I Do Love You Still, page 3
Adonis snapped his fingers twice. “Xena. Xena.”
I did not agitate easily, but this charade made me do what I’d never done before. Slap! Hitting my man’s face, I demanded, “Move. Until my cycle comes, no sex! You hear me? None!”
He slid in front of me. “It’s okay, baby. I understand your frustration. Please. It’s been two whole weeks. My mama said you are. I promised her we’d confirm whether she was right.” Adonis removed the test from the packet.
“We’re not married and I refuse to be a statistic.” Truth was, I needed an out from this relationship.
“Prove her wrong. Do it for me. For us.” His eyes were bright. Dimples deep.
“Fine.” I reassumed my position, spread my thighs, and started urinating, which was easy for me due to the gallon of water I consumed daily.
Adonis held the stick under my flow. Minutes later, his smile grew wide. Jumping up and down he pumped his fist in the air three times, then handed me the results.
I slammed the stick to the floor. “Give me the other one,” I grunted.
The second one matched the first. Not caring to wipe myself, I looked up at him, then yelled, “Get out of my face!”
I do not want to be here.
CHAPTER 5
Xena
“Stay right there.” Adonis disappeared, then returned dressed in chocolate slacks, a tan button-down collarless short-sleeved shirt, and hard-sole shoes.
As I looked away from him, gazed out the window, my vision became blurry. Memphis was the kind of man that would’ve given up his dream of earning a gold medal to raise his newborn. Now I wasn’t sure terminating Memphis’s baby was the right decision.
“Mrs. Oglethorpe,” Adonis sang.
Whipping my head in his direction, I saw darkness submitting to daybreak, casting a shadow behind Adonis. After his knee touched the glazed charcoal tile, he asked, “Xena Trinity, will you be my wife?”
Trapped on the only seat in the bathroom with no viable escape route, I faced a white painted door. Inside, an eight-foot-tall hot water heater consumed the entire closet. No fire ladder was outside the window.
Speechless, I stared at the double pink lines next to the word pregnant. The diamond shining in my eyes was a huge solitaire. How long had he been planning all of this? Adonis slid the most gorgeous ring on my finger. He stood, kissed my cheek, retrieved his cell from his back pocket, touched the screen, then placed the call on speaker.
“Mom! You were right! We are pregnant! I’m on my way to pick up what we talked about!” His lips touched my forehead. “Xena, do not leave the apartment until I come back,” he demanded. “I have another surprise for you.” Touching my stomach, he continued, “This one is mine for sure, Mom. I know it. Mom, I’m on my way.” Adonis kissed my forehead. “I love y’all.”
Clump. Clump. One sound followed another. Squeak! Slam!
I heard the front door to our residence open and close. Quickly I put on my robe. Scurrying to the kitchen, I peeped through the glass pane, watched Adonis’s taillights until his car was out of my view. A breakthrough of light beamed in my eyes, blocking my sight.
In a quandary, I pretended none of what had happened was real. I twisted the brass lock to the left, turned the knob. Grateful to greet the dawn of another day, I stepped onto the gray-painted wooden planks.
The white rail wrapped around the balcony, boxing me in. From museums, to statues, to surnames, preservation best described my hometown. Tradition had significance in Savannah, including the Confederate statue in Forsyth Park that was less than two hundred feet away.
Family values had to be number one on the list. Unless kids were not allowed, there were almost as many strollers as there were cars. Children were everywhere, including the one growing inside my womb.
Was God punishing me? Was He trying to teach me a lesson? Or was my baby a blessing?
“Ahh!” I screamed, not caring if I’d awakened anyone at the senior complex on the corner. Or Mr. Ben Matthews. He lived on the first floor. Everyone in the building had to pass his unit with each entrance and exit.
As I inhaled the fresh misty air, my view of the opposite side of the street was partially obstructed by the tall mulberry trees that lined our block. Should’ve taken Memphis up on his offer for me to stay in his house the year he was in training in California. But our relationship ended when I decided to abort our child.
I cried. “Why, oh, why am I here, Lord Jesus?” I felt as though God would never forgive me.
