On the Line (4 page)

“Oh no, not the
it's me
speech! Can we get to the part of the two sets of children?”

“Eric whined and begged. Begged and whined. It was merciless. He finally convinced me to go to counseling.”

“How much time has passed and who's taking care of Sal Jr.?”

“Almost two months. The baby was with his father and nanny. I talked to him every day and I took two weekend trips to Brazil.”

“So hubby number two is putting up with this madness?”

“Somehow I've made him believe the government won't let me quit and I have to do what they tell me. Go where they send me.”

“Okay, so back to the counseling.”

“Eric poured out his heart, shed more than a few tears, even begged me to give him another chance.” Daphne hesitates and sighs. “I gave in.”

“Imagine my surprise.”

“We went home and made love like we never had before. I got pregnant.”

I whistle through my teeth. “Okay, now we're getting to the good part.”

“I'd say it's more like we haven't gotten to the insane part. At this point my life began spiraling out of control. And no matter how hard I tried to hold on I could feel my reality slipping away.”

“Honey, your reality was gone long before this. You are so far beyond the point of no return. You've stepped off the diving board and the pool is closed for repairs!”

“Now can you see what a mess this is?”

“I'd have to agree this is quite the
situation.
” I don't know whether to ridicule or find a means to rescue Daphne. How self-destructive must a soul be to get this far off the right path of life? “You know, I need to take a break in a couple of minutes, but we're going to do it now so that when we come back you'll be able to finish your story. Back in ninety seconds.”

I flip the switch that cut her off from the airways and the telephone. My mind rewinds in warp speed, scanning my mental files for another caller who had intrigued me quite like Daphne in all the years I've been doing the show. I can't think of one. I'd had countless men, mostly long-distance truck drivers, call in with their version of Daphne's story ad nauseam. But this was different.

Macy signals I'll be back on the air in ten seconds. I take a deep breath, adjust the microphone, smile and begin speaking. “And you're back on the line with Joy and Daphne. Daphne is a woman with a biiiiig secret and an even bigger problem. Let's get right to it. Explain to us how you pulled off baby number two.”

“I didn't know I was pregnant until I returned to Brazil. Sal was complaining about me being away from Sal Jr. so long and so often and urged me to quit. Of course he harped on that his wife should not be working.”

“Yeah, I can imagine how that went over in the Hispanic culture and a rich Hispanic culture at that.”

“I convinced him that I was under a military contract and couldn't just walk away. I had to stay at least two more years. But I knew I had to make my trips home less frequent and shorter. I told him I would talk to my boss to see if I could work exclusively in Brazil and only return to D.C. for high-level briefings. It seemed to appease him for the moment. I breathed a sigh of relief.”

“And then, Aunt Sadie didn't come to visit?”

“Exactly. I missed my period. And I knew from the timing it was Eric's baby. My first instinct was to take Sal Jr. and run. Just never return to Brazil. Not return to D.C. Maybe get reassigned to Europe.”

“But let me guess. You just couldn't do that.”

“No.”

“I'm sure I'm going to be sorry for asking, but how did you hide pregnancy number two from husband number one? No, wait. Baby number one belongs to husband number two and baby number two belongs to husband number one, or is it the other way around?” I laugh. “I've confused myself!”

Ignoring the latter question, Daphne continues. “It was easy to hide the pregnancy from Salvador. He loved that I hadn't lost the weight from the first pregnancy and when my body made subtle changes he welcomed them. When I was pregnant the first time I didn't even start to show until I was more than five months, so I knew I had time. I returned to D.C. when I was ten weeks and told Eric I was going to have his baby. He never questioned when it could have happened. He picked me up, spun me around and, of course, told me I had to come home. I convinced him it wasn't necessary now and that I was under the care of a military doctor who said everything was fine, which was the truth.”

“Damn! How gullible is this guy?”

“Eric is a brilliant surgeon. He's not gullible—he just loves and trusts me.”

“And how misplaced is that?” I smirk. “To all you brothers listening to this, there are sistahs who will love you and be faithful to the death. So don't judge all of us by Daphne. There will be brothers looking at their women cross-eyed for years to come if she travels for a living.”

