Big Girls Do Cry (21 page)

“What did I do to make you treat me this way?” I recognized the voice right away. It was crazy-ass Peter. He was really starting to get on my nerves.

“Look, man, I’m not doing anything to you, so you need to stop calling me.”

“I love you, Jerome. How could you hurt me like this?”

This guy was nuts!

“Man, you don’t even know me. How the hell you gonna say you love me?”

“I know you. I know you better than I know myself. And I’m not going to let some young boy ruin it for me.”

“What young boy?” How the hell did he know about Ron?

“Oh, so now you’re gonna play stupid? Do you know how easy it would be for me to knock on your hotel room door right now?” Jesus Christ, he followed me! This son of a bitch was scary.

The hotel phone rang.

“You can go ahead and answer the phone. It’s me.”

I reached over to the phone, but then pulled my hand back.

“You’re fucking following me?” I was starting to feel more
than a little paranoid, but I didn’t want him to know. It would give him the upper hand if he thought I was scared. I had to remain aggressive. “You know what? You’re a sick dude. You need to get yourself some help.”

He laughed. “You think I’m crazy? Well, you’re right. I’m crazy for you, and if I can’t have you, nobody will.”

I rolled over and woke up on Saturday morning to the sound of Egypt barking orders at the landscapers. The clock next to my bed told me it was almost noon. I probably could have slept until one or two in the afternoon, like I’d been doing the past few days, but I figured I’d probably be the next one on Egypt’s shit list if I didn’t get my butt up before she came looking for me.

I headed for the bathroom, prepared to do what had become my regular Saturday morning ritual, taking a pregnancy test. So far, we’d made three insemination attempts, and none had worked. I was really becoming concerned. What if I couldn’t get pregnant? What if my age had caught up with me and made me barren like my sister? Rashad and Egypt were anxious for me to have a baby, but I wanted it just as bad. I was starting to think that without a baby, there would be no more chances to win back Rashad.

As it was, he had already started paying less attention to me since the stunt I pulled last month. Before that, he was so sweet, practically waiting on me hand and foot so I could relax while I was trying to have his baby. But once I got busted for lying about the clinic, Rashad was definitely keeping his distance. Egypt still waited on me, when she wasn’t being a pain in the ass, but it wasn’t the same.

The only good news was that he hadn’t told Egypt about how I tried to seduce him. If she knew, World War III would have broken out in the house, and I don’t think he wanted to take that risk. I think he kept it a secret because he knew that he wasn’t
entirely innocent. God, would I have loved to find out what would have happened if Egypt hadn’t called.

Who am I kidding? I know exactly what would have happened. Egypt just didn’t know how lucky she was.

But it didn’t happen, because his desire to have a child outweighed everything, and if Egypt kicked me out, that would mean no baby. Yeah, he might have been staying away from me, but he was definitely still excited about the prospect of fatherhood. I could hear him and my sister talking about it all the time, which certainly wasn’t helping my mood lately.

In the bathroom, I picked up a small cup and used it to collect my morning pee for the pregnancy test. The package insert said to pee on the stick, but I always used a cup because I didn’t like the idea of getting it on my hand. I placed the cup on the counter and dipped the stick in, then left it there while I went about my morning routine.

Looking at myself in the mirror as I brushed my teeth, I wondered if the sadness I saw in my eyes was obvious to Rashad. I tried to ignore the negative chatter going on in my head, but it was hard, because it seemed to be happening more frequently lately.

You ain’t pregnant. You know you can’t get pregnant with no turkey baster. Now that you want to get pregnant, you won’t get pregnant again, so you can just kiss your little dreams about you and Rashad good-bye.

I washed my face and brushed my hair. By then, enough time had passed for me to check the stick, which I was certain would once again be negative. In fact, I was so sure I wasn’t pregnant that I barely glanced at it before I tossed it into the trash. Then it hit me.
Wait a minute. That was a positive sign!

I reached into the trash can, rummaging around until I had the stick in my hand. I looked down, and sure enough, there was a plus sign on the stick. I jumped up in the air and let out an excited yelp. Suddenly, there was hope for me and Rashad.

I ran back into the bedroom and threw on a robe—no more falling-towel tricks for me—then rushed down the stairs, stick in hand. I was moving so fast, it’s a miracle I didn’t slip and break my neck.