“You okay up there?” I hadn’t noticed Mr. Ben was on the sidewalk, staring up at me. “You not planning on jumping, are you?”
“Yes.” I shifted my eyes to the left. “I mean no. I’m okay. Thanks.”
“I’ll bring you back a cup of coffee,” he said. “You stay put, lil girl.”
“Thank you.” My eyes trailed him across Dayton Street.
Mr. Ben was a friendly, wise old man. Most often when he offered to get something, he never did come back with it. I thought he had the onset of dementia. Never saw any family or friends visit him.
We seldom heard the upstairs tenant. There was only one unit per floor. A white man who looked to be sixty, about ten years younger than Mr. Ben, had a long salt-and-pepper beard and a young girl who visited often. Maybe she was his daughter. Or perhaps his companion.
Leaves rustled as an agile squirrel leapt across branches in the direction of Forsyth Park, the same direction Mr. Ben had traveled.
Life was in and all around me.
I sat in the black rocking chair that was almost eighty-one years my senior. I inherited the heirloom from my great-grandmother who was part Native American. She often read what the whites read, the Savannah Morning News. The rocker was the only piece of furniture that I took each time I moved.
The white rocker was one Adonis had borrowed from his parents. His white great-grandfather used to sit there when he read the weekly African-American paper, the Savannah Tribune.
Planting my feet firmly on the planks, I braced my back, placed my hands on my thighs, and sat motionless. Inhaling deeply into my stomach, I sensed the radiance of the sun cloaking my flesh.
Exhaling, I closed my eyes, as a shadow of light penetrated my lids. A faint piercing hum resounded against my eardrums. Buzzing locusts. The noise grew louder, then gradually tapered off. I cleared all thoughts from my mind, as I’d done most mornings. Today, I waited for the divine power to speak to my soul.
Silence acquired a different tone.
Breath after breath, I prayed for a voice. Sometimes I heard the softness of a little girl laughing, an old man grunting, or a woman crying. I opened the chakras to my mind and heart until it registered. “A life-changing blessing is upon you. Listen.
“Listen.
“Listen.”
Retreating inside I slammed the door. I bypassed my work-at-home space. Flopping across the plush purple sofa that could unfold into a futon, I was numb. The rectangular coffee table was situated between an identical couch that faced toward me. Closing my eyes, I placed my hand over my navel.
I didn’t feel like doing a thing, but I had to put the finishing touches on my client’s tuxedo by this evening.
Click. Slam.
“Baby, I’m back,” Adonis said, locking the door. “Oh good. You guys are resting. Don’t get up. You hungry?”
“No.”
“Thirsty? I’ll get y’all some water,” he said, standing over me.
“Adonis. I’m fine. Please, I don’t mean to sound rude. But leave me the hell alone.”
“Hormones kicking in already, huh? Okay. Let me know what you guys need.” He exited into the bedroom. In a matter of minutes, my body, my life, and my marital status were about to change. Against my will.
I thought, Memphis will never forgive me if I had another man’s baby.
Unlocking my cell, watching Memphis on social took my breath away. One post at a time, I felt as though I was suffocating seeing him happy without me.
A voice whispered in my ear, I love you, Z.
“Xena! You and my baby need anything?” Adonis called out.
This was going to be my longest or my shortest pregnancy. Either way, I’d have regrets.
CHAPTER 6
Memphis
Jerking my shoulders, one then the other, I stretched my neck side to side. Wiggled my body head to toe. Held my foot in my palm, pulled the heel to my glute. Waited thirty seconds. Stretched my other quad.
I stood in lane one, scanned the field. Life without track, I’d be a fish out of water. Worked my ass off for Z! Was rejected. Put my blood and sweat into training for a year. Still wasn’t accepted. Why the fuck was I trying this hard? To prove what? I could fail.
Removed my track shoes, then laced up my tennies. Two of my teammates who had received notification they were competing next summer stood on the side with smiles wide enough for me see almost all of their teeth. I turned my back to them, bit my bottom lip to keep tears from falling.
“Memphis Brown.”
“Yes! Coach!” I shouted, praying one way or another, he had news.
