Exposed: A Novel (17 page)

Chapter 41
Ally

Jessie walked over to me. I sat up. Silence made its presence known between us, between our marriage. We never knew what to say anymore. How to get over the awkward hill between us. So Jessie stood in front of me, swaying his arms, clasping his hands, swaying his arms again. His lips parted to speak, but he exhaled without words instead.

He probably wanted me to reach out, tell him I still loved him and break the seven thousand inches of ice between us.

I closed my eyes and inhaled. The silence piled higher between us. I exhaled. Jessie’s arms swayed. Hands clasped.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

If only he’d pursue me. No, he probably feared my reaction. No matter how much I needed him, I still didn’t want him all the time, but I thought maybe, maybe if he reached out to me, through the pain, then I’d be able to see his love and escape my spinning emotions.

With each inhale and exhale, disappointment turned a dial in my mind, making me more upset by the second. I wanted to cry in his arms. Looking back, I know it wasn’t rational, but I felt like a piece of trash and I needed my husband to make me feel valued. Instead, he stood there, waiting for me to reach out to him.

I wanted him to fight for me, so I stood up and walked toward the stairs.

When I got to the top I turned around and walked back down. Jessie never moved. I walked across the room, stood millimeters from him, and said with such bitterness, “Why did you do this to us?”

Jessie sighed.

The world stopped.

He didn’t say a word, didn’t raise a finger, and that made me want to go upstairs and be alone. I closed my eyes and when I opened them a blanket of tears covered both of our faces.

He still wouldn’t fight for me.

My body heated and melted onto the floor, where I laid like a crumpled piece of refuse. Jessie’s heels clicked by me.

I rocked back and forth, weeping.

He ran his fingers down my back. I trembled.

He sat beside me as I cried and shivered. Nausea revealed its odious presence again. And before I could will it down my throat, tangy yellow phlegm gagged me and landed on the floor. And again. And again.

When my body finished I calmed myself and went upstairs without acknowledging Jess. I walked into our bedroom, grabbed the pregnancy test, and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

I didn’t think much about it. I figured it would be negative again, but after throwing up, I had to be sure. Anxiety could’ve caused me to throw up, I guess. But it never happened before.

I peed on the stick, slid it onto the back of the toilet. Then I stood, flushed, and waited.

God, if you want to give me a child right now, at least let it be a boy. I don’t want to see my girl go through all this.

Jessie knocked on the door. “Ally?”

I glanced at the door. Then the pregnancy test. Then back to the door. The handle twisted.

Jessie opened the door and scanned my face, then the toilet.

His back straightened.

He saw it.

I picked up the test. Two obvious lines affirmed Verity’s suspicion. Pregnant. Finally pregnant. At the worst possible time.

Jessie took the test from my hands. Well acquainted with them himself, he knew what two lines spelled. P-R-E-G-N-A-N-C-Y.

Hand over my mouth, I held back tears and laughter. Jessie’s lips curled upward in a dithery smile. I watched him watch me.

“Let’s not ruin this moment,” he said. “For the baby’s sake.”

The baby.

The BABY.

BABY!

Yes, for the baby’s sake, I wrapped my arms around Jessie’s neck and cried the first happy tears to trickle down my face in months and months.

Jessie held the back of my head. I reached up to touch his hair, but stopped. Our awkward relationship felt like the beginning all over again. Too timid to make a new step. Only we were so much more natural back then.

He held me and we laughed and cried, peeking at the test every few minutes to make sure two lines were still there.

And they were.

They definitely were.

Chapter 42
Taylor

Jesus? I rolled my eyes.

She nodded and brushed her hair behind her ear.

“What did you just say?” I said.

“I think Jesus has His arms around you right now. Holding you and weeping with you.”

“Well”—I looked around the bathroom—“I don’t see Him.”

“He’s here.”

Figures. I finally get away from the lunacy of Andy and run into a religious fanatic. The cross around her neck, reflecting the overhead lights, suddenly caught my attention. I sighed, wondering why religious people always forced their Jesusy thoughts on people, like that would really make me want to learn more about Him.

“If you don’t have family around you can stay with me until you find something else,” she said.

“Look,” I said, swooping my bangs to the side. “I know you want to do good things because you’re a religious person and all, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to live with you. Why would you want that anyway? I could be a lying murderer for all you know. And I could care less about your Jesus. He hasn’t showed up in my life before, no point in asking Him to now.”

I watched her for a reaction.

“You’re not a murderer.”

I played with my earring. This girl could be my age, I thought. But she doesn’t have a clue about the world. Then again, a few months ago I probably would’ve said the same thing.

Naomi looked at her watch. “I need to get home.” She stood and looked around the room with her hands on her hips. “You’re welcome to live in here. Or you can come with me. Up to you.”

Well, I had two options. Get caught by Andy or live with Mother Teresa.

I rubbed the light purple marks on my knees. Pictures of Andy’s fake smile turned my mind black-and-blue. And to think his smile once lit up my life, even if only for a week.

I analyzed Naomi. So pretty, that soft kind of pretty I could never be, especially after all this. Her innocence reminded me of Joey on Dawson’s Creek.

“Well?” she said.

I stood and tugged on my skirt, trying to make it seem longer than it was. Naomi linked her arm around mine. I unlinked us and made sure I stood far enough away that she wouldn’t do that again.

