Life (20 page)

a fugue. People stared at me openly, a few called my name, I just

kept walking.

At the pay phone, I called Nandi. She answered on the first

ring.

“
I’m pregnant,” I cried into the phone wishing that I would

wake up and this would all be some bad dream.

“
And I’m Michael Jackson, hee hee,” Nandi sang playfully.

“
Nandi, I’m fucking serious! I took the test and it came back

positive.”

“
Lawd have mercy! Hope, girl, are you serious?”

I nodded my head on the phone like she could see me. “If I

used a rabbit, they would have charged me with cruelty to ani-

mals.”

“
Who’s baby is it?”

I could not believe Nandi would have the ner ve to ask me such

a dumb question.

“
Who in the hell do you think it is? It’s Mar-cus!” I said his

name like it was some virulent disease.

“
OK, calm down, calm down. We need to talk, I’m on my –”

“
Talk? Talk about what? There’s nothing to talk about! I’m get-

ting rid of this bastard!” I screamed on the phone and suddenly

looked around and all the girls in the dorm were eavesdropping. I

glared at all of them as if I were possessed by demons ready to kick

ass and take names later.

“
Stay right there, I’m on my way girl. Please think, don’t

panic. It’s not the end of the world,” Nandi said with her voice

filled with sympathetic overtones that made me want to cry more.

“
Have you talked with Marcus yet?” Nandi asked.

“
Hell naw!” I cried. “I should cut his little dick off. He did this

to me on purpose.” I was giving the girls in the hall an earful.

“
Don’t they all,” Nandi responded frankly.

I ran my fingers through my hair trying to regain some sem-

blance of my composure. I reasoned, “I don’t want to meet you

here, I need to get out and get some air.”

94

L i f e

We agreed to meet at Subway on Buffow Street.

As I hung up the phone, all eyes were on me. The hall was so

quiet you could hear a rat piss on cotton. I walked back to my

room on legs that felt like rubber. It was the longest walk of my

entire life.

*****

We sat at a table inside Subway next to a window with a view

to the streets. Cars passed in the night, occasionally strobbing

flashes of light across Nandi’s face. For some reason I was fam-

ished, and the air conditioner was turned up high enough to turn

me into a human icicle. I ordered a steak sandwich with extra

cheese and a Coke with a bag of chips. Nandi looked at me like I

was crazy. She was a faithful vegetarian. I was too until that day.

It was about a quar ter to ten and I could not believe this lady

had her two bad-ass kids out this late. They ran around the place

recklessly knocking over things in their path, making enough

noise to raise the dead. I had a headache and they were getting on

my last nerve. I could not believe this white woman would not

restrain her kids, but when that little bad boy ran his egg head ass

under my table and knocked my drink in my lap, God forgive me,

I looked under the table and saw the malice in his blue eyes as he

then ran his fire truck over my toes. I snatched his bad ass up from

under that table so fast he bumped his head causing the table to

rattle. He wailed, crying, as if I were torturing him. Actually, I

kind of squeezed his arm too, as I took him over to his mother.

“
Your boy was under my table,” I said jaws clinched tightly.

“
She’s a girl,” the lady said flatly, taking her child and cooed,

“
Mama’s baby got a boo-boo on her head.”

That’s when I noticed the golf ball sized lump on the child’s

forehead that must have come from the table. I walked away not

wanting to believe I had one of them in my stomach. The other

child was somewhat smaller, smarter, the sole witness to what I

had done to his older sister. One look at me and the child took off

running in the opposite direction, reminding me of a scene from

the Little Rascals. I sat back in the booth. Nandi was curled over

95

L i f e

laughing hysterically at me.

“
Did … you … did you see the way …” Nandi laughed so

hard she could barely get the words out. “ … that little kid ran

away from you like you was the real Boogey Man.” Nandi held her

sides as she lost her breath in giddy laughter. Regardless of my

somber mood I couldn’t help but to smile at her hilarity. Finally

she stopped laughing, however, the corners of her eyes still held a

tinge of humor. She reached over and held my hand in a sympa-

thetic gesture. “You’re going to be OK,” she assured, then leaned

closer and whispered, “An abor tion is out of the question.”

“
Shiiiit!” I lisped indignantly, looking at the white lady with

them bad-ass Bebe’s

kids r unning around. It looked like the poor woman lost her

mind and got used to it.

“
I ain’t havin’ no damn babies.”

“
You have a precious life within your womb. Regardless of the

circumstances, you were placed on this earth to do God’s will. To

give life, not take it.” I couldn’t help it, I began to cry. Nandi had

a way with words, making everything sound spiritual. I turned

away from her, looked at my reflection in the window and saw

facets of my life pass by me.