Against all the odds, I desperately wanted this little boy born in Savannah, whose mother moved to the US from Kingston with the clothes on her back and made it . . . despite my father abandoning us . . . I had to make her proud.
“Afraid I have disappointing news,” Lou said.
Ending today’s session, I sensed that Coach Lou Richie was going to tell me what I already knew. Stay ready. Nah. “Fuck!” I wrapped my arms to my waist. Finishing the hundred meter in 10.24 seconds wasn’t good enough to make the cut? I’d worked my ass off to get under ten seconds. Still hadn’t happened.
Standing in front of Lou, I said, “Man, there has to be another way. I have to.” I broke down crying. For my not being able to represent my team. For disappointing my mother. For Z. If she were here she’d know all the right things to say.
“What’s it going to take for me to qualify? I’ll do anything to clinch a spot,” I told Coach.
Grown men weren’t supposed to cry. My mother instilled in me that tears were a sign of weakness. If she could raise me without assistance of any kind from my father, I could achieve greatness for Mom, and my future wife and children. Have a home built for us in Kingston. “Stay ready” was my mother’s daily inspirational mantra. I could hear her voice in my head. Strive to be better than the best; only then can you become number one.
Words weren’t necessary. The disappointment showed in the way I glanced toward the ground. My lips and face muscles tightened. I exhaled. Looked up at Coach.
Natalie would probably get pleasure from my failure. After the way I’d treated her, I didn’t want to see her again.
Handing me a folded letter, Lou said, “You’re going to have to work harder. There’s always next time.”
Fuck this! Ripping the paper in half, I crushed both halves into a ball, threw it on the ground, then stomped on the letter with the heel of my shoe. “Next time. Right.”
Coach stared at the ground, then at me. “Make that your last time throwing trash on my field. You might want to pick up your acceptance confirmation. You’re in, MB,” he said. “I wanted to see how badly you wanted this.”
Thoughts in my mind went mute, limbs numb. Felt like my heartbeat was determined to shoot out of my chest, then there was a hard thump. Boom! I stumbled backward as though a shot put traveling sixty miles per hour was hurled into my cavity. Had I heard Coach correctly?
Before bending over, I mouthed, Repeat that.
Smiling, he patted me on my back. “It’s official, MB. You’re in, baby!”
“Are you fucking serious?” I leaned back, released a sharp “Yo!” Tears poured as I stood tall and struggled to swallow the lump in my throat.
I was used to seeing him angry and frustrated. Yelling at me was his way of pushing me harder. I had never seen him sentimental. Coach nodded. His eyes became watery. He blinked them dry.
Coach was that beast on my back every day. Six hours a day. Seven days a week. Sometimes we’d travel to the desert to train under sweltering conditions, down south to battle the drenching heavy raindrops the size of gumballs beating and weighing me down. Then there were the days of trampling through snow and chilling gusty winds that felt like I was being sliced with a knife. Some of that shit, I never understood. But now I get it. Nothing stopped him from preparing us for this moment.
My teammates came onto the field. “Congrats, MB,” one said.
“Your next tears better be for winning that silver,” the other one said. “Gold is mine, baby.”
I did a standing backflip, landed on my feet, then shouted, “Fuck, yes! I’m in!” Sounded like someone had covered my mouth. “Hem. Hem,” I hacked, spat on the ground. Shouted the words louder. All the animals hundreds of miles away at the San Diego Zoo probably heard me that time.
I dropped to my knees. “Thank you, Lord Jesus! Whew!” I grabbed my torn letter, sprang up.
If it weren’t for my coaches and sports, I’d be dead.
CHAPTER 7
Memphis
All-American in high school. As a college Hall of Famer, I’d placed first in the one hundred, two hundred, and three hundred meter, consistently. Always the relay anchor, there was only one time I’d disappointed my teammates in the four hundred. We’d placed second by fractions of a second. Second, third, fourth didn’t matter to me.
I was lit. I pointed to heaven. Shook my finger. Pounded the left side of my chest. If I wasn’t first, I was a loser. In the US outdoor, I broke the record in the hurdles. Ranked fifth in the world by Track & Field News. Some thought fifth was great. Not me.
