and spits. And repeats. The childlike action is calming. His palms act like suction cups on the white ceramic tiles as he braces his hulking frame under the heavy drizzle. The bathroom mist leeches into the empty bedroom. It wafts like a cloud of stretched cotton over the half-made bed. His side is rumpled but hers is as smooth and untouched as crisp linen. The shower dial squeaks twice and the rhythmic spray trickles to a stop. He high steps out of the deep dish white porcelain tub, grabs the indigo towel from the silver rack, and pats the dew on his bare skin.

DING DONG

He wraps the towel around his waist and walks bare chested into the top floor hall; he yells down.

"Hey babe, can you get that? That should be Devantay.” He waits for confirmation. The doorbell rings again.

“Babe…Hey Babe!”

"I heard you the first time," Jenae says.

Her voice is a low monotone as if spoken into her chest. Chase hears her walk to the front door. He darts back into the bedroom to get dressed. After seven minutes, the fresh and clean Chase, bounds down both staircases.

“Nah, Miss Jenae. See, Hulk is a man but when he gets mad, he metamamorphisizes into—“

“Metamamorphisizes?” Jenae says with a curious smile.

“Uh huh. He changes into a giant, muscular, super strong mutant beast. And check it out. He can beat anybody. I mean
anybody
,” Devantay says.

“Sounds impressive,” Jenae says.

"Very. And then he'll start running and go Hulk smash. Hulk smash," Devantay says as he goes stomping like a gorilla in the brush through the living room, demonstrating in front of an amused Jenae.

“Well, there's my lady's smile," Chase says standing at the bottom step. He sports a pair of blue True Religion jeans, black leather belt with a cowboy buckle, and a chocolate brown ribbed tank.

Jenae glances at Chase; her smile disappears. She returns her gaze to Devantay.

“Anyway, Devantay the word is actually metamorphosize. That’s a verb from the noun metamorphosis. But a better choice of words, because it flows better, would be to say he
morphs
into a mutant. It is when something or someone, [she glances at Chase] changes so much that he, I mean
it
, actually becomes something else. It even behaves differently. Like how a caterpillar changes into a butterfly,” she says.

"Isn't she smart Devantay," Chase says.

“Yeah, I’m very smart," Jenae says under her breath.

"Wow. I bet you know all of the comic book characters," Devantay says.

“Oh, I know all about characters all right," she says.

Chase walks over to Devantay and rubs the preteen's bushy head.

“Boy, we're going to have to stop at Kitchen Kutz before the game this afternoon. You're kind of wolfing with that ‘fro man,” Chase says.

"Stop Chase, you gonna mess it up," Devantay says as he cowers away.

"You can't mess up what’s already a mess," Chase says. "Right Jenae?"

Chase peers at her but she buries her amber, curly brown hair and horn rimmed 1960's glasses, into the computer screen. Her spectacles coordinate with her vintage, powder blue and vanilla sweater she wears over a pair of navy capris. Her chilly behavior towards Chase is obvious even to the child. Devantay disrupts the simmering bitterness in the air.

"Hey Chase, you got anymore of that ginger beer?" he says.

Chase nods and Devantay scampers into the kitchen for a bottle of the bolder sibling of ginger ale. Jenae leans her back against the sofa’s armrest. Her outstretched legs take up the length of the two seater. Chase stands in front of her ankles but she doesn’t budge. He sits on the coffee table instead.

“So…What you working on?" he says.

“Work,” she says without eye contact.

"
Oooh Kaay
. Jenae what’s going on? What’s the deal?”

"Nothing Chase,” she huffs. “I've just got a lot of work to do right now.”

"So is that why your side of the bed was still made? You slept on the couch doing work?”

Her fingers rocket like a receptionist on the silver and black keyboard.

“Babe, I asked you a question. What's wrong?"

“No, I didn't come to bed alright? I slept on the couch," she says.

“Yes, but why?"