“Do you want me to finish or not?”

“Don't get testy with me!” I snap. “You called me, remember!”

“Anyway,” Daphne begins with more than a hint of disdain. “Eric called me constantly, which wasn't an issue if I was working. But with the two-hour time difference I had difficulty in the evenings. But somehow I managed to talk to him without Salvador finding out. I finally made it to twenty-one weeks and left for a six-month tour back in the States.”

“What about Sal Jr.? How did you explain not seeing your baby for that long?”

“Sal knew very little about what I do. When I get called on assignment, there are times I can't tell anyone what I'm doing. Though he'd gotten used to it, he never liked it.”

“How can any job require you to be away from your family for six months?”

“This isn't a job, it's the government.”

“I guess,” I murmur. “But how could you, as a mother, go all that time and not see your baby?”

“It was harder than you will ever know and one of the things that drove me to make this phone call.” Daphne hesitates, draws in a deep breath before continuing. “I know what I've done is wrong. Wrong for a million reasons that seemed so right not so long ago. Wrong for Eric and Sal. Wrong for Sal Jr. and Erica, but most of all wrong for me.”

“How can you think that you are the one most hurt by all of this?”

“Because I am the one who has to walk away from everything. I will lose it all. Everything that I lied and connived to get or hold on to I have to leave now so that no one gets hurt.”

“Do you honestly think you haven't hurt anyone by what you've done? I mean, come on now—”

“They will get over it.”

“You know, Daphne, at one point of this call I almost felt sorry for you, but now I don't know what I feel. You have two men who adore you and two children who need you. You need to make a choice.”

“How can I choose one family over another? I love them all equally. That is why I have to just walk away.”

“You're on the line with Joy and Daphne.” My tone returns to professional radio talk show host instantly. “We're going to take a commercial break here and when we come back, Daphne, I want you to tell us what you're going to do to fix this mess you've created for yourself. We'll be right back.”

I flip the switch. I look at the phone panel and see that every light is lit. Macy has called for an intern to help answer the phones. I've received more than five hundred e-mails since the Daphne tale started to unfold. Instead of scanning the subjects of the e-mails as I normally would, to pick the juicy ones, I close my eyes and lay my head back. Daphne has drained me. I'm so pissed with this woman I don't know what to do, so I do nothing. Rarely has anyone been able to solicit this kind of emotion from me. I use a deep-breathing technique I learned in yoga.

When Macy barges into the studio, I jump involuntarily. “You've got to talk to the caller on line fourteen.” Her horsey face is all animated.

I glance at the clock and see I have nineteen seconds before I am back on live with Daphne. “I can't take a call now!”

“He said his name is Eric!”

“Holy shit!” I push the button labeled fourteen and pick up the same time I command Macy to run another short set of commercials.

“You're on the line with Joy.”

Silence.

“You've got twenty seconds to tell me why you called or I hang up.”

“My name is Eric. And the woman you've spent most of this hour talking to is my wife.”

I'm stunned. I'm having a Jerry Springer and Maury Povich moment all wrapped into one. “What did you say?” I ask, trying to buy time to think.

“My name is Eric and I'm Daphne's husband.”

Macy signals it's time to return to the air. “Eric, I have to go back on live,
please
don't hang up.”

“Why would I hang up without talking to Daphne?”

My adrenaline shoots through the ozone layer and my heart races as I open the microphone. “Welcome back to
On the Line
with your host Joy Newhouse. We spent most of this hour with Daphne, who's been living a double-jeopardy life and says she's sick and tired and wants out. While we were away there was an interesting caller. Our boards have been lit up and if you're trying to get through, keep trying. Daphne, I must tell you I can't remember ever getting as many e-mails for any one caller before you. You've got the world riveted.”

“I didn't call for any reason other than to get out this crippling secret.”

“So, Daphne, which husband do you plan to tell first and how do you think you'll break the news?”

“I want to tell Salvador that I'm not coming back to Brazil.”

“But, by your own admission earlier, you said it's not that easy to just leave your assignment. And what about your son?”

“I've already tendered my resignation.”

“Sounds like you've really thought this through.”

“Of course I have!”