“Thanks, Coach. I won’t let you down.”
Fuck being Superman. I was the Black Panther. All of a sudden, I was through-the-roof hyped and scared shitless at the same time. My stomach knotted up. Started jumping up and down.
“You bet your sweet ass you won’t,” Coach Richie responded.
What was success without someone I loved to sing my praises? I got it. Rich people married for someone to share their glory with. Bringing home that gold meant as much to me as winning back my ex-girlfriend.
“Don’t slack off. Stay focused. Stay hungry, MB. We on some next-level shit now. Run like a winning thoroughbred. Time to go home. See your mom. Eat healthy. Rest well. Hydrate twenty-four seven. Women are going to try to cram pussy down your throat. No trap babies. Wrap it up. The less you have sex the better. I’m setting you up in Savannah for a media blitz and your daily training schedule. No downtime. The only change is location. I’ll meet you at the radio station Monday for the big announcement. First stop, The Shady Café.”
Balling my hand to a fist, I covered my mouth. “With@DDDShade, yo?”
She had that porn-star hourglass and she was nationally syndicated. But her shade cast a net deep, far, and wide if she didn’t vibe with her guests. Alaska twenty-four seven darkness. Yet being on her show signified a person had made it!
“Get ready for superstar mayhem like you’ve never witnessed,” Coach said, slapping me on the ass. “Congratulations. Don’t let this go to your heads, Memphis. You have an obligation to do everything right while representing the US of A in the Olympic Games. And that commitment begins right here.” He pointed toward the ground. “Right now.” Coach hugged me. “You deserve this, son.”
I cried on his shoulder.
One year closer to putting on the track uniform I’d envisioned wearing since I was a kid. “Thanks, Coach.”
I took off running on the all-weather rubberized surface hearing On your marks, set . . . pow! The sound of the pistol firing rang in my ears. Pumping my arms, moving my legs, I felt invincible. My adrenaline fueled every muscle. I pushed myself harder, a turbo boost erupted. It was like I’d lost my shadow. If I moved any faster, I swore I’d take flight. I didn’t put on the breaks until I was a hundred feet from my residence.
After entering the code on the keypad, I unlocked my front door. Unplugging the USB cord from my cell, I collapsed onto my back. Sprawled on the living room floor, I stared at the ceiling. Fresh tears streamed down my temples.
“Fuck your deadbeat ass, man.”
Why had he crept up on me in the midst of my salivating?
Didn’t care if my father was six feet under, cremated, or alive. Hadn’t seen him in sixteen years. I prayed he was watching from hell, that son of a bitch. Wouldn’t let one thousandth of an ounce of my piss quench his thirst. Spectators could post what they wanted as to why my deadbeat dad wouldn’t be in the stadium next to my mother. Mom was my queen. She’d do anything for me, although I wasn’t her biological son.
CHAPTER 8
Xena
“Rise and shine, beautiful.” Lying on his side facing me, Adonis touched my stomach.
For the first time, the cheery voice chiming in my ear awakened me to the point that I screamed in my head, Stop it! I took a deep breath. Tried to relax. Stared at the ceiling. Didn’t move.
“I have a surprise for you. Muah, muah, muah.” Adonis removed my eye mask, then leaned in for another kiss. I covered his mouth.
“What? You want me to piss on another stick today? You need a confirmation follow-up?” I felt my forehead tightening.
I wasn’t sure if the living being inside of me was creating negative energy. Or if it was Adonis’s excitement. Or if it was my being disappointed with myself for making the same mistake again. I didn’t want his baby. I was clear about that. My rhythm method calendar had become a game of craps where I was the only loser.
I placed my feet on the hardwood floor, sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the sun shining through the sheer white curtains. I’d overslept, and he’d let me. Retrieving my cell from the nightstand, I saw I’d missed five calls. Four were from my business associate Topez Arrington, and one from a “No ID.”
I checked my settings, glanced over my shoulder, and questioned Adonis, “Why did you put my phone on ‘do not disturb’? Don’t ever touch my phone again.”