I headed right to the family room, where I knew Rashad would be watching college football. He’d been talking about the big game between Florida and Georgia all week. Originally, I’d planned to watch it with him, as a way of spending some alone time with him. Egypt never watched sports with him, so I figured I could use that opportunity to rebuild his trust and hopefully chisel away at that wall he’d put up between us. Now I didn’t need to worry about that. The pregnancy test I held in my hand would be more like a sledgehammer, and in no time at all, the wall would come tumbling down.

I stepped into the room, where Rashad was reclining in his La-Z-Boy chair, eyes glued to the TV.

“Good game?” I asked, trying to contain my excitement.

“Hell, yeah. Georgia’s up by three in the first quarter.” He barely glanced over at me as he spoke.

“They in Athens or Gainesville?”

“Gainesville, but Georgia’s getting seven points on the spread.” He finally turned his head in my direction. “You know, I forgot you liked football. You want a beer?” He lifted the top of the small cooler next to him.

I casually placed a hand on my stomach. “No, thanks, but we should definitely celebrate after the game.”

“If Georgia wins, I’ll buy you and Egypt the biggest steaks in Richmond.”

“What about if they lose?”

“If they lose, ain’t nothing to celebrate. I got two grand on this game.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I might have something else we could celebrate.”

He raised his eyebrows, but I couldn’t read his expression. Either he was beginning to understand what I was hinting at, or he was wondering what scheme I was up to now. I spoke up fast before he decided it was another trick and put his guard up again.

“Do you think you might feel like celebrating if I’m pregnant?” I asked.

“If you’re—” He stopped speaking abruptly, and I could see the awareness dawning on his face. “Wait a minute. You’re pregnant?” He was out of his seat and by my side in a flash.

“Yes, Rashad, I’m pregnant!”

I expected him to joyfully throw his arms around me, but instead they stayed folded across his chest. “Isis, if this is another lie … I don’t have time for your games today.”

Damn, he really didn’t trust me at all, and it was starting to annoy me. He could act like I was the one playing games, but it’s not like he didn’t want to hit it that day too.

“I’m not playing, Rashad. I’m really pregnant.”

He turned back to the television like he had already made up his mind that I was full of shit. “Who am I supposed to be, BoBo the Clown? You haven’t even been to the doctor yet.”

I held up the stick. “I just took a home pregnancy test. This test is ninety-nine percent accurate, and that plus sign means I’m pregnant. Check it for yourself.” I tossed it at him. “You convinced now?” I asked as he picked up the stick and examined it.

“You weren’t lying?”

“No, Rashad, I wasn’t. You’re going to be a daddy.”

It took a minute for the information to register, but once it did, he was all over the place. He jumped up on the La-Z-Boy and started to do the Running Man. Then he jumped to the floor and wrapped his arms around me and picked me up off my feet. I hugged him back, giggling.

Seeing the joy on his face made this whole process well worth any sacrifice I might have made. I don’t think I’d ever done anything in my entire life that had made someone else this happy. There was no doubt in my mind he was going to make a great father—and we were going to make great parents.

“I can’t wait to tell Egypt,” he said, spinning me around.

“Tell Egypt what?” My sister walked into the room, looking at us like we’d lost our minds.

Rashad put me down and ran over to her, but her eyes were still locked on me. “Excuse me,” she said, “but that’s my husband you’re holding on to.” After Rashad’s excitement, her stern voice was like a bucket of ice-cold water over my head.

“We were just celebrating, baby,” Rashad explained.

“Celebrating what, a football game? You know better, Rashad.” She cut her eyes at me again.

“Baby, it’s not like that. She’s pregnant.” He showed her the stick.

In an instant, her face lit up. “Oh my God! We’re pregnant! We’re pregnant!” Now she was jumping all over the place right along with Rashad, and I was left standing by myself. When they embraced and shared a passionate kiss, I wished I had morning sickness so I could throw up on Egypt’s shoes.

“We’re pregnant, baby,” she said to him with tears in her eyes.

Sorry, I know the moment was supposed to be touching and all, but I wanted to push my way in between them and remind her,
No, bitch
, I’m
pregnant
.