“And what about Eric and Erica?”

“I still have some time before I talk to Eric. But I can't stay here. Salvador will find me and come make trouble, I'm sure of it.”

“So you're not planning to tell Eric until you get around to it?” I toy with her. “Going to weigh your options, as you will. Then spring it on him when it's good for you?”

“I wouldn't put it quite so crass, but yes. Maybe we could move away and I would never have to tell him about Salvador. And even if I do have to tell him, he'd be hurt, but in time he'd forgive me.”

“You know, Daphne, you're a pretty cool sistah.” I smile both inside and out. “Oh, I almost forgot about the caller I have on hold. Of all the calls we received, I think this one is the most interesting with his opinion on the subject.”

I touch the button that opens line fourteen. “Caller, have you been listening to the Daphne saga?”

“Yes, I have.” Eric's voice is rich and deep, yet shaky.

“And what do you think about all of this?”

“I just don't understand how she could do this to a man who worships her, would move mountains for her.”

“Oh my God!” Daphne gasps. “Eric, is that you?”

I give a high sign to Macy.

“Now that's what I call reality radio, people! And just imagine we have three more fun-packed hours to go. Best of luck, Daphne and Eric. After this commercial break, we'll be back with our next saga.” I flop back in my seat, spent. Can't say I don't have fun at my job.

I
eye Macy in the control room and she gives me the countdown that we'll be back on air in five…four…three…two…one…

“Hey, hey, radio-land. Things have been on and popping tonight. If you missed the first couple of hours you missed a helluva lot. But you can catch up online by going to the Internet and downloading the show from WHOTgoJoy.com. Now let's keep it rolling. I'm going to switch gears a little bit. The ladies have been on the hot seat tonight. Now it's a brother's turn to show they can be just as slick as the ladies! I have a letter here from a brother that titles his little saga Confessions of a Baby Daddy. Well alrighty then. Here we go….

 

Ms. Joy Newhouse, I feel like I know you. I listen to your show all the time. I love your conversations with the public and I really love the jazz and rhythm and blues you play in between your conversations with listeners. It really sets the mood for the conversations. They are all so intriguing. I love jazz, you know. I wanted to call and make a confession. Well, not really a confession, but an apology to the four women that have children by me.

I wanted to do it publicly, so that they will know I'm sincere and have thought about it. I'm not apologizing for my kids, because I love them all. They are my life. But the fact that I have four children by four different women has not been an easy burden. I have three girls and one boy. I have been active in all of their lives since birth. I only married one of the children's mothers, but I'll get to that. I hope you have time for me to tell you the story. I have needed to get this off my chest for some time now.

I'm not a player and making babies was not something I set out to do. It's just a lack of sexual responsibility, but that's not all my fault. Three of the women that have children by me I had been dating for over two years, but if you don't want children, we men need to use a condom at ALL times. The other woman and I both agreed we did not want kids, but I digress back to the condom statement. I hope this story can make a positive difference in some of the younger men who are listening. I'm an educated man with a master's degree. You can say I was a victim of the Paisley Park Era; Prince, Morris Day and The Time, Sheila E. Sexual freedom was on the rise and as they say, “Gigolos get lonely, too.” It was a ridiculous mindset at the time.

My name is Vance Legend and I am a forty-year-old postal worker. I hate my job, but that's another story. It pays the bills and the benefits are great. I met the first mother, Crystal Randall, nineteen years ago in Kansas City, Missouri. I had just finished my freshman year at Benedictine College in Atchison, Kansas, and was working in the summer with my father at Rockhurst University in Kansas City where we lived. I worked with the Upward Bound program. It gave high school students six weeks' experience of college classes on a college campus for college credits and we took the kids on trips to compete against other Upward Bound programs in the area. It was a really cool program and the kids got stipends for the summer.

I was a counselor and tutor at the program and assistant dorm director. We had seventy-five students for the summer. They had classes in math, English, science and reading.

The students had a boys' and a girls' basketball team, and both were very good. I was the coach, along with another counselor, and we practiced every evening. That's where I met Crystal Randall. The All-American Cheerleading Association had their camp at Rockhurst University that same summer and Crystal was an instructor. She had cheered professionally for the Colorado Avalanche hockey team and the Denver Nuggets basketball team.