Jenae takes a moment to respond. Chase notices her glassy pupils and reaches to place a hand on her cheek. She cringes.

"I haven't been crying if that's what you're worried about?" she snaps.

"Oh. Well I just—“ he says.

"Should I be crying?” she interrupts.

"Of course not. Babe tell me what's wrong. You've been a bit, I don't know…
off
lately.”

"
I've
been off?" she says. Chase, sensing what could be the start of an argument corrects himself.

“
We
. I should have said
we've
been off lately. Sweetheart listen. There have been some things I've been dealing with recently,” Chase says. He removes the laptop from her waist and places it on the floor. “And I just want to tell you that I—that I—.”

Chase hesitates as he notices Jenae is no longer paying attention. She peers into his shoulder as if she were looking through a microscope. Chase presses his chin against his chest, angling his glance to see what she is staring at. Jenae pops up, pulls the thin strap of his tank top aside and inspects his skin like a forensics agent.

"What the
fuck
is that?" she says.

Chase is taken aback by the rare F bomb. She gives him little time to answer however.

“Is that a fucking bite mark?” she says.

“Huh? A what?”

Chase bolts over to the cherry wood mirror above the mantle. An irregular red splotch with two rows of indentations covers his brown skin. It looks like a monster baby bit him. He pokes and prods his bulging shoulder with a series of manufactured, shocked and perplexed facial expressions as he stalls for time. Chase knows full well where that bite mark came from.
Damn psycho, Philly freak
. He needs to come up with an excuse. Fast. He can see Jenae seething in the mirror with fists balled, chest heaving and nostrils flared.

“Are you kidding me? Really?” Chase sucks his teeth and pokes and twists his lips for added effect. "Can you believe this? Wild ass kids. Unbelievable. Un-friggin’-believable.”

“Kids?" Jenae squints an eye.

"Devantay. Hey Devantay,” Chase barks. “Get in here.” Jenae’s face turns quizzical as the young boy scurries in with an open bottle of Reed's Ginger Beer.

"Yeah Chase?" he says.

"Look at this. You see this?" Chase shows Devantay the surface wound.

"Dayyum yo. What the hell? I mean heck,” he says.

"That kid must have bit me yesterday. You know, the pudgy one? The one that I had to hold back who was hitting on you?" Chase says.

Devantay’s left eye shrivels for a moment and then quickly returns to normal. Chase continues the story.

"What was his name again?" Chase starts snapping his fingers and hopes beyond hope that Devantay’s street smarts kick in.

”You got into a fight Devantay?" Jenae says.

“Yeah, Miss Jenae,” Devantay says with the smoothness of a 70’s pimp. “It was crazy. See these three dudes jumped me at the group home yesterday—“

“We were having a meeting of mentors in the conference room,” Chase jumps in.

“Let
him
tell it,” Jenae leers at Chase.

“Go ahead, Devantay,” Jenae says.

“So yeah, right in the middle of Chase’s meeting. These dudes was saying how I think I’m better than them because my mentor takes me to all these cool places and does real shit with me. And their mentors is just a bunch of bum bitches. And how Chase really cares and shit. So they jumped me. But I punched the one guy in the nose and knocked him right on his fat ass," he smirks as he enjoys the freedom to cuss without discipline. Jenae puts her hand on Devantay’s shoulder.

“Were you hurt?” she says.

“Nah not so much. Chase heard everything. I was like BAM, punch in the face, then BAM knee in the gut, I was like Iron Man taking on those two punks I mean three. And then I—“

Chase senses the excited child is about to get carried away and perhaps sabotage the story. He interjects.

“—And so that's when I got between Devantay and the other kids. My shirt got ripped open, one of them tripped me to the ground, and that's when the pudgy kid...umm what's his name again, Devantay? You mentioned him once before?"

“Cake," Devantay says.

"Cake?" Jenae repeats "That kid I told you had a terrible nickname?"