I bullied my way into their little private party. “I’m so excited, Rashad. It’s going to be a boy. I just know it.”

I knew I’d made a mistake as soon as I saw the look on Egypt’s face. “Don’t forget, you’re a surrogate. This is our baby, not yours. Don’t go getting attached. We’re paying you good money to do this.”

I couldn’t afford to make her an enemy just yet—at least not until I was paid in full—so I waved off her warning as if she’d totally read me wrong. “Girl, I’m just so happy to be a part of this. Of course I know it’s going to be your baby, Egypt.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. But you need to lie down. You’re going to have to get plenty of rest.”

I nodded, gladly heading back upstairs to get some more sleep. I was sure I’d be dreaming of the look on Rashad’s face. I’d just made him the happiest man on the planet, and it was only a matter of time before he realized that it was me, not my sister, who did that for him.

I sat down in a chair on the other side of the waiting room, purposely keeping my distance from Leon, who was reading a magazine with his legs crossed. We’d been living under the same roof for the past two months, but I slept in the master bedroom and he stayed in the guestroom. Not that he liked our arrangement, but what choice did he have? He could either live by my rules or get the hell out, ‘cause I was done. As far as I was concerned, all he was good for was as an occasional escort to a party. Once I won the election, I was going to find me someone else. Shit, I didn’t really even know why I’d agreed to come here today other than, as he put it, to call his bluff.

“Mr. and Mrs. Farrow, you can come in now,” a well-dressed sister in her early fifties said as she stood by the door. I glanced across the room at Leon, who smiled at me confidently. I rolled my eyes. What the heck was he smiling about? He was the one who was about to be put on blast for cheating on me.

You see, this all started about a week ago, when Leon escorted me to my sorority’s annual ball. I have to give him credit; when he wanted to, Leon could be a first-class asset. Not only did he place me on a pedestal and make every person in the room think we were the happiest couple they’d ever met, but also every time I pointed out someone who might not vote for me, he’d ease his way over and work her husband, inviting him to play golf or go fishing on his boat. He’d even set up a husbands’ poker game. I can’t begin to tell you how well this worked, because the next thing I knew, their wives were all up in my face, trying to set up lunches and teas.

Not that his kindness was new. He’d been doing the same thing at home. He’d been so nice to me as of late, you’d think he was running for Pope, the way he was cooking, cleaning, and running my errands. That night, he must have told me a thousand times how beautiful and sexy I looked. I can’t lie; we both had a really good time. Under normal circumstances, he would have gone to sleep a very happy man; but when we got home, to his surprise, it was his and hers bedrooms again. You should have heard him begging and pleading for me to give him another chance. I didn’t pay him no mind. I just went upstairs and closed my door.

About a half hour later, there was a knock on my bedroom door, which I now kept locked just for this reason.

“Hey, Loraine, can you open the door, please?” he pleaded.

“What do you want? Go to bed.” I hated when he did this, always when I was almost asleep. I covered my head with a pillow.

He knocked again, this time lighter, probably with a knuckle. “I just want to talk to you, baby. Please open up.” He really sounded pitiful.

“Leon, I’m tired. Whatever it is, it can wait ‘til the morning. Now go to bed!”

“I’m not going to bed until I have my say. We can do it face-to-face or through this door. The choice is yours.”

I sat up with an aggravated sigh. “Go to bed!” I threw the pillow at the door.

“Baby, I just want you to know I’m not messing with no woman. I swear to God, I don’t know where those panties came from. You’ve got to believe me. I swear on my dead grandmother’s grave—”

That’s when I had had enough. I didn’t feel like listening to him calling on his dead grandmother yet again, so I got out of bed, unlocked the door, and then snatched it open. Leon almost fell in on his face. When he straightened up, I noticed he was wearing a smoking jacket and his silk PJs.

“Who the hell are you supposed to be, Hugh Hefner?”

“Heff ain’t got nothin’ on me, baby. So, how’s my big sexy?” He was talking all smooth, looking at me seductively. He didn’t want to talk about our relationship. All he wanted was sex. Leon mistakenly thought sex would bring us back together.
What he didn’t understand, and quite frankly most men don’t understand, is that when women get mad, all their parts get mad. In other words, Big Sexy’s Sex Shop was closed!