I noticed her as soon as she set foot on the campus. They stayed in the dorm across a soccer field from where our program dorm was. We first made eye contact in the cafeteria at lunchtime one day. My friend, Hardy Washington, had nudged me and nodded in the direction of her stare. She and a couple of her friends were looking at our table and she was eyeing me. I nodded hello. There was an instant attraction, but after the meal when I approached her she played me off. I liked that. I could tell she was independent and it took more than a hello to get some of her time.

Crystal and I eventually got together and had a great time. For the next few weeks all we did was go for walks, talk, and go around town doing things together. It was really cool. When the time came for them to leave, it was sad. We had grown attached and exchanged numbers. Their next stop was in Wichita, Kansas, about two hours from Kansas City. Crystal asked if I wanted her to come back and visit. Of course, I said yes.

Our students won both the basketball championships in St. Louis, Missouri. We had our summer-ending dinner and gave out awards. It was my last week in the dorm. We had to clean up after the students left. It was just me and Samuel Sharif, the dorm director. I had completed my list of duties three days ahead of schedule.

On Friday evening there was a knock on my door and there stood Crystal. I had been listening to the jazz in my dorm room and drinking wine.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure!” I moved from the doorway.

Crystal put her chocolate arms around me. Her body felt magnificent. She was solid and shapely. I cupped the back of her afro and ran my hands from her neck to her round ass. We moved to the jazz of Grover Washington, Jr. We danced to the bed and we never stopped kissing. I lit candles and we exchanged back rubs and lay in each other's arms caressing each other's bodies. I reached into the dresser next to the bed and pulled a handful of condoms from the drawer.

We stopped making love when the condoms ran out. It was the most remarkable lovemaking I'd had. We had all that pent-up energy and desire. We dated for over two years with plans to marry. Crystal eventually moved to Kansas City with her sister-in-law.

Crystal was studying law and working part-time. We had long stopped using condoms, but she was on the Pill. We made love almost every other day. We were both strong-minded and I was finishing up my senior year in college.

We agreed to take a break from dating each other when we couldn't agree on a date for marriage. We still went out occasionally from time to time. I would see her and her sister-in-law out at the clubs and we always had a good time.

Two months later, Crystal called and informed me that she was going back to Denver. I asked her if she was sure and she said she just wanted to be closer to her family. I understood, because I knew how important my family was to me.

Two weeks later, I got a call that Crystal was pregnant and that we were expecting a child. We argued about whether it was intentional. Though we never came to an agreement about that, I have always loved and admired her. Twyla was born seven months later in Denver, Colorado. I arrived a little after the baby was born. She was a beautiful baby. I stayed for three days and came home to finish school. Crystal and I raised our daughter. Mostly Crystal. I had her for the summers and went to visit, or Crystal would come to Kansas City to visit with our daughter.

Jessica Simms is the second woman I had a baby by and, the sad truth is, the third woman, Phyllis Charles, was pregnant at the same time. They were one month apart. But we'll talk about her later. Back to Jessica. She and I worked together at the postal service. We knew each other for about three years, but never kicked it together. I would see her all the time at the clubs. She was attractive and all, but she was a wild girl. Smoked weed, drank and did light drugs. I wasn't into that, but she was thick and fine. She had an ass like Janet Jackson.

It was late one night at the club. I got myself a drink and saw her watching me from her table. I walked over and asked her to dance. Four records and slow-dancing later, we were on our way to her house. That was fine with me; I had a three-pack of new condoms and nothing but time on my hands.

Her two-story, three-bedroom house was in the inner city. We reclined on the couch and started watching nothing in particular on television.

Soon the lights were low and we were kissing and exploring each other's bodies. She had on a leather skirt and sweater top with calf-high leather boots and stockings. While rubbing her legs, I soon came to find that her stockings were thigh-highs. Our kisses became more passionate and I soon fell between her bare thighs and served her up. Her moans were loud and her legs straddled my shoulders as she gripped the back of my head and moved my face deeper into her.

