Chapter 9
Monet walked down the few remaining stairs and into the foyer. Marcus held out his arms, and she walked into them and stood on her toes. Marcus kissed her passionately. The couple shared their first real kiss in months.
Then she pulled away from him breathlessly, looked up at him and asked, “How are you doing, handsome?”
“Not bad.” He inhaled the scent of her hair, and the strands tickled his nose. “Um, you smell good. How did your doctor's appointment go?” He leaned away from her and peered down. “Is everything okay?”
“Just fine.” Monet burrowed into Marcus's body. Then she looked up at him. “I've fixed your favorite meal, along with my favorite vegetables. Darn it, I need to check on the steaks.” She scurried into the kitchen.
Marcus took off his jacket and hung it in the closet. Then he walked into the dining room. Monet had set out their best China and crystal glassware. Two chocolate colored tapers burned brightly in the eggshell white room.
“Aw sukey now, we're having a candlelight dinner. This must be a special occasion.” Marcus's nose twitched as he rubbed his hands together. “I smell steaks. Thank you, babe.”
Monet walked over to Marcus. “I have some wonderful news that I'd like to share with you at dinner.”
He pulled her into his arms, and for once, she didn't flinch from his touch. “I love you, Nay-Nay. I don't know what I'd do without you. Now give me a few minutes to shower. You're looking fine and smelling good; I don't want to be half-stepping. I've got to keep up with my baby.”
Monet nodded. “Make it quick. By the time you finish, I should have dinner on the table. Now go.” She shooed him away with love in her eyes. Marcus looked at her, and his eyes reflected the depth of his feelings for her.
“I'll be back before you can say abracadabra,” Marcus joked, and jogged up the stairs.
Monet went back into the kitchen and put the vegetables inside a bowl. She removed a silver platter from the bottom cabinet, and forked the steaks, topped with onions and mushrooms, into it.
Then she took the food and walked into the dining room and set everything on the mahogany table built for twelve. Monet smoothed down a corner of the manila lace tablecloth that had belonged to her mother, Gayvelle. She put the ice bucket with the bottle of sparkling cider on the matching buffet. She had purchased a bunch of lilies on her way home from her doctor's appointment, and they added a beautiful touch to the table.
It didn't take Marcus long to return to the dining room. He sat across the table from Monet, looking handsome in a pair of dark slacks and a pumpkin colored pullover sweater. She had dimmed the overhead lights and lit the candles. She picked up the remote in front of her plate and turned on the portable stereo, which was tuned to Marcus's favorite jazz station. She turned the volume down low.
She looked at Marcus and asked, “Would you bless the food?”
“It would be my pleasure. Though I don't know why you're sitting all the way down there. Why don't you come sit next to me?” He patted the empty chair next to him. Intense love radiated from his eyes.
Monet picked up her plate and relocated to the chair next to her husband.
Marcus took Monet's right hand in his own, kissed it, and then the couple bowed their heads. “Father, bless the food we are about to receive for the nourishment of our bodies, and double bless the cook. Lord, we've faced some tough times recently, and you've brought us intact from the storm. Continue to bless me and Monet. Amen.”
“Amen,” Monet echoed, and then put her napkin in her lap.
Marcus put a steak on his plate and then the other one on Monet's. They passed the bowls back and forth until their plates were full of food. Marcus dominated the conversation about his workday, but didn't mention that Monet's father had called. He had put out some feelers before he left work and was waiting on some responses.
“I'll be doing some surveillance work next week. There have been reports of a chop shop operating on the southwest side of the city, so the chief assigned me and Wade to the case. He believes in the detectives being cross-trained and rotates the personnel monthly. How did your doctor's appointment go?” Marcus asked.
She averted her eyes and asked evasively, “Do you want coffee? I forgot to bring it in here. I'll go to the kitchen and get it.” Monet started to stand up.
Marcus stopped her. “No, I'm good. I've been dominating the conversation. Tell me about your day.” He cut a piece of cheesecake with his fork, and was chewing it as he watched Monet. He sensed she was being elusive about something.
“Well, my visit with Dr. Washington went well for the most part. She was a little concerned that I haven't been sleeping well. She wanted to give me a prescription for Ambien, but I passed for now. She also suggested I join a rape support group.”
“Hmmm.” Marcus continued eating his cheesecake while Monet's sat uneaten on her plate. After he finished swallowing, he asked, “How do you feel about doing that?”
“I told her I would think about it, and I will.” She cut her cheesecake into tiny squares.
“So what gives with the elaborate dinner?” Marcus's hand swept over the food. “Don't get me wrong, you usually cook a great meal for dinner, but this time you've gone all out. Are we celebrating something?” He looked up into the air. “I know I didn't miss our anniversary, and it's not your birthday or mine.”
“Yes, you could say we're celebrating,” Monet tittered nervously. She clasped her trembling hands together.
“Well, what is it?” Marcus lifted his eyebrow. “Don't keep me waiting.”
Monet took her husband's hand. “Marcus, our dreams have come true. What have we prayed for more than anything else in the world?”
“I don't know about you, but I prayed that the fool that attacked you didn't have AIDS. And we already got back your test results for that, and it was negative.” Marcus looked at Monet searchingly.
She took a deep breath and moistened her lips. Unconsciously her hand strayed to her abdomen. “Marcus,” she said, with a smile bright as a hundred watt bulb, “we're going to be parents. I'm pregnant.”
Marcus sagged in the chair for a moment and a smile flitted across his face. Then reality set in, and he held his hand up. “Hold on. I know you didn't say what I thought you said.”