“
At least talk to Marcus. See what the man has to say.” Nandi

pressed on. “The man wants to marry you, he loves you Hope.”

Angrily, I wiped the tears away from my face with the back of my

hand.

“
Stop being so mean. What’s done is done, just call the damn

man! See what he has to say.” The moment lulled into a pregnant

pause. Nandi could be so damn persuasive. The girl sounded like

my conscience talking to me at times. I agreed to follow her

advice.

Nandi planted a seed of determination that seemed to germi-

nate in my mind and she knew it as she gave me a triumphant

glare, the kind that a sista gives another sista that is so empower-

ing and caring that you know, no matter what, she is with you one

hundred percent. We hugged. “It’s the woman that does not

96

L i f e

believe she can achieve her goals, thus she fails from the start. As

long as you believe that you can, you give yourself and the baby

positive energy, you’ll be fine. If Marcus wants to play papa make

his ass come to mama,” Nandi said in a conspiratorial tone and

winked her eye at me.

The next day Nandi was scheduled to fly to Atlanta to help

organize a Million Youth March. That night, I drove to Marcus’

apartment and didn’t even bother to call. I was in a bad mood, like

the fetus inside of me was turning me into the Exorcist, that girl

in the movie that was turning her head all backward and puking

in people’s faces.

Marcus’ friend Stan answered the door. I could have sworn the

damn man rolled his eyes at me as he walked away without speak-

ing. All of Marcus’ buddies were kind of peculiar and anti-social.

Of course, all of them attended Florida State, so naturally I figured

that was where the friction came from. As I walked in, Marcus and

his pals were eating pizza, drinking beer and watching the game.

Their glares unnerved me. I could tell Marcus was not happy to

see me. For some reason, when he got around his friends he would

change just like that. They all came from aristocratic, well off fam-

ilies. They all drove BMWs and nice SUVs. I guess they thought

FAMU college was nothing more then a welfare college for impov-

erished Blacks.

“
Marcus, I need to speak to you,” I said evenly while tr ying to

keep my temperament in check. Without looking up from the tel-

evision he waved his hand like I was some annoying fly and mum-

bled something about wait until half time. I thought I heard one

of his buddies snicker at that.

“
Marcus, it’s important.” I raised my voice.

He waved for me to be quiet. Stan glared at me with so much

disdain, I was tempted to ask him what his damn problem was.

The whole time a sista was trying to be polite but I could feel my

hormones raging inside my body like a time bomb.

“
Marcus, please!”

“
Hope! Can’t you see that it’s almost two minutes before half-

97

L i f e

time in the damn game!”

No he didn’t just curse at me

, I thought as red flashed behind

my eyes. Stan and the rest of his friends turned as if following his

lead; they stared at me like I was an alien invading their territory.

I was as close as a Black woman could get to becoming a socio-

pathic bitch. Here I was, pregnant, with this man’s child and don’t

want the bastard, and he is treating me like I am gum stuck on the

bottom of his shoe. If he only knew I was thinking about killing

his child, and possibly his ass too. Calmly, I strolled over to the tel-

evision, snatched the plug out of the wall so hard that it sent

sparks flying. Walked over to the door, flung it open with all my

might, and one of the pictures on the wall came crashing down.

The scowl on my face was carved like granite stone. My nostrils

flared, eyes bugged, as I screamed at the top of my lungs, “All ya’ll,

get the fuck out!”

Marcus stood up with a beer in his hand, eyebrows knotted

together in dismay.

“
Hope! What’s wrong with you girl?”

“
Boy, I told you I need to talk to you. When you get around

your damn friends you want to get all brand new and don’t want

to give me no respect!” I turned to one of his friends, eyes blazing

with fury. “I told ya’ll asses to get out!” I said belligerently. They

all looked at Marcus. He slumped his shoulders. “Yo, fellas, let me

holler at her.” They gr unted and shot me a few cold looks, but

reluctantly they gathered their things and left. As Stan walked by

he gave me a mean and evil look. A look that I would see again

and it would cause my whole world to come crashing down

around me.

One by one they left as I stood at the door. Outside, I heard

Stan say just loud enough for me to hear, “You can take a nigga

out the ghetto, but you can’t take the ghetto out the nigga.”

“
Stan, kiss my ghetto ass!” I yelled and slammed the door.

“
Girl what the hell is wrong with you coming in here actin’

like you done lost your damn mind?” Marcus said hotly.

I stalked over to him, more than willing to engage his ass in

98

L i f e

battle. I was not myself and we both knew it. I was over the edge.

“
Marcus, I’m pregnant.” I threw the words at him like they

were some evil curse. He considered me for a moment, eyes nar-

rowed like his brain was trying to decipher what I just said. I could