The Sweetest Taboo (17 page)

“It’s cool.”

“All right.” He sat on the edge of the bed and scooted up next to her. “You haven’t cheated on me?”

“Question or accusation?”

“Question.”

“What, you want me to say yes?”

“I’m open to anything, Yuri, including the truth.”

“Please.”

“Look, all I’m saying is just be honest. I know there are times when I can be an asshole—”

“You know this?”

“Yes, and instead of talking, I accuse you. And just like when I cheated, I know there are times you need someone to talk to. Someone to be there for you and take care of you when you’re stressed out.”

“Have you lost your fuckin’ mind?! She was eighteen, what the fuck were you talking about? How to be a child predator? The real deal is you wanted some young-ass white-girl pussy. Period. And you thought you had my ass in the bag because I was fat and confused.”

“I’m not going through that again, Yuri. All I want to know is if you cheated, so we can deal with this. We’re married, Yuri, and I’m in it for the long haul.”

“And how long did you prepare that speech? Before or after you said you see us divorced in five years?”

“Why are you looking for an argument?”

“Jeff, listen.” Yuri knew she needed to end this conversation, especially since Jeff was spewing a buncha bullshit. “All you need to worry about is that I’m with you. All that other shit is taking up too much mental space. Drop it. Please.”

“I’ma always fight for you, Yuri.” He brushed her hair out of her face.

“You keep on fightin’, Ali,” Yuri said sarcastically, as she closed her eyes and turned over. “Can we finish talking about this later?”

He turned the TV on and lay his head on her thigh. “Being pussy-whipped is a motherfucker.” Jeff laughed.

“Shut up, Jeff,” Yuri started to drift to sleep. “Just be quiet, please.”

Jeff and Yuri had both fallen asleep when he was awakened by her moaning. At first he thought she was having a bad dream, but when she gripped the edge of the fitted sheet, and sweat dripped from both sides of her temples he knew something was wrong. He massaged her leg to gently wake her up, but she didn’t budge. He thought for a moment she might have been having a seizure.

“Yuri,” Jeff whispered; he didn’t want to scare her awake. “You’re having a bad dream?” She didn’t wake, but she continued to moan. He felt wetness in the bed and for a moment he thought she’d peed on herself, until he held his hand up and saw it was blood.

Immediately he jumped up and looked at Yuri. There was no blood coming from her mouth, her hands or anyplace he could see. Maybe it was him, maybe he was bleeding. He hadn’t seen this type of blood since his brother was shot. Jeff yanked the covers back and Yuri lay in a pool of red. “Yuri!” Jeff screamed. “You’re bleeding!”

Yuri’s heart raced as she jumped out of her sleep. She sat straight up and pressed her hands into the sheet. When she looked up at Jeff, the entire front part of him was covered in blood. As if someone were playing her life in fast forward, she looked down at the sheet and saw the bed was covered in red and the palms of her hands dripped as if she’d been playing in paint.

Neither one of them knew what was going on, but they knew they had to get her to the hospital. “Jeff—” Yuri panicked. “What happened? Oh God!” She thought she was dying. She could feel an excruciating pain in her lower back and abdomen.

“We have to go the hospital.” Jeff did his best to hide his anxiety.

“Jeff!” Yuri started to scream. “What is happening to me?!”

“Calm down,” he said sternly. “You think I’ma let something happen to you? I promised you I would always take care of you. Now,” he consoled as he wrapped his coat around her, “let’s go.”

Jeff hated the emergency-room waiting area. He hated the sterile smell, the nurses, doctors, interns and orderlies all buzzing back and forth, as if they were happy to live in a world of others’ misfortunes. He hated those hard-ass orange plastic chairs that suctioned his ass when he sat down and made a popping sound when he got up. He hated the flashing exit signs, the ambulance entrance and the signs that read:
PEOPLE WILL BE SEEN IN THE ORDER OF THEIR EMERGENCIES.

Besides, every time he’d been in an emergency room he always felt doomed: his brother was shot, his father had died, and he had his skiing accident.

For hours Jeff paced the waiting area. He called Yuri’s mother in Chicago to let her know what happened and she asked him to please call her back as soon as he found out anything. He called his own mother, who said a prayer over the phone with him. Then he called Nae-Nae and Drae to tell them Yuri was in the hospital. He replayed their wedding day in his mind, laughed at their first corny joke, remembered the first time she gave him some pussy and reconsidered the thought that their marriage was due to end.

“Mr. McMillan?” A doctor in a white overcoat with a tag that read
DR. JOHNSON,
walked over to Jeff and extended his hand.

“Yes.” Jeff stood still, never noticing the doctor’s extended hand; Jeff cupped his chin and waited for the doctor to begin speaking.

“Listen”—the doctor led Jeff to a more secluded waiting area—“the good news is your wife’s fine.”

Jeff took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“She’s resting,” the doctor continued, “and within the hour you two can go home. The unfortunate news…is she miscarried the baby.”

“Come again?” Jeff could’ve sworn this was beyond hearing wrong. For a moment he wondered if he had just been spat on. “Yo,” he said, momentarily releasing the ghetto in him, “what you say, son?”

The doctor stepped back. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but your wife lost the baby.”

“What…” Jeff fumbled over his words, trying to make out if his throat had been sliced and was making him speechless.

Misunderstanding Jeff’s confusion, the doctor explained, “Mr. McMillan, your wife was expecting.”