“I said that I'm pregnant. My due date is July fifteenth,” she informed him proudly. She smiled at her husband tentatively. She could tell from Marcus's expression that he wasn't taking the news well.
He stared at her with his mouth wide open, and his body quaked with rage. He was struck silent. He covered his face with this hands and thought,
God, why did you have to do this to us? What did we do to deserve this? No, Monet, can't have this baby. She's obviously mentally ill from the rape. She knows there's no way in the world I can be this baby's father.
Monet was horrified by Marcus's reaction. Mitzi stood in the doorway barking loudly. Monet stood so abruptly that her glass of cider tilted to the side before it straightened. She fell back into her chair and dropped her head, while Marcus's breathing became labored. Mitzi scampered into the room and ran between Marcus and Monet, barking furiously. Finally she was spent and lay down by her mistress's feet. Marcus looked like all the blood had been drained from his body. His mind desperately desired to dive into denial. He wished they had never had the conversation they'd just shared.
With his face devoid of color, Marcus stared at Monet, who sat huddled in her seat. Her shoulders shook as she wept silently. Reality jump started Marcus's mind, and he pondered how his wife could look so attractive when she greeted him, prepare an appetizing meal, and then wound him so deeply. His mind clicked to the conclusion that he had to try and reason with Monet about terminating the pregnancy. The conversation had to happen immediately before more time elapsed, and she balked at his suggestion.
His legs felt weak as he stood up and sat in the empty chair next to Monet. He moistened his lips and carefully considered his next words. “Nay-Nay, I'm sorry for the way I reacted to your news. But my God, woman, how did you expect me to react? There's no way you're pregnant with my child. Have you forgotten we can't have children?”
Monet held up her head and looked at Marcus with dewy eyes. “Have you forgotten there was no medical reason why we couldn't have children?” she asked him. “Did it ever occur to you that God picked now for us to have a child?”
Marcus withdrew from his wife like she'd stabbed him. He spoke in a careful, soothing tone of voice. “I may not be a doctor or anything, but I know that we've been married for twenty years, and we've never had a baby.” He lifted his hands and bent his fingers in the air to emphasize his point. “Then you got raped, Monet. That's what happened; you were raped. Then you make me a special dinner to announce that you're pregnant, and expect me to believe it's our baby?” He looked at her like she had taken leave of her senses.
Monet, in turn, looked at him with widened, teary eyes. Her feelings were equally hurt, as if Marcus had told her he wanted a divorce.
“What did Dr. Washington say?” He folded his arms across his chest. “She's the expert.”
“Well,” Monet's voice faltered, “she kind of thought like you do, that there's a possibility the baby might not be yours.”
Marcus pounded the wooden table with all his might. “Well, dang, Monet, what more do you need to convince you that this baby isn't mine? Even your own doctor has doubts.” The annoyance in his voice bounced off the walls.
Monet jumped when his fist hit the table. “Marcus, it's doesn't matter to me one whit what Dr. Washington believes, I know what I believe in my heart. This baby,” she pointed to her abdomen, “is yours and mine, and I know that's true because God told me we were going to have a baby.”
“Well, when did He tell you that?” coldly spewed from Marcus's lips. His eyes were tight as slits. “Before or after you were raped?”
“I can't believe you said that.” Monet put her hand over her mouth, jumped up from the table, and rushed out of the room and down the hall to the washroom. She kneeled on the cool tiled floor and heaved into the toilet. She prayed Marcus would come and see about her, but he didn't.
When she returned to the table, Marcus was sitting in the same spot, his face swollen with righteous indignation. He refused to look at her.
“Honey,” Monet stood beside Marcus, then she reached over and touched him lightly on the shoulder, “I don't care what Dr. Washington says, I'm one hundred percent sure that you're Faith's father.”
Marcus shrank away from Monet's touch, as if she were a poisonous snake. “You have sunk so heavily into denial that you don't realize what you're saying. That child you're carrying is not mine, and I want you to have an abortion now,” he demanded, glaring at her fiercely.
“Now, I think you've lost your mind,” Monet whispered. She inhaled deeply, and sat back down in the chair. “There is no way I'm having an abortion. Do you realize how long it took for the Lord to bless us with a child?”
“What if the baby is the rapist's child, Monet?” Marcus fired back at her. “What will you do then? I think you need to take the blinders off your eyes and face reality. The plain ugly truth is that you've been impregnated by a rapist.” He snapped his lips tightly together.
“No,” Monet spit out as she hopped up from the chair. “I may have been raped, but I haven't lost my mind. And you know what, Marcus? God has my back if no one else does. He promised never to leave me, and even if you walk out that door, I know that He won't ever leave me alone. In the book of Isaiah, the scripture says,
Fear thou not; for I am with thee; be ye not dismayed; for I am your God; I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.
That means, Marcus, I will never lose hope or sight of what I know to be true, because God has got me.” Her body trembled like a wind blown leaf. She crossed her arms across her chest and said, “I am having this baby whether you like it or not.”
“If you do, then I am out of here. I'm gone, Monet,” he retorted in a bone chilling tone of voice. “Here's an ultimatum to you since you want to throw out your own. Be careful what you do because I know you don't want to trash our love, or our twenty years of marriage. I can tolerate many things in life, but I will not, and I'm going to repeat this to you so there is no misunderstanding, I will not raise the child of a rapist under any circumstances. You got that?” Marcus's eyes shot fiery blazes at his wife.
“There's something you forgot in your tidy equation, Marcus,” Monet said, in a low undertone. “This baby is a part of me too. How could you ask me to destroy a part of myself?” Tears poured down her face, and she folded her head inside her arms and bawled like a baby.