I still didn’t know why she wanted to help me when I had nothing to give her.

She opened the bathroom door. My heart dived to my knees. Andy’s face scarred my mind like a painful tattoo. Naomi walked with confidence. I wondered if she admired herself for doing a good deed. Another person using me to feel good about herself.

“Bye Yolanda. Have a great night.” She smiled to the lady standing behind the register as we walked to the front doors.

On a scorching hot August day you’d think it’d be impossible to shiver. But when Naomi opened the doors and the stuffy breeze blew my hair back, chills ran from my neck to my toes. Naomi led me to her silver Honda Civic while my eyes darted around the world, hoping not to see Andy, hoping he didn’t have a camera pointed on me from some tower in town.

A shadow approached us from behind, getting smaller as it reached my back.

“Taylor?” the man said.

I froze.

Daddy, save me.

Naomi turned to face Shadow Man. I wanted to shrivel up like the Wicked Witch and melt into nothing.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

I refused to turn around, but Shadow Man walked around me. He wore old man shoes. Andy would never wear loafers. My eyes followed Shadow Man’s body from feet to waist and that’s when I saw his belt buckle. Many nights in a row that same belt unbuckled inches away from me while I pretended to sleep in bed.

Jack. Mom’s boyfriend. I didn’t need to look at his face to know. I’ve seen his body from waist down so many times I could draw it without looking—if I could draw, that is.

Roaming eyes pierced my body. I could feel them lusting over me, drooling at the sight of my body in revealing clothes. Sadie must’ve slipped into me for a minute, because I spit on his shoes and walked away. Naomi followed. Her Civic beeped and unlocked.

We got in. And she drove. She drove and neither of us said a word. But the radio spoke.
She Talks to Angels
by the Black Crowes blurred my eyes. I listened to Naomi sing along. Doesn’t get much better than a Halle Berry-looking Jesus freak listening to Black Crowes, I thought. Life keeps getting stranger.

The sharpness of the acoustic guitar cut through the car. The keyboard’s soul mixed with the passion of Chris Robinson’s voice, shading the car with gloom. Or maybe it was just me, because Naomi bobbed her head along with the music, closing her eyes and singing along at red lights.

I have to admit, I thought for sure she’d blare some hymns or Jesusy songs when I got in the car. She surprised me. And I allowed myself to like her, starting then.

Somehow I managed to stay with Naomi and her roommate Lee—her real name is Phyllis—for two days without seeing Andy. Lee and Naomi weren’t like most religious people I met. They never talked about Jesus to me, besides that awkward moment in Rite-Aid. And I noticed that they’d pray before meals when I wasn’t eating, but when I sat with them they’d skip that part.

Of course, I knew they paused in their mind and said some sort of thank you by the way they touched their forks and waited to pick them up.

We watched movies every night. Non-religious ones, if you can imagine that! Then Naomi and I would talk until midnight.

The third night I stayed with them, Lee went to bed. Naomi didn’t say a word for a few minutes. I wondered if she was praying.

A few seconds later she said, “Wanna talk about it?”

“About what?”

“I’m here if you want to.”

I looked down and played with the edge of my skirt, the only piece of clothing I’d worn for days. Naomi offered me a few of her clothes, but they wouldn’t fit me. Lee offered too, since we were about the same size, but I didn’t want to accept her clothes. Shelter from Andy was enough. More than enough. A miracle, actually.

Naomi smoothed her hair into a ponytail and wrote in her journal. I snooped around when she took a shower and read her journal entries. All of them were written to God. More like love letters. Love letters! To God!

I watched her smile as she wrote. My heart panged with jealousy. Not sure why. I didn’t want a love affair with her God, and I didn’t even know if I wanted a relationship with anyone anymore. But I did still wonder what a real, loving relationship would be like. I pictured Andy. Part of me wanted to run back to him. At least he loved me sometimes.

Naomi set her journal on the coffee table and pulled her legs onto the couch.

“If I talk to you will you promise not to tell anyone?” I said.

“Only if you promise to trust me.”

I swallowed but nothing went down my throat. Too dry. Too hot. “Is the air on?” I stalled, but she nodded and urged me with her eyes to go on. “Um.” I shook my foot. “I think I’m going to leave tomorrow.”

“Where will you go?”

“My Dad lives in Richmond. I’m going to fly there tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said. “What were you running from though?”

Every part of my body, even my hands, ached to tell her. I throbbed all over. No one knew my secret. No one except people in the porn world who could care less about me. Even if Naomi only cared about me to do a good deed, at least she wanted something positive for me. Of course Zayta would swear up and down that she wanted the best for me. You know, stardom and power and fake body parts.

“Girl, are you alright?” Naomi said.

“Sorry.” I tapped my fingers on my knee. “Um, what did you say?”

“What were you running from the other day?”

“My ex-boyfriend. He stalks me sometimes.” I looked at my knees. “Beats me, too.”

She sighed and sat beside me. I inched away.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. Does your dad know you’re coming there?” she said.

“Yes.”

“Well, if you want you can come to church with us tomorrow before you go.”

“No, thanks.” I laughed. “You don’t want someone like me in church.”

“Why not?”

“You just don’t.”