"Yup. Him. Love you like a fat kid love cake. That’s when Cake jumped on top of Chase and bit him on his shoulder,” Devantay says with a growl for good measure.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Jenae’s cell phone rings.

"Hmmm. Well, I’m just glad you're okay. But do your best to avoid fights if you can. Especially against three guys, junior Hulk,” she says as she answers her phone. "You know I saw that bite mark and thought you were struggling to tell me something else. Glad I was stressing for nothing.” She kisses Chase on the corner of his mouth and says hello into the phone’s mouthpiece. She exits into the kitchen.

Chase watches her disappear and then leans over to Devantay.

"Well, you're pretty quick on your feet aren't you?" Chase murmurs.

“Well, it only took a sec to see you needed me to lie. You learn fast in group.” He takes a swig of the ginger beer. Chase puts his arm around Devantay and ushers him away from the kitchen entrance.

"Listen D-man. It wasn't good that I lied. And it really wasn't good for you to lie too."

“Oh okay. You want me to tell Miss Jenae I lied? I mean you never even came by yesterday, you know.”

“Shh, Shh, no of course not. I just don't want you to think that this was cool. It was just something that I kind of…had to do."

“Aw come on Chase. I get it. You're a playa. You was getting your mack on. Word that’s dope."

“No Devantay. Being a player is not
dope
and I'm not macking. How do you even know that word?"

Devantay stares up at Chase and rolls his eyes.

“Okay, okay I get it. You’re no dummy. We’ll talk about it later but it wasn’t right what I did.”

“So what was it then?”

“Necessary.”

"I got you Chase. Don't worry. So how did you get a bite mark on your shoulder anyway?”

“I can’t really get into that but…wait…you hear that?…Is Jenae yelling?”

Jenae's voice crescendos as she storms back into the living room clutching the cell phone.

“For the third time who the hell is this and how did you get this number?”

Devantay and Chase gawk at Jenae with confused looks.

“Yes, he’s about six foot two. Six three to be exact. Yes, he lives in a brownstone but I'm not about to answer a bunch of—huh? Excuse me?"

Jenae's light brown complexion morphs into fiery red clay.

"Who are you talking t—“ Chase asks. Jenae puts her palm up. Devantay sits on the edge of the couch nursing his ginger brew.

“Yes, he’s a professor. What do you mean he was with you last weekend? Who is this? Who? Tevarus' wife? Who the hell is Tevarus?"

Chase's heart feels like someone just clicked emergency eject. It fires and thuds against his sternum. His veins pulse and pop with the surging fear of infused blood. He can feel the sting of sweat, ooze from his pores like pus. Only one name can cause such a creepy chemical reaction. It is a name he never expected to hear again, let alone hear erupt from the lips of his beloved. He tries to stagger but his legs remain fossilized. He wails but his voice is silent. His lungs whistle and hack like whooping cough. Eyes bulge from their sockets. Adrenaline spills onto the wires of his mind; it short circuits the decision to fight, flee or freak out.

“Jenae.
Who
is on the phone?” Chase demands.

Her hands tremble and her lips pulse. Her eyes pool into tears as she puts the phone on speaker. A heavily accented Dominican woman’s voice barks.

"You listen to me. I don't know what he tell you but he name is Tay-Vah-Rus. Tevarus marry me in Boston."

"Boston? How long ago in Boston?” Jenae says, remembering that Chase has always claimed to be from there.

“Seven, eight year ago. We marry as kids. Only eighteen, nineteen year old. Mi abuela morió…I mean she died. I visit mi familía in The Dominican Republic and transfer the money she left for me to our bank account. But when I come back he no here. He clean out all the money mamí, everything, todos. All this time I try and find him. I hear from somebody, that he get some job in Nueva York at una escuela. At a college. I track him down three week ago. We meet. And you know something? He apologize and everything. Then he take me back to he place in Brooklyn and I spend the night.”

"Wait, wait, wait. You’re trying to tell me that
my
man brought you back here? No no. This isn't happening," Jenae says.