Jeff plopped down in one of the orange chairs he hated. Every time he went to speak, his tongue burned as if he had piss in his mouth. Truth be told, Jeff felt like slapping the doctor for GP sake; after all, he could’ve sworn this niggah said Yuri lost a baby. Whose baby? Yuri? Yuri lost a baby? Somebody somewhere had to be playing, because they had Jefferson McMillan fucked up. Just because he went from the projects to the Ivy League didn’t mean he was a punk. He could push a motherfucker to sleep if need be, and perhaps this was one of those times. After all, who didn’t know he was sterile? Who didn’t know he spent a weekend with his mistress, had a skiing accident and split his nuts open? Yuri never let that shit die, so how could the doctor not know? “How…” He cleared his throat and stood back up. “How far along was she?”

“Six weeks.”

It’s not mine, it’s not mine, it’s not mine…it’s not mine…it’s not mine…
He massaged the sides of his forehead; suddenly he had a migraine. The reality he swore he wanted to face had suddenly showed up and kicked his ass. Now either he had to deal with it or be done with it. “She was what? Are you sure?”

“She was six weeks pregnant. I apologize, Mr. McMillan. I’m really sorry to be the one to tell you…but your wife was so upset that I didn’t think she would be up to explaining it to you.”

“She knows already?”

“Yes.”

“Did she tell you to tell me?”

“We never discussed it. I just assumed since you were her husband…”

Hell, Jeff being her husband didn’t mean shit, the baby wasn’t his. “Thank you, Doctor.” Jeff nodded his head in dismissal. “Can I see her now?”

“Right this way.”

Jeff walked into Yuri’s room feeling numb. Looking at her he imagined some niggah, any niggah, the mailman, the cable man, a lil’ young niggah flippin’ burgers or an old niggah flippin’ real estate, barge up in her raw dawg, as if she’d told them all about his dick not being able to shoot shit. He imagined them laughing at him and purposely planning to have this baby. A baby that everyone would consider the ultimate get-back-at-him-for-fucking-a-white-bitch scheme.

Now he knew for sure that she had to have known she was pregnant. That’s why she’d been so sick, that’s why she’d been gaining weight, sleeping, cussing him out, couldn’t stand to smell anything. That’s why she’d been treating him like there was nothing he could do for her other than get the fuck out of her face…all because she’d served his ass up some serious fuckin’ payback.

“You gave me quite a scare, girl.” He leaned against the side of the bed she lay in.

“You? I scared the hell outta myself. But the doctor said I’ll be okay, that I can go home now.”

“I was hoping to find the doctor so he could explain to us what was wrong.” Jeff searched her eyes for any sign of fear, but what he spotted wasn’t enough. “I wanted to be there when he told you. In case there were any special instructions. Matter fact, let me go and find him, so I can be sure of what you need to do.” He started walking toward the door.

“Jeff!” she called.

He could hear her trying to get off the bed. He turned around. “Where you going? Take it easy.”

“Why are you looking for the doctor?” she said anxiously. “I’ll get the discharge instructions. It was just fibroids anyway. Something very common in black women.”

“Why are you so anxious?”

“I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath. “I’m still in shock, I guess.”

“I understand.” He handed her her clothes. He could tell she didn’t want to keep talking. “Are you in a lot of pain?”

“No, not anymore.” She slipped her clothes back on. “I’ve had two Motrin.”

“The bleeding?”

“Still bleeding heavy, but nothing like before.”

“So what did the doctor tell you?” Jeff asked.

“Fibroids,” she spat out a little too quickly. “He said I have fibroids. It’s common…African American women.”

“You said that already.”

“Well, I mean African American and Native American women.”

“Yeah,” he said distantly. “African American and Native American, huh? Interesting combination.”

The room was silent as they both stared at each other just long enough to know the other knew the truth. Jeff thought about telling Yuri he knew about her get-back scheme, but he couldn’t bear to spit out the words “pregnant” and “Yuri” in the same sentence. After all, she was his wife and how would he say—let alone accept—she was carrying another man’s seed. That would mean she opened her legs, showed the face of her pussy and had another man’s dick kiss it, while he nutted inside of her as if she were his own. As if she didn’t have a husband, at least one they regarded as being worth anything.

On the drive home Yuri wondered how she could’ve been pregnant and not have known. Suppose she didn’t have a miscarriage, then what? She’d be stuck nursing Britt’s baby and convincing Jeff his sterilized dick had actually done something.

Once they arrived at the apartment building, they were both quiet until they got inside.

“Yuri,” Jeff called from behind her, as she headed toward their bedroom. “Where are you going?”

“To bed.”

“It’s early. Come talk to me. I’ll put some tea on for you.”

Being that the guilt from her miscarriage was eating her up, she didn’t put up too much of a fuss. Instead she sat down on the couch.

“Sugar?” Jeff yelled from the kitchen.

“What?”

“Do you want sugar in your tea?”

“Yes, sugar and lemon.”

Jeff returned from the kitchen and handed her a cup of tea. The cup shook on the saucer, causing some of the hot tea to splash on the sides.

Jeff did what he could not to black out and whip her ass off the couch. Initially, he thought he could attempt to be diplomatic and handle this like an adult, but this shit here had put his manhood to the test. All the times she floated her fat ass in here, two, three, and four o’clock in the morning. All the times he asked, begged and pleaded with her to please tell him the truth, who was the niggah. He thought about how she answered her cell phone sleepy, when she was supposed to have been at the club. Was she in bed with the niggah then? Had his dick just literally come out of her mouth? And what about the time she said Nae-Nae and Raphael had a fight and her clothes were different when she came back home? What was she doing that night? Had she had a bath in the niggah’s sperm? Hell, Jeff wondered, where was he when all of this baby makin’ was going on? At home watchin’
American Idol
or jerking his dick to sleep?