She took my hand and turned everything off as she led me to her bedroom. The stage had been set. She let me undress her and I let her undress me. We made love until around an hour before sunrise. I washed up and dressed and was home in bed by the first morning light. That was the beginning of what I called our vampire relationship. I never spent the night and was always in my own bed by the time the sun rose over the horizon.

I was dating another woman at the time named Raven. She and I were at a mutual friend's home at a house party. She wore this tight-fitting burgundy leather outfit that had every man's head in the place turning. She seductively worked the room and I could feel her lustful eyes on me.

Raven and I connected and things were good. I had my cake and ate it, too. It was early June when I got the call that Jessica had missed her period and was pregnant. She promised that she would not keep the baby. She knew I didn't want children and neither did she and she wasn't trying to trap me. I felt relieved. For the most part we always had used protection and other times I had not pulled out in time, but had been lucky, up till now.

I remember one morning, about a week later, Jessica called to inform me she had talked with her sister and decided to keep the child. Of course, I was furious. I did not want another child, but my thoughts were not her concern. She asked me when I was moving in. I told her she could not be serious. We were just having a fling. I told her I would take care of my responsibility, but there would be no us.

I fell into a selfish depression, never taking her feelings or situation into consideration. I guess that was the day she decided that she would be the closest thing to hell in my life and that's exactly what she was. I never understood, until now, why she hated me, but I thought she understood the rules of our relationship. We had discussed it. But women never understand once emotions and feelings are in the way. I was too foolish to understand it, either.

It was hard as hell working with her at the post office. She soon leaked that I was the father of her unborn child once she started showing, but this did not stop women from wanting to be with me. It's funny now, to think that other women knew I had a woman at the job pregnant and they looked past that and still wanted to give me some play.

Jessica had our child and I was there. She put me through pure hell most of the time. At birth, my son was named Vance Legend Jr. Two weeks later, one of Jessica's fat-ass, no-good, know-I-didn't-like-her, trifling friends came up to me at work.

She placed her large hands on her plump waist and tilted her head arrogantly with disdain. “So, how's Jessica and little Howard doing?”

I looked at her, puzzled. “Who?”

She placed her fat fingers to her lips with a look of surprise. “Ohhh, I guess Jessica didn't tell you that she changed Vance Jr.'s name to Howard. Well, I suppose the cat's out the bag now, huh?” she said as she smacked her contemptuous thick lips, rolled her thick neck and waddled off.

I stood there as my blood boiled. I went to the phone and called Jessica's home phone, but she did not answer. I knew she was home on maternity leave and it was too soon for her to be hitting the streets. I took off sick and jumped into my car and sped to her house. I beat on her door, but she knew not to answer. I was so mad and had so much hate in my heart that I'm not sure what I would have done to her.

I calmed myself and left her house with a newfound hatred for her. I later thanked God for not letting her open the door, because I'm sure I would be in jail right now. I had never even had the thought of hitting a woman, but only God knows what I would have done if she had answered the door that night. I'm so glad she didn't. I'm sure that God intervened. I went home to my apartment that night and cried.

When Jessica did come back to work, she taunted me, telling me and her friends that I was working for her and I had better keep working overtime in order to support the new car she bought and the hefty child support she kept taking me to court for.

Every time I got a raise, she took me to court to increase my payments. She cursed me every time I went to get my son, but I would not retaliate. I took it. She tried to have me jailed years later for whipping my son because of cursing. She even went so far as trying to get me fired from my job with the same claims.

Jessica has caused me more depression, strife, money and contempt that I wish to remember. But I stood strong to form a relationship with my child and she used him in every way she could to expose every nerve ending in my body. It was one of the most trying times in my entire life.

I often said that if I went to hell, the experience would be like dealing with that woman every day. I often laughed and said that was God's way of giving me hell on earth for being so self-centered and selfish. I never took the time to think if I had just treated her with respect and never had entered into the sexual relationship, both our lives would have been so different. But then I think that if we hadn't had the relationship, I would not have my son. So it was all worth it. My son is my pride and joy and I love him so much. He looks just like me and as I told him before, “Your name might have changed, but it is my blood that flows through your veins and that is all that matters.”